#i want to draw it out so bad. sobs. i have so many things i want to draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw

[linkvcr]

oh my gooooooood i need to draw my link family hc so BAAAAAAAAAAD [clutches head]

[kameyyy]

#recs

this didn’t fit anymore lmao😭

try again

part 0.11. HERE TO STAY

“on the other side of the wall, she’s listening to her client with a smile on her face. she’s a professional; she’s been trained to multitask and take notes while still listening and providing feedback to her clients. right now, she’s clicking off a tab back to the one filled with bullet points on things her client has said. she always knows when he arrives. she hears the left door open, which she knows because it squeaks more than the one on the right. he always uses the left door (she thinks it has something to do with the fact that more people touch the handle of the right door on their way in) and his paces are always steady down the creaky hallway. her last sign that he's here is the chair he sits in every time, the one right next to the door into her rooms. the legs are the slightest bit uneven and the back of the chair will lightly tap against the wall as its way of letting her know of her welcome guest. she already has her queue of songs up. she’s always hated her thin walls until he started coming in. a lot has changed in her life since he's come back, hasn't it?"

content warnings: the big finale which isn't that dramatic! i'm sorry for my bad writing! y/n dad reveal! breaking news: her dad is an asshole! tad bit of violence, one mention of blood and also just cursing and abusive fathers </3

he insists on paying and she doesn’t argue with him about it for long; she’ll have countless more opportunities to steal the check from him, she hopes.

she feels better when she's finally eaten after a day of nervous nausea and time spent anxiously bouncing her knee. on top of that, she’d been with him for the majority of the day, distracting her from what had happened in the morning. he even listened to her issues, and she’s finally starting to believe the promise that he’s here to stay. 

they’ve just stepped off the train, and her apartment building is only a few minutes away. he walks alongside her the entire time, their arms brushing each other ever so often. whether it’s on purpose or not, neither of them will fess up.

he’s only distracted from his time spent mindlessly reaching his arm out just the slightest bit more to hit hers ever so often when he feels a buzz in his pocket. he slips out his phone quickly to check its screen:

akaashi’s a moment too late, because they’ve just made it up the stairs to her floor.

she’s already seen him, and he’s already seen her.

she wants to puke. 

he’s there, arguing with iwaizumi outside their door. his sunken eyes and gaunt face make her stomach twist with guilt, but a brush from omi’s knuckles reminds her where she is again. it’s not her job to take care of him. it never was, and it never will be.

"you," the man is pointing a finger towards her, stumbling forward and she immediately shrinks back like a shriveling flower, losing her confidence. omi's already standing in front of her without even thinking about it, putting a barrier between the two.

the old man keeps talking as if he can see right through him, though “you’re a disrespectful worthless piece of shit, you know that? can’t ever in your life put even a single person about yourself. here you are living with a bunch of boys. what are you, a whore? do you suck them off so they’ll keep the bad guys away? they’re doing a shit job at it. i’m standing here after, all, aren’t i?”

“it’s not like that,” her voice is quiet and weak, and she’s not even sure it makes it to the man’s ears.

“you can’t think about anyone else. you're too selfish. you won’t even answer your own father’s calls much less say anything to him at all–”

“i told you to back off!” her voice comes out loud this time, louder than she means for it to, “i’ve told you to back off so many times but you just don’t listen,” she steps out from behind omi, standing next to him instead while the man in front of them stops at the sound of her voice, “these are my roommates and my closest friends. i'm living with them because they genuinely care about me and aren't using me for any purpose, something you can't even dream about. the only reason you’re still standing here is that they have enough self-control and respect for me that they won't beat up the man i regrettably call my father.”

omi’s gaze slides over to hers, trying to see if she’ll meet his eyes. he’s simultaneously trying to communicate how proud of her he is and let her know that he'll support her no matter what happens. 

“take that back,” her father spits, starting to curl his fingers into a fist. she stays silent, and his face begins to flush an angry red. “you’re only proving my point. you’re just an ungreatful little girl who thinks she no longer has to care about anyone else because she's older. i took care of you your whole life and i will not have you ignoring me for the rest of my fucking life!” the smell of beer invades her senses as he steps closer.

“you did jackshit in my life! you never helped me with anything I asked you to. never bought me anything i needed, you've never cared about me. i’ve grown up and moved out. i can do whatever i damn please and i told you to leave me alone. maybe if you respected me i wouldn't ignore you, but that's impossible for you,” she retorts, standing her ground.

“don’t you fucking talk to me like that–” he nears her, only a few steps between them and she starts to feel the panic in her chest, “your stubbornness is the reason your mother left–”

“my stubbornness?” she can’t help but fight back. that’s what separates her from her past self. her younger self ran away, left home as soon as she could to live on her own, but now she’s grown into who she is today, and she won’t let him ruin that. “you treated your wife like shit and refused to change no matter how many times she screamed and argued with you right in front of me about how horrible you were. you've never fixed anything because you’re so stuck up and think you’re so high and mighty that she decided to pack up her bags and leave–”

“then why did she leave you behind too?” 

it’s like her heart stops beating for a second. her blood runs cold before her vision is a blur and the face of the man is crushed right in front of her, sending him to the ground groaning. his hand is covering his nose, preventing her from seeing how badly damaged it is, but she can’t find it in her to care.

“don’t blame her for your faults. grow up and take responsibility for your shit. she deserved better than either of you,” omi is talking down on the man now, and she looks up from her father’s body to the fist of the boy beside her, bruised and a little red.

he’s been by her side since day one, and maybe he disappeared for a section of it, but now he’s back. they're back together, and she stands proudly beside him, “she left me too, but i can’t be mad at her for being sick of you. or us. whatever it is, you’re both selfish and her absence nor yours is something i’m mourning over. i’m happy to have left you too and for the last time, i never want to see you again”

iwaizumi has joined them, standing above the man, no trace of sympathy in his eyes despite the blood that's streaking down her father's face. he tries to get up, only for iwaizumi to keep him down on the ground with a foot on his shoulder, “you heard her. don’t ever show your fucking face around here again. i’ll kill you the moment i lay eyes on you.” iwaizumi’s olive eyes move from the ground to meet hers, slightly softening when he sees her, “are you done with him? i’ll make sure he gets out of here and stays away for good.”

omi’s words from the diner rush back to her head, and she doesn’t feel so bad for relying on her friend. she believes he's willing to help her, and she won’t let her father’s words get to her head. she’s cared for others, unlike him, and developed relationships that she’s earned by giving out her own love. “yeah, i’m done,” her voice is quiet again as she keeps looking at her friend, searching his eyes for any sort of annoyance. but she can’t find any, and she smiles, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around him. “thank you, iwaizumi.”

he has an arm around her shoulders, his foot still resting on her father. “always,” he replies simply before she leaves him embrace, gesturing for omi to follow her. “i’m going to take care of his fist, now.”

iwaizumi only nods, turning his attention back to the man on the ground omi following his gaze as he passes by. iwaizumi will do more than a good enough job at keeping his word, he knows that, but he feels like he should have some part in taking care of the man whose plagued the girl in front of him for her entire life.

but she hasn’t asked him to take care of the man in front of her, and he knows its not his place. she knows she does not resent the man to the point that she wishes harm upon him, she simply wishes that he would leave her alone. and iwaizumi will make sure that wish is honored, and omi should be satisfied with the hit he landed on the man’s nose.

before her hand can even reach the knob of the door, it swings open and she’s pulled inside by the arms of a black-haired man who he recognizes to be akaashi. kita is standing beside him, a hand on [y/n]’s shoulder as they both check on her for any injuries or harm.

he hasn’t seen kita since his days in high school when he was the captain of inarizaki; atsumu told him he had moved out to the countryside but he must have come back after some time. he feels like a weight is lifted off his chest at the sight of her in the arms of his roomates, and he knows that she is cared for. that she has found her people, just like he told her earlier that night, and he hopes that she’s starting to accept his words as the truth.

he’s happy just watching her from afar, but she breaks apart from akaashi’s hug to gesture him in, and kita shuts the door behind him. “omi, this way,” she says with a smile on her face, beckoning him with a hand.

it’s the first time she’s called him by that old name since high school, and he thinks he’s falling even harder for her if that’s possible. she makes him sit on a stool in the kitchen while she searches her cabinets and a nearby closet for medical supplies. she’s begun to apply an ointment to his hand when he opens his mouth, “i can’t believe you think your roomates would ever leave you. look at how they all came to make sure you were okay. mine are one fight away from starting to vote people to kick out of the apartment nearly every week.”

she laughs at his comment, unwrapping a roll of bandages, “i’m sure no one would ever vote for you if that happened, but i guess you’re right, they’re pretty good, aren’t they?”

he nods, watching her face while she’s focused on his hand, “are you doing okay?”

she hums back in response, “yeah. the thing about my mom leaving me behind too kind of stung, but i don’t think life would’ve been any better with her, so it shouldn’t really hurt that bad. i’ll be okay. what you said at the diner really helped, you know. i feel like I can trust myself to say what i'm thinking rather than being scared i'm wrong or selfish. i can trust that it's not egotistical to believe my roomates don’t actually hate me. and that you don’t hate me. so i feel like i’ve finally escaped the weight of my dad’s words always crushing me and playing down anything i do.”

he reaches a hand up with his uninjured hand to wipe away tears from her face she didn't even realize were falling. and then he keeps his hand there, caressing the side of her face. “i don’t hate you, i never have. this entire time…how i feel about you is quite the opposite,” the words are slightly too intimate for him and as soon as they escape his mouth, it becomes hard to swallow and his face feels a little hot, but he doesn’t remove the hand from her cheek. he opts to say something more neutral next, “you did well, talking back down to him. i think you could’ve taken him down yourself.”

she chuckles at that, tying a knot to finish his bandage, “that’s what you think, but i’m sure i’d break my thumb or something. and if i have a hot man to defend me? i’m not lifting a finger.”

“you think i’m hot?” he says with a smile.

her cheeks grow warm under his hand, but she can’t look or move away from him, “i’m pretty sure thousands of people think so. it’s like a fact; newspapers can make money off of just having your face on the front page even if they barely mention you or don’t focus on sports at all.”

“well none of that matters,” he’s smiling softly now, and she’s still looking into his dark-colored eyes, hands holding his wrapped hand, “it just matters what you think.”

“what i think?” she repeats. and maybe it’s the adrenaline from the encounter they just had, or his boldness rubbing off on her in this current moment, but her next words come out clear and confident, “i think i love you, and i have for years. even when you left, i never stopped loving you.”

“i’m gonna make up for those years, you know,” he whispers back, pulling her by the sides to stand between his legs, bringing her closer. “i know i love you. i’d be a fool not to. and i loved you back then in high school too, even if i didn’t know it. i swear, losing you made me realize how much i took you for granted and everything became clear. letting you disappear was the worst mistake i ever made. i’ll make up for that lost time. make it up to you to the the point that you’re sick of me and you forget we were ever even separated for a time in our lives.”

“oh? and how are you gonna do that?” there’s a breathless feeling growing inside of her chest, where her heart beating fast with his confession and the way she's allowing him to pull her face close to this.

“starting with this,” his breath is hot against her lips before he closes the gap between them, and she’s kissing him back. she doesn't mourn or wish for the past, or for anything to change. he's come back and that's all that matters. she's happy with the word again. she likes it better than a phrase like "we fell in love at first sight." instead, she can say, "we met again. we fell in love again.

"we tried again."

it sounds like a story that reminds people endings aren't set in stone. she likes it.

.

.

.

“by the way, have you been playing songs for me in your lounge room when i’m waiting for you?”

“oh, you noticed?”

.

.

.

"the more you love your friends the more their features start to blur until all you remember is a pair of warm, welcoming eyes and laughter that feels like home."

prev. | m.list

extras <3

this is the end! thank you for reading try again <3

that last little quote is something i should've included like two chapters ago but it got lost in my gallery so here it is now <3

y/n's a good therapist i swear!!! she takes like one second to hit a play on a spotify playlist she's not playing games on her computer for entire sessions 😭

this is all i have tbh! i hope you enjoyed a little bit of this story <3 thank you so so much for being along on this ride w me!!

taglist: @eggyrocks @wyrcan @guitarstringed-scars @strawberryuri @violetesensou @kakeru-eem @glmge @heytheredemonsss @mollyrolls @bemebiu @daszy @snail-squasher @0moonii @thiisisntlovely @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @iiwaijime @iatethemochi @yuminako @savemebrazilhinata @kismyscars @bokutoko @nobodybutnnoorr @wolffmaiden @daisy-room @softpia @lees-chaotic-brain @v3nusplanetofluv @crispchocolates @phoenix-eclipses @hhoneyhan @encrypta @rockleeisbaeeee @cr4yolaas @zombriesworld @localgaytrainwreck @moucheslove @hibernatinghamster @notverymarley @certaindreampost @akaakeis @ciderscape @lucien-luna @strawbrinkofdeath @wave2mia @samuel1004 @01trickster10 @dazqa @cosmiicdust @chemiru

[joelscurls]

I wanna show you off

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 4.1k

summary: The women who live in your building aren't subtle in their hatred for you — or their affection for your boyfriend, Joel. You decide to set them straight.

warnings: 18+ minors dni, porn with plot, no outbreak, established relationship, implied age gap, horrible neighbors, general cattiness, all the ladies want Joel, alcohol consumption, fluff, explicit smut, possessive!reader, exhibitionism, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), facefucking, unprotected piv, creampie, one (1) spank, use of pet names (baby, angel, darlin', etc.), I think that's all? lmk if I missed anything!

a/n: idk what happened. I saw one too many tiktok edits set to the song agora hills by doja cat and blacked out. anyway, enjoy!

If it weren’t for your rent-controlled apartment with a perfect view of the downtown skyline, you would’ve moved out of your building by now.

Your neighbors don’t like you. You’re certain of it. You can tell by the way the ladies stick their noses up at you in the elevator and whisper to each other the second they think you’re out of earshot.

It had started, you suspect, because of your age. You’re a lot younger than all of the other residents here, your apartment left to you by your grandmother after she passed away.

The building is prime real estate, situated in the heart of one of the city’s most desirable neighborhoods. Most of the people who live here have done so for ten, twenty, even thirty years. And it seems that time has festered a sort of social hierarchy: one which places you at the very bottom.

You shouldn’t care. And you hadn’t, for a while. But their eyes have started to feel like daggers, pointed directly at you at all times, and you feel as if you can’t even enter the building without judgment.

You’re not a bad neighbor. You’re not. You’d learned through living in a dormitory in college how thin shared walls can be, and, as a result, the proper volume at which to keep your music; how you should always be cautious to not let your door slam closed on the way in; that you should never vacuum after eight pm or before eight am.

You never leave trash in the hallway, and you park your car only in your allotted spot, despite the fact that it’s the farthest away from the building.

Even so, the lack of weathering in your face makes them look at you like you’re less, like you’re a greedy little thing who has taken something she isn’t worthy of.

It’s the same way they look at you when they see you with your boyfriend, Joel, for the first time.

They leer when you walk into the foyer, hand-in-hand with an older man. He’s handsome, rugged, something out of Nicholas Sparks novel. And you’re you.

Joel thinks you’re being paranoid at first, says they couldn’t possibly hate such a sweet, friendly girl. The girl he loves so damn much. But it doesn’t take long for him to notice it too: the glares, the scoffs, the misplaced judgment — never set in his direction, only ever yours.

One Sunday afternoon, as he sits on your couch watching the Cowboys game with a sweating bottle of beer in his hand, you step out to grab your mail. You’re close to tears when you return, flinging the door open, envelopes slipping from your trembling fingers. 

He leaps up as soon as he catches sight of your face. Your expression is stuck somewhere between sadness and rage, bottom lip tucked between your teeth so firmly he worries you’ll draw blood.

“I hate them,” you sob as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you against his broad chest. You’re wetting his shirt, the one he just bought the other day. But he won’t let you lift your head. If anything, he holds you tighter.

“Wanna tell me what happened, darlin?” he asks, leading you toward the couch. You sit down together, your body still wrapped in his, and you groan.

“It’s stupid.” Your voice is muffled by cotton. He loosens his grip on you only enough to let you turn your face. “I was getting my mail, and they were down in the lobby,” you sniff. “The woman who lives right next door – the one with the outdated perm, and the one across the hall with the yippy little dog.”

“Mhm,” Joel soothes, running his thumb gently along the tense line of your jaw. “Did they say somethin’ to you?”

You huff. “No, not to me. They didn’t see me there.”

Their hushed voices still ring in your head like a fire alarm in need of new batteries: relentless, infuriating.

Don’t know what in the world a handsome gentleman like that is doing with a little girl like her. You’re tellin’ me. What a shame. Such a young thing – she can’t possibly know how to handle a man like that. He needs a woman his own age!

“They said I’m not good for you,” you weep. “That I’m too young. That I — I c-can’t be what you need.”

“Darlin,” Joel drawls. He fishes the tv remote off of the coffee table and flicks the screen off. Drops it somewhere next to him on the cushion. The apartment is noticeably quiet now, apart from your shaky breaths and the dull drone of an idling truck engine from the street below.

“You know I love you, right?” 

You sniff again. Nod. 

“I don’t give a shit if people think you’re too young for me,” he huffs. “You’re a grown woman. You give me everything I could possibly need and then some.”

“Yeah?” you squeak. You know deep down that Joel wouldn’t stay with you if he had any reservations about any aspect of your relationship. But after months of no reprieve from stinging glares and brash insults, you feel as if you’ve been broken down, reduced to an anxious, overwrought version of yourself. 

Joel repositions himself, sprawling back on the couch and pulling you with him so that you’re laying against him. “Yeah,” he repeats, stroking your hair. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, away from your glassy eyes. “Those ladies can get their asses in line.” 

You laugh, then — a real, genuine laugh — the kind that Joel can somehow always pull out of you, even in the most inopportune of times.

You’re so grateful for him, for his innate ability to calm you down when it feels like the world is crumbling below your feet. Grateful that he’s yours.

You lift your head. Prop yourself up by the elbow on Joel’s thigh. Wipe away the lingering wet on your cheeks with a deep, settling breath. 

“Does it stroke your ego, having a fan club of women who wanna fuck you?”

He smirks. Pulls you closer to him with a hand cradling your face. 

“Maybe a little,” he whispers, his lips ghosting yours. “Does it stroke your ego, bein’ the only one who gets to fuck me?” 

And in truth, it does. You’re the only one who knows where he likes to be kissed, how he likes his cock stroked, how to make him cum embarrassingly quick with just your mouth.

You’ve learned him intimately, every inch of him.  Ruined him for any other woman.

So in a fucked up kind of way — it does.

“Yeah,” you admit. You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, silently reveling in the way he immediately moans, the way he bends to you.

“These all mine?” You bring a finger to his lips, sputter on a shaky exhale when he unexpectedly parts them and sucks the digit into his mouth.

“Mhm,” he hums around you, takes your free hand in his and guides it down his body, across the expanse of his torso, the plush of his belly, pausing when you reach his crotch. 

Your pulse quickens, then, a dull throb forming at the base of your neck. You extricate your finger from his mouth with a gentle pop.

“This too,” he whispers, canting his hips up toward the flat of your palm.

He’s half-hard, his clothed bulge pleading for attention. But he pulls your hand away quickly, not letting himself get carried away at the feeling of your fingers grazing him through denim. 

Instead, he re-situates it against his chest so that you can feel his heartbeat where it hammers under skin, against flesh and bone. “This is all yours too,” he says, voice so low it reverberates in your skull. 

“All of it — all of me. Don’t gotta worry your pretty little head with anythin’ anyone else has to say about the matter. Got it?”

His words are spoken with so much conviction that you have no choice but to believe them, to let them stick in your brain like anchors in sand: deep and immovable.

Yours, yours, yours. 

And nobody else��s.

“Yeah,” you smile into the column of his neck, inhaling his scent: mostly him, but with notes of you. 

“Got it.”

It’s two weeks later when she makes a move on him: the woman with the perm. Joel is taken aback by her boldness, with you just a few feet away, digging your key into the lock of your mailbox. 

“You must work with your hands,” she purrs, grabbing one of his wrists and examining his calloused fingers with such little integrity, his mouth actually slips open at the unabashedness of it all. 

“Uh-”

“I’m Sheila,” she hums, raking her fingers through tight, blonde curls. “And you are?”

“Joel,” he grunts noncommittally. Wrenches his arm back. He doesn’t miss the way her eyebrows twitch in offense. 

But she’s insatiable, this woman. She bounces back like a rubber band, not-so-subtly pushing her breasts together, the zip of her sweatshirt slipping down an inch and her mouth curving into a salacious grin.

You just about stop dead in your tracks when you round the corner to the lobby, junk mail in hand, and see her, her body turned towards Joel’s, chest pushed out and hip popped. She has a bedazzled tote bag full of groceries slung over her shoulder, a head of leafy greens poking out the top.

“Hi neighbor!” she smiles mockingly at you, all lipstick-stained teeth, when you sidle up to Joel. “I was just telling your friend here what nice, strong arms he has.” She’s not looking at you, eyes locked firmly on Joel’s biceps, nearly drooling at the sight of him. 

Heat spools behind your ears, red-hot.

“Not her friend,” Joel corrects before you can. “‘M her boyfriend.”

“Oh,” she says. “Boyfriend.” Her lips wrap loosely around the word, like it’s some fanciful thing. “You’re too old to be someone’s boyfriend.” 

Joel takes a step away from her, closer to you, and splays a steadying hand across your back. “Man-friend, then.” 

You laugh, not because it’s funny, but because this entire conversation is fucking awkward. 

Sheila pays you no attention.

“Well,” she sighs, overtly staring at the exposed skin of Joel’s chest, where the top two buttons of his flannel are undone, “Joel, if you’re ever lookin’ for a good meal, I’m just next door.” She flits her eyes up to his and smirks. “Know a big man like you has gotta eat.”

Your vision blurs scarlet. 

Joel is equally as infuriated. The disrespect of this woman, to so openly flirt with him in front of you. His fists ball tightly at his sides. 

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he gruffs. “Anyway, nice to meet ya ma’am-“

“Sheila,” she reminds him. 

“Sheila,” he repeats, only to appease her. He turns to you, squeezing your waist affectionately. “We should probably get goin’, right sweetheart?”

You’re still fuming, barely able to register Joel’s voice next to you through the thick haze of pure fury clouding your mind, but you manage to nod, spit out a hurried yeah.

And with that, Joel is turning on his heels, pulling you with him toward the elevators. You don’t dare look back at her, but you can feel her eyes boring a hole in the back of your head. 

Her footfall fades into the mailroom and you breathe a minuscule sigh of relief. At least she’s out of your sight.

“Please just move in with me,” Joel begs when you’re finally behind closed metal doors, the inspection plaque situated above the buttons suddenly extremely interesting as you try to focus on not thinking about setting this woman’s apartment on fire.

You’ve talked about living together a few times. It’s just — you’ve never considered it so seriously until right now. 

“I can’t let them win,” you mutter, agitated. 

You hate how they’ve made you feel, like you’re some helpless animal tucked in the corner, hiding from them. Just waiting for the next ambush. 

With the passing of each floor, your anger simmers, bubbles into a silent rage in your stomach, one which threatens to boil over at the next underestimation of Joel’s devotion to you. You need to make it known, once and for all, that he’s yours. 

Words from your grandmother play on a loop in your head, ones she repeated to you often when you were a child: if you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all. 

And then you have a thought — a devious thought — maybe you don’t have to say anything to get your point across. Not to them, anyway.

Your mouth is on Joel the second you’re back inside the four walls of your own apartment, slotting against his pulse point and sucking a desperate bruise there.

He’s not expecting it — why would he be? You’ve just been seething the entire elevator ride up to your floor, the entire walk down the long, winding hallway to your unit. He’d practically been able to see the steam billowing from your ears. 

So the switch-up is more than a bit dizzying, to say the least.

“Whoa, darlin’,” he pants, his large hands draping over your shoulders. “What are you-”

“Joel.” Your voice is stern; it demands his attention. “Do you trust me?” 

Your hand trails down his body languidly, in a straight line to the waistband of his jeans. And fuck, of course he trusts you — more than anyone. But this is wrong, fucked up, for you to make him feel good when you’ve been made to feel so small these past few minutes. 

Still, his cock doesn’t get the memo, twitching in his jeans as you place another open-mouthed kiss on the underside of his jaw, your fingers beginning to fiddle with his belt buckle. 

You give him no choice with the way you’re touching him, the way you’re looking at him when you pull back, all pleading eyes and parted mouth, but to resign all protest. He’ll give you the world, and if right now you want to use his body to blow off some steam, who is he to complain about it?

“Yeah baby, of course,” he breathes. “What do you need?”

You smirk at him audaciously, tongue smoothing over your teeth. “Need you to be loud,” you purr. Your voice is so innocent in juxtaposition to the words you spew. It sends a chill down the column of his spine. “Let them know who makes you feel good.” 

He nearly cums in his pants untouched, grasps at the fabric of your shirt with clumsy hands and nods. “Fuck, okay.”

His belt falls to the floor with a clang.

He lets you take control, then. Lets you mark him with your tongue and your teeth, lets you back him to the door with deft fingers working his shirt buttons open before sinking to your knees in front of him, freeing his hardening cock from the confines of his jeans and boxers.

It’s already weeping for you when you pull it out, precum beading at the tip. He’s so big, growing heavier in your hand with each passing second, and you lose yourself for a moment, hypnotized by him.

“Always so eager to please me, aren’t you, pretty girl?” Joel’s voice pulls you back to earth, soft and adoring.

“Louder,” you remind him. Plant a kiss right over top of his leaking slit.

“Fuck,” he hisses through his teeth. One of his hands flies to the crown of your head, anchoring himself with fingers in your hair. “Dirty fucking girl.” 

His voice fills the entranceway, confident and filthy. 

“Mmm,” you hum approvingly.

“Yeah? You want me to tell ‘em? Tell ‘em you’re making my cock drool for you? That nobody — shit-” You enclose your lips around his tip, suckling on it as your fingers wrap around the base of his length and you begin to stroke him lazily. “-that nobody has ever made me feel this good?” 

Footsteps echo down the hallway and the sound makes you reflexively pause, your hand stiling on Joel’s cock. It’s followed by the jingling of metal, the click of a key in a lock, the opening and closing of a door — all close enough that you can pinpoint the source, can tell where exactly it’s coming from. 

Sheila is home. 

Perfect.

It’s probably worrying how excited it makes you, the prospect of her hearing, of her sitting alone in her apartment, at her empty dining table, and listening to Joel fall apart at your hands. Maybe they’ve driven you to and over the edge of sanity with their words, her most of all. Regardless, you can’t help the way it makes your cunt flutter around nothing. 

You lick a slow stripe up the underside of Joel’s cock, starting just above his balls and dragging the flat of your tongue up, up, up to his tip. His breath shudders, his grip on your hair tightening, and the subtle sting at the center of your scalp gives you another idea. 

“Do you wanna fuck my face, Joel?” 

“Do I wanna — fuck — you’re gonna kill me, angel.” 

“Go ahead,” you encourage, unhinging your jaw as wide as it can go, letting your tongue droop over your bottom lip. 

Saliva pools in your waiting mouth and Joel groans at the sight of you, so malleable for him, begging to be used. 

“You sure?” 

It’s not that he doesn’t think you can handle it. He knows you can. You’ve taken him down your throat more times than he can count. Always so fucking eager to please him, you are — just one of the many reasons he feels so goddamn lucky, so infuriated that anyone would think otherwise. 

But still, he can’t help but worry that he’ll hurt you. 

You nod, eyes locked on him, confirming beyond a shadow of a doubt that you want this. He nods back, beginning to feed his cock into your mouth, easing it in slowly and halting when his head hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag.

You don’t pull away, don’t show any indication of displeasure. In fact, you dig your fingers into the meat of his thighs, bearing down on him as you push forward. Mascara tears stain your cheeks as you choke on him, laser-focused on relaxing your throat so that you can accommodate more of his length. 

Joel pulls back, retreating entirely before pushing in again. He slowly increases his pace, your eyes hooded, so doelike and innocent, as his cockhead bruises your larynx. 

The sounds he’s pulling from your mouth are absurdly lewd: muffled gags and frantic inhales of breath. And then there’s him, moaning wildly, not sure if he’d be able to shut up even if he needed to be quiet. Your mouth is good, too fucking good and he’s going to — fuck, he’s going to cum if you don’t stop. 

He pulls out abruptly, a string of drool and precum tethering the tip of his cock to your swollen bottom lip. You’re panting, coughing, still bracing yourself against his legs when you fucking smile up at him. 

“Christ,” he says. “Fuckin’ angel, you are. Mouth feels like goddamn heaven.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But I need to cum in that perfect little cunt,” he breathes, pulling a strangled moan from the back of your rawed throat. 

He helps you up, spins you around to face the door. You brace both hands on the wood, humming as he pulls your pants down to your knees. His breath is on the back of your neck, trailing up to the shell of your ear with one whisper just for you, because he can’t help it. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, you know that?” 

You shiver, responding with a tilt of your head, inviting him in with a needy little mewl. He cradles your face in one of his large hands, the other rubbing over the curve of your ass as he kisses you passionately, tasting himself on your tongue.

The hand on your ass trails lower as he deepens the kiss, two fingers pressing against your clothed seam. You’ve all but soaked through the fabric, wet cotton molding to his knuckles as he caresses them along your pussy before pulling your panties down in one swift motion.

You whine into the kiss, desperate and dripping for him. “Please,” you breathe against his lips. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

“Know you will,” he coos, mouth parting from yours as he straightens out and lines himself up with your entrance. You arch your back, rocking onto the balls of your feet as he teases you with the tip.

His cock is so thick when it finally notches into you. It’s always so devastatingly thick, no matter how wet you are for him. The stretch stings, a jolt of warm pain coursing through your walls as he stills halfway in. 

“You okay?” he asks, one hand resting at the small of your back, the other on your hip, fingers gripping to you only tight enough to hold you in place.

“Yes, fuck — yes,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me, Joel.”

“I’m goin’ to baby, don’t worry,” 'he promises, pushing in another splitting inch. “Pussy’s so goddamn tight, ‘ts suckin’ me right in.”

It feels like hours pass with Joel’s cock motionless inside your aching cunt, his warm breath fanning across your back as he focuses on not cumming. You’re whimpering, begging under the weight of his body, to please just fucking move.

When he finally obliges you, pulling all the way out and then bottoming out in one deep thrust, it nearly punches the air out of your chest. You scrabble for purchase on the door, fingernails scraping against chipped paint. “F-uucckk,” you moan, eyes rolling back in your head as he sets a dizzying pace.

The sound of his balls slapping against the back of your thighs is enough to attract attention on its own, the loud smacksmacksmack going straight to your cunt. Joel growls behind you, driving into you even harder, the tip of his cock brushing against your g-spot. 

“Oh, shit,” you cry. Your pussy inadvertently squeezes him and he curses at your back, low and deep. 

“Not going to last if you keep doin’ that,” he warns. “Cunt is too fuckin’ good. Best I’ve ever — uuuhh — had.”

He’s not just saying it for show. It’s true. You know it is, too. He’s told you before, both under the influence of your pussy and not. Waited too many goddamn years to feel like this, he’d said once.

“It’s — fuck, it’s fine Joel,” you mutter. “I’m close too, just keep going, right there.”

A door across the hall creaks open. A pair of footsteps patter across tile. 

Do you hear that?  Yeah; what is that noise?

Joel laughs darkly behind you, snaps his hips up, forcing a guttural moan out of you. 

“Think they caught us, darlin’,” he says. “Caught you takin’ my cock like you’re fuckin’ made to.”

Oh my word!

Joel is unrelenting, pounding into you despite the voices right outside your apartment, and you fear for a moment that you’ve created a monster. One of his hands leaves its place on your waist, cracks down on the center of your asscheek with a slap, the flesh recoiling under his palm and you gasp. 

The feeling travels between your legs, straight to your neglected clit. It pulsates under the hood with every pass of Joel’s cock over your g-spot, and you feel yourself hurtling toward the edge dangerously fast. 

If these people don’t leave, they’re going to hear you cum. Do you want them to hear you cum? Yeah, you think, clit jumping again at the thought, I think I fucking do.

“Joel, fuck-”

“You gonna cum?” he goads. “Yeah, can feel you squeezin’ me — you’re gonna cum, aren’t ya?”

This is vulgar!  We should file a noise complaint. C’mon.

His hand snakes around your front then, finds your throbbing bud, and with a few passes of his calloused fingertips, you’re gone, vision whiting out and all noise around you muted. 

Joel keeps you upright between him and the door, his grip on you tightening as your muscles slacken. He follows closely behind, cumming inside you with a carnal noise from the back of his throat, rope after rope of his spend filling your cunt. 

He pulls out with a grunt, immediately collapsing on the floor. Without his support, you topple over too, falling onto his lap with a satiated giggle. 

A banging comes from the other side of the wall then, shaking your kitchen cabinets a few feet away, the clanging of glassware jolting you.

Keep it down next time! I don’t need to hear that!

And then you’re laughing like teenagers, Joel pulling you in for a sloppy kiss, all tongues and teeth. 

“Think they’re really gonna make a noise complaint?” Joel asks when you finally come up for air. 

“I dunno,” you smile. “Does your offer still stand — for me to move in with you?” 

“Always,” he vows, forehead resting against yours.

end notes: ty for reading! pls consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed <3

[ssahotchnerr]

girl!dad aaron reading to his daughter over the phone while on a case! 🥹 just like that one episode of jj and henry 😭🥰

nightmares

i will sob. 🥺 i'm also setting this in ellie's bad dreams era :( cw; fem!reader, girl dad!aaron, slight angst, fluff <3

"It looks like this is his comfort zone." Using a red marker, Spencer circled an area on the map. "If we pinpoint-"

As he was continuing his thought, Aaron's phone rang. He fully expected to see Penelope's name, anticipating her call as she was working her magic to narrow down a pool of potential unsubs. However, his eyebrows furrowed in worry as he saw it was from you instead.

"Excuse me." He spoke lowly yet urgently, keeping his eyes on his screen and hurrying away with no hesitation, missing the team's concerned glances.

"Hey," he answered, closing the door to the empty conference room behind him. There was knowing feeling deep in his chest - and a grim one at that. "Everything alright?"

"Kinda... no." You switched up quickly with a sigh, slight distress in your voice. "I'm sorry, I know you're busy. But can you spare a minute or two?"

"Another nightmare?" Aaron's eyes shot to the clock perched on the wall. While it was somewhat early for him, it was getting late back home, timezones to thank. And doing the math quickly, bedtime for the kids had been about two hours ago. So sadly this - right on schedule.

You hummed in confirmation, beginning with the positive first. "She fell asleep in her bed tonight, actually. Went down easy, not much protest. But then woke up crying, and was nearly inconsolable for a while. She's with me now." Your eyes shifted down to your frightened daughter besides you, who was inching closer and closer to seemingly making herself smaller. "And keeps asking for you."

Aaron glanced out; the team was still preoccupied, discussing the geographical profile amongst themselves, and could definitely manage without him for a while longer. "Yeah, I have some time."

There was a quick rustle as you set your phone down, placing it on speaker. Your voice was farther now, not by much, but it felt treacherously distant, as if more miles had been added. "It's Daddy, honey."

"Hey Ellie Bellie." Aaron's tone quieted, his face softening as he spoke. "What's the matter?"

A light sniffle came from the other end. "I had a scary dream."

"A scary dream, huh?" He repeated, an achy pang producing in his chest. Ellie's nightmares have been occurring for a while now, and indubitably becoming a problem. You both expected the dreams to run their course, eventually pass, and things would return to normal. But as time moved forward, it was becoming clear it was well beyond that as they worsened. "It's okay, you're safe with Mom now, right?"

Ellie nodded, unknowingly to him. Her small voice cracked, laced with tears. "I want you."

"I know, and I'll be home when work lets me, I promise. You can even use my pillow tonight too, if you want." He bit down onto his lip as Ellie mumbled a small 'okay' in response. Hard. "Or how about a story? Would that help you feel better?"

Her head rose up and down again, prompting you to speak up as Aaron was met with only her silence.

"We have a few right here." You reached across her, grabbing the few storybooks that frequented Aaron's nightstand and settling back against your own pillow.

"Your pick sweetheart." Aaron pulled a chair from the table, sitting down and making himself comfortable momentarily.

"Goodnight Moon?"

Goodnight Moon, also one of Jack's favorites when he was younger. Between him and Ellie, Aaron's read it so many times, he had the entirety of the book memorized. In addition, Ellie's other, more lengthy favorites - he had gone through and cleverly taken a picture of each page, all stored safely in his camera roll for instances such as tonight. No matter where he happened to be, he could read the text, while also drawing attention to and discussing the images with her.

"Sure. Get all comfy and cozy up to Mom, yeah?"

Ellie nestled herself more into your side, her head resting on your arm as she death-gripped onto her plush bunny. You adjusted the duvet to adequately cover the two of you, scooting down and propping the book up for the two of you to see.

"We're ready when you are." You told Aaron, brushing a few stray strands of hair away from Ellie's face.

As your brief sentence concluded, a harsh pinch formed behind Aaron's eyes, the guilt creeping in as he pictured the two of you laid together, where he also should've been. His little girl was beside herself in fear, wanted him, and yet here he was. Far away on the other side of the country. He felt as if he were failing her; letting her down.

Aaron swallowed to even out his voice, to sound as cheery as he possibly could, and to refrain any agony from being heard. He took a deep, yet small guttural breath.

"In the great green room..."

[starsofarda]

So, here's some thoughts about a fic I willone day write. Many thanks to @starshadeemilyart for helping me with brainstorming a few ideas.

I do not have a title for this yet. I will call it, at the moment, "The Feanorians' adventures in the Shire".

Bullet points seem like a good idea, so I am sticking with that.

Feanor gets kicked out of Mandos, Namo has had enough of this guy moping over the tortures of his sons and adamantl requesting to be sent back to Aman.

As a punishment Namo kicks him out, but sends him in the Shire, together with his sons, Fingolfin, Fingolfin's sons/daughter and Thingol. They are at the Grey Havens and Cirdan is refusing to let them leave ME. Arson/Kinslaying is stopped by the arrival of Gandalf.

Gandalf is tasked with taking care of Feanor & co. Gandalf will be happy about the task until Feanor opens his mouth and it is an insult. Gandalf also opens his mouth and it is another insult.

It's suddenly Gandalf "I preferred white" The Grey vs Curufinwe "Get thee gone from my gates" Feanaro in a battle of who can sass the other out first.

Someone interrupts them, maybe Gwahir has come reminding Gandalf of the task at hand.

Moment of Fingon calling Gwahir "Thorondor" and Gwahir saying "no, that was my great grandpa, I am Gwahir, current king of the Eagles". "Ok. You were not supposed to have such a short life?" "Apparently it's punishment for saving you all." "We are sorry!" "Oh no, we chose this, no probs mate"

Anyway, they are all in the Shire and it's during their travel to Hobbiton that they see what appears to be a bard, all dressed in black, sad and looking like a withered stalk. He is singing the Noldolante and they see it's actually Maglor

Cue family reunion, cue everyone gets filled in on what happened since their death.

Somehow they also start learning Westron bc having Linguistics Georg over there is actually a good thing.

They finally arrive at Hobbiton and Bilbo has come back from the Lonely Mountain and his house is being put on auction and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins has already stolen the infamous silver spoons.

Feanor is reminded of his exile at Formenos and enquires CALMLY.

As in he shouts a loud "WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING HERE WHY ARE YOU DEPRIVING SOMEONE OF THEIR HOUSE?!"

Which also prompted Bilbo shouting as well: "I WAS GONE FOR 5 MINUTES AND NOW MY HOUSE IS ON AUCTION, ALL THESE PEOPLE ARE TAKING POSSESSION OF MY MATHOMS AND MY BELOATHED IN-LAWS HAVE STOLEN MY PRECIOUS SILVER SPOONS"

Cue explanation on what is a Mathom. Feanor, as crown prince and king, takes it well.

"GET AWAY FROM HIS GATES YOU FIENDS! AND YOU! GIVE HIM BACK THE SILVER SPOONS, I WILL FIGHT YOU!"

To which Lobelia replies like the refined lady she is. "WHO THE HELL ARE YOU, I STOLE NOTHING, YOU WILL BE BEATEN BY MY UMBRELLA OF DOOM!"

Fingolfin, Thingol, the SoF, Fingolfin's sons are like trying to not be perceived, but they are being served tea and biscuits to enjoy the fight, bc this is an EventTM in the SHire and evveryone is treating this like a rooster fight.

It's at that point that some of them decide "fuck it, we might as well."

Maglor becomes the announcer, Celegorm is the referee, Curufin is the one building the ring, the Ambarussar act as PRs, Caranthir starts taking bets.

Maedhros is crying sobbing on Fingon's shoulder and saying something like "I want my mum, I probably deserve all of this, but by Eru Allmighty!", Aredhel is now in the Hobbit Ladies Gossip Club, Turgon, Argon and Fingolfin still try not to be perceived.

That until Thingol, out of spite, goes to Caranthir and bets against Feanor.

RIP Thingol, King of Bad Choices.

Gandalf is watching the drama unfold with the same glee he pulled Bilbo together with the Dwarves and doing absolutely nothing.

It's Feanor and a forging hammer against Lobelia and her umbrella.

It's a choir of "fight fight fight!" all the way.

Yes, Maglor is making introductions WWE style.

It still ends in a draw, but Bilbo gets back house and spoons and mathoms, bc the Hobbits as a whole deem him enough trouble if he has not only Dwarves, but also Elves around. Anyway, Mad Baggins now has a bunch of Elves with a lot of pent-up rage and a lot of free time.

DW, they are useful to the entire Hobbiton and they learn the way of the Hobbits. Somehow they start getting along.

Russingon wedding happens in Hobbit fashion, like the two are now clothed not with Elvish robes, but with carefully tailored suits like any gentleHobbit. There is a lot of crying.

CeleDhel wedding happens, but mostly so that if Eol ever gets reembodied he can fuck off immediately. Also, they are good friends and when Maeglin gets reembodied as well he can maybe have a slightly better father figure.

IDK these last two points seem like a natural consequence.

Thingol and the Gaffer become good friends, gardening reminds him of Melian, maybe he's finall making one (1) good decision.

And then they see that Elves are abandoning ME, at this point Gandalf tells them about Sauron, the rings and the whole deal.

"And who made the rings?" "The ones for the Elves was Celebrimbor, the others was Sauron."

Curufin: "And pray tell, WHERE IS MY SON."

Gandalf: decribes Celebrimbor's death as reported in the chronicles

The rest of the family reacts in the same way

In the meantime Bilbo has adopted Frodo and Frodo reminds them of little Tyelpe and they are going to throw hands

Maedhros just says: NO OATHS THIS TIME NO OATHS. OATHS BAD.

And well.

Ideas so far were to have them go to like Dol Guldur and have a fight off with Orcs and Nazguls, I am still undecided whether I want them to know about the One Ring. Oh well.

I'll probabl post something else once I figure out more stuff

Thoughts? Comments?

[my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction]

What Did You Take?

A One For The Road Bonus Chapter

Cecil Dennis x afab!Reader • Rating: 18+ pals Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | request info • Kinktober 2024 Masterlist • Day 9: Sex Pollen

Summary: Cecil took... something.

A/N: Thank you so much @thexsanctuaryx for betaing!

Warnings: kissing, swearing, talk of drunks, sex pollen, flesh lights, jacking off, p in v sex, oral (afab! receiving), please let me know if I have missed a warning!

Word Count: 1556

You answer Cecil’s call almost instantly. He was one of the few people who preferred calling (or video chatting) over messaging, always said he liked to hear your voice. 

You liked to tease him that really it was because then he could make sure he was speaking to the correct person, and hadn’t accidentally sent a saucy pic (his dick) to the wrong contact (poor Harry one too many times).

“Hey Cec,” you lean down, grabbing a tin of soup and putting it into your trolley. 

“Hey,” He draws out the word, his voice soft and breathy. He was definitely jerking off. 

“I’m food shopping.” You say with a smile on your face, “Literally grabbing tins.”

“Uh huh,” he swallows, the sound clicking. 

You frown a little, sure Cecil had a big libido, but you were sure even he couldn’t find you picking up ingredients that interesting. 

“What you doing Cec?” You tease.

“Jerking off.” 

“I got that.” 

He whines, a mixture of excitement and embarrassment. “I got the fleshlight between the sofa cushions and I’m…” he moans, “Fuck, it feels really good.” 

“Yeah?” You grin. “Had to call and tell me about it?” 

He hums an affirmative. “I… I can’t…”

You wait a beat, listening to his heavy breathing. 

“I can’t get off.” 

“What?” 

“It’s not working, like, it feels good, so good, but I can’t get to the end.” He whimpers. “I, I took…”

“What did you take Cecil?” Worry spikes into your chest. 

“It’s this… thing,” he always was so helpful with descriptions. “It’s, so it’s meant to make you super horny and keep going,” he groans and you hear a particularly wet thrust in the background, “and I thought because we’re hanging out later that it would be good for you if I was… if I could just keep fucking you and so I took it and fuck.” He sobs.

“Cecil?” 

“It worked so quickly and I feel so hot, and I wanted to just come and take the edge off and I can’t.” His voice breaks at the end.

You’re already at the self-checkout, quickly paying for your items so you can get the hell out of there and over to him. “When did you take it?”

“Ummm,” he groans, the sound of his thrusts growing louder, “about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” 

“And twenty.”

“Cecil! Fuck,” you grab your shopping and head to your car, how long could someone have an erection before they needed to go to the hospital. “So this is like super Viagra?” You say as you sit down and fasten your seatbelt. 

“Sort of.” He groans, “God, talking to you helps actually,” he whines, “Feel so close.” 

“Where did you get this anyway?” You pull out of the parking lot. 

“Benny.”

“Benny?” You swear. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Noo,” Cecil whines, “He’s not that bad, he always gives me good deals, a friend discount.” 

“Cecil, he sold you that weed that had roofies in it.”

“That was an accident-”

“And that ritalin and-”

“Can we not talk about him,” Cecil gasps, “please, I was really close.” 

You pause, “My voice helps?” 

“Oh god, so much.” He whimpers, swallowing thickly. 

“I’m on my way over.” 

He moans loudly, shivering. “Thank you, oh fuck, thank you, need to see you so bad.”

“Can’t leave you alone for a second can I?” You drive through the light on amber. 

“You can’t.”

“Or you’ll go and take weird drugs that could put you in the hospital.”

“You could, um,” he groans deeply, “put me in you or something, I’m sorry, there’s an innuendo there somewhere, I can’t get to it.” 

“Okay, now I know something’s wrong.” You tease, trying to make light of the situation and ease your slowly building tension. 

He snorts through moans, and then whines pitifully. “I can’t come.” A little sob shakes through him. “I need to so, so, so bad. It hurts.”

 “Fuck Cec.” 

You make it to his house in record time, using your key to open the front door and practically throwing yourself inside. 

Cecil is on you before you even get a chance to call out a greeting. 

“You came,” he sobs, he’s naked, his skin flushed and feverish. His heavy cock bobs between his legs as he moves, slick from the lube he’s been using.

“Of course I did,” you stroke his cheeks, looking into his dilated eyes. “I told you I was on the way.” You say soothingly, he still hasn’t become used to you not stringing him along. 

“Thank youuu,” He groans, leaning forward and kissing you messily, slipping his tongue into your mouth eagerly. Drinking in your air like it was his only source. 

“Cec, Cec,” You manage to pull back, your hands on his cheeks.

He whines pitifully as your lips leave his. 

“We should go to the hospital.”

“No, please,” He shakes his head rapidly, “Please, let’s, please, I need you so bad, let’s just fuck and try.”

“Fuck and try,” you snort despite your worry and he grins, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes, yes, try.” He drags you into the living room, yanking at your clothing and kissing your neck. 

“Cec, maybe we shouldn’t in the living room, I mean, Harry’ll-”

He lets out a whine of frustration, taking his mouth off your skin only so that he can pull off your top and undo your bra. He licks your chest eagerly, focusing on one and then the other, his eyes rolling back as he sucks.

You gasp, your fingers instinctively sliding through his hair as he works.

He slips his hands down to your hips, hastily undoing your trousers and pulling them down to your knees. 

“Cec,” you bite your lip, unsure if you should really be doing this and not taking him to the emergency room. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he mutters, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. He drags you onto the floor, finishes stripping you bare in a matter of seconds. 

He’s everywhere, all over, licking and sucking and moaning in your ear as he squeezes and pinches and impatiently pushes his fingers inside. 

You shiver at the intrusion, a little gulp escaping your lips. You shouldn’t be enjoying this quite so much, having him so desperate and needy for you. 

Cecil whines, gasping and rutting against your leg as he curls his fingers and strokes your walls. “Fuck, oh god, oh god, oh god.”

You don’t even think he realises he’s speaking anymore, just letting whatever thoughts he has fall from his lips. 

Pleasure cracks up his spine, makes his vision spin. He groans, bucking his hips faster as he buries his head between your thighs and sucks your clit into his mouth greedily. 

You swallow, desperately grabbing at him as your body moves with his, chasing after the sensation he’s lavishing upon you. 

He whines, whimpers, so, so close he can almost taste it, but still not close enough. He pulls away from you quickly, muttering apologies at your huff of frustration at the loss. 

“Can I? Can I? Can I?” He kneels, taking himself in hand and notches himself at your core, the words fluttering out of his mouth in such a wanton mess they are nearly indistinguishable from each other. 

You barely get a chance to nod before he’s pushing in, trying to slow the rapid buck of his hips by squeezing the base of his cock. 

“Ohhhh fuuuuuuck.” He sobs, sounding even whinier than usual. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, feels so nice.” He rocks further in, pressing so wonderfully as he stretches you wide. 

“Cecil,” you bite your lip as he just sinks down, thrusting shallowly as he bottoms out and presses his chest to yours. 

“Yeah?” He sounds floaty, lost in the sensation as he rolls and rocks, keeping his length as deep inside as possible while he rubs the base of his cock against your bundle of nerves in a way that has your mind short-circuiting. 

He feels so good like his body was made to fit inside and please you. You grab at his biceps, his curls, moaning against his lips as his fingers dig into your skin in desperation. 

“Fuck, baby, please, ah, please can you squeeze my neck, please,” he splutters, his eyes screwed up so tight. “Gonna come, please, need to, I’ll take care of you after, I promise, I promise, I-”

You put your hand on his throat, a warm strong pressure, barely squeezing, more there to ground him than anything. And he sobs. 

He ruts twice, frantic. His voice rises to an impressive pitch as he comes deep, his orgasm washing over him and robbing him of all other thoughts. 

You expect him to collapse on top of you, nuzzle into your chest. 

But he doesn’t.

He keeps moving, keeps bucking, causing pleasure to race along your nerves.

“Cec?” You bite back a moan, pushing his sweaty curls from his forehead. 

“Fuck, that was so good, so good, fuck.” He grinds his hips, picking up the pace as he fucks his still very erect cock into you. 

“Still hard, gonna come again,” he whines, all high pitched and breathless. “Gonna make you come with me this time.” He bites his lip, looking down at you with hazy, lust filled eyes. 

It was going to be a long night.

Thank you for reading!

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[eccentricallygothic]

| Big Brother |

Description: Fermin does not like to share you with anyone. 

Pairing: Dark Step-Brother!Fermin | Naive Step-Sister!You.

Disclaimer: This story is purely a work of fiction and does not represent Fermin Lopez in any way. It also contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Dubcon/Noncon, Fermin is mean, dark!Fermin, infantilization, unprotected p-in-v, spanking, degradation, dacryphilia, dumbification, possessive!Fermin, obsessive behaviors, ddlg vibes. 

Note: The Pedri one is gonna be much bigger as it has my favorite trope and Spanish man so it'll have to wait, unfortunately. Until then… 

.

Fermin does not like to share you with anyone. He doesn't know when exactly his contempt for his step-father's daughter turned into this but he doesn't care. Nor does he try to rationalize it anymore.

You are his, as he is yours.

It's quite simple, really. You're family and no one can or should come between you. No one will ever be as sincere with you like your family– he is and being the naive little thing you are, you should know that big brother always knows best. 

It doesn't matter even if he's younger than you. 

Fermin says it's all about what's in the head.

And yours is as empty as a wooden doll's.

So you say nothing and simply whimper as your head lowers when he roughly drags you inside the house by your arm before taking you to his room. You want to speak up; tell him about the forgotten kid in the park that you're supposed to be babysitting.

But you know better than to speak when big brother is angry. 

What he says goes. 

And so you're bent over his study table within the next new minutes with your skirt pushed all the way up to your waist while you sob uncontrollably and take your punishment.

“I- I am sorry, big brother– ah!” Your back twists upwards when yet another ruthless rap resounds against your tender skin that is flush with a deep shade of red. “I- I swear! I was only helping Lucia swing– ouch!” A rough hiccup rips out of your throat when your brother refuses to show you any mercy. “Please!” Fermin is not in the mood to listen. 

But he can never be wrong. Because he is big brother. So the fault is definitely yours. How many times has he told you not to speak to other boys? But you are one disobedient little sister! Big brother only wants what is best for you and to protect you because all boys except for him are pigs who only want to take advantage of you! 

“I knew this job was a bad idea” your form stills and your blood runs cold. Slap. But no scream comes out of you this time. Oh no. “You're too little to be out by yourself let alone handle another kid” his voice is low; the deadly calm of his tone causing your knees to tremble. “I fucking knew it–”

“NO! NO BIG BROTHER, PLEASE!” You are absolutely powerless against him so if he pulls the plug on your job, no one will be able to let you keep it. “I swear! That boy came to me first! I swear! I have no idea who he was!”

Fermin grimaces as he clenches his already tense jaw so hard that it ticks. He lands another harsh spank on your quivering ass. Of course. You didn't even notice how that boy has been circling you and Lucia in the park for a few days now, having finally mustered the courage to speak to you only today as you are known as Fermin's sister. 

“I am s- sorry…” You draw your words out as you feel him snatch the tatter of your panties away. “I promise I'll b- be better n- now, big bro-ther, p- please just- OH!” Your eyes squeeze shut as you break into another fit of sobs from the powerful slap that lands on your bare folds now. 

“Tsk, how many times do I have to teach you the difference between punishment time and play time, huh little sis?” A loud squelching noise sounds in the air as he spreads your drenched pussy lips. “Shamelessly making a mess all over big brother's desk during her punishment like a silly little slut, tsk” the blood under your already flush cheeks bubbles as you whimper. 

“S- Sorry, big brother…” Your toes curl as he goes about feeling up your mound. “C- Can't help…” Your teeth pull your bottom lip between them when one of his fingers start to toy with the sensitive band of your entrance. “P- Please… help…” Fermin has taught you to come to him whenever you feel funny between your legs because you have a serious condition that must be kept a secret if you don't want the scary hospital people to take you away from your home and big brother forever. Thankfully, he knows how to fix it so all you have to do is to go to him whenever it happens. Your big brother is the best, really. Because he doesn't help you like meanie doctors with bitter medicine but instead plays with you in an admittingly odd but fun way that is stranger than anything you've ever done but it is also what you can only describe as very nice at the same time. 

“Tsk, are we in a position to make demands?” You wince at the way he scolds you before landing one last powerful smack to your pussy, making you cry aloud as you crash into the desk you are bent over from the force. “Disobeying big brother and putting yourself at risk and then whining about help, I spoil you too much, don't I little sis?” You bite your lip as you hear his fly go undone. 

Oh God. 

He takes you unprepared sometimes when he is angry or unhappy. 

Today is going to be one of those days. 

If only his junior -as he likes to refer to it- wasn't so big, you wouldn't be so scared. 

Because his girth has nearly ripped you many a time. 

“Whining for weeks because all your little friends were getting babysitting jobs and so you wanted to get one too…” Your fingers tightly curl around the edges of the desk as you feel his thick tip press against your entrance, his warm big hands clasping around your sides firmly. “Misbehaving with big brother and throwing all kinds of tantrums…” Well, yeah. You did give him the cold shoulder until he agreed. “Assuring him you would be fine only to do this–” his last words nearly melt into a hiss as he jerks his hips against yours with a powerful thrust and in comes plunging his hard shaft. 

“BIG BROTHER!” A most vile moan escapes you as the upper half of your body goes limp over the smooth surface of the desk. 

“Just imagine if I wasn't out front fixing my bike?” He is beginning to get breathless, huge cock moving between your channel of flesh and out of you slow yet rough. “And if I didn't save you in time?” A spank delivers onto your bruised ass but it is much lighter than all the other ones you have been subject to this evening. “Do you have any idea how badly that could have ended for you?” But his reproaches are no more than background buzz for you now. Your eyelids have gotten droopy and your senses are melting. 

Big brother's dick is inside you and his thick veins angrily pulsate against your bare, sensitive flesh in the best way and that's all that matters.

“Hnnng” your lips feel dry as you bite down on them, your back arching and pussy squelching out a whine when he pulls out nearly all the way. “Big brother– AH!” His hands restrain you from moving along the force of his cock this time around so all of him can be buried deep within your cunt instead of your body slamming into the desk.

“Or maybe… big brother isn't enough for you now, huh? Is that it?” Your eyebrows furrow at his words as your eyes struggle to open because his movement is beginning to get frequent… and not in a nice way. “Is that why you're going around town like a stupid little slut with her silly little pussy in need of fixing?” Your body can't help but rock a little despite his hold on your hips as the stiff skin of his cock grazes against your sensitive flesh faster and faster with each thrust. When you continue to mewl and clench around him instead of answering, Fermin clicks his tongue before he lands a slap on one of your ass cheeks, his fingers coiling around your hair. “Well?!”

“N- No!” Your features twist in discomfort when you feel the band of your entrance forcefully expand around the base of his cock in order to accommodate his balls since your pussy is so wet and your walls so greedy that they want to devour all the dick he has to offer. “B- Big brother w- will always be e-nough for me!” Your neck cranes backwards as you feel him tug at your strands while his bottom half claps against yours loudly. 

“That's fucking right” your mouth falls open when his tip works its way up your cunt and finds the spot where your nerves are sensitive today, the harsh thrust causing your head to spin. “And you better remember that the next time a silly little boy approaches you” neon stars began to appear in your vision as he moves you down and onto the table before his hands roughly move to your thighs, his hips violently snapping against yours all the while. The sound of the other side of the desk colliding with the wall next to it fills your hot ears as you feel Fermin spread your legs as far as they can go, his ballsack sinking into your sore yet much gratified entrance with each thrust now. 

“Tell me you're mine” you feel him bend one of your legs before placing your knee on the table to access you even deeper. “Tell me you're all mine!”

“BIG BROTHER!” You are panting desperately like a bitch in heat, your tight insides on the verge of your first of many orgasms of the day. “I– AH! I AM– OH!” His fingers slip between your cunt and the smooth wooden top of the desk. 

Fermin's back drapes over your back as you feel his lips hover over your ear, his coarse digits gliding across your slippery folds. “Say it and big brother will give you the cummies” he kisses the tear stains on your flushed face. “You like the cummies right?” He speaks to you like one does a child while obliterating you like you are his very own personal whore (you are). You vehemently nod, grunting and whining as you focus on holding yourself back because cumming without big brother's permission is prohibited and you are in enough trouble already. 

“I AM Y- YOURS, BIG BROTHER! A- ALL YOURS! O- ONLY YOURS!” You scream out in agony, feeling yourself overcrowded, overstuffed and overstimulated all at once. “P- PLEA–” 

Fermin loves your sobs of pure wanton. “Cum for big brother” as if a switch goes off, your orgasm barrages through you like a dam coming undone. Temporary vertigo fills your ears as your pussy tightly clenches around his hard shaft that is still pounding your seeping cunt just as hard. Your vision falters and your body gives up as the upper half of your body that you were barely keeping upright drops against the table with a soft thump. 

Your body spasms as your toes curl from the overstimulation but you know better than to complain. Big brother does so much for your protection and pleasure, it is only fair that you returned the favor by being nice to him back. Yes, he is difficult to satiate and one cummie is never enough for him. 

But taking care of each other is what family is all about.

… Right? 

.

I appreciate feedback >.< Also I can't believe I neglected exam prep for this lmfaooo <3 

[appleblueberry-pie]

Hi, the fandom is on fire and well I am a bit low on morale. May I please request for Yandere Nanami comforting his darling after they have a mental breakdown from realizing there is no escape. This leading to both Nanami and his darling sharing a bed and cuddling

This is so undoubtedly late, but absolutely. I will try to make this as comforting as possible.

You tried so hard to shove it down. You hated gaining Kento's attention by obviously needing help. But you couldn't hide it. Not this. Every time you tried to mentally solve the issue, you kept coming to the conclusion that this can't ever be fixed.

You're never leaving this house. You'd be in here, rotting with your captor until the day that he dies. And who knows how long it'll be until then, or if you will even live until that day comes. You continued to draw that conclusion over and over again, the dread pooling in your stomach every single time, and it was harder to bare the feeling the next time it came.

You couldn't eat. You couldn't sleep. You couldn't do shit, and being unable to find peace just made the cycle restart again. You just wanted peace of mind. You just wanted to be left alone without your thoughts, you wanted to leave this fucking house.

But your captor is almost always in the next room, waiting for you to call out his name.

You couldn't hold in the terrible sob that escaped your lips. Your stomach hurts and your head was beginning to pound. Breathing didn't soothe your hot face or your nerves and no matter how many times you wiped your face, more tears would roll down.

You didn't care when you heard quick foot steps approaching your room and you didn't care when Kento barged in, attaching himself to your side and begging you to tell him what's wrong.

Kento's heart was beating so hard in his chest. You didn't want to speak and just continued to sob until you couldn't breathe. Even when he held you so tight to keep the bad thoughts from infiltrating your mind, you still cried. You felt hot to the touch and he didn't want to leave you alone for a single second to get a cool rag to cool you down. So he just rocks you in his arms on the floor, caressing your head and keeping you as close to him as possible, hoping this will all be over sooner than later.

Why was his baby feeling like this? Is this why you weren't eating? Why you were restless all night? He tried all he could. Made you hot chocolate the way you liked, brought you your favorite blanket that he reserved for winter and even let you watch TV in the living room. But none helped you sleep and none got you to eat. All day, you looked like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, and here you were scattered in his arms. He should've known something was up with you.

When you quieted down, Kento loosened his hold and looked down at your face. Damp from tears and you just looked so tired. Every bone in his body wished to make every single one of your bad feelings go away, but he didn't even know the first thing he had to accomplish to get that to happen.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You shake your head.

"Want something to eat?" You groan out a soft no. He frowns.

"Want me to bring you to bed?" Your eyes flutter shut and you nod.

He immediately gathers you in his arms and effortlessly brings you to the warm sheets that you've neglected all day and you relax once he tucks you in. He slips in with you, very slowly to see if you'd tell him to leave. You don't. So, he takes his spot in front of your curled form and wraps his arms around what he could. You don't disagree.

It was his turn to relax, and he sighs in relief. You always come first. And he will find out why you got so worked up soon enough. But you come first.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Spooky season needs spooky stuff.. >:3

So can I request the digital circus cast (minus Caine)meeting a Child Spirit Y/n headcanons,who like Kinda possesed/went inside the game to find they’re killer for some reason? They are eerily quiet and like to stare but if talked to very sweet but quick to snap in distrust because..well trust is what got them killed in the first place? They’re a bit bloody..and a eyeball sometimes hangs out?? Like vhs horror stuff

Sorry I’m being so descriptive,I hope you are a nice day!

OOOoo yes time for more spooks!

Also I am having a nice night, thanks! (and I hope you are having a nice day/night too!)

......

Pomni

To make a long story short, you got murdered while wearing the headset, and that tethered your spirit to TADC.

As expected, you lost memories of who you were--except for the knowledge that someone killed you because you trusted them too much, and you believed the answers were inside this very game.

Your character ends up looking like a child's ghost costume: a white bedsheet stained in blood and one of your eyeballs occasionally wanting to pop from its socket.

Caine (who was very much bewildered at your arrival) declares that you're part of an "exclusive Halloween update" and changes up the tent and grounds to have more spooky flair.

But Pomni clearly wants no part of it, and she can tell you don't either.

You're clearly a kid who is (somehow) handling the situation of being stuck in this game better than her, yet when she tries asking you about it....all you do is stare back.

She swears she can hear static noises and whispers she can't decipher--all in all getting a...very creepy vibe from you.

Initially she decides to keep her distance, afraid you were secretly some virus or Abstraction underneath that sheet.

But that changes when you're walking by the rooms one night, and you pass by Pomni's door, hearing her quietly crying.

Although you weren't inclined to get close to anybody here, you were concerned. And since you weren't actually coded into the game, you didn't have to follow any of its rules--and that allowed you to enter her room without a key.

At first you scared the shit out of her, but after realizing it's you, she lets you sit beside her, eventually venting about how badly she missed her real home.

"Everyone keeps telling me "oh this place is so much better" or "get used to it"...but what if I don't wanna do that? I don't care if my old life was bad...I-I can't take anymore of this.." Her sobs grow louder. "I wanna wake up in my own bed knowing my real name!!"

"...I miss home, too," is all you say in response. Yet it's more than enough to calm her down.

For once, you're not trying to brush her off or force her to "cheer up" and accept her reality. You made her feel heard.

"Yeah..me, too....sh-should I thank you for agreeing..?" She sniffles, seeing your subtle nod, before you leave her be, not wanting to get too attached.

Ironically, she was able to sleep a little easier after talking to you.

Jax

From the get-go, he's gonna be real nosy and curious.

Since not even Caine himself expected your arrival and found out that you don't follow the "rules" like everyone else...Jax is gonna try his damnedest to understand you and see what makes you tick.

But he's gonna be disappointed quickly since you don't respond much to him (or anybody in general).

"So...ya like Halloween?"

"........"

"....thought so. Good talk, new kid."

You definitely act like a legit ghost--doing nothing but stare, move things around, and pop up unexpectedly.

Eventually, his curiosity leads to him visiting your room (which has no key), and he discovers many drawings on the walls.

Most depicting a dead person wearing a headset.

What he found most disturbing was a journal that contained his and the others' names..

From what he's gathering...you're suspecting one of them of murdering your real world-self.

But he doesn't get much time to ponder this as you show up, angry at him for intruding.

You make yourself look even bloodier and scarier, with both of your eyeballs hanging from their sockets and staring at him.

"Get out."

Those two simple words put the fear of god in him.

Jax runs out faster than a jackrabbit, colliding with Gangle in the process. Her comedy mask falls off again, but he catches it and looks at her.

"J-Jax..?" She realizes his fur is standing up on all ends, and he looks terrified....even more than he did after realizing the circus was his forever home.

But he just shoves the mask back into her hands and leaves without saying a word.

He never speaks of what he found in your room that day.

Kinger

He thought his eyes were weird...until you came along and periodically had to put your own eyeball back into its socket.

"It's good to know I'm not alone!" He nervously chuckles, only to be met with your eerie silence.

Sometime later, he suggests showing you his insect collection, and it does pique your interest.

You did love all things "creepy" and "crawly".

Yet you're adamant about going to his pillow fortress after he invites you.

It reminds you of the ones you used to build all the time, up until...

Fortunately, Kinger recognizes your reluctance and just brings one of his bug boxes to you so you can look at it.

He could infodump about the various critters for hours, with nothing but nods and quiet "mhms" from you, and he's happy.

In general, he doesn't mind your quiet personality.

Although you still sometimes jumpscare him unintentionally like Gangle often does.

Tbh he's a good father figure and recognizes that you're just a kid who got trapped in this game unfairly.

Even so, you try to keep your distance and looks at him suspiciously if he starts acting too nice.

He was quiet aloof, and you weren't sure how he would act on any given day.

Gangle

After accidentally spooking her (by simply existing in the same room as her), she breaks her comedy mask off.

But immediately she feels guilty for screaming and tries scrambling to fix it, hoping you weren't mad at her.

Yet all you do is stare, not looking angry or anything at all (it's hard for any of the performers to see your expression in general, aside from your hanging eye, but still).

Poor Gangle is just afraid you'd turn into a scarier version of yourself.

When she keeps cutting her ribbon fingers(?) on the ceramic pieces, you come over and clean it up for her, taking it away despite your own hands bleeding.

The implications that you were able to shed blood and nobody else were a little disturbing to her..but she's glad you're not offended by her screaming.

Although she wonders where you're going with her mask..

Later on, you knock on her door and present it fully fixed.

Except...it looks more Halloweenish with an evil smile painted on it, messily glued together.

'Oh god I hope this doesn't turn me evil or anything..' She thinks, putting on a smile as she takes it anyways.

Yet you remain where you are, staring and clearly waiting for her to try it on.

And so she does, and it turns her into a very chaotic Halloween lover, acting even more mischievous than Jax and allowing her to finally get her revenge for all his pranks.

In the end, you gain a decent friendship with her, subtly protecting her from Jax's bullying.

Ragatha

Seeing that you're so distant from the rest of the gang has her worried.

Some of them might consider your loose eyeball creepy, but she's not gonna judge you on that (besides, she's missing an eye altogether so she can't say much anyways).

Howeve,r she's the first to find out how strong your distrust of everyone is.

"[Y/n]? I don't think it's good to be isolating yourself like this. I know you hate being here and Caine's a weirdo..but...we're all in this together. You can trust us-"

"Don't." You warn, putting on a frightening display of anger that sends her tumbling to the ground, sending chills up her spine.

"Trust" became something you didn't take lightly, as the last time you put your trust in someone....you ended up dead, turning into a literal ghost in the machine (that was your gaming system).

Despite this, Ragatha doesn't run away.

Like Pomni, she understands that you're just a kid who's confused and lost.....and clearly had serious trust issues.

But she's determined to help you through that, even if you keep scaring everybody away.

She's got motherly instincts, and she hopes that in due time you'll learn to warm up to her.

Zooble

"A bedsheet worn as a costume? That's a classic."

She's seen weirder things during their time in the circus, so you don't faze her too much.

Only when you snap at Ragatha or somebody who was trying to be nice to you does she raise an eyebrow.

Honestly, they 100% understand that you just wanted to be alone sometimes, and she respects that.

It's suffocating trying to act all cheery and go along with every damn activity Caine tries to get everyone involved in (but lucky for you, he can't make you follow along).

Especially since she believes he made up that stupid "Halloween update" as lazy way to explain your sudden arrival.

The only time you do interact with Zooble is after she yanks Jax by his ears, and they hear this eerie-sounding giggle behind them.

When she turns around, you're just standing there motionless, staring at her.

Somehow, they just know you were smiling underneath that costume, which makes her smile, too.

"Maybe I should pull him out a hat next time, huh?" She jokes after letting him go, and you giggle once more as he hits the ground.

[gaycragula]

thinking about mk men..

nsfw/18+ under the cut and it’s totally unorganized rambling. lowercase is intentional :]

each little snippet has the relevant warnings below the pictures ^^ male reader and all chars are from mk1

characters: kung lao, raiden, liu kang, smoke, kuai liang, shang tsung, syzoth

general warnings: dacryphilia, electro stimulation, rough sex, breeding kink, possessiveness, somnophilia, mentions of semi publix sex, cockwarming, hemipenis/2 cocks, multiple orgasms/mentions of

relevant warnings: dacryphylia, multple orgasms

thinking about the rare occasion mk1 kung lao asks if he can bottom instead of the two of you rolling dice. the rare occasion he’s not a brat while bottoming.

stretching him out on your fingers, watching his hips move in tandem with the in and out movements. listening to the soft breaths and moans he lets out..

but god, when you put your cock in him? he gets so loud for you, telling you how good you feel inside him, how good your hands feel on him. and oh, the tears.

he always tears up when he bottoms and it’s one of the hottest things about him.

seeing the usually cocky man turn into the sweet mess underneath you is one of the most beautiful things in the world. and, of course, you tell him that in quiet whispers against his skin as you fuck him.

he scratches desperately at your back, begging you for more. more what? anything you’ll give him. he just wants you.

and you’re more than happy to give it to him.

you bring him to not one, not two, but three orgasms. and it’s got him sobbing into the pillows at the third one. ‘no more, no more,’ he pleads.

‘one more,’ you coo back at him, kissing away his tears. ‘you can do one more.’

despite his words, his cock is quick to jump back up, precum already collecting at the head again. he nods. ‘one more.’

———

relevant warnings: electro stimulation, rough sex, slight dacryphilia, mentions of multiple orgasms

mk1 raiden who usually prefers gentle lovemaking. missionary, cowgirl where he can he face to face with you no matter who’s topping or bottoming. raiden who loves to be sweet with you.

until he has a really rough day. trying to embrace his anger with kuai liang is proving to be harder than he thought and you know the second he walks in through the door something was up.

and you were right. he ‘accidentally’ shocks you when he grabs hold of you to drag you to the bedroom where he takes complete control.

bent over the bed as he thrusts into you, one hand on your hip, the other next to your head to keep himself upright. his hold on you is bruising and you swear you can feel little jolts coursing through your body every few seconds.

and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it. listening to raiden pant and groan next to your ear, how good you are to him for letting him use you like this, how pretty you look as tears prick in your eyes, how perfect your ass is for him is so addicting.

the hand on your hip leaves and wraps around your cock. a shock tears through your body and your orgasm follows soon after.

through your haze, you can hear him whisper in your ear. ‘how many more do you have in you?’

you know you’re in for a long night.

———

relevant warnings: possessiveness, dragon attributes, multple orgasms

liu kang who swore he’d never love in this new timeline meeting you and throwing that out the window. he knows it’s a bad idea to get attached but he just can’t help it.

something about you draws him in. he can’t stay away even if he wanted to. and with that.. comes the possessiveness. i love the dragon liu kang headcanon so much. which meanssss…

hoarding. you are his hoard. he wants to keep you to himself, keep your marked up, scented, whatever. he wants everyone to know he’s yours and your his. he’s subtle about it though and he’s honest about it. he told you from the start about the urge and you both have been able to work around it with little consequence.

mostly.

sometimes, people (specifically johnny cage) get a little too touchy, flirty with you. and you know the moment liu kang approached you that you’re gonna struggle to walk on your own the next day.

strong arms keep your hips up and at an angle as liu kang fucks into you with reckless abandon. he’s bent over you, nose tucked against the spot where your jaw meets your neck. he’s growling, panting, whining against your skin.

you’re already covered in a multitude of marks. bites on your neck, chest, tummy. hickeys everywhere so you’ll have trouble hiding them. scratches over your thighs and ribs.

another orgasm tears through you, adding to the mess already pooled on your stomach. ‘one more,’ liu kang whispers as he continues to thrust into you. one more..

———

relevant warnings: (consensual!!) somnophilia, mentions of semi public sex

smoke who, much like raiden, likes gentle sex with you. who loves it when you touch him so softly, jerking him off with slow pumps of your hand when you take baths together, waking up to your hand in his pajama pants and your lips on his neck, urging him awake. he can just barely hear his alarm blaring on the nightstand. overslept again.

the intimacy of taking a shower together first thing in the morning, washing each other, sharing lazy kisses, lazier touches. you can never get enough of him and he can never get enough of you.

gentle massages and baths after missions. gentle gentle gentle.

until.

the occasional times smoke is gone for a month or more. the day he gets back is always.. steamy.

sloppy kisses, grinding, humping each other. it doesn’t matter where. your bedroom, a storage closet, the hot springs. just hope no one walks in.

where gentle is thrown out the window as the two of you claw at each other’s clothes, where tomas begs you to just put it in while you’re trying to prep him. where simple shushing turns into threats of gagging if he doesn’t quiet down.

and he’s even worse when your cock is inside him. grinding against you, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you in his space, legs wrapped around your waist as you hold him up against the wall.

his face is tucked against your neck to muffle himself as you fuck him. you’re quick, balls barely slapping against his ass. he can feel your nails digging into the skin of his thighs and he, in turn, begins to nip and suck at your neck.

you don’t know how many times you cum in him or how many times he shoots onto his chest and stomach until you both eventually tire out and your soft cock slips from tomas’ hole.

you have to hold him steady when you set him on his feet and you see the mess that is both of you. a comforting bath follows.

———

relevant warnings: cockwarming

kuai liang who is always warm because of his pyromancy. who you go to when it gets cold out to cuddle up. who always accepts you with open arms.

who lets you sit in his lap, his cock nestled comfortably inside you as he scribbles on the parchment in front of him. one of his arms wraps around your waist while your arms wrap around his neck, your head resting against his neck as the gentle ambiance surrounds the two of you.

it’s snowing outside. peaceful.

his cock is nice and warm inside of you, stretching you just right. plus, it was just nice to be this close to him.

the quiet and the sound of quill on paper is enough to lull you into a light doze against kuai liang.

though you awaken when you hear the light tap of the quill being set down. and you’re glad you did.

hands knead your ass for a moment until you shift and he leans back in the chair, a hand against your chest to make sure you didn’t follow him.

you’re confused for a moment before his hips begin to roll up into you and you groan. your hands fund purchase on his pecs as you begin meeting his shallow thrusts with your hips.

he feels so good pumping in and out of you, the tip of his cock hitting that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. the quiet sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room alongside both of your sounds of pleasure.

his name leaves your mouth like a mantra before he sits up and pulls you into a nice, messy kiss. one of his hands find your cock, jerking you off in time with his thrusts

twice he makes you cum before finally filling your ass with his. he pulls his softening cock out of you and you can already feel it dripping out of you, down your thighs. god, it feels good.

———

relevant warnings: pillow princess shang tsung (i think???), also slightly bratty shang tsung

mk1 shang tsung who wants to be treated like a princess but who drives you up the wall with his attitude. shang tsung who demands attention when you’re busy, going so far as to climb into your lap, grabbing your wrists and putting them on his waist and holding them there with that little smirk he always wears.

he puts on his best ‘woe is me’ face as he asks you so sweetly to kiss him. how can you say no to him? plus, he knows no matter how bratty he is, you’ll give him exactly what he wants.

and it’s not long before you find the both of you in his bed, giving the sorcerer exactly what he wants. kissing up his leg while caressing the back of it while he lays back against the plush, silk lined pillows.

you lavish his leg for a moment before kissing up to his tummy, up to his chest while you settle between his legs, and, finally, up to his lips.

but the brat turns his head away from you when you try to kiss him. though peeved, you settle for kissing his neck. you don’t leave any marks. he doesn’t like it when you do. likes to keep his skin ‘pristine.’

he’s lucky he’s pretty.

you lavish his neck in gentle kisses and licks, hands caressing the backs of his plush thighs. he lets out nice, soft hums, tilting his head back for you.

you, in turn, trail your lips to the front of his throat, placing a few more wet kisses before kissing back down his chest to show his nipples some attention since he won’t let you kiss him.

his back arches off the bed as your lips close around his nipple, a pretty sounding gasp leaving his lips. your tongue flicks back and forth over one nipple while your thumb brushes over the second.

considering who he is and what he does, you never would’ve guessed he enjoyed ‘soft’ sex. or that he preferred to bottom over anything else. he liked to be treated like a princess and he’s found you’re (more or less) happy to treat him as such.

you feel his hand tangle in your hair and give a gentle tug and you pull off his nipple after giving it a gentle kiss.

after what seems like an eternity of prepping him, you slide inside him easily, finding pleasure in the way shang tsung gasps your name.

you grip the backs of his thighs as you begin moving, holding his legs up and around your hips. shang tsung’s arms hold onto the pillow under his head.

he’s making such sweet noises. you almost forget he’s homicidal especially when he breathes your name out as his hand grabs the back of your neck and you finally get to kiss him.

one of your hands leave his thigh, opting to instead use it to prop yourself up as you kiss him.

you bring shang tsung to the edge first, jerking him off until he makes a mess on his abdomen. then, you pull out of the sorcerer, jerking yourself to completion and adding to the mess.

a quick clean up ensues followed by a bath. when you help shang tsung up, however, you catch sight of the backs of his thighs.

where you can see the outline of where you’d been grabbing him. a little feeling of pride blooms in your chest knowing that he’d be wearing the mark for at least a day.

———

relevant warnings: hemipenis/two cocks, mating seasons, possessiveness, breeding kink, multiple orgasms

syzoth with two cocks and a mating season..

of course, he told you about it when you first started dating. transparency is important, after all. he tells you everything that happens during these ‘mating seasons’.

from the protectiveness over those perceived as a possible mate, to the constant courting, increased agitation, and overall clinginess. and, of course, the desire to mate and to breed with said mate.

still, despite knowing what was going to happen, you’re still startled when it happens.

syzoth growls and hisses at anyone who gets a little too close to you or touches you for too long. you can tell his patience wears thin simply being in the presence of johnny cage. especially when the star speaks to you.

and you know when it’s time to stop a conversation when syzoth comes up behind you and wraps his arms around you.

it’s just as bad in private. he wants to touch you all the time. whether it be something simple like holding your hand to having you in his lap or him in yours. he keeps his nose pressed into your neck and his hands either on your waist or on your thighs, rubbing and touching.

oh and when you ask if you can help him, he jumps on the opportunity.

one of his cocks drills into your ass, the other rubbing incessantly against your own cock as he takes you from behind. he’s hunched over you, panting into your ear as he fucks you.

you wrap your hand around both your cocks and syzoth whines into your ear. his tongue lulls out and you feed the cock in your hand twitch and a decent sized glob of precum begins to drool down onto the bed.

he whispers how good you are to him for letting him do this, for helping him. how good of a mother you’ll be for his brood, that he’s going to take such good care of you. the words make you shiver and your mind muddle at the thought even though you both know you can’t physically get pregnant.

your hand sluggishly jerks the both of you off and it’s not long before the two cocks in your hand are spilling over it and you feel syzoth press himself as deep as he can inside you as he cums.

he whispers his thanks and praises against your ear, his voice trembling and pitched up as he continues to shallowly thrust into you. it’s one of many orgasms you have that night.

———

UGHHHH i need them so bad. so many thoughts in my head and not enough hands (or motivation) to type out full fics.

thinking about doing more stuff like this. i’ve got a few mk11 chars that i was going to include in this one but they made it too long imo so they’re getting a separate post but like

if you wanna request something like this, i’ll gladly take them. i’d probably be able to pump out more stuff like this

[lemonhemlock]

I think a thing that bothers me the most is how fragmented TG (the fandom) is now. After season one, many of us had issues with character writing, but it still felt like we were largely on the same page. Now, some people can accept Aegon got bad writing but not Aemond, Alicent, or Helaena. They are all “good” or “bad”characters depending on how much they hurt Aegon this season. I’m so glad he got the time to be well rounded, and that TGC delivered on all his scenes, but I think people forget Aegon has received some poor writing as well even this season. His whole outburst about Jaehaerys’s death is not about his son, but the impact on his legacy- I thought this very odd at the time, but realize it’s because they can’t have him mourn Jaehaerys for a long time either. Nobody on TG is allowed to focus on this dead child, least of all his mother! Aegon goes out drinking with his friends next episode 😭 seemingly unconcerned. But somehow only Alicent and Aemond are called out for this, when it is a clear problem that Daemon is more affected by this loss than the greens. It feels like such an uphill battle to even discuss the faction and family anymore.

This is such a good point!

I know I am so contrarian about this rn, but I have had some issues in connecting with Aegon's grief scenes over Jaehaerys this season. And it's such an opinion I DON'T want to have, bc I'm fully on the Aegon/TGC bandwagon and I do think TGC is a competent actor.

But it's something about the general clownery of the framing, how everything is gloomy and dark but at the same time no one gives that much of a shit over Jaehaerys? It's very weird to describe. I know Olivia also shows Alicent crying and swallowing sobs and trying to conceal her grief, but, if you think about it, Alicent is just Kind Of Like That in a lot of her scenes anyway. Big doe wet eyes, filled with regret and unspoken emotions etc so that her acting similarly after B&C kind of doesn't hit as much?

And, in that context, having Aegon rage over this event is rendered kind of.....hammy and, honestly, comical. I'm reminded of the scene of the small council where everyone is somber and quiet and he kind of looks like he's pretending to cry. In other moments it's fine but there are frames where I can't take it seriously and it registers in my brain like a parody.

I realise how I sound right now, like I'm not satisfied with the subdued performances, but I'm not satisfied with the expansive ones either. IDK. I have a huge problem with the framing and direction this season, I think it's a huge impediment in making me enjoy the supposedly emotional scenes.

All of this to say that I agree, Aegon has also received some bad writing this season, especially him ALSO being kind of over Jaehaerys the next episode. But people tend to overlook it, because when you draw the line, the writing for him is still so much better than what he got in S1.

And, yes, this is why I can't really join the choir in blaming Alicent and Aemond for how they act with him, because it's not a naturalistic and organic progression, it's shoehorned in with little buildup or motivation and not even drawn to its natural conclusion. For example, Aemond should have been toast the minute Aegon woke up, because Prince Regent or not, Aegon is still the King and has the power to remove Aemond if he fears him. He doesn't have to justify himself in front of anyone, just give the order to arrest his brother and name someone else as regent, then just go back to sleep.

[loservillepopulationone]

Kaito Kid in the metaverse!?!?

ngl this was half an excuse for a persona 5 crossover and half an excuse to draw Kid in something else

They team up because Phantom thieves of Heart and Kid's bad guys are part of the same org duh!

How many teenage Phantom Thieves are there in Japan?!? Or teenage detectives for that matter... between Persona and DCMK I feel like the ratio is so absurd ajnfsdlvnfsb

I like to imagine everywhere else is relatively normal but everyone in Japan just loses it

Kaito, after dealing with Magic Immortality Gem, Real Magic Witch and Deaged Detectives: yeah sure giant mesh of human subconsciousness might as well

This is perfectly within all of their lucks :sob:

Morgana: talking about metaverse mechanics Kaito, who was already starting to have an identity crisis before this: ?!???

"Your main defense is being no 1 Kid fan???" "Fuck I should do that" "Ryuji no"

Kaito, magically appearing roses out of thin air: you know when I say I'm going to steal someones heart I usually mean metaphorically

Design ramblings:

Mostly I just wanted Kaito to look more immature than Toichi's/Kid's suit so instead of impersonating him its more Kaito-

he looks so Kid is because his biggest sense of self isn't being Kuroba Kaito or Kid or whatever he is "Dad's son" at his core- everything else is second so that's what he looks like! Not Kid himself but his own thing with some clear design inspirations!

Imagine this design of Kaito's standing beside og Kid... Father and son.....

There's also a certain jewel motivating him and his revenge... and they ARE going after the crows in this arc... at least I think so I forgot if Kaito or Conan call them crows or guys in Black in my mind and my canon they are interconnected enough that I cannot for the life of me remember but Im p sure Conan's the one who calls them guys in black

I think he'd have like a theatre mask because of all his disguises and theatrics lmao

I haven't decided his personas design yet I just !?!?!?! the persona designs are so cool in game it has to have something jewel related right???

[rambosgirl]

I love your writing and you portray Rambo so well ty for all the content of him I am starving 💕💕💕🤝

If you want could I get hcs of John comforting reader on her period or how he'd deal with comforting her crying or hurt in general? Thank you sm I hope you have a nice day!! ❤🥺

Yesss I love this request! And thank you so much for the kind words and the support <333

this is just headcanons, if you want a full fic, let me know

Masterlist

John Rambo comforting you on your period HCs:

First off, John hates seeing you hurting, whether you're experiencing cramps or just stubbed your toe

He's seen too many people he cares about in pain, so it really does affect him and he wishes he could take your pain away more than anything

Speaking of pain, he knows it well and probably has a lot of training and experience with coping mechanisms for physical pain. He would probably teach you some when the body aches and cramps get really bad

But if we're being real here, he probably wouldn't know much about it at first, being around mostly men for so long. He knows the basics, but stuff like hormone levels and why you start crying out of nowhere is beyond him

But he's a fast learner if you take the time to tell him about it

He also learns how to comfort you in the way you want pretty quickly

You want snacks?? He's going to the grocery store and getting you your favorites. You want cuddles and a movie? He's a little stiff with cuddles at first but he's trying ok?? Want to use his hand as a heating pad? His answer is YES because he's a walking furnace and he knows it.

he WILL draw you a bath if you want it, he doesn't know what the candles and flower petals do, but it seems to make you happy, so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

One of his love languages is 100% acts of service - he just loves doing domestic things for you <3

So he's really good about comforting you with the physical aspect of the WORST time of the month but with the emotional side? He just has less practice with that

because why are you crying again?

what do you mean you don't know?

He eventually just goes with it (he secretly finds it cute - not that you're feeling bad, just the way you look up at him when you admit you have no idea why you're sobbing)

Your brain and body works so differently than his, he actually finds it so interesting and beautiful, and he reminds you of this all the time

He definitely holds you when you cry and runs his hands through your hair, which is SUPER relaxing.

He takes your mood swings so well, he knows it's not anyone's fault (probably) it's just the hormones doing their thing

He's so respectful about it too - if you say you want company, he'll stay with you, if you say you want to be left alone, he'll leave you be, but he'll stay close enough so if you need anything from him he can help you

always reminds you that the pain will pass, he loves you, and that you are so so strong and you can make it through

[another-lost-mc]

hey so im not the anon who requested the guys going to see barbie but i had legit just watched the movie today and it will mess you up emotionally like i am not kidding i almost started crying at the end some of the guys would be in LITERAL tears and then (maybe) laugh at the last moment quip they pulled at the end

A/N: I really want to see that movie, I’ve heard so many good things. 🥺 I will say, it was whiplash going to the movies with the Oppenheimer crowd and Barbie crowd mingling together. I would’ve preferred to see Barbie, but it wasn't my turn to pick the film. lol

When Movies Make Them Cry

THE DEMON BROTHERS & THE DATEABLES

0.5k words | SFW | gn!Reader

Content: Luke is mentioned in a platonic sense only, the other relationships can be read as platonic or romantic. Mostly emotional hurt/comfort.

Lucifer will cry watching movies but he hides it well. The giveaway will be his wet lashes and the slightly red, puffy skin around his eyes. Most of the tear tracks are wiped away before the lights come back on. He’s more likely to cry in private with you but not in a public crowd.

Mammon screams at horror movies, belly laughs at comedies, and sobs at tear-jerker moments—especially anything involving romance or tragedy. He often pictures you and him together as the romantic leads in the film, and that can be good or bad depending on the film.

Levi gets a little choked up but doesn’t usually cry. If he does cry, it’s in the privacy of his room when he thinks about the movie later on.

Satan and Asmo will both cry at touching romance or gut-wrenching tragedy. Satan comes prepared with tissues and Asmo dabs his face as delicately as he can so he can attempt to salvage his eye makeup (it doesn’t always work).

Beel might get choked up, but emotional movies linger in his thoughts for a while. He reflects on what he can learn from it to avoid more heartbreak in his life (he thinks they’ve all suffered enough).

Belphie might cry, but he cuddles into your shoulder so he can wipe the evidence on your shirt. He chuckles and pokes fun at his brothers for being so whiny but it doesn’t sound very convincing when his own voice sounds a little thick. (He won’t make fun of Beel if he cries.)

Diavolo’s the type that will cry at happy or sad endings. He doesn’t feel ashamed by it either, and he compliments movies that can draw out that type of reaction in him. He’s one of the first to offer you a comforting hug if you look like you need one. He also offers you tissues (he seems to have an endless supply).

Barbatos rarely cries at movies but similar to Beel, the emotional weight can linger with him for a while after. He has several packs of tissues to pass to the others should they need some (aka Diavolo’s endless supply of tissues).

Simeon is more likely to cry at happy endings than sad endings. He’s experienced so much heartache that it’s like a familiar friend rather than a shocking event. It’s the overwhelming love or joy characters share that touch him the most because he desperately wants to feel that for himself.

Luke cries but tries not to. He naturally gravitates to you or Simeon for comfort but tries not to be obvious about it—he doesn’t want the others to think he’s a baby.

Solomon is a mix of solemn contemplation after sad endings and joyful tears after happy endings. It’s difficult to find things that can touch those deep emotions in him after so much of his long life has passed by in a blur.

m.list | Related reading:

When They Go to the Movies [fluff] When Lucifer Watches Hachiko [emotional hurt/comfort] When Mammon Watches a Tragic Romance [angst]

[pjoxreader]

can you do something with jason, leo, and percy where they turn on the reader or something and they have to kill their s/o because someone told them that they were evil??

Reader Gets Betrayed by Their SO

TW (Death, Blood, Broken bones)

Jason Grace

-There you stood looking up at your boyfriend in the raging rain storm. Rain was pelting you as if it was hail. Thunder claps above the two of you illuminating his blonde hair and making his blue eyes seemingly glow in the cloudy gray storm clouds as he stares down at you coldly. -”Jason! Please!” You beg him, voice cracking as you plead. You couldn’t believe it, your boyfriend, the person you had trusted the most had turned against you. You wanted to believe he was being controlled, that this was some cruel monster forcing him to do this…

-But it wasn’t. You knew deep down that he wasn’t. Jason lands in front of you, flicking out his coin and summoning his sword. “Jason you don’t understand…” You try. But the look in his eye… He… He was determined to kill you. You never once imagined what it was like to be a monster…

-Yet now you felt bad for them, being forced to stare down these cruel eyes before their death. You force yourself to draw your sword as he charges you, the two of you clashing swords, you’re barely able to keep your defense up as your feet dig into the ground.

-Tears were forming in your eyes as you kicked him back to try and get space. But he kneels getting ready for a lunge. You… You didn’t have time to move. The same move you had spent hours in training to avoid… Would be your downfall? You could only gasp pathetically grabbing at his shirt in a last desperate attempt to get to him as you feel the blade enter your stomach. You barely manage to grab hold of his shirt looking down and seeing the blade impaled you through your stomach blood seeping down his blade. 

-You fall to your knees looking up at the sky as the rain pelts you, helping wash away your tears as you could only helplessly look at the one you used to love. “I… Love… You…” you manage to choke out through the blood before you lose all your energy collapsing to the ground. Jason lets out a feral yell of anguish into the storm as thunder roars above him as the lone survivor. 

Leo Valdez

-Oh how the fates were cruel. The only thing you wanted in this world was for someone to love you. And they granted you that. For two wonderful years you had dated your boyfriend enjoying every second of it.

-But the fates are restless. You were exhausted, trying to catch your breath as you stared down your boyfriend. “Leo… please… Please at least hear me out.” you beg him between breaths. Leo had his hammer at the ready, a few tears in his eyes as he stayed ready in his fighting stance. 

-”I don’t want to hear it, How could you… How could you betray camp…? How… How could you betray me?” his voice cracks at the end as he grips his hammer so tightly his knuckles turn white. With that he moves in closer to you raising the hammer high and bringing it down full force.

-You barely manage to block the attack with your sword, but it breaks in half the rest of Leo’s strike landing fully on your arm with a sick snap. You cry out in anguish falling back as you cling to your surely broken arm. -You try to move but you can't. You were just too tired to… You pant weakly looking up at the sky as you try to catch your breath. At least it was a beautiful day… Leo blocks your sight, tears going down his face as he lifts the hammer blocking the sun from your eyes.

-”I love you...” you say, giving him a last smile before the hammer swings down. You feel an anguished pain, dizziness but… But then the pain starts to fade. You could hear Leo sobbing but it was too far. You try to reach for him despite the fact you couldn’t see but to no avail, your hand goes limp before you could. 

Percy Jackson

-The beach had so many fond memories for you. Where you and percy first kissed, where he asked you out and you even had your first date here… But… But now you were trying to stand your ground against your boyfriend.

-You had seen percy lose himself in rage before but nothing like this. “No more… How… How many people are going to betray me!” he roars in anguish water raising to life behind him. You could only try to leap out of the way to avoid a blast of water that takes down a pine tree not far from you.

-”Percy please! I didn’t betray you! I wouldn’t!” you try to reason, barely avoiding another blast. It took everything you had to keep avoiding the strikes, but then your body tenses up as he holds his hand to you. You could feel every vein in your body clench. Was… Was he controlling your blood…?

-”Percy… Percy please…” you choke out feeling yourself fall under his control only barely able to plead him. “No more… No more!” He yells water rushing you in an intense flurry trapping you in a swirling vortex in a bubble.

-You gain control of your body, struggling to get free but you are spiraling inside the bubble unable to even reach out.Tears form in your eyes as you feel your lungs burning desperately clawing at your throat as you attempt to breathe.

-You pathetically reach out to Percy in a last silent plea but he only stares at you, those cold eyes as cruel and dark as the ocean stare into your soul as your vision starts to fade. The last bubbles of air leaving your throat with those eyes being the last sight you ever see.

 

~Masterlist & Rules~

Like my writing? Please consider sending me a Ko-fi! ☕

[beget-lazarus]

Just a little something, more bittersweet and softer than I normally write. It does take place in the same verse as the rest of my ficlets, however.

Content warnings for past character death, references to SI and attempts, and some cosmic existentialism. Hurt with... I guess it could be counted as comfort. Sort of. Some minimal comfort.

Written from Ximena's point of view.

Ximena sits on the ledge by the river, remembering the last time she'd been here. It had been chance, fate, intuition, her husband's late spirit.... any combination of factors had drawn her here, but regardless, she had been there at just the right time.

At the time, she'd been trying to talk her baby boy down from the ledge– one of the many he'd found himself standing on throughout the years. Bound to the earth by loose threads, and the thought of hurting his loved ones outweighing the weight of himself for the times they walked him down.

Now, she sits on the ledge once again, this time with the intention of spilling him over.

"I went up to the top of the gates the other day," Mel had told her as she'd tapped her nails lightly against the little glass in her hands. It was painted by her own careful hands with the colors of House Talis. "I suppose I wanted one last measure of closure, and to see if... anything at all remained. His- his hammer hadn't been disturbed yet, ashed as it was already."

With that she had held the small urn out to her, and Ximena had barely drawn her hand away from her mouth before she'd clung to it, drawing it close over her heart and hiding it from view in her hands. All that was left... no body, an empty casket, and a slip of paper burned in vigil for all the lost...

And all that was left of her baby, her boy. The Talis line ended as it began, with hammers and dust, all carefully flaked apart to fit into a jar that she could fit into her hands. It's not much bigger than he was a newborn, the first time she'd held him in her arms. It's that thought that brings her to her knees with a sob. Despair chokes her throat from the inside. Threatens to drag her down into the same abyss her son's mind always lurked in.

After, when Mel had withdrawn her arms from around her shoulders, the young woman had sighed and retrieved another jar from the elegant bag she wore at her side– a new addition to her usual look.

"I also have... I wasn't sure what to do with it. It felt wrong, somehow, to dash it without giving him the same level of care. I was never close with him, nor particularly fond of him, all things considered. But he was intrinsic with him. There couldn't be one without the other, and I wished I'd seen that sooner."

Painted with the same care as her boy's, the second urn is a soft purple and smaller. So much smaller, and she'd felt a horrible combination of rage and grief and loss alike at the sight of it. She'd almost been tempted to sling it against a wall, but she couldn't do that to Jayce's memory. Even in his death, she can hear him asking her to forgive Viktor because it was "his fault, too."

Intrinsic, indeed. She knows what Mel meant. So instead, she'd sucked her teeth, dragged her composure together, kicking and screaming, and hugged Mel tight to her. She was going to miss this young woman when she left Piltover.

And now, she's here. On the ledge that held so many memories for her family, good and bad. The wind whispers through her hair, rustling the tall grasses and the leaves of the handful of trees along the bank. She remembers sitting on this very ledge twenty-odd years ago, watching from the campsite as her son and husband swam through the tiny rapids in the river. The water is so clean, here, the air so pure... even moreso than the air of Piltover.

She rubs her thumb across the urn at her side, holding the other to her chest.

"The man you were before it all went wrong... you deserved this much, at least. Clean air. Clean water. No prying eyes full of judgment. This world failed you so terribly for you to feel so wronged that you were willing to cast the whole world away. I hope... I hope wherever you are now, you can find peace. Find a better life. Make better decisions and better mistakes. Human mistakes. Let only the gods be gods."

With that, she opened the second urn and upturned it into the wind, carrying the ashes of his crutch out across the river. The breeze blows harder for just a moment, a soft carress against her hair.

"And Jayce. My son. My baby. My little love since you were born... you always tried to be good for me. I know how much you were hurting. How often you hurt. I know no one ever saw it because you held it on the inside instead of the outside, but I'm so proud of you. You were so strong for so long, and I hope wherever you are now, it's no longer heavy. I hope your life is full of light and joy and all the things you deserved but couldn't keep. I love you. Mama will always love you."

And with that, she upturned the first urn. The wind blew fiercely once more, carrying the ashes on the breeze across the river that he spent so much of his childhood in. She hopes his father is waiting wherever they are to greet him, to sweep him up in his giant arms and hold him like he should have gotten to do one last time. And, despite the hurt in her heart, the mockery of hatred, she hopes Viktor is right by his side. She can't picture them not together.

When she stands to leave hours later, having cried out her grief and sorrow as much as she can manage, she gasps. The sun dips just right on the horizon, casting the sky into shades of gold and amber and lavender and red. A natural phenomenon, one she's seen many tines over, but something about today, about tonight; the colors are a mirror to the ones on the now-empty urns. She smiles. For the first time in weeks, she smiles and it feels small and fragile and real.

"Goodnight, boys. I love you."

And her love is true.