#i literally just need to write words it doesnt have to be good it doesnt even have to be decent but just. i cant for no reason

[pa-pa-plasma]

hey i feel like we're really sleeping on that time Danny possessed Vlad & framed him for assaulting a minor

Editing with the clip because people don't believe me. Episode is 41: Eye for an Eye.

[pickled-flowers]

Crazy people were calling me a misandrist for my beauty and the beast comic 💀

[good-beanswrites]

My translyrics for Salamander, written out under the cut :D

This one was much more difficult than the last, but I'm still very satisfied with it! 😤 I'm both sad that my version lost a lot of the fun soundplay of the original, and also waaay more impressed with the lyrics and vocals after digging it like this! I tried to keep it balanced between the original and Fuuta's version, though maybe it ended up leaning more toward the cover, idk. Leaving my specific notes in the tags 👍

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I want a taste, but all this spice may prove more than I can take, (eh?)

Something's on your mind. So spit it out and tell me, don't waste my time, kay?

I'm hooked on this, pass me a dish.

The way I'm starving here without you -- it's a crime

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want a bite, I can't help giving in to this new appetite.

Again, again, I want to be on fire when I get to the end.

We live too fast, we burn to ash,

I never handled spices well and it's a crime.

A spicy treat, put on repeat,

Can I get seconds with the same heat? One more time!

I want to burn bright red

I want to burn bright red

Salamander~ Hot's nice, don't you agree? This pa- passion's fine, see?

"But" isn't what I wanna hear, so say "more" loud and clear.

Tell me I'm not alone in my mind!

Salamander~ Look what's happened to me. This pa- passion's crazy

Tell me I'm not delirious, I'm being serious.

It's heating up all through my mind when I'm with you.

I can't stop anything, although I wouldn't want to stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

I want to leave I want to go, but I can never stop, oh no --

Take a breath, it's best to cool down or you earn yourself a burn.

[just-spacetrash]

💻

[littledeadling]

Cant get over how hard they’re biffing it with the Mandalorian. God. Ouchie

[gibbearish]

hey cool that literally isnt what that said in the slightest

[ravensmadreads]

GIRL I AM DECEASED -

you call and I come running

rating: E for Explicit! 18+

pairing: javier peña x f!reader

word count: 8K

summary: a drunken confession leaves you and Javi on unsure ground. When an on the run narco douses you in an unknown, off-market drug, Javier has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over.

warnings: sex pollen, dub con due to sex pollen, minimal plot scaffolding to hold up a gratuitous amount of porn, minimally edited, feral!javi is best javi, the barest hint of breeding kink, not really butt stuff more like butt touching, light angst, no use of y/n

a/n: comes from @perotovar 's ask for my 100 follower milestone event: hi there! congrats on your milestone!! i saw your prompt list and saw "I’m so sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit." and "A whispered, “Fuck, can we do that again?” against the other’s lips." and thought it would be a really good combination for either javi p or max p? which ever one you feel fits better! 😊 (as for smut, only include it if you think it works!)

🤍Masterlist 🤍AO3 Link 

Bogota was begging for rain. At the end of summer, the city and its people had been suffering months of stifling, thick, humid air without a drop of relief. Sweat clung to exposed skin, dampening shirts and tightening waistbands. Heat weighed like a physical presence in the air while open windows and doors sought to tempt in some non-existent breeze, hoping to coax some pity out of the militant heatwave. But the heat and the moisture-thick air stayed, hovering like a cloud of mosquitoes, just as merciless and just as blood-thirsty. 

Night offered no consolation either. Stagnant and cloistered, the sun-bleached air greeted its visitors with a great, warm lick – like the wide tongue of a particularly aggressive bloodhound. The ongoing joke among the locals blamed the blackouts on all the fans, spinning throughout all hours of the day and night, instead of el gobierno barato. Only then came the sigh of ease, in front of whirling blades with ice water behind them. Flapping shirts and mopped brows. Only then, was there relief to the tension. 

Unfortunately, a running car would tip off any narcos in the area, so even that small miracle is denied to the two agents sitting in the darkness of la calle. A crack in the glass window releases a tendril of smoke, not enough to expect a breeze, not enough to wipe away the smear of sweat from across forearms and under knees. 

A drunken confession lingers even thicker in the air.

You thought you could do this. You really thought nothing would change – it was an accident after all. He didn’t mean it – he couldn’t – he was just teasing you, when he leaned over the sticky fourtop in the back of the bar at three in the morning, his breath tangy with the ghost of four glasses of whiskey, his body heat immense and overwhelming as he pressed into you and said – 

Whatever he said, you told him no.

Actually, you laughed and then said no. No, because he didn’t mean it, he couldn’t, he was just teasing you and he would never, ever, ever, ever know how much you actually wanted it and even if – even if you both wanted it, it could never, ever, ever, ever happen. 

It couldn’t. It was so absurd for him to even consider it, you laughed.

And then he never looked at you the same way.

You had done something irreversible. He had said the words, but you had done something irreversible to him. 

Something in the air had changed, maybe forever. And that, that you might have lost your partner, your friend, potential potential potential disappearing in a cloud of Marlboro smoke over bottles of cerveza, that was the worst part. 

He doesn’t look at you the same way.

Or at all. 

He smokes and he watches and he acts like you’re not in the seat next to him. Like his confession hasn’t cleaved him apart.

Nothing’s moved in hours. Neither the target or the shadows in the car. The tension presses up against the windows, hot and stifling. There is no relief.

“I didn’t want it like this, you know,” you say to the sun visor, arms crossed, low in your seat. “I . . . tried to see if Murphy would switch, but I didn’t think the tip would pan out so fast, and I didn’t . . . I didn’t want . . .”

The shadow next to you emerges with his face as he brings the glowing orange light of the cigarette to his mouth. Full lips, short thick hair below his nose, a jawline sharper than any hit of cocaine. 

“What did you expect?” he asks, his voice thick and heavy like oil. It clings to you.

You scowl into the darkness beyond your window. “For Murphy to me a fucking solid, for once. Covered his ass more than once after they adopted Olivia. I just wanted one goddamn –,”

He forcefully flicks the stub of his cigarette out the window as a precursor to punctuate his next sentence. “No. What did you want, if you didn’t want it like this?” 

The acidity in his tone stings you and you unintentionally flinch as if he had pressed the cigarette nub into your skin. 

“Javier, c’mon, that’s not fair.” 

He arches one eyebrow, his teeth clenched in his jaw, hollowing out a pocket of skin below his temple. The overhanging orange streetlights sap the color from his skin.

“So you get to make all the rules now. Got it.” He crunches up the empty box of cigarettes and chucks it in the back seat. You watch him with narrowed eyes as he settles back against the seat with his arms crossed. 

“Why do you have to make this difficult?” You snap. “You know this isn’t easy for me either.” 

“But it is easier than the alternative, right?” After two hours of ice cold silence, he finally looks at you and you can feel the spike of frost in your chest. The twitch in his jaw is the rage in his eyes taking physical form. “Easier than . . . trying. Right?” 

He looks away, already having confessed too much with whisky on his breath, and he can’t afford another slip-up. He knows this. You know this. You want to reach out and touch him but you worry he might physically slap you away if you do. You’ve hurt him in places Javier Peña doesn’t like to admit he has. 

“It’s not that simple,” you say to his thigh. “And you know it.” 

His jaw twitches again. “I’m not asking for your goddamn hand in marriage. I’m just — sick of this ‘will we, won’t we’ shit. I want –,”

“No.” You say and you can feel the word imprint under your sternum. “There’s too much at risk. We’ve been in this fight for too long to get benched and if Noonan even gets a whiff of anything out of whack with her agents, she’ll . . . I want to, Javi, can’t you see that? I really want to – in case I didn’t make that crystal fucking clear. I want to, but there’s no trying for people like us. In a place like this.” The firm weight in your voice pushes on something that makes him look at you again. That rage has dissipated, melted, leaving only a corporeal ache. His brown eyes were endless in their confusion, their disappointment, their hurt. Please, he begs without words. You swallow, your thumbnail digging into your palm to keep yourself from launching yourself across the bench seat of his truck and into his lap. “I want to, Javi. I want . . . you.” 

He drops your gaze as if it burned him. He shifts back, hand coming up to cover his mouth, the side of his knuckle rubbing his upper lip as if coaxing whatever was sitting just behind his teeth back down his throat. 

Javier stares out into the oppressive Bogota night, his clavicle dewy with sweat and he shakes his head.

“Save it.”

You actually flinch. God, you knew it was going to hurt but you never thought it would hurt this much. Hurts so much it claws up your chest with cut-metal knives until you can’t breathe. Until you can’t see as tears flood your eyes.

“Javi, please.” Your voice is calm, despite the small implosion in your chest. “Don’t–,”

“No, I mean – look.” He points out across the dashboard.

The door that has been shut tight for the past three hours has opened. El Corto, a man who lives up to his name, pokes his round face around the edge of the door, glancing up and down the street with the paranoia of someone who trafficks drugs for a living. You turn your head into your shoulder to act like you are adjusting the firearm on your hip to wipe your eyes. Beside you, Javier turns the safety of his handgun and slips it into the back of his jeans.

“You good?” He sounds like Javier, your friend, and that swell of confidence gives you the strength to kick down a door into a whole nest of narcos. You meet his eyes and nod. 

The air is no cooler out in the open when you slip out of Javier’s truck into the dark night of Bogota. Javier strides across the black street, eyes just as fast as El Corto, paranoia just as high. There’s never any telling if the narcos are alone and that’s why you hang back just a bit, eyes on Javier and a dozen other places. 

“El Corto,” Javier snaps, sharp and demanding. The voice of authority. The narco freezes, narrow shoulders going taught. You keep eyes on his hands, your own hovering over your weapon in case he chooses to go for his. “Ven aquí. Tenemos algunas–,”

Without warning, El Corto takes off running, darting off down an alleyway. 

“Fuck,” Javier hisses and pulls his shirt out of his pants, experience the cruelest teacher. But you’ve already passed him –  running your favorite way to unwind, train, and way to avoid your problems, tearing down the alleyway after the shadow sprinting into the night. 

There is something singular about running that is more addicting than any drug the narcos peddled. A chosen target. A finite end. The only thing you had to count on, the only thing to worry about, is how hard you had to pump your arms, the length of your stride, the control of your breathing. Hunting down narcos was a breeding ground for chaos. But not this. This made sense. 

El Corto, despite having about half your stride, makes up for his short stature with speed. You catch only a glimpse of his jacket, then his shoe. A mile through an empty street and he finally comes into view. You’re gaining on him. The unrestrained creature in your chest roars and blocks out the searing pain in your calves, under your ribs. God, you swear you can almost smell him.

Maybe all animals, big or small, can sense the moment before the trap ensnares around them because without warning, El Corto darts left, leaping over a wrought iron fence into the lower levels of an apartment building. He’s gone before you can blink.

Snarling, you squeeze the fence railing as you tuck your legs over it, the momentum of your run clearing you from the tips. 

A voice in your head and possibly behind you is yelling at you to wait, don’t go inside without backup, but you can’t stop. You can’t help it. If you can’t have who you want, this is what you want. This is what you need.

And you need a fucking win. 

You burst through the screen door to an empty concrete room – torn carpet, wall paint chipped away, maybe an old living room – a flash of jeans around the hallway at the end giving a fraction of an indication of your target. So you take off after him, rounding the corner. You watch as he nearly runs through a faded yellow door, the wood cracking and splintering from the force as it slams open into the wall. The door ricochets off the wall, nearly slamming close again, just as you reach it, but the brunt of your shoulder knocks it back again.

And something cracks you across the chest. 

Powder. Blue. Lots of it.

You stumble, your eyes and nostrils burning, as it seizes in your lungs. You cough and hack, trying desperately to unseal it from your lungs, but it barely budges, barely slides loose. Blind and gasping from the heat of your run and through the powder, you veer off course, stumbling into what feels like boxes. Your knees tremble, suddenly unsteady on your feet. 

Through your watery eyes, you watch as El Corto drops the plastic bag that used to contain the powder, a malicious glint in his eyes.

“Puta,” he spits, the slur hardly original for a female DEA agent. He steps back and sheds the gloves you didn’t realize he had been wearing, still watching you with twisted interest. 

You’re no longer coughing, but the air still hasn’t settled in your body. You feel the heat in your lungs rise, expand, then fall, against your skin, as if it is in sync with your heartbeat. With every breath, a sour, sticky warmth presses against every joint in your body, every bone. There’s a knot building at the base of your spine, tightening your hips, and you stumble until you’re seated on one of the boxes, which you now see as packing crates. 

You swallow but your mouth is dry. Head heavy. Distant. Your eyes feel swollen in your skull.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” you whisper. 

He’s not scowling at you, you realize, he’s leering. Eager. Excited. He takes a step towards you. 

A floor above, you hear the sound of the door being breached and Javier calling out your name. El Corto scowls, as though his favorite toy had been taken away, before he tears himself away to the narrow window on the other side of the room. More shipping crates have been stacked against the wall and El Corto scurries up it, unlatching the window. He pauses, glancing back over his shoulder at you.

“Diviértete para mí, putita,” he waves with three fingers as Javier crashes into the room, his gun raised. He spots El Corto just as he slips up through the narrow window – the space no bigger than the width of a child – his foot kicking down the tower of boxes. Javier nearly nabs his ankle, leaping up the concrete wall, as the narco disappears into the night.

His open palm striking against the humid wall is a wet slap. “Fuck,” he snarls, this time pounding with the heel of his fist, “we almost fucking had him. What the fuck ha–,”

He turns and meets your gaze for the first time. His mouth drops in horror.

Sweat blooming across your forehead, you lean over on a crate, limbs trembling, breathing uneven. Every scrap of fabric over your skin burns, your thighs burn, your blood burns, you are burning. The sweat peaks in droplets that run down the back of your neck, under your armpits. Whatever he hit you with makes you want to take off every inch of your clothes –maybe then you could fucking breathe – but even then, it wouldn’t be enough. 

He’s got you by the shoulders, forcing you to look at him, before you realize what’s happened.

“Talk to me.” Javier snaps, that authoritative force sharp and demanding, and it sends an aching bolt between your legs. You whimper in pain, your eyes fluttering. He shakes you. “Stay awake and tell me what happened. I need you to focus. ”

Your lips feel puffy, overripe and ready to split, your jaw tight and throbbing. “H-h-hit m-me with blu-ue – don’t–don’t know what i-it is.” 

Javier steps closer and the scent of his cologne hits you like a train. Groaning, a strange, unwelcome instinct yanks your head down into the curve of his neck, the source of the smell. The touch of his skin beneath your lips is a balm – cool egg yolk over a fresh burn – and you bury your face in deep.

“Oh, fucking Christ, Javi.” Your voice trembles, wavering down into a low moan. That same alien instinct latches your hands over his shoulder, nails digging into the cotton. But it’s not alien, you realize through the muggy, humid fog in your mind – you know this feeling. You are intimately aware of the coiling knot between your legs, your soaked underwear, the tightness of your nipples. But this can’t be happening. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t hurt like this. 

You gasp, in real pain, a throb that starts clenching your cunt before rippling up your spine and locking your shoulders. You hunch against him, waiting for the contraction to pass. 

“What is it?” Javi holds you, panic evident in his voice. You swear you can hear his heartbeat in his neck. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, goddamn it.” He demands with no bite in his command. 

He peels you off him, you hiss, ripped out of the soothing embrace of his arms, and he makes you look at him. His eyes are wide, mouth twitching. The entirety of his chest is blue, most of powder from your skin covering his shirt.

He cups your cheeks, trying to see if the powder has left an acid burn, as another wave hits and you lock your body, now a battleground against the strangling desire to turn your face into his wide palm and inhale. There’s liquid making the crotch of your pants sticky and it’s embarrassing. It’s mortifying and silly and the ounce of sanity still left in your head keeps an iron grip on every muscle in your body – sanity telling you to not fucking do this. Don’t do this to him. Not when it would mean so much to him.

To you. 

But fuck, you want it. You need it. You might actually die without it.

Tears spring into your eyes, making a gooey muck as they slide down your cheeks and mix with the powder. Whatever this is, you have to fight it.

His eyes dart to your tears, the little bit of powder still on your face, and without thinking, he brushes your tears away with his thumbs.

Sanity cracks the whip – if it gets on him, then –

With the last ounce of strength, you shove him back, as far away from you as you possibly can. The second his warmth is gone from your skin, you tremble and your knees give out. Fresh tears, spurred on by the pain, by the fear, by the shame, spill from your eyes and you curl up against the wall. 

“D-don’t, Javi, don’t. I th-think it’s t-t-transderm-mal–,”

“What do you–,”

You watch helplessly as his pupils contract and then expand wildly, black swallowing that aching brown. He shakes his head like a bewildered animal, sweat already bleeding across his skin, and he stumbles back onto a springy metal cot on the opposite wall. He blinks, hand tightening around his knee. It makes his forearm flex and you have to physically close your eyes, the sight forcing your cunt to clench down on nothing. 

“What . . . what the fuck is this shit?”

You bite your lip, your chin tucked to your shoulder as your body cramps, punishing you for denying it the only source of relief. You squint at him and see he’s half-hard in his jeans. You whimper.

“I-I don’t know . . . new– new party drug?” You grunt, your head thrown back against the wall. God, your skin is going to melt right off your bones.

“This is way fucking worse than ecstacy,” Javier murmurs, his jaw tight. “Fuck, got a bit on me, but you . . .”

He blinks at you, eyes glassy, with sudden and total understanding, with perfect clarity why you shoved him away, and what exactly you need. 

He murmurs your name and you gasp, another cramp yanking new tears down your cheeks. 

“J-Javier,” you swallow thickly, “I know what I s-said before, a-and in the car, but if you ever cared about me, p-please . . . please, just –,”

You can’t encompass all that you need into words, but you hope he understands, is feeling kind despite all that you had done to him. Your bones ache, skin too tight.

He shakes his head, but weakly, his eyes caught on your throat, the wetness clinging to your lips. “You’re just saying that because of the drugs. We have to call Murphy. Get us to a hospital or something.”

“Javi,” you whine and maybe it is the drugs, or maybe he has an inkling of how much it hurts, but he’s across the room in an instant. He grabs you by the shoulders and hauls you to your feet. He drops his head and inhales like he can draw the heat from your blood. The tip of his nose dragged across your jaw is a cube of ice against the furnace of your skin. You shudder, hands clasping around his shoulders, dragging him against you, his hands cupping your hips as if to steady him. 

“I-I’ll give you this.” Javier Peña doesn’t stutter. Your eyelids weigh a thousand pounds as you draw your gaze up to him. “I’ll help, cariño, and then we call Murphy. Okay?” 

You nod, dizzy and overheated and sick with wanting. You nod and tilt your hips forward into his fingers as they pop open the button of your jeans. The sound of the slide of the zipper drives a shiver through you and you feel his cock, fully hard, against your thigh. 

His lips brush your cheek, his voice slurred, dripping slow in molasses, sweet and dark. “I’ll help. I’ll give you what you need.”

The first press of his fingers against your pussy rubs slippery and wet. With a sigh of relief, you drop your head against the wall, hips shoving into his hand, begging for more.

“Fuck,” he wheezes. “You’re already soaking.”

“More, Javier, more.” 

He grinds his cock against your thigh to soothe his own ache. He nods slowly as if dazed, his eyes locked onto to where his hand disappears inside your jeans. “Y-yeah, okay.”

If any hesitation remains, it’s gone when he sinks two fingers inside of you and taps up. You moan and he shoves his knee between your legs. 

“You like that, pretty girl? Does that help?”

“Yes,” you gasp into his neck, his fingers rocking into you. “Yes, Javier, yes!” 

His touch douses the ache, the fire, across your skin, in your spine. With every snap of his wrist, he draws away the heat from your exposed, too-sensitive nerves, easing the lighting storm in your low stomach. The noises you’re making, the noises your cunt makes against his fingers – it should embarrass you, should draw red up into your cheeks and ears, but it’s just more release. You yowl like an animal in heat and Javier’s groin jerks against you. You gain enough sentience to realize he’s fucking you with his jeans on up the wall, his hand never slowing or easing. You can feel yourself gush between his knuckles. 

“You’re almost there, muñeca, I can feel it. Just give it to me. Come for me,” he pants into your clavicle, the spread of bone across your chest. You tighten at the thought of his breath against your nipples, his teeth on the soft weight of your breast –

And you do. You come with the easy brush of his thumb against your clit. White lightning soothes the rage beneath your skin and you shudder in his arms, forehead collapsing against his shoulder. The snap of his hips against your thigh is a bruising rhythm, harsh, feral, an understanding that only something rough and wild can actually save your life. 

“Is that better, querida?” His wide palm pushes the hair back from your damp neck, cradling your heated cheek. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip. You can feel his own fever, radiating from his skin. “Can we get you somewhere safe?”

But you’re still too high, too taut, to answer him. Another one builds, stacks up on itself every time his rock-hard cock digs into your hip. He scissors his fingers and you bear down onto his thigh. 

“Fuck,” he mutters, but without exhaustion or anger. He sounds almost gleeful. When he looks at you, his pupils are blown wide, sweat making his skin glow. The skin around his mouth is damp. “Alright, I’m not gonna stop. You can have one more. One more, querida.” 

His shoulders tense, the muscles in his back shifting, as he changes the angle of his fingers, renews the pressure of his thumb on your clit. He brushes against something deep inside of you, wet and spongy and never before reached and you arch your back in response, air sucked from your lungs. His thigh nearly lifts you off the floor. 

“Oh, that’s it, isn’t it?” He taps the spot again and tears flood your eyes and spill down your cheeks. 

“Oh my god, Javi,” you murmur and he seems to like that. You clamp down around him and his hips stutter, his moan deep and coming from an ache in his chest. He inserts another finger and your cunt sucks him in, greedy for more. 

He eases back into his rhythm, raggedly humping your hip, the rough material of his jeans burning between your thighs. 

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Fuck, I knew it would fucking feel this good. You’re clenching down on me so hard, baby.” 

On the tip of your next orgasm, the haze clears for just a second and you catch him in the eye. This isn’t just the drugs, you know, this isn’t just an excuse for both of you. This is hating to see the other one in pain. This is sharing a worry for a bit of yourself that lives in another body. What passes along the length of your gaze is the exact thing you feared losing. 

Selfishly, you’d rather not have him like this, than not having him at all. 

But this is what it could be, he tells you through an open, gasping mouth, through eyes that pin you to the wall, this is what we could have every day, every night. If you just let me in. 

If you just –

“Come for me.” 

You answer with his name, on a cry high and sharp, and you’re coming – harsh, fast, exploding as you drench him, his fingers pressing roughly into that one sweet spot. 

Javi slumps forward, the weight of him nearly stifling, as he gasps, his hips stilling, stuttering, stopping. His skin flushes cold for a second, sweat cooling his fever, his face buried in your neck. 

You feel it. Against your thigh. You swallow in surprise, the fog parting briefly again. 

“Javi, did you . . .”

He wrenches his hand out of you, releasing his grip on your hip as he lowers you down. 

“I’m not fucking calling Murphy,” he grits out.

*~*~*

Javier is a man of singular focus. Almost dogged and single-minded in his hunt, it’s rare he is even capable of listening to the voice of reason. It’s a different voice than his own that tells him when he’s doing something monumentally stupid. There’s a part of him that knows exactly why that voice sounds a lot like you, unconsciously knowing that you’re the only thing that could give him pause. And yet, there are times when he can shut the voice out, can shut out everything inside of him screaming at him not to do the thing he’s going to do. But this, this decision, genuinely has him torn. There is no right way to do this.

Well, there is a right way. One where he takes you to dinner, buys you flowers, walks you home, tucks your hair behind your ear, kisses you softly at first, then rough, until you beg him to come up the stairs. Despite what some may think, he is capable of being romantic. He can be sweet. He can ask nicely. 

But that is something he is not capable of right now. 

In his post-nut clarity – because, yes, he did come in his pants like a twelve year old with his first porn mag after having his fingers up your cunt for what was all too short – he realized the room you both were in was some sort of safehouse. 

A cot against the wall. A portable stove with something in the pan black and sticky. The crates are empty of any valuables – by the shape and length, most likely guns – but the few that are still full have a few bags of that elicit blue powder. He makes a mental note, somewhere on the very distant laundry list in his brain, to take a bag – with gloves on and wrapped up in several other baggies – to have it tested at the lab. Because whatever this stuff is, it might actually be more dangerous than cocaine.

Especially to idiots like him, he thinks roughly as he yanks the thread-bare mattress off its wiry frame onto the floor. He snatches up the cotton sleeping bag at the foot of the frame and unzips it, the inside facing down. This is such a monumentally stupid idea, he knows it is, but he can already feel that cramp building up his thighs, his cock throbbing awake, arousal clamping down on the base of his spine. And he just got a whiff of it. He can’t imagine what you’re feeling already. Behind him he hears you moan softly, never one to complain or whine when things get tough or hard, so he goes faster. He tucks up the other end of the sleeping bag in what he hopes is some semblance of comfort, but he wonders if that will even matter to either of you when it hits again which, judging by how hard his cock is growing, is eminent. The wet spot on his thigh, beneath his jeans, is sticky, uncomfortable. He needs no further reason to unbutton them. 

You moan, this time louder, higher, again and he turns to face you, his shirt already undone to his stomach.

You’re pale again, skin glossy and sickly wet. When your eyes flutter open, they’re glassy, gaze distant and unfocused. You twitch when that first cramp settles in deep. He thinks, his mind not entirely his own, about how deep the clutch of your cunt sucked in just his fingers and he shivers. He simultaneously wanted to get this over with and drag it out for days. Have you beneath him for days. 

Your legs tucked up beneath you from where he laid you down, Javi approaches quietly, kneeling as he takes off his shirt and goes to untie your boots. He touches your ankle as gently as he can and you shudder, cracking an eye open. 

“Javier, it’s coming back. It’s coming back and it hurts.”

In addition to the many, many agency violations, this is monumentally stupid because he’s obsessed with you. Has been for a while. Not just in a way that makes him want to fuck you for hours flat on your back, but in a way that your smile is the last thing he sees before he goes to sleep and the first thing on his mind when he wakes up. An obsession with your wellbeing, your safety, your happiness. A persistent coiling thought about your laugh, and strength, and the way you can make grown men twice your size tremble in fear. You’re a hunter, just like him, and with your beauty – your staggering, haunting beauty – how was he not supposed to immediately attach himself to you? It came on slowly, his pathological need to be near you, and once he realized what it was, there was no going back. No turning it off. 

He didn’t mean to tell you when he was drunk, but after bagging another narco, it was like he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. A brief glimpse into a world where you both were safe, and happy, and – god willing – together and in this world, he told you and he was brave about it and you said it back and he felt warm all over. But that was not this world, not his reality. In this one, he has to save you by doing the one thing that may truly well and good fuck him over. 

“Sit up, baby, that’s it.” He eases you into his arms and it’s like his touch drags you back into consciousness. Your fingers dig into his bare arms as you take in his exposed chest. 

“Javi, fuck, I don’t wanna beg, but before when you – you – I felt better. It cleared. I don’t know why or how, but with your fingers inside m-me, it . . . helped.” 

“I know, cariño, and I want to help more.” His thumbs press up under your jaw, tilting your head up to look him directly in the eyes. There’s fear there, pain, and it’s agonizing to him. “But I don’t know if that’s what you want.” 

“What I want? Javi, I–,” your eyes widen in understanding of what he’s offering, of what he’s scared to do. What he’s scared to take without your permission. 

You swallow, a pink flush crawling up your throat. “I . . . I don’t . . . I didn’t want our first time together to be anything like this, but . . .” You shake your head, shuffling closer to him, your breathing thinning as the drugs start to strike matches against your nerves. “I just don’t want you to think it doesn’t mean anything.” 

“It’s gonna mean everything to me, no matter how I get it.” He presses a soft kiss to the corner of your chin, just in front of his thumb. You nod, eyes squeezing shut, as you fight this arousal that claws into your skin like meat hooks. He pulls you to your feet, holding you steady as your knees try to lock up. He unbuttons your shirt with shaking hands. 

You touch his chest like you’ve never seen a man naked before. The hesitant, awed touch of you sends all the blood still remaining in his head straight into his cock. 

“I’m gonna fuck you now,” he murmurs to your cheek, your shirt off your body, his hands tugging your jeans down your hips. You nod again, speechless in your relief, and follow your jeans to the ground. Twisting on the nest he made for you, you slide your bra off, your nipples already tight and perk and waiting for his mouth. You huff, a sound so unlike you it makes him genuinely concerned, as the front of your panties darken again. 

“It’s okay, Javi, this is what I want. I want this.” You hate being vulnerable, he knows this, your attitude a front that leaves no room for sexist comments in the bullpen. And yet, here you are, deflowered and begging for him. You spread your legs for him, eyelids heavy, and he can smell the arousal on you. 

He drops to his knees, unsure where to start first, but the blue powder coursing through his veins demanding he puts his hands on your hips, which he finally acquiesce to. 

“I don’t think I can be gentle,” he admits quietly. He wants to nip, suck, slurp every inch of you, wants to see that perfect body bend to his will, to his turning. He wants to fuck you open and stuff himself up inside you so deep it leaves a mark. In his haze, the instinct to fuck supplies him with an image of you pregnant, bred and full of him, and his cock twitches so hard he drops onto all fours over you. 

You slip your underwear over your toes and your knees take him by the ribs.

“Please, Javi, please.” 

He knows it must hurt, must be so blindingly painful for you to beg like this. You never asked anyone for anything and that independence turned him on and frustrated him to no end. 

“Please, be rough,” you ask him from under your lashes, your body writhing beneath him. His hips, on a separate system than the rest of him, thrust the rough teeth of his zipper against your cunt and you keen, the sound imprinting into every crevice and curve of his brain. “Make it hurt.”

Oh fuck, this might actually be the thing that kills him. 

He hushes you, stills your flushed whimpering with a kiss that ends in teeth against the high curve of your cheek. He noses to your mouth, then down to your ear, where he bites on your earlobe. He’s balancing on one hand as his other tugs his jeans down and off his hips. 

He wants to fuck your tits. Come all over them, have his spend flush up your throat, your chin. He wants to come so hard he blinds you with it. And then he wants to flip you over and fuck your ass with his come-lubed dick. 

You wriggle and whine, legs wrapping around his hips, tugging him down onto you when, half-a-mind away, he realizes he just said all of that outloud.

“Yes, Javi, you can have whatever you want. Fuck me however you want.” His blood is boiling now, the white-hot bomb settling itself in the base of his spine, his balls already tight. Why he’s dragging this out is beyond him and possibly a medical detriment to you. 

“Javi, just fucking put your cock ins–,”

He watches as every conscious thought wiped from your mind, brow heavy, mouth seared open as he plugs you full of him in one rough thrust. You shudder and his elbows buckle, his body locked up tight because if he moves, if he dares to rub his cock through your velvet, hot clutch, he’ll come right there. Your eyes roll back in your head as his cock makes space for itself inside you.

“Javi–,” he claps a wide palm over your mouth, his teeth straining in his jaw, his temple twitching.

“Baby, I know it hurts – I know it fucking does – but I need you to stay still.” It feels too good. You’re too hot, too slippery, and soft. He can feel the hum of words behind his fingers and he shakes his head. “Do not fucking move – I just need to – I have to –,” 

He inches in just a bit more and you both gasp to the ceiling when he bottoms out. Your rough curls against his pelvis sears him, hot and sweet like cinnamon. He drools when he thinks about eating his own come out of you.

You only get one word out, one word that sets his whole world on fire: “Please.” 

He rears back, yanks you up his thighs, hands cupping the backs of your knees and he plows into you. Your tiny fingers that have pulled countless triggers and clapped irons on criminals twitch, tightening into the smelly cotton fabric, your mouth contorted open. His pace, his thrusting, is relentless, unforgiving but the look on your face is pleased, an almost maniacal grin across your lips. 

“Oh, right there, Javi, just like that. Just like that.”

He’s faster than he is precise. Precise comes later when the bestial fog clears from his brain, when the lust bleeds out of his system, when he doesn’t want to hump you like an animal with his teeth bared and cock so deep inside of you it kisses your womb. 

Before his mind entirely succumbs to the mounting arousal, he’s grateful he had the foresight to take the mattress down. If he hadn’t, there’s a good chance he would have fuck you, the bed, and himself right through the paper-thin walls. 

And then he lets go. Lets this thing in his chest and hot behind his groin take over, lets himself indulge in whatever carnal, depraved thing sparks in his mind.

He’s fucking you so hard you’ll both have bruises by morning. 

He watches, transfixed, at the place where his soaked cock disappears through your puffy, wet lips into the mind-numbing heat of your pussy. He can’t stop watching. He barely feels your nails digging into his thighs. 

The walls of your pussy squeeze him and it makes him falter, hitch speed. His gaze is torn away and instantly, it focuses on the bounce and sway of your tits. Sweat droplets roll from your neck into the valley of your breasts and without hesitation he bends to catch them with his mouth, tugging you further down his cock. You cry out, hands digging into his hair, as his tongue drags a wet trail over the top of your breast, the tip flicking your rock hard nipple, then beneath the swell where he meets it with his teeth. 

You jerk, pleasure overwhelming. “Uh – oh – oh – fuck – Javi.” The words leave your mouth truncated, cut short by his rhythmic bouncing. He nuzzles your tit, streaking you with his own sweat, not able to stop fucking up into you to really get a good grip on your breast, but wanting to put the whole thing in his mouth. 

“I’m gonna do it right next time,” he swears fidelity to your skin. He grinds his teeth against your sternum. “Next time I fuck you I’m going to pull you apart bit by bit. Starting with these fucking tits and ending with my tongue up your cunt. Maybe your ass.”

Against his cheek, he feels your skin break out in ridges, your whole body shivering at his words. He leans up, grinning wildly and grinds particularly deep inside of you. You still haven’t fully opened your eyes.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? You want my tongue up your ass. What about my cock, huh? Want my fat fucking cock inside there?” 

You whine, clawing at his chest, as you nod frantically. He could ask anything of you right now and you’d give it to him. And god, he wants so much.

“It’d hurt, baby, you know it would.”

You nod, words tumbling out of your mouth in a mindless babble. “I don’t care. I want it there. I want you inside me. I want it to hurt. I want you to fuck me raw, Javi.”

He groans, more like a growl, rapidly picking up his pace. He lifts your knees higher and fucks up, the change in angle making you moan so loudly it fills up his ears with blood.

“Tell me where you want it. Say it, querida.” 

“I want it in my fucking ass, Javi.” 

His jaw twitching, that primal, unrestrained urge in him wrapping itself around his spine, he shoves you off him. Wetness dribbles down his lap but he doesn’t let himself smell or see it for long, as he flips you onto your hands and knees, sliding in and pummeling your pussy from behind.

You whine, singing for his cock, and collapse onto your elbows, presenting your ass for him. The pair of you really are just fucking animals.

He presses his thumb to your tight hole, the wet slap of his balls against your ass suddenly the least obscene thing in the room. There’s barely enough room for his thumb there and he tips his head back at the thought that no one had ever taken you there before. His. All his and no one fucking else’s. 

“Javi,” you sob, that preening need gone from your voice as though you are begging him not to go further, but desire kept you from voicing what you actually wanted. 

His bottom lip twitches and he leans down and gently bites your shoulder, grounding you and clearing out all fear. Drugs or not, he’d never do anything you didn’t explicitly ask for, but the second this is all over, he’s going to get on his hands and knees and beg you to let him work your ass open. 

“Not tonight, cariño.” He slides his thumb out of you, his wrist twisting as he palms the meat of your ass. “But I’m not leaving this completely untouched.”

He smacks the jiggling flesh until he sees a pink hand print, earning him a yelp from you every time his palm lands. He feels fresh, sticky wetness soak his cock with each slap, enough for it to dribble down his thigh. He’s not going to shower for a week. 

The higher he climbs, the faster that animalistic heat leaves his blood. You’re not as pale as before, the skin of your back growing a nice healthy flush. As his grip around your hips tightens, he feels your cunt clench around him. If he won’t take your ass tonight, he still wants you puffy and sore. He leans back just to watch his cock pound your pink, abused hole.

“I’m close, Javi,” you admit breathlessly. He nods, leaning forward again, that image of your pussy split open for him deliciously sealed in his mind, and he drags his nose down your spine. Sweat from his chest drops and splatters against your skin.

“I know you are, I can feel it. Can I see your face? Watch you? Can I put you on top?”

You nod and he slips out of you for what he hopes will be the last time in his fucking life. He’s no longer drug-crazed, but he is drunk. Pussy drunk. Drunk on you. Imbibed by the juices trailing down his thighs. He shifts and you swing a leg over his hips, immediately swallow him deep inside you. 

Unlike the courtesy he gave you, you give him no time to adjust, grip his chest, and ride him within an inch of his life.

Your tits swinging in his face, he presses his fingers so tight into your thighs, he’ll be able to count the distinct bruises, and plants his feet. He meets you, thrust for thrust, and he watches your competitive nature battle your overwhelming chase for release. 

“Just come, cariño,” he pants. “You’ve done so good tonight. Just fucking come all over my lap. Let go.” 

His words melt something inside of you and you whimper, curling down over him, which he takes to wrap his arms around your back, and roll you under him. He kisses your chin, your temple, the corner of your mouth. His big palm cradling your head, he grinds low and deep, seeking out that place he touched with his fingers. 

“It’s alright. I’ve got you. You can come.” He prods that spot once and it’s all over. You clamp down on his cock, milking him for all he’s worth because as you arch, mouth open, tears down your face, he comes too. He comes and he comes and he comes until he drips out of you and that breaks another orgasm across you, this one bumpy and leaves you shaking. 

He feels dizzy, unsure up from down, the loudest sound he hears is his own blood rushing in his ears. He’s never been more exhausted. 

He can hear the vibration of you saying something against his throat, but nothing is quite working like it’s supposed to, so he slumps off you, his hand never leaving your skin, as he tugs you against him.

He’ll be dried and sticky in only a few hours – you both will – but that doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is the feeling of your heartbeat over his. 

*~*~*

Morning, along with the scent of rain, glides in through the open window and your fingers twitch as sunlight hits you. Your eyes fluttering open, you lift your head from the sleeping bag to see wet puddles on the floor under the window, the concrete streaked and stained with water. It must have rained sometime last night and, shockingly, you didn’t hear a thing.

The heatwave had finally broken. 

It’s not until you’re full awake do you realize his hand rests in the cup of your neck, thumb rubbing smooth, soft circles into the hard knot near your shoulder blade. You smile, groaning softly, becoming more relaxed by how good it feels. 

You roll over and greet his eyes. They’re brown again, the hungry blackness gone, but leaving an edge of uncertainty in its wake. 

He wants to know how you feel about last night.

“You fucked up,” you tell him and that worried crease appears between his eyebrows. You inch closer, your hand curling up against his jaw. “All that time last night, all the time you had me under you, and you didn’t kiss me once.”

You close your eyes, drop your head, and press a fervent, determined kiss against his pink lips. You can feel it as he swallows it in, his body shifting forward, hand coming up to your hip. But just as quickly as it starts, he pulls away. 

Javier shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says almost mournfully, eyes downcast. “I don’t want to know – what you taste like, if . . . I can’t kiss you if this is the last time.”

He’s still respecting your boundary, your wishes, while coated in his release and yours. He knows he can’t be selfish with you again.

You wet your lip, hand still on his cheek. 

“Javier, you saved my life last night. That was some kind of fucked up drug, but if you hadn’t been here and did what you did, I think I would have had a heart attack.” He shakes his head, ashamed and desperate to prove you wrong. You understand his hesitation. It felt too good for it to be anything other than a transgression. “And if anything, it showed me something I think I already knew but couldn’t find in myself to admit. I need you, Javi. I need you because I can’t live without you. Because I love you.”

His eyes light up when you return the words he uttered in the bar. None of this is how it should have been – in an abandoned narcos hideout, but god, there’s not a single thing you’d change. 

“Yeah, baby? You mean that?” You nod as hot, natural desire flashes in his eyes as he pulls your body under him and captures your mouth in his. His warm palm cups your hip, your ribs, up under your arm, and pushes your elbow to your head. There’s more to say, more to worry about, but that fucking heatwave over Bogota has finally broken and Javier Peña’s cum is dried and flaky between your thighs. 

“We should call Murphy,” you giggle, withdrawing your tongue from his mouth. He shakes his head, the blunt edge of his teeth against your cheek. “There’s a deadly new drug on the streets. Lives are at stake.”

“My dick is at stake,” he murmurs, lips hovering over your skin, drawing your knee up to his ribs as he slots himself between your thighs. The smile slides off your face as he thumbs your raw clit in rough, desperate circles. 

“I thought you said you were going to take it slow next time,” you huff, hips rolling against his stiff cock. 

“I will. Gonna take you to dinner. Cup your ass over a distractingly short dress. Buy you flowers and fucking gold jewelry . . . then I’m going to take you home and open you up with my fingers, then my tongue.” 

“So what’s this?” You gasp against his neck as he sinks his cock into you. 

He groans, grunts, as if he hadn’t spent the better part of the night making your cunt his personal possession. 

“This is me, fucking you, before breakfast. Then we call Murphy. Any objections?” 

You squeeze your knees around him, ankles hooked across his low back, sucking a mark into his neck. 

“Not at all.” 

When you do go public, not shying away from holding hands in the office, or openly walking in at the same time from the same car, Noonan is irate, but can’t bring herself to cut her two best agents loose. It seems catching Pablo Escobar matters more than some silly, little government-issued guidelines. She’d get her day in court, but not today. Not for a while. 

Noonan is annoyed. 

Murphy is not. 

“Came across some new party drugs and not a single thing happened, right?”

“You could have found it, taken it home for you and Connie to enjoy,” you say as you slide your arm across Javier’s back, his hand on your hip. He rarely ever takes his hands off you now. “But, no, you bailed on me instead.” 

“Sounds like you should be thanking me, instead of busting my balls.”

“He’s right, baby,” Javier nuzzles your neck. “Could have been him stuck in that basement with me, horny as a cat in fucking heat.” 

You shrug as Murphy makes a face. “I blame the heatwave.”

He leans into your ear. “And I blame your fucking ass in that skirt. I’m gonna take you home, make good on my promise. Any objections?”

“Not at all.” 

[starswallowingsea]

okay i decided to do a random number generator and some tarot cards so uhm. lets see. this is just spitballing ideas under the cut btw not an actual fic

for the characters i got yuzuru and mao, and i pulled the chariot, the three of swords, and the magician. so i think this is a deviation from the canon of the game in the ! era, at least in my mind, though i'd need to read more trickstar and fine stories to really do this idea justice and clean it up so just take this as me word vomiting a plot onto a post.

there are minor parallels between mao and yuzuru and their roles in their respective units, given that both of them take on more work than they should and are in the student council, combined with yuzuru's being tori's butler. they get along well enough and mao calls yuzuru by his given name now so its not like they get along poorly. this is all i have gathered just from quickly skimming mao's wiki page and their section on the relationships page.

i think...this fic would be a deviation from the canon in that trickstar doesnt come out on top and are defeated by fine and their counterparts from it (ie hokuto and eichi, wataru and subaru?, mao and yuzuru and i guess that leaves makoto and tori but i am not versed in trickstar lore very well so take this with a mountain of salt i never said this was going to be good) but which happens after they have developed this relationship where at least mao consideres yuzuru a friend and now that's just. shattered.

yuzuru doesn't necessarily realize in the moment what their relationship was to him until its broken before him on the stage as he pushes forward with fine until the very end, and it sinks in a little afterwards, maybe a few days, when mao is suddenly very very cold to him at the student council meetings. whatever amiability there had been before is gone, and there's no getting it back any time soon.

[alwaysanundertone]

hiw Abt a marauderers x FEM reader, like where it's after a double moon or smth and Remus is EXTREMELY clingy to the reader, snuggled in her, doesnt let her move, literally anything...and sirius on the other hand is in an awful mood cuz he had some family problem or some thing...he needs support and the reader or Remus aren't there to help him out..and jamesie? Well he had a quidditch match and lost that and is in an equally depressive mood...they all need the reade..but she isn't able to comfort them all...

Sirius becomes and and shouts at the reader...rmeua shouts at sirius for shouting at the reader and James (he can't shout, he's too sweet lol) argues with Remus for being to clingy to the reader...

And so they all get mad and stuff and go to other rooms of the house (lol)

This keeps on continuing until the reader lashes out on all three of them!!!

(p.s: u can totally not do it, if u don't like it lol)

my first request! I'm kind of nervous. My requests are open, and while writing this I realized how much I love them! So feel free to send them <3

Love can be overwhelming | poly! marauders x reader

slight angst / a bit of fluff

word count: 1.8k

CW: mention of abusive household

part 1, part 2 , part 3

When you started dating the Marauders, the first thing that your friend Dorcas said was to beware, polyamorous relationship could be tough. At first, you brushed her off: you knew that, but your love for the boys would have overcome everything.

Or at least you thought so.

You have been experiencing the worst week of your whole life, you were stressed over your head with schoolwork, wanting to stay on top of your class but, also, struggling too, and this time, your boyfriends weren’t helping at all.

It all started with the fact that, obviously, it was the week before the full moon, meaning that Remus was extremely on edge, but also clingy. Having an afternoon for yourself was a luxury: the werewolf had to stay by your side all of the time. You didn’t quite get this clinginess, because he behaved this way only with you; he wanted to have the other two marauders near, of course, but he was fine as long as you didn’t wonder off, and sometimes he seemed to be a bit possessive over you. So, let’s say that if you felt the need to have some practice lessons for potions, he had to be there, and it didn’t matter if the professor didn’t want anyone else in the room with you: you had to choose between having him near you, or skipping the extra lessons you so desperately needed.

“Remus, I know it’s stressful for you, but you must understand I have to take this class. It’s not like I’m going to be gone all afternoon, I’m asking you for two hours maximum. You know that Slughorn doesn’t like having other people during these lessons, and he’s doing me a favour here” He looked like you just might have kicked him.

“I don’t understand why my partner suddenly doesn’t want me around.” You took a deep breath: truth was, you knew that he wasn’t being unreasonable because he wanted to. If his werewolf instincts weren’t acting up, he would have probably pushed you to take even more lessons, but now he wasn’t in his right mind. You had to chance tactic.

“Baby, you know that I love you, right? I love you so, so much” You took his face into your hands, you saw his expression visibly shift. “And I know it isn’t easy for you, I know that. I swear, if you go napping now, you won’t even notice I’m gone”

“But napping is way more fun with you” His voice turned sultry, his hands now groping your ass lightly. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of need, but now was not the time.

“Tell you what, I’m going to lay down with you until you’re asleep. I’ll give you some head scratches, then, when I’ll be back, you’ll have me all to yourself. Does this sound good?” His pupils were now a little bit wider; he nodded and hauled you on his shoulder, making you yelp when he made you fall on the bed. He positioned his head on your chest, a hand crawling underneath your shirt to grip one of your tits possessively, while the other one stayed underneath your ass, the tips of his fingertips hovering dangerously close to your core.

You knew that his hold wasn’t casual: he was trying to make you stay, knowing the effect that he had on you, but you couldn’t give in: you had to stay strong,  because deep down you knew that, if you failed this exam, you wouldn’t be in the right mind to help Remus during the full moon.

You just had to get through this week, it was only 7 days, right? And most of today was gone, if the other boys would be helpful, as they always did, everything was going to be just fine.

You wandered off to the Great Hall for breakfast, exhausted. After the lesson with Slughorn, you came back to a very needy Remus, who took all of his clinginess out of you, leaving you sore and tired; while he slept soundly, though, you had to study and make up for the hours lost being supportive for your boyfriend, leaving you with about two hours of sleep in the last forty-eight hours.

“Hey girl, didn’t see you in our dorm room yesterday, oh what the fuck-“ Dorcas looked at you like you might have grown another head during the nighttime. “Babes, have you slept? Like, at all?”

“No, I haven’t. Remus is being extremely clingy, and you know that I’m not the best when it comes to Potions. Given the fact that the test is going to be next week, I barely have time to rest” She scoffed, but you interrupted her before she could start. “I know that James and Sirius should help, but he’s being this clingy only with me, and they can’t do much about that; plus, the upcoming game is stressing them out so much, yesterday they came to bed after practice, they didn’t even eat anything. I just want to support them”

She sighed. “I know baby, but try to not burn out, okay? If you need any help, I’m here, you know? Now, let’s go eat something”

You were happy to share some time with her and your boyfriends, but when you sat next to Sirius, one look at him told you anything that there was to know.

He didn’t greet you, didn’t sport his usual smirk: he was looking down at his plate like it might have held the answer to all his problems, while James looked at you preoccupied. Remus just held you close to himself. You tried to peel yourself away from his embrace, to not avail.

“Sirius, baby, do you want to talk? We can skip the first few hours and go on a walk to the Black Lake?” Now he was looking at you, his eyes were red and puffy, you tried to not cringe at his expression.

“It’s okay, Y/N, just the usual” You hated how he always seemed to shut down, not wanting to share his problems with you. As you tried to reach for his hand, Remus snatched you back, holding you close to him: you could see the moment in which Sirius shut you out for good, and you wanted to kick Remus for it.

“I’m going to handle this, you’re going to think about Remus, okay darling? Then I will report back to you, I swear” James whispered in your ear, You took a deep breath, nodding: you were thankful for him, but you still didn’t want to make Sirius feel like he couldn’t count on you.

You had the time to eat a biscuit before you had to head to class, Remus trailing behind you. You just had to wait for a few days, a few days and all of this would be over, and you had James to help you get through this week. You would be fine, you told yourself.

On Wednesday, you were thankful that Remus had an important herbology test, which gave you enough time to check in with Sirius. You entered their dorm room, spotting his curled frame under piles of blankets: you felt a pang of guilt, you swore your heart broke just a little.

Without making any sounds, you peeled the blankets off and wrapped your body around his, he startled in his sleep.

“Shh, baby, I’m right here. You’re safe, you know that? And I’ll always be here for you, no matter what” It was like you opened a faucet: his body started trembling, and then came the sobbing, he turned around and hugged you back, you caressed his head and back softly. After he quieted down a bit, you took his face into your hands, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Would you like for me to sing for you?” He nodded eagerly, burying his face in your chest, while you sang him a lullaby.

After a bit, you heard his breath even out. Your heart ached for your lover, you didn’t know what living in an abusive household felt like, and you sometimes even felt guilty over the fact that you had the most loving parents someone could ever asked for. You knew it was silly, but if you could, you’d swap family in a blink of an eye, everything to take this burden off of Sirius’s shoulders.

“Is he okay?” James whispered, startling you. He bent down, placing a soft kiss on your head. “I don’t know, Jamie. He had a breakdown, now he is asleep. I don’t know how to help him, I don’t want him to suffer like this every month.”

“I know, love, I know. You’re doing your best, and he appreciates it. But” He looked at you embarrassed, and you already knew what was going on, you sighed. “Remus just finished his test, and he’s going kind of nuts, he wants you by his side. You should go”

“Can’t he just come here, so we could cuddle?”

“I don’t know, love. This moon seems different, he got a lot more possessive over you. He just wants you for himself, I think we’re going to fix this before the next month, but for now, I think you should go”

You nodded, looking down art Sirius for the last time, before looking for Remus.

You prayed Sirius didn’t feel abandoned by you,  but you still had James to count on.

On Thursday, you stayed in bed all day with Remus. You studied, of course, and he seemed happy to have you around. You didn’t see Sirius at all, given the fact that you stayed at your dorm, but you thought that James was handling him well.

Exactly, you thought, because, as you and Remus took your seats for the Friday’s night Quidditch game, after having studied all day in the library, you felt a bit anxious. You told yourself you were being paranoid, but deep down, you knew something was off, and when Sirius entered the Quidditch pitch, you knew he wasn’t okay. He didn’t come to greet you, didn’t even look at you, and when you shoot a glance at James, he just averted his gaze: you were fucked.

You took a deep breath and snuggled closer to Remus, his clinginess now comforting, as the game begun. From the first actions, you knew that they were going to lose: Sirius looked like he wasn’t even trying, while James was too preoccupied to check on him to score a single goal.

And as the game ended, you knew your night was going to be an awful one: Gryffindor just lost the game.

[noellefan101]

Silent Living

Characters: Noelle, Kinich, Lynette, Beidou, Diluc x mute GN!reader

Summary: You're mute, and cant talk? not a problem for your partner, they can find other ways to communicate, and honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

Warnings: mute reader, most of them dont know sign language but there are people where i think they would either have learned it already or will learn it for you, gn reader as always

Note: hehe its kinda hard to write for Noelle tbh, i just can't see her romantically if that makes sense, its like a platonic obsession i have for her. but i chose to write for some girlies bc i felt like it, luv you :P

Noelle

She's a sweetheart and i fully believe she would try to learn sign language the day you meet for the first time. but for the sake of the cute gestures lets pretend she barely knows any words in it, or that you arent the best yourself despite probably needing it heh.

(she would teach you some if so, or learn with you)

In a classic Noelle fashion, she does literally anything for you, though people would normally just have to speak her name, you can't. so she always keeps an extra eye on you to ensure she's there when you need her help. that may be a given, but its truly what shes best at doing.

Loves writing little notes for you, whether its just so you can remember something or if its to invite you anywhere, she loves it. and she has definitely not been carrying pen and paper with her for weeks so you could write notes for each other, no no.

I dont imagine her being the best with words, but is always very good at comforting. so if you need some reassurance or just comfort you can come to her. and you can let her know to be silent by putting a finger over her mouth if you like the silence more. she wont be offended don't worry.

Kinich

Not very good with words and likes silence when possible, so it's very common for you to sit in silence doing an activity together. he's best with actions at least, both giving and receiving, so just doing a tiny chore for him would mean more than words could.

Though it may be difficult to do anything for each other since he's quite busy, and so could you be. but he always has time to sit with you for at least 30 minutes a day and just spend quality time together.

if you ever need anything from him, he has a notebook on him at all times that you're free to write in. Although Ajaw has made a fuss about it being annoying to wait for you, but he'll shut up if Kinich locks him up.

Lynette

She loves the silence you bring. being around her brother all the time can get annoying, no matter how much she loves him, so a quiet tea time with you is often just what she needs. she knows you can feel out of place or left out even since you cant communicate as easily with her siblings. but she is always ready to talk for you.

No matter how much she hates public speaking, and how often she gets her brother to speak for her, she'll speak for you. if there's anything you'd like to say, just write it down and show it to her. she might even know what you wanted to say, by how you stand and how your muscles move. so she will sometimes speak for you before you even get to start writing it down.

She has made sure you're a part of the conversation, not just there and looking around. she might have some knowledge about sign language, but she knows many do not and makes sure everyone understands you.

(she might even ask father if they can get classes in sign language, or at least the siblings of hers that you interact with most often)

Beidou

Maybe not the best at silent communication, but she tries her very best. if she doesnt know sign language she'll learn it, mostly because she feels it would make you more comfortable, but its also something that she may find interesting.

She is very good at dealing with different kinds of people though, so expect yourself to feel right at home wherever you are on her ship. she might even have started teaching her crew how to talk with you properly, whether thats getting you something write down on or learning them a bit of sign language that im not sure of.

Unfortunately it all goes in weird directions when she's drunk, while she talks for you it might be hard to get her to pay attention enough or even speak your thoughts properly. Kazuha is your savior in this case.

Diluc

He has made sure every single maid and anyone he hires learn to speak through their hands. he might even have prepared for it before you started dating, and even some of his staff you have never met before just knows how to speak with you.

Its a given that you're going to be well treated at the dawn winery, but Diluc makes sure you feel the most at home you'll ever experience. you have at least 1 maid whos ready to tend to you in a seconds notice, whether its jsut that you need something to write on or you need to know where you lover is.

Will literally drop anything for you with just a finger on his shoulder. whatever you need, he'll do it. need a hug? no need to even gesture it he knows, someone doesnt understand you at all? he's ready to talk in your place for hours on end.

I might have written it weirdly again sry, im not mute and i just like writing, Luv Ya- Masterlist

You are welcome to reblog and like any of my posts, but you CAN NOT translate, copy or hate on anybody for liking my posts

[dwaekkicidal]

forever thinking of secret mean dom felix. your sweet, sweet lixie who dotes on you and holds you so gently and kisses you softly in front of his friends but is a totally different person in the bedroom.

pushing your head into the pillow, wrapping your hair around his fist and yanking hard while he tells you what a slut you are for wearing a tiny skirt and bending over in front of innie.

squishing your cheeks and making your lips puff out while youre on your knees staring up at him so prettily.

his voice beyond deep and growly in your ear when he tells you to beg for his cock and tell him why you deserve it if you’re so needy.

landing one (1) slap on your face when he has you on your back for daring to stick your tongue out at him, thinking he wouldn’t act on his words.

leaving you tied up on his bed with a vibrator taped to your clit while he games with orders of not to make a sound or even think of cumming.

having you cockwarm him in front of the boys for giggling at a joke seungmin made about felix needing to tame your sass. you can’t sass if your mouth is full, right?

mean dom felix lives rent free in my brain, its giving the musical doodle worm in spongebob iykyk

my sweet, lovely anon.. MARRY ME RIGHT FUCKING NOW.. jumping from wall to wall, gnawing my headboard, hanging from the ceiling like a fucking bat swinging around

secret mean dom felix is straight out of my nastiest fantasies.. i love being baby’d and being treated+treating others so sweetly is always my favorite thing- but then fucking like you want me to die is ... 🧍‍♀️i will find a way to impregnate the next man that does this to me

ahem. anywho-

secret mean dom felix who is just soooooo sweet and soo patient with you no matter what. he has his nose pressed to your temple more often than not, with a soft smile at the familiar smell of your shampoo/body wash and will give you random hand kisses literally just for fun.

the others actively gag (jokingly obv) at the sheer intimacy that felix just isnt afraid to show in public. they also will always call you guys mom and dad and will pretend to throw up when you guys show a lot of pda with no shame (theyre proud and good on you two!! but also “EEEEEEW”)

its become a regular thing, seeing you guys locked limbs and giving each other eskimo kisses or just soft and sweet little pecks as you hold each other close

hes the most respectful little guy that the world could ask for… but ohhhh my god. when theyre gone and it’s just the two of you, he gets SO disrespectful 🫠

what you said about the tongue sticking out is actually making me lose my mind!!!!!!!!!!! its such a like simple but childish thing to do and its literally THE perfect thing (in my eyes as of now) to do to piss off your dom 🥹 i genuinely might include this in my future brat taming things i write

but YES! slapping you across the face just enough to get his point across is so ‼️‼️‼️⁉️‼️⁉️‼️⁉️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️❕❕❕

he swears that he “hates” to do it to you, but the shit eating smile on his face and the way his cock twitches says otherwise

especially when he slides into you after having to tease himself to punish you properly, and that initial slide in doesnt feel as good as it normally does- at least not until halfway in, his palm meets your cheek or your tit out of the blue and your cunt tightens up so nicely for him!! not to mention, your sound are almost enough for him to cum right then and there

he loves to keep a hand in your hair for any reason. its a convenient means of reminding you who’s boss and keeping you obedient, all the while he can position you essentially to any position he wishes. (but its also good for holding you still so he can shove his tongue down your throat or so he can put your faces an inch from each other and in that sexy ass voice tell you to “watch your fucking mouth.”)

or better yet, he has one hand holding the restraints on your wrists while the other slides your favorite vibrator between your folds. roughly against your clit and at the max speed because “greedy sluts dont deserve to speak or enjoy their pleasure.”

him and that stupid ass vibrator are 🤞🤞

he chose a lovense because he loves the app controls while still being able to use it without the app, and it always leads to the freakiest (therefore yummiest) scenarios

you’re at dinner with the boys? vibrator shoved deep in your cunt while he teases the controls under the table.

grocery shopping and you just so happen to choose the emptiest isle to go down? 0-100 in literal seconds.

you wanted to watch them do choreos or just wanted to sit in the studio with the others? will look you dead in the eye and gradually up the speed of the vibrations until he can just barely hear it

running around the house doing chores? (playing the part of his little housewife ❤️) will put patterns on repeat and leave it running until the battery dies, or until youre finished cleaning. oh but dont worry about the charge!!! he has backups of your most used toys. :)

can, but will not give you any build up once you have the toy in solely because you getting caught off guard = the best reactions and the prettiest sounds. he will, however, sit there and laugh to himself when you struggle to walk straight or straight up fall to your knees at the sudden pleasure

and if any of the boys get invited to the bedroom, shits gonna get NYASTY… (ESPECIALLY with chris or minho 🫠🫠)

[ambrosiagoldfish]

Lucifer, Charlie, and alastor with a Kitsune reader ? :0

Hazbin Hotel x Kitsune! Reader

(Lucifer, Charlie, and Alastor)

Safe for all Audiences!

Warnings: None! Gn! Reader! Reader being a mischievous Little Kitsune, chaos ensues.

Request Box: Open

Word count: 1101

A/n: Hi! thank you for the request! This isn’t terribly long so I hopes that’s ok!

Now, I wasn’t entirely sure if you want this to be Romantic or Platonic so I kept it pretty vague so it could be interpreted as either! I hope that’s ok, if not just send another request and I’ll fix it!!

But either way I hope you enjoy it because i enjoyed writing it!! <3

Proofread once soooo… if there are any errors please ignore them/inform me 😭

Lucifer

When you first arrived in hell, he wasnt the most impressed by you. Not in a mean way or anything, just that he’s lived for a long time and has met a plethora of different types of beings so he’s pretty used to meeting interesting looking people.

But even he has to admit that he was intrigued with you. Your 9 well-groomed and lush tails that quietly followed you with every step and the fur of your fox ears looked soft to the touch. The thing that he seemed to notice most though was the whole eloquent aura you had with every movement you did. Smooth, almost tranquil.

You being a Kitsune did cause you to stir up a bit of… let's say trouble. Your fox nature of course caused you to have a personality that leaned a bit mischievously. You weren’t malicious by any means, you judt had a very… unique taste in humor and how you wish to spend your time. Pranks, stealing random objects that interest you, and going places that you probably should be. This gets you in trouble with many a folk but it’s really not something you can’t handle.

On one of these occasions. you took interest in his custom made duckys. First off, it was something new to you, 2nd, you had never seen someone be this interested in ducks as him, so when you randomly stumbled into the big man of hell’s workspace that’s filled to the brim of them, each with unique features and colorful designs, needless to say you were quite interested.

He was a bit embarrassed at first when you found it but seeing that you genuinely were into them he literally couldnt stop showing them off. Going into almost ecrusiating detail of each one's design choices. (This man is so autistic-coded. I love him so much)

He even made a custom one for you which he gave you when both met again. It was a basic duck design, except it had 9 tail feathers and wore fox ears that clearly mimicked your own, including your fur pattern. He then spent an hour going through each of its features with you. To say you were grateful would be an understatement.

“And if you pull this feather back… Bubbles! Oh-ho, and that's not all! If you take this and-”

Charlie

Definitely more impressed than her father would be. Of course she has been in hell literally all her life and has seen some weird, wacky, hot and cool people but it still doesnt not surprise her when she finds interesting people. When you first met her she was really interested in you, asking a bunch of questions and It was almost scary how enthusuatsic about it she got.

She then started talking about her brand new “Hazbin Hotel.” It was something to reform sinners so that they had a chance at redemption. Charlie seemed so excited to tell you about it that you honestly did have the heart to tell her that you didn’t exactly believe a soul could be redeemed.

Now depending on if you’re hellborn or a sinner, things can go a bit differently. If youre hellborn she’ll offer you a job at the hotel, well to say a job would be a lie, you didn’t really have 1 given task to do, you just helped out when needed. if you’re a sinner, you of course get to stay in a room at the hotel. Whether you actually go along and try to get better is up to you. It was a free place to sleep, so hey? Might as well. Either way though, Charlie always sees the good in people, hellborn or not. So she would obviously want to help you grow as a person even if you are hellborn.

The michevues aspects of your personality tends to cause some problems for the hotel at times. Fights happen, lessons have ended prematurely, and you may have accidentally caused a bar fight between Angel and Sir Pentious. It really was an accident, how was you supposed to know “borrowing” one of Pentious’ shiny tools would cause such a ruckus?

Charlie lectored you about taking others' stuff and made you apologize.

As much as Charlie doesn’t want to admit it (at least before episode 5) she’s a lot like her dad. That also expands to their likeness for your fur. She really can’t take her eyes away from it, it just looks so soft and neat… and soft… eventually you catch her staring at your tails and you just laugh and ask her if she wants to touch them.

“What!? Pfft, noooo, no no no. hehe…he…unless you’re offering…”

Alastor

Considering Alastor died in the 20’s I don’t think he knows what a Kitsune is exactly. Which is probably why he’s the most interesting in you at first glance (you could have also met when he first manifested in hell, which would only further his intrigue)

Either way, your personalities seemed to mesh well for the most part. You both stir up trouble wherever you go (Alastor a bit more… maliciously than you but still)

Whether you’re hellborn or a sinner is irrelevant to how he treats you, though he has tried making a deal with you every once and a while. You always decline but he thinks it’s always worth a shot to ask.

Alastor is aware of your devious behavior and knows the best way to handle it if it ever happens to come his way. He knows that you’re harmless and not a threat which is exactly why he has taken a liking to you. You’re someone who can only really help his cause and nothing bad can really come out of you being around.

Pranks though, are the one thing that Alastor can’t seem to sway you out of doing. He can’t even begin to count the amount of times he’s been at the front end of them. Of course he always sees through them and they’ve never once worked, but boy are you sure determined to one day get him.

This was one such case where you attempted to steal and hide his radio cane while he was asleep, only for him to sneak up shadow form and scare you half to double death

“You’re going to have to try harder than that to pull one past me, my, oh-so dear, exquisitely fluffy friend”

[instead-of-sleeping]

The other-realm

I had to speed writing this and It isn’t proofread, so I’m sorry it isn’t that good or doesnt make much sense. I think that my favourite part of this AU is transforming the game mechanics in in-universe things, anyways enjoy :3 (This is inspired by this post by @brittle-doughie)

Something was wrong. And It is only a matter of time before it gets worse.

For the past days, every time you tried to sleep you would have the same dream: floating in a dark blue space.

The first time was dazzling, like stargazing but you were in the middle of the stars.  Then a chill down your spine.

“Every cookie keeps a sneaky little secret.”

And you were in your bed again, the clock showing it’s midnight.

You recognise the voice, how could you forget that clown after all the harm he has done, but it was just a nightmare, right? 

Your subconscious playing with your memories.

No one was coming back, No one was in danger, everything was fine and you didn’t have to go back to that damned place again.

Just a stupid nightmare.

Needless to say, falling back to sleep was much harder.

That morning between the usual kingdom matters and your friend’s’ letters, there was one different from the others. What a coincidence…

An invitation, as guest of honor, for “Shadow Milk Cookie’s great masterpiece of deceit, where the truth-”

“No.”

Why things couldn’t be just coincidence for you?

Well, actually It didn’t say it was him but like come on! There was literally his face; and it was so satisfying to see it ripped in the trash can.

But it wasn’t hearing his voice again that night and the night after.

Now eyes were watching, multiplying and giggling at your every move.

And every time you woke up the invitation would be in your bed with a small present, that would go directly to the fireplace, whatever was inside it you didn’t want to deal with it.

Of course, the clown kept tormenting with his ominous words

“Don’t lie to me, I know you still like me!”

“It’s no use to try escape… Deceit would swallow you whole”

“Deceit existed since the beginning of Earthbread, and Earth…”

“Your whole life is a lie. Welcome to my world!”

Honestly, such edginess should be studied.

Like the dark circles under your eyes.

Now you should go to do your every day activities, but your head hurt  like hell, the bed was simply too comfy to get out and the Swan knew how you needed the rest, even after it’s been months since dealing with a Beast 

Nothing could make you get up.

Except that knocking on the door.

Still in your pijama you could feel the floor was colder than usual, and wasn’t like ten in the morning why the shadows were so dark?

Opening the door revealed Pure Vanilla, judging by his face he too wasn’t doing well.

“Look, Pure Vanilla Cookie; thanks for coming all the way here but if you are trying to convince me to go to Beast-Yeast again”

“Do you know anything about the Beast-Binding ritual?”

[puzzlekinq]

pls write anything for edward ily

using this as an excuse to post horny eddie headcanons >:3 (i love you too!!)

edward nashton x gn reader nsfw headcanons

amab reader inclusive !!

cw: pegging, power dynamics, dacryphilia, orgasm denial, jealousy, possessive behavior.

—

♡ okay first off. its 3 inches soft, 5 inches hard, pink tip, very thick. stretches you out very nicely.

♡ frequently jerks off. (insert paul dano chronic masturbater image) he has to beat his meat at least a couple times a day. plus i think he'd wake up with morning wood constantly. he has to crank one out as quick as he can if he doesnt want to be late for work, or else hes going in public with a hard on. (he's done it before and it was agony. its your fault he was hard. what have you done)

♡ he would never tell a single soul what kind of porn he watches. but i will, because im the one writing this post

♡ hes embarrassed about how much he enjoys the idea of you pegging him if ya dont have the necessary bits. the first video he watched of someone absolutely railing a guys ass, he got so painfully hard in an instant. ended up not being able to keep himself quiet as he furiously stroked his throbbing dick while he clamped his hand over his mouth for some sort of noise control.

♡ the first time he tried to fuck his own ass was a challenge. yes, his fingers sufficed, they were long enough to reach the right spot, but he didnt know lube was necessary (inexperienced virgin moment) so he just stuck them in dry, and that along with the pain of stretching himself open made for an unpleasant insertion. but he eventually got the hang of it and shot a massive load all over his stomach in like three minutes.

♡ huge praise kink. i'd say he has more of a thing for being praised than degraded, although he likes both. nobody has said a kind word to him in his life, rarely even a simple "thank you". he needs you to tell him hes good, that hes doing so well taking your strap, devouring your cunt, sucking your cock- anything. he just wants to hear that hes doing a good job, and that someone thinks positively of him for once, in a non-sexual context as well.

♡ but he also enjoys when youre a little mean to him in the bedroom, of course. he fucking loves being manhandled, choked, slapped, spit on, or having his dick or ass used just for your pleasure.

♡ LOVES EATING PUSSY!!!! the taste, the smell, the slick and cum all over his face while he grinds against the mattress, getting off to your moans- its all so incredibly hot to him. he'll literally beg to eat you out.

♡ loves sucking dick too!!! he loves taking your cock as far down his throat as he can, usually ending up gagging on it, but hes trying his best. and you know, practice makes perfect, and god, does he love practicing on you. your groans as you push his head down further onto your dick is enough to make him cream his pants. loves when you cum all over his face!!!! he prefers tasting you though.

♡ will cum too fast if he doesnt control himself, and thats why he'll edge himself for as long as you need. the overstimulation from edging feels so fucking good to him, so he really doesnt mind at all if chasing your orgasm takes a while. he gets so drunk off fucking you, he could spend the entire day rutting into your slick warmth.

♡ he can simulate that fantasy by letting you cockwarm him all night, or while hes doing paperwork, or just when youre cuddling on the couch. he cant get enough of being inside of you, he always wants more.

♡ sometimes he'll have to pull out of you and squeeze the base of his cock while he takes slow breaths to stop himself from cumming, his bottom lip crushed painfully between his teeth as sweat drips from his forehead, eyes squeezed shut while he lets out several high pitched whimpers at every exhale. its a pretty sight.

♡ hes veryyy vocal. even if he tried to be quiet he cannot shut up to save his life. has to at least whisper frantic, slurred praises into your ear about how good you feel, how beautiful/handsome/amazing you are, and how you take his cock so well like your holes were made to fit him inside of you, like a puzzle piece- his way of putting it into words.

♡ you were the missing piece in his life for so long, being inside of you is the closest he'll ever get to becoming one with a devine being such as you. he truly does worship you.

♡ hes even louder when hes close, rambling about how bad he wants to fill your tight little hole with his cum, and how good you feel milking his cock.

♡ he loves to edge you as much as he does to himself. your desperate pleads and whines for release, the release that is in his power to take away from you, gives him a blissful feeling of control. he'll make you beg for him to keep fucking you with his fingers, stroking your dick- whatever it would be, he wants to hear you cry for him. he thinks youre so lovely when you cry.

♡ he can be mean about it too. sometimes he'll listen and keep pleasuring you, but goes agonizingly slow, just to hear you beg for it harder, faster, just to make your pretty eyes gloss over with tears. he'll just giggle at you looking so pathetic under him, the knowledge of the state you're in being because of what hes doing to you gets him so excited.

♡ wipes away your tears with his thumb while mockingly cooing about how he knows it hurts, but youre just not asking nice enough.

♡ it honestly just gives him a major power trip. he's like this more often when he's in his riddler getup. you know, the thing about being his true self under the mask, no shame, no limits, blah blah.

♡ not to say he cant be submissive when hes the riddler. because you can totally make him drop the scary, dominant act in like 2 seconds. hes not as tough as he feels in the costume.

♡ but if you let him indulge in his heightened ego he'll make sure you cant even stand up for a couple hours. he got too sillygoofy (wrecked ur guts with his dick) sorry

♡ he's so easy to turn on. it's he really just you being you that gets him so worked up. woke up to your sleepy, angelic self cuddled up next to him? horny. you gave him a hug that lingered for too long? horny. youre wearing his jacket that looks adorably big on you? MEGA HORNY.

♡ he just likes when you wear his clothes in general. he'll take any opportunity he can to offer you his clothes. he thinks you look really cute and hot in them and it gets him all flustered.

♡ he cant pick between chest, ass, or thighs. all of them are so good to him. his head between your thighs, or shoved in your chest with his tongue lapping at your nipples, or having his palm full of the plush flesh of your ass while he fucks you from behind- its all so heavenly to him.

♡ hes a tummy guy too. if you have a chubbier tummy he'll go SO nuts over it. he needs to squeeze your love handles or he'll die. he loves tummy rolls too!! he is GOING to drool over your body no matter what size or shape you are.

♡ speaking of your tummy, he likes having his hand on your stomach while he fucks you. its like a reminder of how deep inside of you he is. he loves having you full of him.

♡ loves the idea of breeding you and getting you pregnant, but if you cant, having you full of his cum is still his way of reassuring himself that you belong to him.

♡ hes very possessive when it comes to you. youre the one good thing hes ever had, and hes not letting you go. ever. and he lets you know that with the way he repeats the word "mine" like a mantra against your love bite covered neck.

♡ he gets extremely jealous easily, and the best way to make him feel better is to let him bury himself inside of you and mark up your body to alleviate his insecurities. he'll leave bruises and hickeys in very noticeable spots, and be like "oops, sorry 🥺" but hes absolutely not. he did it on purpose as his way of telling all of gotham "fuck you, theyre mine."

—

oki doki im gonna stop there or this post is gonna be way too long . i have lots of Thoughts about this guy bfgdudhdh i hope this is like. good. or decent

[tgcg]

part 1 of something specific

TG: oh my god you get it

CG: OF COURSE I FUCKING DO, DAVE. I’LL ALLOW MYSELF CREDIT FOR ONE GOOD THING, AND THAT’S THE FACT THAT I KNOW HOW TO CONSUME MEDIA CORRECTLY.

TG: you understand me

TG: so many damn times ive tried to turn john over on this business and he doesnt listen

TG: like you dont need to be gay to see how naruto and sasuke are the romance of the fuckin century man its not rocket science dare i say it is elementary level 

CG: IT’S BASIC READING COMPREHENSION, I AGREE.

CG: I’M NOT ABOUT TO EVEN *TRY* TO UNDERSTAND EARTH’S BIASES TO CERTAIN FORMS OF ROMANCE, BUT IS IT LITERALLY JUST BECAUSE THEY’RE BOTH GUYS?

TG: i dunno i dont think hes like

TG: homophobic or something

TG: i think if anyone is the number one ally to anything its probably john yknow hed have your back bro if you were all up and being bisexual on earth and people werent scrambling hand over foot away from you because youre an alien 

TG: but just because you were that 

TG: thing

TG: bisexual

CG: YEAH, THAT THING.

TG: he wouldnt care man

TG: he wouldnt give a shit or fuck about it probably

CG: SPEAKING OF LABELS THOUGH!

TG: aw man are you about to pull out the quadrant shiz on my boys

TG: are you gonna tell me naruto and sasuke got a hate on for each other or something cus thats 

CG: OH JEGUS NO, DAVE. THAT WOULD BE COMPLETELY MISSING THE POINT OF THEIR RELATIONSHIP’S GROWTH AND THEIR ENTIRE DYNAMIC, NEVERMIND THE PURPOSE OF THE STORY ITSELF.

TG: alright lay it on me shercock homos ill be your watson watching you with the big twinkling eyes of a newborn fawn

TG: sleuth this shit like you were there when kishimoto invented it

TG: his alien understudy rises from the caverns of anime hell clutching the scroll of one universally understood truth and with his otaku disciples there to listen he takes a deep breath and delivers his groundquaking sermon to the masses

TG: jesus take the mic

CG: I’M CLUTCHING THE MICROPHONE IN MY CALLOUSED AND BONE-DRY TOUCHSTUMPS, BODY WEARY AND ON THE BRINK OF CAVING IN ON ITSELF, BUT I SPEAK WITH A STALWART DETERMINATION THAT WILL RING TRUE THROUGHOUT THE COSMOS FOR SWEEPS TO COME. THEY WILL WRITE MY FUCKING WORDS IN THE STARS, DAVE. IT’LL BE ALL THEY HAVE LEFT OF ME EVENTUALLY, BECAUSE I’LL PREACH IT HARD AND FEVERISH UNTIL THIS MORTAL COIL DECIDES IT’S FINALLY HAD ENOUGH OF PUTTING MY PATHETIC HALF-CORPSE THROUGH THE RINGER BY MAKING ME GET UP EVERY MORNING LIKE IT’S SOME KIND OF JOKE, AND FINALLY LETS ME KEEL OVER. THAT, DAVE, IS MY CRUCIFIXION. IT REPEATS ITSELF, OUROBOROS-LIKE, EVERY CYCLE, AND MAY WELL LAST UNTIL THE COLLAPSE OF PARADOX SPACE ITSELF SINCE THEY APPARENTLY FIND IT SO INCREDIBLY HILARIOUS. THEY BETTER MARTYR THE FUCK OUT OF ME. YOU BETTER PERSONALLY SEE TO IT THAT I AM MARTYRED TO *SHIT*.

TG: done and done

CG: THANK YOU. WHERE WAS I? OH RIGHT. NARUTO SHIP ANALYSIS.

[slut4thebroken]

Earn Your Prize

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Reader x choose your own character

(Reader doesnt call him anything and there’s nothing in the writing to indicate that it’s one character or another except maybe the pet names used, so pick whoever you want and enjoy<3 (this is who I was picturing but you can literally choose anyone with a dick lol: Jackson Rippner, Jonathan Crane, Thomas Shelby, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bucky Barnes, etc.))

Summary | Character of your choice wants to try something new.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, 69 sex position, oral m receiving, praise, humiliation, face fucking, deep throating, throat pie lolll, held down hehe, filthy disgusting nasty oral sex, that’s literally it, no f orgasm, but not in a douchey way lol I just didn’t feel like writing it.

Words | 1.3 k

Notes | Idk man I’m going through a phase, don’t judge me. Also I wrote this in one day lol so I might edit it again later but for now I think I like it skdhdk

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Let’s play a game, princess. Get up here.” He moved you on top of his body so that your front was flush with his and your face was hovering above his already throbbing cock. “You’re going to stay on my cock, no matter what. Feel free to hold yourself up so it doesn’t go too deep.” He explained and you were confused as to how this was a game, but agreed anyway. “On your knees.” You frowned when you realized that meant he wouldn’t be eating you out. Instead of complaining, you obeyed and bent your legs so you were kneeling with your shoulders resting on his lower stomach. 

“Put it in your mouth and get ready.” You wrapped your lips around the tip and waited for the next instruction. “Hands behind your back.” You obeyed, but the second you weren’t holding yourself up, you were all but impaled on his cock, making him moan loudly. When you tried to move your arms back to hold yourself up, he grabbed them and kept them on your back. 

“Hold yourself up and you won’t choke.” 

No shit. You wanted to say. Instead you did your best to lift your head a little, letting you get in a shaky breath of much needed air. You couldn’t hold the position for long though and you fell back down, gagging when he breached your throat barrier. 

“Atta girl. If you can’t take it, all you have to do is hold yourself up.” You let out a strangled whine and tried to hold yourself up again, but you barely managed to lift off his cock more than an inch, and you didn’t last long either. The strain in your muscles was too much and you whimpered as you fell back down. 

When you started squirming and moving your legs to try and get in a position that would make this easier, he took both of your arms in one hand, then used the other to roughly slap your ass, making you jolt forward and choke when his cock went impossibly deeper in your throat. 

“No cheating.” He said sternly. You could barely hear him over your loud choking and gagging. Tears were quickly welling in your eyes as you remained there. 

You gagged the hardest you had so far and your body all but convulsed as you sputtered around him, making all the saliva that built up in your mouth roll down his balls onto the bed. It was getting on your chin and your nose and you felt completely and utterly filthy, but you couldn’t help the way it made you squirm, this time because of arousal. 

You were fully crying now, but you managed to control the gagging as you tried to take deep breaths through your nose. This is the longest he’s ever had you stay like this and you’re not sure how much more you can take, but you want to be good for him, so you kept trying. 

He used his grip on your arms to pull you up a little, lifting you off his cock barely two inches to let you take in a deep breath and have a break from the constant pressure on your gag reflex. 

“That better?” He asked with mock sympathy, but you hummed in agreement anyway. He suddenly bucked his hips up, making you gag loudly and try to flinch away, but you couldn’t move anywhere. He started fucking your mouth roughly and you weren’t sure what was worse; this or being forced to stay all the way down. 

“God— You’re fucking dripping on my chest.” He said through a groan, making you whine, but the sound cut off into a garbled moan when his cock punched the back of your mouth again. 

“Should I eat your pretty pussy?” You tried to agree, but the words were unintelligible with his cock in your mouth. “Win the game and I’ll let you ride my face— Earn your prize, baby.” He decided and you couldn’t help the loud, strangled moan that escaped you, but you still wondered how you were even supposed to win. Maybe he’s wanting you to stay here until he comes? You hoped it was that because based off of his sounds and the frantic bucking of his hips, you knew he was getting close already. 

He suddenly stopped holding you up and you fell forward onto his cock, choking because you weren’t expecting to be dropped like that. You coughed and sputtered and whimpered, growing even more embarrassed and needy when you saw how much of a mess you were making. He started lazily rutting up into your face, slowly bringing himself to the edge and moaning at your struggling. 

“Such a good girl.” He cooed. “Does your cunt always get this wet when I fuck your face?” His tone was far too sweet for the crudeness of his words. All you could do was let out a garbled sound and squirm a little, wishing he’d stop teasing already. “Fuck I’m close.” He said through a breath. You braced yourself for what was about to happen— trying to remember that after this, you could pull off and cough and pant as much as you needed. 

His motions got more eager, rutting up into you as you choked each time his cock was forced even deeper down your throat. He let out a loud moan and you felt hot come hit the back of your throat. When you gagged and tried to pull away, he wrapped a leg over your head and pushed you down even farther as he shushed you. 

“I know. Doing so good, baby.” He groaned, but you could barely hear it. You were thrashing now, your body panicking at the lack of air and the constant pressure on your gag reflex as his cock twitched inside you. All he did was tighten his grip on your arms and push your head down harder with his leg, forcing you to stay there as he rode out his orgasm. 

He released your arms first and you immediately brought them forward to push yourself up, but your head was still trapped by his leg. You clawed at it, trying to get him to remove it so you could finally breathe again, and after a moment, he slowly lessened the pressure, then placed his leg on the bed. You shot up and coughed almost violently, whining when you saw the large glob of spit connecting your lips to his cock. You tried to spit it out, but it slid down your chin before landing on his cock and sliding down his balls to join the rest of the mess. 

He rubbed soothing circles on your hips while you caught your breath and calmed down. When your breathing finally returned to a somewhat normal intensity, you sat up a little more, waiting for what was next. 

“Clean your mess.” 

“But,” You cut off with a choked moan when he landed a hard slap on your ass. Tentatively leaning down, you licked at it, trying to clean it. Honestly you thought you were only making the mess worse, but you knew that this wasn’t really about you cleaning him. 

“All of it.” You whined, but worked your way down to his balls, lapping up the spit as best you could. “You can do better than that.” He said, sounding almost annoyed, then wrapped his leg around your head again and pushed your face into his cock and balls, covering you in spit. “I said, clean it.” He growled when you didn’t do anything. You stuck your tongue out, but it’s not like you could lick anything with how hard he was holding you down. When he started grinding his hips, rubbing his spit soaked cock on your face, you whined quietly as your whole face heated up from the humiliation. 

“There you go.” He groaned, grinding against you even harder. He only continued for a few more seconds before releasing you and you let out a strangled whimper as soon as your head was free. He shushed you and lightly ran his thumb over your slit. “Such a good girl.” He said quietly, pulling your hips back so you were hovering over his face. 

“Take your prize now, baby.”