#if not then WHY?????? LET IT BE ENOUGH!! IT IS!! I FUCKING PROMISE IT IS!!!!!!!!!
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sinjams · 2 days ago
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fwb!satosugu who have your back lying on satoru’s chest in a full nelson, his cock buried to the hilt in your weeping cunt. suguru kneeled between you two, watching the way satoru spread you open. honestly, he didn’t even have to do anything. the sight of this alone was enough to make him cum. but today he was feeling especially greedy, so he thought of something you three had never tried.
he aligned the tip of his cock with your cunt after stopping satoru’s movements and pulling him out of you. when you whined in protest, he let out a tsk.
“be patient,” thankfully, he and satoru already talked about the possibility of attempting this (which had made them both so hard at the thought of it that they had to fuck in order to calm down), so satoru already knew what suguru was thinking. you felt the rumble in his chest on your back when he laughed.
at first you were confused, but then when you felt their cocks both prod at your entrance, you quickly understood what was happening. your mind was reeling and your eyes shot open. “i-i don’t- it’s not gonna fit.”
suguru rubbed reassuring circles on your inner thighs and satoru laid kisses on the side of your neck before leaning in close to your ear.
“you trust us, yeah?” you nod, “okay. we’re gonna make y’feel good, promise. take a deep breath f’me.”
you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about this yourself, but you never thought it would actually happen, hence why you never brought it up to them.
you took a deep breath for every inch they went in, and they praised you the whole time, making sure you were comfortable. inch by thick inch, until they both filled you full of them.
suguru was glad he ended up on his end, being able to see your cunt full with two cocks was a sight he’d wish to burn into his memory. and your face, in blissful heaven, mirrored his own.
he and satoru set a pace that satisfied the three of you but didn’t put too much strain on you specifically. the room filled with moans and whimpers and whines, all of you were so needy for each other. you laid your head back onto satoru’s shoulder and turned your head to kiss him the sloppiest you’d ever had.
he pulled away with a trail of spit connecting your mouths. “fuck-” he whined.
“you’re such a good girl,” suguru panted, “takin’ both of us in your pretty little cunt. knew our girl could do it.”
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sturnschris · 2 days ago
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SIT ON IT.
pairings: smart!goodgirl!reader x bf!chris (everything to them here)
content: riding your boyfriends face beacuse your turned on my his nose
warnings: oral, face riding, pet names, nose fetish, kinda dumification kink if you squint. etc
lowk inspired by this edit haha
a/n: been gone for a bit but i hope this makes up for it!!
952 words.
love ya!💋
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chris’s hand rests on your thigh as you sit next to him, your head on his chest. you’ve been wanting to watch this movie for school—it’s supposed to help with a report you’re working on. but you can’t focus. all you can think about is chris’s stupidly perfect features, especially his nose. it’s so perfect you just wanna… sit on it. “baby, this movie’s so dumb,” he says casually, his voice pulling you halfway out of your thoughts. “mhm,” you mumble, not even registering his words, too busy staring at him like he’s the only thing in the world. he glances down at you, his lips pulling into a soft, innocent smile. “you okay, princess?” you blink, snapping out of your trance, your face heating. “huh? yeah, i’m fine.” he nods, still smiling so sweetly it makes your chest ache. “okay, baby.” he pats your thigh gently, his hand staying there as he turns back to the screen, completely unaware of the thoughts racing through your head. chris’s hand stays on your thigh as he keeps watching the movie, but he can’t help the way he feels your gaze burning into him. “you need something, ma?” he asks, glancing down at you. “wh- n-no, m’fine, chris,” you stammer, your voice betraying you. he doesn’t buy it for a second. his hand moves to your hip. “no, you’re not. c’mere,” he says softly, pulling you onto his lap like it’s second nature. “what’s wrong, hmm?” his lips brush against your neck, leaving soft, lazy kisses. you squirm slightly, heat rushing to your face. you can’t escape it—you have to be honest. but how are you supposed to tell your boyfriend that you’ve been staring at him because you want to sit on his face? “okay… but don’t be mean,” you mumble, your voice barely above a whisper. he nods, his smile so sweet it makes your heart skip. “promise,” he says, his voice warm and soothing, like he has no idea what’s about to hit him.
“i wanna sit on your face.” chris almost chokes on his spit, his eyes widening as he looks at you. “you wanna what?” mortified, you bury your face in his chest, mumbling, “please don’t make me say it again.” he laughs softly, his chest shaking beneath you. “okay, baby. hop on.” you lift your head just enough to study his face, trying to gauge if he’s serious. “wait… really?” he presses a kiss to your temple, his voice low and sweet. “yeah, sure. why not?” before you can second-guess yourself, he gently lifts you from his lap, shifting to lay down on the couch, his head slightly propped up on the pillow. “c’mon, ma,” he says softly, his hands reaching for you. you straddle his chest nervously, your hands trembling slightly as they find his shoulders. his arms hook underneath your thighs, steadying you as he lifts you up toward his face, his movements gentle but deliberate. your heart races as you realize he’s absolutely serious—and you’re about to find out just how serious.
he kitten licks your clit, and you let out a sharp gasp, instinctively moving down onto his face. his tongue moves in slow, deliberate strides up and down your core, brushing his nose against your clit every time. it’s exactly what you wanted. you let out an extra loud moan, hoping he’ll get the hint without you having to say a word. to your surprise, he does. his tongue focuses there, his nose pressing against you just right, giving you everything you didn’t have the courage to ask for.
he thrusts his tongue into you, his nose hitting your clit every time. it feels so good, you can’t keep the words from tumbling out. “chris, fuck—” you whimper, squirming on his face. his hands move to your thighs, massaging them firmly as his tongue moves faster and faster, his nose bumping your sensitive nub harder with each movement. “feels—haa—mm—” you stammer, the pleasure making it impossible to form a coherent thought. “c’mon, baby,” he mumbles against you, his voice muffled but teasing. “you’re a smart girl, what are you tryna say?”“feels so—ah—s’good,” you manage to moan, your voice shaky as chris moans beneath you, clearly enjoying himself as much as you are. you grip the pillow behind his head, desperate for something to hold onto. “tastes so good, baby. shit—” he groans against you, his words sending a rush of heat to your cheeks. “m’gonna cum,” you whimper, your body trembling. he nods, patting your leg, his way of telling you to let go. “give it to me, ma,” he murmurs, his voice full of need. you let go on his tongue, grinding your clit against his nose as your release washes over you, leaving you breathless and completely undone. after you cum, you can’t even register what’s happening when chris picks you up effortlessly and flips you over so he’s on top of you. he kisses your temple, his lips soft and comforting. “y’did so good, my love,” he murmurs, his voice full of affection. your cheeks flush as you lean into his kisses, feeling safe and warm in his hold. “can i ask you something?” he whispers, his tone gentle. you hum in response, still catching your breath. “where did you get this idea?” he asks, curiosity laced in his words. your face heats up even more—how could you possibly explain that you were staring at him and got horny because of his nose? “i just… i like your nose,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. he raises his eyebrows, clearly amused. “my nose? mkay…” he chuckles softly, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you, like he’s never letting go.
a/n: lowk based on a sexy guy in my class w a big nose😝😝
all divider from. @issysh3ll
@delooshunalhoe @chrisdollete @christophersturnn @sturniologirlzz @sturnxies @lov3bug @mattsside @emely9274 @sturnlovematt22 @sophand4n4 @sfoiasturn
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darlingdaisyfarm · 2 days ago
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It’s so sad how mullet Stan lacks content of him 😭😭I wish there would be more fics of him so that’s why im gently asking you to give us more mullet Stan crumbs, it can be anything, headcanons or fic 😔 I will eat everything you’ll serve
⤿❝ Mullet!Stanley x reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)⭑
a/n: agree i agree just yeah 10000% ! traumatised guys with mullet, bad habits and abandonment, daddy and mental issues are my weak spot
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sfw
ᯓ★ he’s terrified of commitment but more terrified of being alone. he’ll push you away just to see if you’ll stay. he wants to trust you, but he doesn’t trust himself
ᯓ★ when he finally realizes you’re not leaving, he clings hard. like, once he’s in? he’s all in. but the idea of starting a family? he wants it so bad but so scared of it. he doesn’t want to turn into his father. he’s aware of his emotional instability and the last thing he wants is to pass that onto a kid. he doesn’t even trust himself to be a good partner, let alone a parent
ᯓ★ despite everything, still has a soft spot for kids but refuses to admit it. will grumble and complain but the second a little kid looks up at him with big, teary eyes, he’s sighing and handing over the last piece of his candy bar
ᯓ★ he is a literal stray, a stray dog that growls when you first bring him home but now follows you everywhere. you don’t date mullet!Stanley, you accidentally adopt him. this man has no home, no direction, no plan. he crashes on your couch “just for a few days, toots, promise” and then six months later he’s still there, wearing your robe, drinking straight from the juice carton
ᯓ★ acts like he doesn’t care but is secretly the most doting boyfriend. will fix your car, carry your groceries, give you his jacket when you're cold, all without asking. he just does it
ᯓ★ he doesn’t take care of himself. showers once every few days, drinks too much, smokes too much, eats like shit. if you ever cook for him it breaks him, he just stares at the plate because it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done to him, “you made this? for me?”
ᯓ★ road trip king. you wanna run away? hop in, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out on the way. the kind of guy who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. he’s got half a pack of smokes, a cassette of shitty rock ballads and a mouth full of sweet-talking bullshit
ᯓ★ as i said, he acts like he doesn’t give a fuck but actually gives too many fucks. will pretend he doesn’t care when you get mad at him, but the second you turn away, he’s overthinking. “fuck what did i say? shit, why am i such an asshole?”
ᯓ★ if you tell him you love him, he always hesitates before saying it back. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he doesn’t think he deserves it
ᯓ★ literally stunned when you take care of him. like, someone is doing something NICE for him??? with no ulterior motive???
ᯓ★ absolutely a ‘leaning’ boyfriend. leans against walls, leans against doorframes, leans against you. big strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head dropping onto your shoulder with a sigh
ᯓ★ survives off diner food, gas station snacks, and whatever you make him
ᯓ★ gets nervous when you’re nice to him. he’s been kicked down so many times, he doesn’t know how to handle kindness. the first time you tell him he looks good, he scoffs, says something self-deprecating, but then stares at himself in the mirror later, touching his face trying to see what you even saw in him
ᯓ★ secretly loves being babied. if you push his messy hair back, clean his cuts when he gets into a fight or tuck yourself into his side when he's sitting down, he fucking melts. “psh, ya don’t gotta do all that,” but his ears are bright red
ᯓ★ will steal anything for you. “ya like that necklace, sweetheart? consider it yours.” he’s a walking, talking, petty thief boyfriend who just wants to see you smile
ᯓ★ lets you play with his mullet when he’s feeling lazy. sits between your thighs while you brush it and if you’re gentle enough, he’ll doze off right there, resting his head against your stomach
ᯓ★ loves his car more than he should. will drag you to the garage to show you how he’s fixing up some old junker, but he looks so proud, you can’t even complain. bonus: he makes you sit in it for a “test drive” (he drives too fast just to see you scream and laugh)
ᯓ★ hands always busy. even when you’re just sitting together, his hands are moving, tinkering with something, rubbing circles on your thigh, tapping on table. he's anxious stressed guy
ᯓ★ he falls asleep anywhere instantly. he’s had years of shitty, uncomfortable sleep, so at this point he can knock out in two seconds flat. the first time you see it happen, you’re stunned. “Stan, are you seriously asleep right now—?” he is. sometimes, he falls asleep sitting up, mouth slightly open, arms crossed. if you try to move him, he’ll grunt, shift slightly and keep sleeping
ᯓ★ he’s a sucker for physical affection but doesn’t know how to ask for it. please, just hold him. run your fingers through his hair, rub his back, let him rest his head on your chest or stomach. sometimes, he’ll just stand behind you and wait until you notice and pull him into a hug. he won’t ask, but he needs it
ᯓ★ this man does not know how to handle being desired
nsfw
ᯓ★ he’s big. everywhere. broad chest, thick arms, a cock that barely fits. “c’mon, baby, you can take it. just a little more, there we go.”
ᯓ★ he’s a messy kisser. tongue, teeth, biting, groaning, he devours you. Stanley makes out like he’s trying to fuck you with just his mouth. his hands are always gripping your face, your neck, your hair, he’s desperate
ᯓ★ he loves fucking in places he shouldn’t. against the car, in an alley, in the backseat, behind a bar, on some random motel dresser, doesn’t matter. the risk of getting caught gets him off. zero patience. too horny to wait, too desperate to care where you are
ᯓ★ if you ever scratch his back? he fucking loses it. he wants you clawing at him, gripping his arms, pulling his hair. especially loves it when you bite his shoulder
ᯓ★ fucks like a guy who doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance again. so overwhelmed by how good you feel
ᯓ★ he groans and grunts. loud, unashamed. you know exactly how much he’s enjoying it because he never shuts the fuck up. if you try to shut him up, he just moans louder out of spite
ᯓ★ this man talks during sex. a LOT. filthy, filthy, filthy mouth
ᯓ★ but if you try to stifle your moans, oh, he won’t have that. “uh-uh, lemme hear ya, baby. don’t go all shy on me now.”
ᯓ★ he has an oral fixation, always has something in his mouth. a cigarette, a toothpick, his own damn fingers. pussy? oh, he’ll eat for hours if you let him. he’s enjoying it more than you are. his nose is pressed right against your clit, his tongue is buried deep inside you, his big hands are holding your thighs open so you can’t squirm away
ᯓ★ but what he REALLY loves? your fingers. if you put your fingers in his mouth, he’ll groan and suck on them absentmindedly. don't try to pull away, you’re not going anywhere. he’ll grab your wrist, keep your fingers between his lips and just look at you with those dark, needy eyes
ᯓ★ loves when you pull his hair so make sure to always grab and yank his mullet while he’s between your legs and he’ll groan into your pussy like he’s getting off on it
ᯓ★ the kind of man who will fuck you dumb just to make sure you don’t even remember anyone else’s name
ᯓ★ absolute menace with that tongue + so so messy. will spread your legs, settle between them and go to fucking work. licking, sucking, slurping, spitting on your clit, growling against your folds. doesn’t stop until you’re begging. “c’mon, sweetie, one more for me”
ᯓ★ absolutely gets off on how loud you are. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or the middle of the day, he’ll fuck you so good you’re screaming his name, he prefers it “Stanley” tho, not just Stan
ᯓ★ smokes like a chimney, including during sex. he’s the type to take a long drag of his cigarette while you’re riding him, exhaling the smoke lazily as he watches you bounce on his cock. “fuck, baby, keep goin’. look so pretty takin’ me like that.” then puts it out against the nightstand right before flipping you over and fucking you senseless
ᯓ★ smoking during foreplay too, pulls cigarette out of his mouth and presses it into the ashtray, muttering, “gonna put this out and focus on you, sweetie.”
ᯓ★ if you complain about him smoking too much, he’ll smirk, tilt your chin up, and say something like, “well, maybe if you keep me busy enough, i won’t need to smoke, huh?” such a brat tbh
ᯓ★ grabs whatever’s closest to tie you up. belt? works just fine. an old rag? perfect. (also wants to be tied up too)
ᯓ★ a tipsy Stan gets handsy, real handsy. he’s already got no shame sober, but when he’s had a couple of drinks, he can’t keep his hands to himself, your thighs, your waist, your ass
ᯓ★ praise him in the most filthiest way possible, call him big, tell him he’s stretching you out, tell him you’ve never had anyone fuck you like this. tell him how much you love his cock, how deep he is. he thrives on that shit, loves being told how good he feels. “fuck, baby, keep talkin’ like that and i might not last.” but he also LOVES teasing you. “poor thing, already dumb from my cock?”, “look at you, makin’ a mess all over me. filthy little thing.”
ᯓ★ i 100% believe that mullet!Stanley is a bratty switch who acts tough but turns into a desperate, whiny mess the second you take control. i think it needs its own post but ok
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starlit-writer · 2 days ago
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in sickness and in health, ch. 3 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader
here is chapter three!!!! this chapter did NOT go the way i thought it would, but i promise we're getting to the whole simon groveling and begging and all that lovely stuff soon - i just cant seem to stop writing these two FIGHTING! as always, if you want to be added to the tag list to make sure you stay up-to-date, let me know in the replies! eat well, lovelies <3
if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!
word count: 4,208 chapter two masterlist ao3 link
You were in a forest, surrounded by pines. Snow was drifting down slowly, coating the needles around you in light flakes before they melted from the heat of your breath as you stared up at the grey sky. You felt… at peace, for the first time in a long time. You were wrapped securely in the knotted roots of one of the pine trees as they wrapped themselves over and between the straps of your tactical vest, the wood gently resting against a sticky scarlet mark where your heart was supposed to be. You turned your head as much as the roots would allow, and you could see flames in the distance of the forest, a cacophony of gunshots and explosions ricocheting through your ears as the scent of smoking pine and wet gunpowder reaches your nostrils-
You woke up with a start, a gasp of air drawing through your dry, chapped lips sharply, the movement causing your aching ribs to spasm in a coughing fit. Your hands flew up to your chest to check for the wound that you were so convinced would be there, only to be met with the soft, warm, flesh of a massive tattooed bicep that was flung across your chest. But the everpresent scent of smoked pine, wet gunpowder, and a freshly-lit cigarette was still burned into your nostrils.
It was just a dream.
You blinked a few times, the light filtering through the blinds too bright for your blurry eyes to handle. You tried to lift your head, to move, but your body felt far too heavy and sluggish. You were reduced to your basest of instincts - you felt better than you had in months, but it felt like your omega side had completely overridden your logical one. You tried again to speak, to move, anything, but all that came out from your too-dry mouth was a cracking, reedy omega whine.
That made the heavy arm that was draped over your chest move. It quickly lifted off of you, the bed that you were laying on dipping and shifting like sand underfoot as the massive bulk next to you moved. You flinched slightly as rough fingertips gently touched your cheek, the image of Simon’s face swimming above you as a look of concern furrowed his brow. Oh. That would explain why that scent was swimming around you. If you two had been in a normal, healthy mating bond, it probably would have been easier to recognize. But after the months of distance, and neglect, you had forgotten your own alpha’s scent.
You felt it as your own face morphed into a matching expression. Where were you? Why is Simon here? What the fuck happened? You opened your mouth to say something scathing, the words nipping at the tip of your tongue, but before you could speak, the back of Simon’s hand traced down your cheek, almost reverent in his guilt.
“Shh, shh, love. You’re okay, you’re okay. ‘M ‘ere. Just don’t… don’t move, okay? I’ve got some water here for ya-” his voice broke off as he twisted his torso, keeping one hand securely under your head while the other grabbed a white styrofoam cup with a bright white plastic straw sticking up from the lid and brought it back over to the bed. You had to fight to keep your expression neutral, as the sight of the sterile-looking aerated plastic and the very thought of drinking the disgusting water contained inside made your stomach dip in disgust.
Simon could have cried when he felt your disgust through the bond, the cavernous darkness that had shrouded you from him in his mind finally lifting enough to allow him to feel you again. However, that didn’t stop your feeling of disgust, even if it was directed at the apparently devil-like cup in his hands and not at him, from lodging into his chest like the blade of a knife. He winced and quickly moved the cup away from you, frantically looking around his quarters for some other source of water. When he didn’t find one, a short curse fell from his lips as he glanced back at you sympathetically, regret and guilt shining in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I- I just grabbed this from medbay… there’s some vitamins and electrolytes and whatever else you combat medics throw in it, and I figured that that would help since, you know, you’ve been asleep for three days.”
Your eyes widened in shock. Three days? Three days!? You could vomit, and you probably would have if there had been anything in your stomach.
Simon sighed, screwing his eyes shut as he realized that was probably not the best way to tell you that information. He brought his hand - the one still holding that damn cup - up to his face, rubbing his eyes with the back of his thumb. Gods, he sucked at this. He ran his hand down his face and moved to get up from the bed. “I’ll just… yeah, I’ll just go get you some, um, different water in a different glass and… yeah, I’ll be right back.”
As he moved to get up from the bed, your hand weakly shot out, your fingers feebly wrapping around his wrist. Simon glanced down at your hand in thinly-veiled shock before he looked at you. You were just as shocked. You were still angry, at least, you knew you should be, but the only thing you could focus on was the way your omega writhed in pain at the mere thought of Simon walking away from you again.
“You need to drink some water. And if you won’t drink it out of this,” he said as he raised the cup, “then I gotta get you something else.”
You looked up at him pleadingly, an absolutely pathetic look on your face. You didn’t have the strength or energy to fight against the instincts right now. Everything in you was screaming and clawing at the idea of Simon leaving, even just to get you more water, and your instincts didn’t care about how it looked, or if it made you seem like you forgave him and were willing to forget everything that happened. You knew, logically, that you weren’t, but logic was so far out of the realm of control, the only thing reacting in your mind was your wounded omega, desperate for the proximity of her alpha.
“I don’t wanna force you to drink this if it grosses you out that bad.”
Another needy, desperate whine was his only response as you let go of his wrist, your shaking hand held outstretched to take the cup. It was a clear message - I’ll drink it. Just don’t leave.
Simon’s gaze softened as he sat back down on the edge of the bed, bringing the straw close to your lips. You closed your eyes, the moment feeling far too intimate for the reality of your relationship with Simon as your dry, chapped lips wrapped around the plastic of the straw. After a few moments of forcing down the polluted-dirt tasting water, Simon slowly and gently pulled the straw away from you, his free hand coming up to your face to brush an errant strand of your hair behind your ear. His heart ached as your eyes fluttered open, still cold and guarded even as he could feel your omega pleading for him to stay through the bond.
“Feel better?”
You nodded slowly, the movement disjointed and sluggish as you brought a shaking hand up to wipe a small droplet of water off of your lips. “Yeah,” you muttered, the words thick and gruff with disuse. The thanks that should have followed that response stayed stuck in your throat like a pill that was much too big to swallow.
Simon nodded in response as he sat the cup back down on the bedside table. He then grabbed a wrapped protein bar, and tore open the packaging with his teeth. With the unwrapped protein bar in hand, he turned back to you, holding the bar near your face. “Eat.”
A pause, a short breath leaving Simon’s lips as he realized that a demand was probably not the best way to get you to do something at the moment.
“Please,” he amended, his voice softer, gentler. “You need to get your strength up,” he added, shifting the bar a little closer to your lips.
You knew he was right, ultimately, but it wounded your ego, accepting his help after all of the neglect he had put you through. You sighed softly and shifted on the bed with a groan as your muscles protested against the tiniest of movements. Simon’s hand quickly wrapped around your aching shoulder to help shift you on to your side, and you settled back down into the bed, lifting your head up slightly to take a small bite out of the protein bar. You figured it would be impossible to swallow, as all food had been the last few months, but you were shocked to find it easy to get down. You sat up slowly, achingly, agonizingly slowly, but Simon, shockingly, was there to support you. You reached out and took the bar from him, suddenly ravenous.
Simon watched as you all but scarfed down the protein bar, his gaze softening with guilt. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at his now-empty hands. He hated himself, the guilt and regret of being so blind to you throughout the entirety of your marriage, your mating bond, eating him alive.
You froze, mid-chew of the last bite as you heard his murmured apology. You didn’t know how to respond, feeling like a deer in the headlights of his sin.
“Simon…”
“No, I… I am. Gods, angel, you have no idea how sorry I am. I was such a dick to you, such a bad fuckin’ alpha, and I know that my words probably don’t mean much, or, really, anything to you, but… if I could reverse time, do it all over again, I…”
“Simon, stop,” you croaked out, your gaze fixated on the comforter that pooled against your sweatpant-clad legs, anything to keep your eyes off of him. You couldn’t look at him. It was all too much, far too quickly, and you had nowhere to even begin to parse through the emotions and pain that still existed under your skin like a thrashing beast, even if it felt more subdued than it did three days ago. You didn’t want to think too hard on that, though, wanted to ignore the way your alpha’s presence, his scent calmed the ugly thing, if only slightly.
You couldn’t - wouldn’t - forgive him. Not right now. Sure, he had kept one promise; he had stayed with you, but in the grand scheme of things? It didn’t mean much. You smoothed your hand over the soft comforter, balling the now-empty wrapper of the protein bar in your other hand. Too many emotions, too little time. You felt like you were trapped between your base omega desires and the reality of your situation. The wrapper crinkled in your hand louder as your grip became tighter, the atrophied muscles in your arms shaking with exertion and emotion.
You felt Simon’s hand as it inched closer to you, more than likely to try and bring you comfort, but you couldn’t take it. Right before his hand touched yours, you jerked it away, throwing the wrapper into some random corner of his room in your panic. You quickly scrambled out of the bed, your need to get away from him, from the situation, much greater than any of the aches and pains of your neglected body. You stood in the center of the room, your chest heaving from the exertion as you steadied yourself on your feet, your legs wobbling beneath you.
Simon just stared at you, wide-eyed and frozen.
You stared right back. Your mind was a mess, fractured between your omega and your logical, rational side. Your omega was screaming, tearing at the confines of your skin at the very idea of leaving your alpha, but you pushed it away. You felt cornered, and you were lashing out like a feral cat.
“I- I gotta go.”
And with that, you turned on your heel, and all but ran out of the room. Simon was still sitting on the edge of the bed, shellshocked and staring at the space in the center of his quarters that you were just occupying.
It had been about a week since you had left Simon’s quarters. That first day, after you had left, you were violent, volatile - your own quarters destroyed as you tried to release all of the pent-up emotions by throwing anything and everything you could get your hands on before you collapsed into little more than a heap of tears in the middle of all of the broken glass and ripped papers. You had slept there that night, on your floor, but when you woke up, there was one of Simon’s sweatshirts outside of the door of your quarters with a note.
I know you don’t want to see me right now. I know you’re pissed, and you have every right to be. But the bond is still fragile. Just keep this around, please? -Simon
Part of you wanted to burn it, still so full of rage and pain, but the desperation of your omega had you pressing your face into the soft, plush fabric, a small omega purr unconsciously pulling past your lips. As soon as the sound of your purr reached your ears, you threw the article of clothing onto the ground as if it was a ticking incendiary bomb. It was still there, in that corner, but it cursed the entirety of your quarters to smell like Simon, the scent of smokey pine, wet gunpowder, and the first drag of a cigarette cloying to everything, no matter how many of your own clothes you piled on top of it.
The rest of that week had passed by you like a blur. You had mostly stayed in your quarters, focusing on how to control and push down your omega desires, instead replacing them with the rage you knew you should feel towards Simon, definitely not because it was the only place that you could still smell him, certainly not. It was just that the thought of being seen out and about when your emotions and physical health were so volatile seemed like it wouldn’t be the best of ideas, and that was definitely the only reason.
But, today was the first day that you had actually gotten up and took a shower. Looking in the mirror, you noticed that your skin looked much more lively, the sickly grey of the bond sickness had dissipated, and the bruises that had covered your skin had all but faded away. It made you feel… wrong almost, to be, to look, “fixed”. The torment that you had undergone still lived and breathed in your very bones, and seeing yourself without the physical marks of it, even if they were self-inflicted, felt wrong. So, you quickly tugged on some workout gear, grabbed your keys, and left your quarters, determined to make someone pay for the grief and rage that thrummed under your skin.
You dumped your keys and your sweatshirt in a corner by the sparring ring, stretching for a moment as you scanned the gym. Plenty of people to spar with, but, more importantly, no Simon. And, before you knew it, an unsuspecting, far too cocky beta recruit was swaggering up to you. He was new to the base, you could tell. Fresh out of basic training, by the looks of it. You pushed a smirk down off of your lips, as you wanted the challenge. Wanted him to fuck up just so you could absolutely let loose. You batted your eyelashes up at him, really playing into the whole weak omega stereotype.
You ran your gaze up and down the recruit, sinking your teeth into your plush lower lip. You watched as the recruit’s eyes lit up at your actions, obviously taking them as flirtatious. Meanwhile, all you had wanted to do was knock him off his axis, get him thinking hazy.
The recruit smirked, rubbing his hands together. “Name’s Conwell. James Conwell. Need a sparring partner?”
You grinned up at him, the expression so fake and sickly-sweet as you leaned towards him slightly, clasping your hands in front of you. If it pushed your tits together, what was the harm in that?
“Oh, yeah, James, that’d be great! I might need a few pointers though. You okay with that?” The grin that the recruit gave you was downright predatory as he nodded and slipped between the ropes, bouncing around and shadowboxing, obviously trying to show off. You quickly stifled a laugh behind your hand, clearing your throat before you slipped between the ropes as well. Gods, new recruits, especially new beta recruits, were such easy marks. They always had such a chip on their shoulder, desperate to prove themselves, and certainly not above pretending to be something they weren’t to do so. And as you settled into your side of the ring, you could smell just how desperate this recruit was to be something he wasn’t.
He had sprayed fake alpha pheromones on himself. The scent was nauseating, making your stomach roll. But, you pushed it down. You’d play the part, let him get one or two good hits in, then it would be game over for the poor boy.
“How do I start this?” You asked innocently, looking down at the smooth vinyl that coated the floor of the ring. The beta’s (Jim?) grin widened as he sunk into his own fighting stance.
“Just like this, pretty girl.”
You suppressed a disgusted shudder at his words, painting that saccharine faux-innocence on your expression as you pretended to copy him, sinking into your own stance. Yours was a much stronger base, your legs spread wider to better accommodate your movement, your fists actually tucked up to your face as protection, unlike the way the beta kept his hands low over his bare chest, obviously believing the lie that you were no threat.
“You should probably swing first, you know, show an omega like me how an alpha does it.”
That did it. His eyes glinted with that repulsive possessiveness that every douchebag gets when you stroke their ego just right, when you pretend to believe a lie that they’ve tried so hard to force to be truth. And so he did, but it arched wide, giving you the perfect opportunity to dodge under and land a jab right in the left side of his ribs. You popped up, a glee-filled smile on your lips, genuine this time, as you looked at him as he gasped for air, bouncing on the balls of your feet.
He blinked, bewildered, as his head swiveled from side to side in an effort to find where you went. Once his eyes zeroed in on you, his lips pressed into a thin, angry smile, the kind that someone would give an annoying child after they spilt their snack for the third time in a row. “Wow, quick learner, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess!” Your words were bright, your eyes filled with a predatory glint that you tried to hide as you beckoned him tauntingly. “C’mon! That was fun!”
The beta growled in a terrible impression of an alpha rumble, swinging out in the exact same way. It forced you to wonder what the fuck they were teaching these kids in basic training nowadays. The velocity of this punch was slow, and you knew you had to let him get at least one punch in if you wanted this to last any longer than a few minutes before he stormed off with his tail tucked between his legs in embarrassment. Normally, you would have braced yourself for a hit that you knew was coming, but something else hit you before the punch could. Smoked pine. Wet gunpowder. First hit of a cigarette after a stressful mission. It pulled your attention just long enough to allow the beta’s punch to land squarely in your ribs, the force of the impact much greater than the velocity, which promptly knocked all of the air from your lungs. You stumbled back a little, but you forced your gaze to stay on your opponent, not allowing yourself to get distracted by the pheromones that had settled over you like an oppressive coat.
That was, until, you heard an actual alpha growl emanating from the door of the gym. It was so loud, so full of anger, that it caused everyone to stop what they were doing. You rolled your eyes, shaking out your shoulders as you sank back down into your fighting stance, but your opponent was frozen, his hands dropped as he turned to look at where the growl had come from. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who he was staring at. You sighed, your head dropping as you saw Simon’s long, purposeful strides carrying his massive bulk up to the ring. You heard your opponent get pulled from the ring, and before you knew it, Simon was in front of you, lifting your head up with gentle fingers.
“Did he hurt-”
You forcefully knocked his hand off of your chin, your eyes hardening. A small omega growl ripped past your lips as they curled up in displeasure. “Oh my gods, fuck off! We were just sparring!”
Simon’s gaze darkened as he looked down at you, but he, thankfully, didn’t touch you again. “You smell like fuckin’ shit. What, fake pheromones are what does it for ya now, huh?”
Your growl increased in volume as you shoved against his chest. The anger, pain, and guilt that swam between the two of you was almost tangible, the tension thick enough to cut through with a knife. You didn’t care. “Don’t pretend like you know anything about what ‘does it for me’,” you mocked as you put sarcastic air quotes around the repeated words.
Most of the gym had cleared out by now. Everyone knew how volatile the two of you could be separately, and when they sensed the heightened anger and emotions between you two, they quickly disappeared. For the few stragglers that were left, Simon fixed them with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean, and they quickly packed their things and also scurried away.
“You wanna fucking punch something?” Simon growled as he took a step closer to you. “Punch me. Not some stupid prick tryna peacock around as if he’s an alpha. You fuckin’ smell like that shit ass cologne he was trying to pass off as his own.”
A downright predatory grin spread over your lips. You were pissed. Pissed that he was here, that he had taken away the one outlet that you knew you had to work through all of these emotions. So, you bit back. You knew you were playing with fire. It was one thing you were always good at, part of the reason the team, especially Simon, called you spitfire.
“Oh, is that what that was? It smelled so good, I thought it was real.”
You were lying, and the smirk that spread over Simon’s lips confirmed that he knew it too. You shook your head, blowing out a frustrated breath as you moved to step around Simon. You didn’t want to be around him right now. His hand shot out to grab at your wrist, but you jerked it away from him.
“Don’t fuckin’ touch me,” you bit out as your teeth ground together. “I didn’t need you to come save me, and you had no right to storm in here like this.”
“No right?” Simon seethed lowly as he turned his head to look at you. “No right? Pretty sure that’s my fucking teeth marking that mating gland right there on the side of your neck!”
You froze, slowly turning to fully face him now. Your expression was set into a mask of absolute, unbridled rage that Simon had never been on the receiving end of. Your fists were clenched impossibly tight at your sides, and you could feel the anger rolling off of you in hot, tangible waves. You had known Simon didn’t know how to be a mate, but you had never imagined that this is the way he would deem acceptable to treat you. No matter what, you were a soldier first, more than capable of taking care of yourself, you didn’t need him breathing down your neck like some sort of denmother. It almost seemed like he was trying to overcorrect from his mistakes, becoming overbearing and overprotective. That almost pissed you off more.
“If that is how you think this bond is going to go, especially after everything you did, I will cut this mating bond out myself. Do not test me.”
You didn’t wait for a response. With that, you stepped off of the mat, grabbed your things, and walked out, not even bothering to look behind you as your hand rubbed harshly over the mating bite on your neck.
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as always, thank you so so much for the support, and keep an eye out for chapter four! tag list: @kerst666 @misscaller06 @letaliabane @sai-int @itsmeamysworld @massivescissorsthingperson @aeeliy @alkalineapparition @cringeycookies
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Viago: You're the client?
Fun fact: Viago knows Lace Harding from a prior quest, so I tried to bring her to this meeting and was bummed when she wasn't included in the cutscene.
Teia: This is Rook. Did you want a drink? I promise not to let Viago near it.
Viago: (Sighs)
I fucking love the way exasperated way he handles her affectionate bullying. It's adorable and I love their dynamic. I especially like that despite Viago outranking Teia (click here for a cute bit of banter between them about that), he doesn't bother with rank. If anything, Teia pushes him around.
Viago: Viago de Riva. Fifth Talon.
Quick, efficient, brief, and without boasting.
Viago: And this is Caterina Dellamorte. First Talon of the Crows.
I love how his tone shifts to one of profound respect / a call for respect as he indicates Caterina. We didn't hear any of that when he referenced himself, which I think is cool.
Rook: An honor. And you are?
Illario: Illario Dellamorte. Her grandson. What brings you here?
Also brief, blunt and to the point. Why is he here? He's her grandchild. Not a Talon, not a named assassin. Caterina's grandson, a role he sees himself as having been reduced to and is planning to break free from forever.
Rook: Right. My target is a pair of elven gods—or that's what they call themselves. They're ancient blighted mages.
Rook: My detective says you have a man who brought blood mages and Venatori to their knees.
Caterina: Lucanis.
Caterina: My grandson. They called him "the Demon of Vyrantium." He was the one who did those jobs.
Rook: Sounds like there's more to it.
Viago: Lucanis Dellamorte is dead. He was killed a year ago, now
Caterina (tapping her fingers pensively): What I say doesn't leave this room.
Caterina: The body our people brought back was not my grandson. It was dressed in his clothing, but it had been altered with blood magic to have his face.
Real quick, let's look at a slowed gif of Illario's face.
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The facial expressions are pretty limited in most cutscenes, but we still can catch that quick flicker of surprise and then fearful concern on Illario's face as he checks first Viago and Teia's reactions, then Rook's. If Lucanis is alive, that means Zara didn't uphold her end of the bargain to kill Lucanis and instead kept him for her own purposes. This is the face of a man realizing his plan is unraveling.
Illario: My cousin is still alive? And you didn't think to tell me?
Quick recovery, responding to the shock with anger to cover his dismay. "You didn't think to tell me" is an interesting choice of words.
Viago: His ship was attacked. We knew someone sold him out... so you kept your suspicions to yourself.
I pulled this from the wiki for Viago, under the Eight Little Talons quest in Tevinter Nights; "Given his familiarity with poisons, suspicions fall on Viago. He declines Teia's offer to lie for him to give him an alibi, and Caterina orders for him and Dante to be locked in their room[s] as suspects." The way Viago willing accepts that suspicion points his direction then... and sees the reason in Caterina withholding information now- it's great. Unlike Illario, there is no protest, no immediate offense. Not only because he has done no wrong, but because he understands. He knows what they are and the nature of their lives. He trusts Caterina. That's enough for him. I love it. And him.
Rook: But you've brought it up now. Why?
Caterina: I've had eyes on the Venatori ever since they took my grandson from me.
Despite all her failings, I do appreciate that she refers to him as her grandson and not the Demon (of Vyrantium) or 'her best assassin' or even just his name, Lucanis. She wants her grandson back.
Caterina: They were hunting your Dread Wolf. And what you did to his ritual threw them into disarray.
"Your Dread Wolf" and "what you did" - I like the direct acknowledgement of not only how Rook's actions gave her this important knowledge, but also the direct nod to Rook's quest and the overall reason he's here, asking the Crows for help with his cause. Their goals are bound together, as are their paths forward.
Caterina: They made mistakes. And now I have a location. The Ossuary. Where the Demon of Vyrantium is kept.
Now she calls him the Demon of Vyrantium - that's who Rook's looking for. She wants her grandson back, but Rook needs the Mage Killer.
Caterina: Find this Ossuary. Free Lucanis. You'll have your god-killer. And I'll have my grandson.
I fucking love "you'll have your god-killer", the faith she has in his abilities. Granted, they're abilities she systematically beat-and-starved into an orphaned seven-year-old boy and I do not love her for that, but I do like knowing that Illario probably grit his teeth pretty hard when he heard it. I gobble the angst up like cookies.
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pachu09 · 2 days ago
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Shifter AU
The Panther had just shown up a week before out of nowhere. Tobirama who was perched on the Gingko tree his Brother had grown in the middle of the Senju Main House Garden hissed in displeasure.
The panther had been trying for a week to make Tobirama’s cat instinct activate to...play. He sniff haughtily. Just because his animal form is that of a house cat it doesn't mean he doesn't retain his Human logical side. He's not an idiot to let an unknown shifter play with him. Besides, he's not really the type to play in his animal form.
( He ignored the thing where he literally make weekly plays with his student Kagami and the little Uchiha in his panther cub form delighted in pinning him down whenever he can. )
He stood up, stretched and circled the spot he was lying on again. Great, his nap time was interrupted again. He narrowed his eyes at the Panther that was still looking up at him. It's deep purrs...only made him more annoyed. He turn his back on the other shifter and laid down again. He'll ignore the idiot for now. The next time it visited he'll chase it out with his Human form. Hashirama crying about Countrymen Brotherhood? Sisterhood?..be damned...
The sound of claws being dragged across the concrete made Tobirama jumped up in alarmed from his place. He hissed in anger as he saw the culprit behind the sound. The damn Panther was scratching it's massive paws on the Senju Compound concrete fence. He spat and made his fur stand on end...
" Be gone you damn beast!. " he meowed in severe displeasure.
" Let's play, little kitten. " Tobirama nearly slip off the tree branch he was perching on. He wasn't expecting to hear let alone understand the damn Panther's words. Only shifters with familiarity with each other can understand each other's Languange. He scrunch his face in confusion. Who?. The only shifters he had understood when they talked in their animal forms are his Brothers, his Mother, Touka and Kagami....
He hissed loudly making his fur puffed up, indication of his severe animosity at the Shifter.
The Panther stood up from it sat. It growled, it looked like it's patience had finally run out. " You don't want me dragging you down there, Tobirama. "
Tobirama recoiled at the tone of the Panther's voice. He knew that tone...or rather the owner of it...
" Madara?. What the fuck? " He yowled in sheer surprise. The Panther merely wave his long tail and lick it's paws.
" Hn. Come down, Tobirama. It's not fun to know you let Kagami play with you and not with me. "
Tobirama glowered down at the other Shifter. " You do know Kagami is my student, no? "
The Panther look up at him with a confused look on his face. " So?. I don't care about that. I just want to play with you. "
Tobirama look up towards the sky and pray for the mental strength to tolerate the other's bullshit.
" Madara. Did you forgot, you actually hate me? You'd probably eat me whole if I ever dared to come near you in my Shifter form. "
Madara's Panther face miraculously managed to convey to look pissed enough that Tobirama felt he'd bolt for a second if the Uchiha becomes suddenly violent.
" Who the fuck told you, I hate you?. Sure, I held a grudge a few months after Konoha was built but I don't hate you now Tobirama. "
Tobirama gape uncharacteristically. Madara doesn't hate him?. Since when? And why didn’t he even noticed it?...
Madara yawn and licked his lips. " Let's play Tobirama. I promised I'll give you some of my personal stocked fish after. "
Tobirama perked up. He heard from Kagami that Uchiha's had some of the most delicious fish delicacies. Maybe just this once he could indulge the Uchiha. Afterall, its a once in a lifetime to have the chance to eat such expensive foods. He deliberately made the Panther wait for a few more seconds before he agreed to his demands...in return Tobirama made Madara promised he'll give him at least two crates of his fish stocks.
Later in the day, Tobirama grumbled internally that playing with Madara in their Shifter forms is quite disadvantageous for him. Being a house cat while being chase by a damn big Predator is like a Civilian running away from a blood thirsty Shinobi. There's just no chance in winning in a game of hide and seek. Madara can easily find him no matter how much Tobirama finds a perfect spot to hide in. And when he refuses to come out. The damn Panther would literally tear apart whatever hiding spot he had stuck himself in.
He yowled in displeasure as Madara licked his whole damn face. He spat and batted away the snout that keeps trying to clean him up.
" Goddammit, Madara. Get the fuck away from me. I don't need you cleaning me up!. " the Panther wasn't faze at the white cat's protestations.
Tobirama froze as Madara's large tongue licked a path across his fluffy belly and happily down near his genitals. He yowled more loudly and in a blind panic managed to scramble out of the Panther's arms, ran down the Uchiha Main House Hallways and burst out of the Compound Gates as if Death himself was nipping at his heels. The Uchiha that witnessed a white cat streaking in a panic across their Compound could only blink in confusion. But when they saw their Clan Head practically running after the small cat they assumed Madara must have found a new playmate...one who hopefully would be a permanent one...
Izuna blankly stared at the place where his Brother and Senju Tobirama once laid down. He massages his eyelids. " Fuck you, Aniki. I so did not want to see you licking Tobirama’s balls in his cat form you fucker. "
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milla-frenchy · 14 hours ago
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I didn't expect to get hit in the face by the first sentence but here we are (and I'm here for it anyway😌)
“Let’s see what’s so fuckin’ special about you. Why your cunt is worth more than my brother’s life,” he spits, unfortunately literally, as droplets spray. 
omg oh no. Don't touch her you fuck
You’re not even mad, because it makes you dizzy enough that you don’t really register what comes after. Maybe you would have been worried about that, but he hit you hard enough that you didn’t even remember how hard you’d been hit. 
shit. shit
He steps away to rifle back through the duffle, and when he comes back, it’s with a pair of rusted pliers. 
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(I'm so fn nervous Toni, hold my hand 😭😭😭)
You can’t even really hear your own screams. There’s pain, there’s blood, there’s Mike’s sick laughter. And then there’s darkness.
I hate him. I fn hate him so fn much. I'm gonna be so fn GLAD when Joel's gonna rip him in two
Satisfied that you aren’t afraid, that you’re okay for a moment, he finishes his feast.  There’s not much left of Mike when he tosses his corpse into a corner. It smacks against the far wall and drops to the ground. His final resting place. 
jfc YES!!!!
He looks down at you, long tongue poking out to lap at your cheek before he realizes the injury is inside. He whines, and you shake your head, weaving your fingers in his fur and burying your face there. He doesn’t need words; neither of you do. He just takes you home. 
Damn I wanna cry. I was so scared for her, I'm so relieved Joel's here, but seeing that he tries to heal her and then realizes that the wound is inside is so hard to read 😥
He makes good on his promise to soothe your other wounds. He can’t quite numb your aching mind or racing heart, can’t slide his tongue over the places that shattered inside, but he can damn well remove every trace of Mike from your body.
I hate what that guy did to her. I hate it so much
“My—” and there’s something potent in his pause. Something that saps the silliness of your subject change away and dances dangerously close to serious.  “My daughter loved that shit,” he says. 
Oh wow... Oh, Joel... 🫂
You go to turn over again, but this time, he lets you, both of his arms cradling you in a way that makes your throat feel tacky and tight. It’s made worse by the way his eyes are bright, the flecks of green bursting through the brown like lichen in soil. 
This is so beautiful
“Will you tell me about her?” you ask, barely a whisper, afraid to break whatever is happening.  “Not… not today,” he grants, and you take it for the huge step that it is, and nod, burying your face in his chest instead and taking a deep breath of his soothing scent.
Damn I love them so much
Then, of course, you wish you hadn’t looked at all. Once you have, though, you can’t look away. You understand that Tool song now, the one from the CD your dad burned you before the world went to hell.
I don't have the reference 🥲 Which song is it?
What a chapter Toni!!! The emotions, omg. This series is so so good 🖤🖤🖤
of rage and ruin - chapter nine
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chapter nine
series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter
werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader
word count: 3.6k
summary: things take a turn for the worse.
Please read the warnings as some new important ones have been added. NOTE: this is the last time that the SA tag will be used in this story. However, the events of this chapter are important. If you decide to skip this chapter, feel free to message me and I’ll fill you in. Or message if you want specifics about the tags to decide if you want to read it.
chapter warnings: non-con, dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, sexual assault (NOT by joel, NOT described, just implied and alluded to), p in v, torture
also on ao3
dividers by @saradika-graphics
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You were wrong about Mike. About his lack of retaliation.
You were so, so wrong. 
That much is clear when you wake up.
The first sign that things aren’t quite right is that you never did get around to going to sleep last night. 
The second is that you may be buried, or something. You can’t quite move your limbs beyond wiggling your fingers and toes. And you can’t see shit. 
The third sign is that you can’t smell Joel. Not beyond what’s soaked into your skin and sweater. No, he’s very much not here. Or anywhere nearby, if the rapidly tightening feeling in your chest is any indication. 
It’s panic you can’t shake off, you know, since you can’t fucking move. 
The fluorescent overhead buzzes to life. 
“Not so brave now, are you?” The voice blows in from across the room and sinks in your gut like it’s sleeping with the fishes. 
You really, truly are in some deep shit. 
You’ve been kidnapped from your kidnappers. Honestly, what did you do in a past life to deserve this? 
He’s right about one thing. The confidence you clung to in the early days has been picked at like carrion. You’re scared. 
“I didn’t–I’m–” but something is wrong, so very, very wrong. You’re bubbling out gibberish and spit. It’s just sounds, dribbling from sloppy lips. 
He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. It ain’t gonna wear off for a while, so best just sit quietly like a good bitch.”
You’re not sure if it's the panic or whatever he’s drugged you with, but your throat is cinched, and your cheeks sting from the uncontrollable stream of tears. 
“Let’s see what’s so fuckin’ special about you. Why your cunt is worth more than my brother’s life,” he spits, unfortunately literally, as droplets spray. 
Shit. They were actual brothers. Not that it mattered; what was done was done, but you had really miscalculated this. 
His hand is on your shoulder. It’s better than where you thought he was reaching, and yet, still horrible. It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with handsy or aggressive men. It’s just… usually, you can move. Fight. Run. 
His hand is nothing like Joel’s. His fingers are short, his nails broken and edged with grime. There are scars and dry skin, like Joel, but it’s nothing like his rough grip. There’s no nick above the webbing of his thumb, no calluses on the plump pads of his fingers to remind you that you’re alive. 
Mike brushes his thumb over Joel’s bite, the thin newborn skin taut and jagged. You make a sound. You don’t hear it, not with the way your heart is beating in your eardrums, not the way every note scrapes your throat, but you grate out a sound that might have been a hiss. 
Or a growl.
His hand connects with your cheek, which does not help the dizziness stuffed between your ears.
 
You’re not even mad, because it makes you dizzy enough that you don’t really register what comes after. Maybe you would have been worried about that, but he hit you hard enough that you didn’t even remember how hard you’d been hit. 
He must know he’s on a dwindling timetable. Inevitably, by dawn, the others will return to the base with Joel in tow. Inevitably, by dawn, they’ll know. 
As if he can tell you’ve dug up a fragment of hope, he leers, taking a swig from a bottle of dirty brown liquor. “You think Jim’s gonna waste resources on finding you?” he murmurs, grimy fingers stroking your cheek. 
And just like that, with a sharp breath, you lose that hope. Because he’s right, he’s undeniably right. Jim never misses a chance to bitch about the drain you are. They don’t need you, not really. Neither does Joel, not really. 
It’s easy, after the hours that have passed, to give in to the overwhelming dread. His hand wanders as it settles in, and you twitch away from his touch.
“Guess it’s wearin’ off,” Mike muses, taking another drink. “Can’t have you puttin’ up a fight now.” His bottle clinks against the file cabinet he sets it upon as he squats to dig through a duffel bag. 
There’s nothing you can do when he ties you down. There’s nothing you can do as he grips your cheeks hard, his thumb digging into your jaw until your mouth opens. You try not to swallow the liquor he pours in, only to aspirate it instead, wheezing and sputtering to little effect. 
“Jesus. Can’t even handle a little booze,” he sneers. “Too bad. Can’t have you gettin’ too feisty, huh?” He forces more down your throat, and it burns. 
He keeps squeezing your face, peering down at your mouth. “Reckon I should teach you a lesson about biting,” he said, tapping the bottle lightly against your front teeth. A whimper of fear slips free, and he grins crookedly. 
“Yeah, you don’t like that, huh? My brother didn’t much like gettin’ bit, either.” 
He steps away to rifle back through the duffle, and when he comes back, it’s with a pair of rusted pliers. 
You can feel your body twitch, trying its very hardest. The lingering drugs and booze make your head spin and throb. Mike faded in and out of view, but made his presence very clear as he pried your jaw back open. 
He tapped each tooth with the pliers, hemming and hawing about where to start. Garbled sounds are all the protest you can muster, trying to shake your head loose of his grasp as he selects an incisor. 
The first two attempts fail, the pliers slipping free, battering you in the process. The third try, though, clamps on just right. He clumsily tugs, to no avail, before wiggling and twisting the tooth. Reluctantly, your body parts ways with it as he increases the force, plucking the loosened tooth from the gum. 
You can’t even really hear your own screams. There’s pain, there’s blood, there’s Mike’s sick laughter. And then there’s darkness.
It’s not the fight that wakes you. Not the gunshots, not the snarling. Everything has died down by the time you come around.
Well, not everything. Based on the sounds, you’d hazard a guess that Mike is still at least a little alive. When you look up, you’re thrilled to find out you can, that the paralysis has waned. 
Then, of course, you wish you hadn’t looked at all. Once you have, though, you can’t look away. You understand that Tool song now, the one from the CD your dad burned you before the world went to hell. 
For a moment, Joel meets your eyes, and you are the wolf, nearly. You can feel the way it burns through your veins. 
Satisfied that you aren’t afraid, that you’re okay for a moment, he finishes his feast. 
There’s not much left of Mike when he tosses his corpse into a corner. It smacks against the far wall and drops to the ground. His final resting place. 
The Wolf that is Joel, that is your alpha, that is your savior, stands on his hind legs with those unsettling inverse ankle-knee-freaky bits bent. But even crouching, he fills the room. He’s a blur, like the first time you saw him, an ink blot in the center of your vision. A wormhole absorbing all the light. What little is left reflects off his shiny body. It takes you a moment to realize his fur (or his body hair, as he insists) is soaked in blood. 
It clings to the plaque on his teeth. His hands are steeped in it, some already hardening or coagulating under the stretch of his claws. He stalks over to you, and you do not flinch from him. His claws rend the rope as if it were no more than spaghetti. You tremble uncontrollably as he helps you sit up, most of your faculties back under your control. His blood-soaked, massive paws cradle your cheeks, pulling back abruptly when you whimper. 
A growl rumbles from his chest, and he throws his head back and howls. It brings footsteps in your direction as he gathers you into his arms. You’ve never felt smaller than you do now, and it’s not just the bulk and heft of his body. He cradles you with a delicacy unbefitting his sharp, deadly nature, but it’s all the more Joel to you than the brutality you witnessed. 
The raiders filter in, just a few of them, more to control him than assist, but they reclaim Mike’s stolen supplies and pay you no mind. At least until Cheryl comes in. 
“Alive after all, huh?” she says, approaching far closer than you think she should dare. But she wiggles the remote to the shock collar as she nears, peering at you. “Still want her, pet?” she asks Joel. “She’s all used up.”
He bares his teeth and snarls, and she shrugs. “It was just an option,” she says, hand dropping from the pistol on her belt. 
You feel sick from the second brush with death in as many hours. Or maybe it’s from the bootleg booze and blood that’s been dripping down your throat. 
He looks down at you, long tongue poking out to lap at your cheek before he realizes the injury is inside. He whines, and you shake your head, weaving your fingers in his fur and burying your face there. He doesn’t need words; neither of you do. He just takes you home. 
No. Not home. You can’t let yourself accept that. But it’s been almost a year, now. Almost a year since they plucked you from that FEDRA truck and brought you to hell. 
It’s not the cell that’s home, though. It’s him. 
You look up at the wolf once you’re locked in, the relief of your familiar prison bubbling up like bile. The others go back to their day, the incident no more than a blip of inconvenience. Silence lingers, both of you waiting, waiting, waiting to hear the heavy thunk of the cellar’s deadbolt. 
As soon as it sounds, you break.
“You found me,” you gasp, trailing into a whimper. “You found me, you found me.” Your voice is grating, leaking from your cracked and dry throat. It hurts to talk, your jaw throbs, and you struggle around the swelling, but you can’t stem the leak.
He grips your biceps with both paws, and rolls back the shift enough to speak. “I found you,” he says firmly, letting you feel his sturdy hold on you, keeping you there and present. “I’ve got you. Okay?”
You don’t respond, still shaking and swaying a little on the spot. “You found me,” you echo, raw and dredged up from the hollow of your lungs. 
“Hey,” he growls without aggression. “ Listen to me. ” He doesn’t mean to do it. His voice drops a register, an even lower rumble than usual, and your attention snaps up to him. 
He winces. There’ll be time to apologize later, though. “I’ve got you,” he repeats steadily. “Okay?”
You nod. “Okay,” you echo in a whisper. 
“I will always find you,” he promises, eyes gone dark. “Always, little omega. You’re mine, and there’s nowhere on this godforsaken earth that they can hide you from me.” 
In any other context, it would frighten you. It should, by all means, frighten you a little. Instead, you kiss him.
It’s a mistake that sends you pulling back, gasping in pain, and all the ferocity on his face falls.
“Let me see,” he coaxes gently, cradling your jaw. He’s careful as he presses your lip to the side to get a good look. “ Jesus, ” he whispers.
You can see the guilt building up, layers upon layers from all his life. You won’t let this, won’t let you be another. “Joel—”
But he’s not having it. He bristles and narrows his eyes at you. “Would you stop tryin’ to run your mouth? You’re making it bleed.” His eyes dart over your face, stopping back on your missing tooth each time before sighing, shoulders slumping. 
“C’mon,” he grumbles, leaving no room for argument by simply picking you up and carrying you over to the bed. He settles with you straddling his lap, wincing. He looks down for only a moment. “I’ll take care of that next. Sit still ‘n be good.” 
It turns out not to be a hard order to follow. He sets about to lick your wounds, starting with your mouth. He doesn’t mean for it to turn into anything, he really doesn’t, but he’s licking inside your mouth. As his spit mixes with yours, as he laves his tongue oh-so-gently over and over, the familiar tingling starts to set in. It numbs the pain, not entirely, but the relief is enough to make you sigh softly against his mouth.
He can’t entirely be blamed as it turns into lazy kisses, tongues brushing comfort over one another, each press of lips like a mantra. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. You’re not sure who’s reassuring who. 
It’s not going to fix it. There’s not a magical makeout session that can restore your tooth or even heal the socket. Not that quickly, anyway. But it eases the pain, and so does the way his warm hands hold you like you’re something precious. The way he groans into the kiss, the way he can’t stop reaching for every bit of you, checking meticulously to make sure nothing else was taken from you. 
He makes good on his promise to soothe your other wounds. He can’t quite numb your aching mind or racing heart, can’t slide his tongue over the places that shattered inside, but he can damn well remove every trace of Mike from your body.
He settles you down on the mattress, settles himself into the wolf, and he licks every inch of you. His long, hot tongue is just rough enough to make you feel clean. There’s no way even a cell of Mike’s skin is left behind on yours. Joel eats it all up like he did the man himself. It leaves your whole body tingling, your heart pounding in your ears, your cunt gushing by the time he sheaths himself in you. 
There’s no room left for anyone else. There’s no room for anything but you and Joel in the darkness. 
It’s too late before either of you realize he’s triggered his own rut. Your body responds beautifully, burning under his touch, following your alpha into blissful oblivion. He fusses relentlessly, worried despite his own distress and desire, not wanting you to feel trapped or forced. Not again. Never again. 
It’s a promise neither of you are sure he can keep, but both know he’ll die trying. 
It isn’t as long as your first heat, but it’s all the more intense. Your little room fills with sweat, pants and groans replacing any need for words. And it’s exactly what you need—no thoughts, no memories, no dealing with what you’ve suffered. Just Joel, just… love? No, that can’t be right. Just lust. 
His cock is insistent, pressing into you, filling the gaps he’d left behind. He doesn’t bother turning back to the man, doesn’t bother trying to pretend he’s anything but a mindless creature right now. And still, he’s so gentle. More gentle than he’s ever been. 
You didn’t have time to build a nest, but that’s okay. He doesn’t ever move from his place over your body, cocooning you, blocking everything else from sight. There’s just Joel. You’re warm and cozy and safe. 
You almost forget that you’re locked up at all. He keeps you on such a high with his deft fingers, mouth, and cock that you can’t even fathom a time when he might have to part from you. The lock of your cunt around his knot is your echo of his promise. Never again. 
“How much of this is even real?” you whisper in the fading light of your heat. Your hand is lazily raised, blocking out the fluorescents, but he catches it with his own, his thick fingers making room for themselves between yours. Locking you together in another way, keeping you close. 
“Couldn’t tell ya,” he says quietly, gruff voice even coarser in the way he holds back, keeping it soft in your ear. “Probably nothin’. But it’s there anyway.”
He was sure as shit right about that. This burning in your chest, the way your heart picked up as he wove your fingers together and tugged your hands down, using both your arms to hold you to his chest, your unified fist in the center. It’s not real, not really. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. There’s nothing for this heavy feeling to rest upon, no foundation for the feelings that should not be there. 
And yet.
The conversation is veering uncomfortably personal, of which you only have yourself to blame, but you run from it anyway. “You ever see Dawn of the Wolf? ” you ask, pushing for something unserious, something that’ll have him rolling his eyes and putting up a fuss about the W Word. 
That’s not what happens, though.
His breath catches for a second before rolling out in a soft sigh, his warm breath ruffling the hairs at the nape of your neck. “Yeah,” he admits. “My—” and there’s something potent in his pause. Something that saps the silliness of your subject change away and dances dangerously close to serious. 
“My daughter loved that shit,” he says. 
You can’t help the way your body stiffens. You want to roll over and look at him, to parse his pursed lips and warm eyes. He doesn’t let you, though, tightening his grip around your waist, fingers pressing a little more insistently in the divots between your knuckles until you settle. 
“Watched the damn movies, read the damn books, had the damn poster on her wall,” he says, something careful in his words. Like he’s trying to give this to you without giving anything up for himself. These memories he’s clutched in the recesses of his ventricles—they can’t be extracted without damaging the last soft tissue he could spare to wrap them in. 
“So, who’s team were you on?” you tease instead. 
“I didn’t give a shit,” he dismisses. A beat passes. “Why would she even have considered the wimpy blond vampire kid?”
“Oh, I see,” you say, nodding sagely. “You think the obvious choice was the tall, hairy, brooding wolf-man. I have to agree.”
“Shut up,” he grouses immediately. “It was all stupid, anyway. None of ‘em could stop whining.” 
You go to turn over again, but this time, he lets you, both of his arms cradling you in a way that makes your throat feel tacky and tight. It’s made worse by the way his eyes are bright, the flecks of green bursting through the brown like lichen in soil. 
“Never did get to see the sequel,” you say after a moment, trying to regain some sense in your brain.
He snorts. “Didn’t miss anything. I thought it couldn’t be worse than the first one but it was the stupidest two hours of my life.” 
“I can’t believe you saw Dawn of the Wolf 2, and I didn’t,” you say. A beat passes. “Will you tell me about her?” you ask, barely a whisper, afraid to break whatever is happening. 
“Not… not today,” he grants, and you take it for the huge step that it is, and nod, burying your face in his chest instead and taking a deep breath of his soothing scent. The oaky notes are easier to parse, now, much more complex. Hints of spices are there, sometimes. 
You’re getting too familiar. So much so that when the chamomile blossom of his grief leaks through, your grip on him tightens just a little, and you find yourself pressing a kiss to the thick thatch of hair beneath your cheek. 
It isn’t real, but how can it not be? How can something this intense not be real? No, it’s different. This isn’t real versus fake like something photoshopped, something on a green screen. 
This is more than that. The dotted lines that make up constellations aren’t real, but it doesn’t change the way those stars are bound together to make something unique, something breathtaking.
“I get it now,” he murmurs, breaking your existential reverie. 
“Get what?” you say, nose wrinkling.
He bumps his nose against yours, nudging at you in a way you know would involve a playful nip if he was his other self. “Why he didn’t just eat her,” he says.
You reward him with a bark of a laugh. “You’re still thinking about Dawn?” 
This time he does nip at you, catching your ear gently with very human teeth. “S’your fault,” he grumbles, and you feel it rumble through his chest. 
And yours. 
No, wait, that was your stomach. You’re suddenly starving, and with that revelation comes another, much worse one. You sit up so quickly that Joel follows suit, eyebrows raised. 
“What’s the matter?” He barks. 
“It’s the food,” you whisper. “That’s why they don’t let you share. That’s how Mike got me. It’s in the fucking food.”
He sits up, cupping your jaw. “Explain,” he growls.
“I think they’re drugging us,” you finally tell him. It’s been a haunting tug in the back of your brain, one you didn’t really want to admit to. There’s been a matching tug in your gut, the feeling of something not sitting quite right, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.
It had been twenty years since you had something like cough syrup, anyway. But that’s the feeling. The fuzzy spot between your eyes where the ground seems to swoop up, the way you move through the day underwater. 
“Fuck,” Joel whispers. But he can’t deny it makes sense. It makes too much goddamn sense. He’s been too fucking compliant, too fucked to care. He thought it was apathy borne of everything he’s been through. 
But goddamnit. He knows. He just knows you’re right.
94 notes · View notes
coastershells · 17 hours ago
Note
Hi I saw your writing and its so good💗 I was hoping you could do a Dallas x fem!reader best friends to lovers smut please🙏🏼 thank you☺️💗
A M I D R E A M I N G . .
( or did you just kiss me? you don’t know it but you already miss me.)
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IN WHICH — dallas and you decide to take your ‘ friendship ‘ to another level.
SONG — watermelon - john q. public
⚠️ : semi public sex , mostly fluff for the rest of the ride though.. || requested? / yes!! : no ( not proofread , fucked up a part and i can’t find it so oh well )
୨୧ — wc : 3.5k.
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you hate parties sometimes for this exact reason.
or maybe you haven’t been to enough.
you had been over buck’s for god knows how long , dallas had invited you and even walked you here — but god knows where he’s in the house by now. you promise yourself you can’t even walk straight.
you’re bored , tired , and you sort of want to go home now. you just don’t want to walk alone. so there you go , on your mission to find dallas.
in a house of crowded drunk people.
you decide ; if you’re going to go home , you’ll go big AND go home. so with that , you slowly stumble your way over to the drinks table , and lightly try to pick one up , but a hand stops you before you can.
“ don’t you suppose that’s enough drinkin’ for you? golly , didn’t know broads could drink ‘emselfs crazy.“ someone says with a familiar voice , it rings in your head.
you slowly turn your head and see dallas , he lightly puts his hand over your hand so you put the cup back on the table , and you give a crooked smile. “ dallas.. ”
“ yeah yeah , call me dallas even though i said to call me dal or dally even. ” he licks his lips. “ listen , man. i’m bored out of my fuckin’ mind. ” dallas raises his eyebrows and looks around before locking eyes with you. “ seems like you’re just about down for the count. ” he chuckles to himself and you blow raspberries.
“ just a little out of it. ” you mumble and dallas can only but pray you didn’t hear the small ‘ more than a little ‘ that slipped out.
“ tired , though. can you walk me home? i’ll be spooked if i go alone. ”
dallas shakes his head. “ not just yet , got some more stuff to handle , how about you just busy yourself for a minute , alright? maybe you’ll decide on spending the night. ” he says before turning on his heel , the loud music making it hard to even hear his footsteps. but he turns around and shoots at you.
“ don’t you dare pick up another drink. ” he says , you nod lazily , completely forgetting your thought process.
what the hell are you supposed to do meanwhile?
you should’ve followed him , or maybe you shouldn’t have.
god , you’re so damn lost.
you should’ve picked that other “ friendly , but just the two of us ” date he gave to you , going to that nice cafe at the end of the street near the drive in — the one that was covered in ivy. holy fuck you would’ve been sober.
the amount you drank really began to kick in , and you felt your head spinning like crazy. going outside would probably help.
not because it would be cold enough to bring you back — not at all. it was humid outside and inside , there was no escaping the heat unless you were thrown into a deep freezer.
with that , you departed from the drink table and stumbled across the room to the front door , relying on it to keep you stable until you opened the door and let yourself sit on the balcony and gaze at the stars. not because you want to ; you’d pick sunsets over star gazing any day , especially that one time with dallas when you finally got him to settle for five minutes and listen.
you’d kill for another calm “ friend “ date with dallas like that again.
as you sit there and think , your drunk mind wanders. from how hot it is , to where dallas is , and to whether you should stay or not.
the door opening startled you slightly , but when you hear dallas’ voice break out , you turn around.
“ golly — i oughta put a tag on you that glows if you’re just gonna run out of here like that. why are you out here? “
“ it’s the same temperature as inside anyway. “
dallas shrugs before letting his jacket fall off onto the porch. “ mhm , i hear you. ”
he sniffs , like he’s cold , almost. but that can’t be possible. “ you’re staying, ” he says. at first you process it as a question , but there was no curiosity in that sentence. he was telling you. “ not letting you walk home so late. nor do i feel like walkin’. “ he complains and you frown.
“ everytime i’m over here i’m forced to stay here because you’re too lazy. you’re barley even drunk! ” you say , not as clear as you wanted it to be but dallas hums in understanding before biting back.
“ you can’t even walk straight. ”
“ i can walk though , just hold my hand. ” you extend your arm to him and he does nothing but smile. it’s crooked , and you can tell he’s drunk now. you were guessing at first but now you can really tell.
“ i bet everything i own you can’t walk in a straight line. with or without my help. ” he says , taking your hand and pulling you up. you crash into his chest and you yelp.
“ huh? “ you say , trailing off as he turns you and places you against the wall. he doesn’t repeat himself , nor tell you what he’s doing , but you catch it. even in your clouded mind , you gasp.
“ dal — no! not here! what the fuck? ” you whisper shout and he looks around.
“ nobody’s out here. ” he shrugs and reaches under your skirt , you twitch away.
“ people are inside. not here , dal. ” you say , holding his hand.
dallas seems to pause for a second before backing away from you , looking around to the side of the house , then smiling.
“ to the back , then? ”
you shake your head , you almost nodded. “ that’s still so open.. ” you say , it comes out slurred. “ why can’t we just do it in your room? ”
he makes his way towards you again , picking you up over his shoulder and then replying. “ no doubt people are already in there. ” he says , you didn’t have time to yelp or do anything against him picking you up before the smell of weed invaded your nose. the leather was nothing new , even without his jacket. cold leather. you wish he hadn’t left it. god. what else had he done tonight?
he only placed you down when you had gotten to the back of the house instead. how nice of him to do that. you luckily , caught your footing and used the wall for support.
dallas is already at your neck and your breath hitches , the hand that was under your skirt returns again , and it’s playing with the lace of your underwear.
he probably noticed you weren’t wearing anything under , but he doesn’t comment on it. either too focused on ruining your neck yet again or how he’s slowly yet surely pulling your panties down.
“ dal — “ you try to protest and push his head away , and it does work , but his other hand gets a grip on your thigh and lifts you up.
okay , now you’re really stuck.
“ shut it. “ dallas says a little harsher than you like. “ just stay still , alright , doll? let me do this. ” the last part comes out as a half question , and you nod. you don’t recall him ever calling you that before , and it’s so random , but you don’t have the energy to ask if he has ever asked you that before. you wouldn’t like to try.
with that , a small ‘ i hope you don’t like these ‘ slips out of his mouth as you hear your panties just about rip. you wince and look down.
“ dally! “ you cry out. you don’t use that nickname much. “ you could’ve just — taken them off of me! “ you whine , but this time he doesn’t respond. what are you supposed to wear under your skirt after this?
he makes quick way of unbuttoning his pants , you can barley keep your head straight so you’re basically forced to keep looking down. and oh boy , you realize why he was so willing to just do it on the front porch.
the humidity outside doesn’t quite help your situation , you feel hot already , you’re dizzy , and drunk. you’re so sure you would’ve already been on the floor if dallas wasn’t holding you up.
dallas presses you against the wall further , and at this rate you can do nothing but whine and wait. he lifts your skirt up just enough for him to be able to see and you not. your arms find rest on his shoulders , and when he finally pushes in to you , you let out a loud yelp that dallas doesn’t try to cover up.
maybe because nobody inside will be able to hear you , you can still feel the house vibrating from the music inside. and that’s more than likely the reason. otherwise , he would’ve shut you up with a hand over you mouth as soon as a sound louder than usual came out.
dallas himself seemed to be making a huge effort not to buck into you really hard , god you don’t want to know how bad that would hurt at his full length.
“ still , baby. ” he says into your shoulder , and you have a big feeling he’s going to bite it. you whine when you feel his cock just about rub up against you , you can feel him shaking despite it being hot and it’s getting hotter and hotter and —
and you aren’t just quite ready when he actually pushes into you , letting out a soft groan as you tightnen your grip on his shoulders. you question whether you should get him back by dragging your nails against his upper back , but you decide that can be done later.
dallas’ moves his hips uneven , almost. slowly out , a little more harsher in that pushes a yelp from the back of your throat.
“ y’ smell like alcohol and smoke , darling. don’t tell me i gotta actually keep a leash on ya to — fuck , to make sure you don’t drink yourself — mad.. “ dallas says against your shoulder , and you push his head away slightly as your voice breaks into a whine. it being hot outside , you being against the wall , sweating , and his hair rubbing against your bare skin isn’t a good combo at all.
“ mmh? ” dallas hums , beginning to match his pace up. “ you don’t have to be quiet. “ he reminded you , and you looked down to the ground. a moan was pushed out of your chest when he pushed into you a little harder than he should’ve.
“ what’s so good about the ground? i’m your friend. look at me. “ you want to say that he said it in a demanding tone , but it came out more of a plea. there was no way you could look at him — not right now , atleast.
dallas took your silence as a no , and he groaned , returning to that same harsh pace he was just using.
“ have it your way , then. ”
you grip his shoulders with your nails instead , forget his back , you can’t even reach that with how mushy your brain feels by now.
you’re already mourning your ability to walk in the morning.
“ dal — wait — fuck- ” you cry out. “ what if the music — what if it c — cuts? ” you ask through helpless whines , but dallas does nothing but silence you.
“ i doubt anyone will hear even then. ” dallas groans , probably not because of what you asked , but the fact that everytime he talks he goes off rhythm.
his fault.
a hand slides to your skirt and he mumbles a small ‘ sorry ‘ before you feel a tug on the opposite side of your hip.
he just ripped your skirt , didn’t he? what are you actually supposed to wear inside? is he insane?
“ dallas! ” you say , a whine that was mixed with both sadness and the way he only sped up after that.
“ i’ll buy you a new one , ” his breath hitches. “ so just shut up with the actual words , would ya darlin’? you aren’t sayin’ anything useful. ”
you can feel that same weird effect piling up in your stomach yet again , and you shut your eyes tight as it comes and goes.
you can’t tell if your irritated or about to pass out , your vision is blurry and you can barley make out the words dallas is saying to you now. you decide that you’re both irritated and you’re currently passing out. your grip softens on his shoulders , and you’re slightly sad you can’t see the damage done.
you’ll see it when you wake up.
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when you wake up , dallas has kept his promise to not taking you home. the first thing you notice when you wake up is the deafening silence. none of the loudness from downstairs is there anymore , and you can’t exactly move. your legs feel numb and there’s also an arm wrapped around your waist , the other lays higher. right under your chest. you notice you have on rather baggy sweatpants. you don’t know what color , but the material is similar to yours. are they yours?
you go to feel down with a hand , the one under your chest slightly moves.
no , they can’t be. way too loose. your smell is last to come , the smell of weed is gone , but the leather still sticks. and it’s all over you.
dallas is holding you. and he’s asleep.
when you first met dallas , he was rude. well , not rude. but he had no sense of respect. any girl that even came in his sights he just had to hit on. you happened to be one of ponyboy’s friends. you usually tagged along with him and dallas was there occasionally. you think the first place you met him at was the lot. he had asked you if your hair color was your actual one , and if it was the same color that your —
— your eyebrows. you know he didn’t want to say that , but you guess he knows the real answer now.
dallas must’ve been fake sleeping , or maybe a coincidence , because his arm’s completely moved and he started to wake up. you could finally stretch properly.
“ you watchin me in my sleep? ” dallas nudges your shoulder and you ignore what he said. “ good morning , dallas. yes , i’m fine after last night dallas. ” that’s a lie , you can barley remember anything. and the headache is coming for you. he hums in of what you had said acknowledgment and gives off a laugh. it’s dry , and his voice is raspy with how he just woke up.
“ you were drunk out of your mind. had to wrap my jacket around you and tell buck you were knocked out around back. do what you will with that information. ” he turns to get up , and you lightly tug on his shirt. “ hey , what the hell? you’re just gonna leave me here? i can’t stand. ” you grumble and he smiles.
“ not leavin you. getting you a new shirt. you can wear one of mine until we make it to your house. you can rest there. ” it annoys you how dallas has already made plans for you when your hangover is getting to the best of you. “ can’t we just stay here and rest? ”
dallas shakes his head. “ i’d ask you to live here if i could. fortunately , no. i’ve got work , babydoll. ” he says as he opens a drawer and pulls out a cigarette. it amazes you how before he even thinks about brushing his teeth , he smokes. he walks back over to his nightstand and grabs a lighter , bringing it to the cigarette.
“ listen , i’ll get my job done fast. you’re gonna rest at home , i’ll ring you and you’ll doll yourself up. i wanna take you somewhere nice later on , alright? ” dallas says almost like he’s asking if you want to do that , but you know he’s telling you. and now your whole day has been planned out.
you can’t find it in you to make an excuse , so you decide to just nod. “ another friend date that’s only the two of us? ”
“ nope. ” he says quickly and takes a drag from his cigarette. “ a real date. which means ponyboy ain’t allowed for real this time. no kids. ” he says , and you’re sure he’s quoting steve. you scoff and he does nothing but take another drag from his cigarette.
“ come on , i’ll walk you home like i always do. ” he says. “ wouldn’t really count it as walking since i’ll be carrying you , but — ”
you cut him off with a groan.
he gets the memo.
“ alright , attitude. ” dallas mumbles. he throws a shirt your way.
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B O N U S
( sort of..? )
just like dallas had said in the early morning , he carried walked you home and gave you a ‘ friendly ‘ kiss goodbye. hours felt slow , maybe because you kept looking at the time but you swear time has never been slower in your life. you only started to ponder on what to wear when dallas had called you and said to get really pretty.
you decided on something that wasn’t exactly flashy , a black skirt , a random worn out top , boots gifted to you by dallas , and a leather jacket that you had never gave back to him. you wouldn’t say you did exactly much to your face.. more on your hair than anything.
you were just about finishing up when you heard a car coming down the street and a honk outside. you didn’t have to look out the window to know it was dallas.
and so it was , him in all of his glory and nicely dressed , ( not really , but you won’t insult him. you’re too nice. ) he greets you with the same flirty line he always uses , paired with a random pet name that he probably came up with on the spot.
most of the drive is filled with silence , not awkward , but almost like one of you should say something specific.
dallas decides to be that person.
“ i like you a lot , y’know. ” he says and you hum. you’re so positive you know what he’s getting at , but you try to stay oblivious. you want him to say it directly.
“ like — jeez. ” you look over and he looks — nervous? almost? “ like how ponyboy likes sunsets , yeah? and how two bit likes beer. like that. ”
“ i don’t get it. what do you mean? ” you say , trying to hide the smile in your voice since he can’t look over. you just hope he’s not using the corner of his eye.
“ alright , fuck. i love you. that what you wanted to hear? ”
you try to egg him on. “ and? what else? ”
he raises an eyebrow , but sighs and actually thinks for a second. the car stops at a traffic light.
“ i don’t want to see other guys treat you how i treat you. ” he says , almost a whisper , before he perks up again and awkwardly sniffs before changing the topic. “ what are you gonna order? ”
“ whatever’s fine , i guess. or i’ll just decide when we get there. ” you shift uncomfortably in the seat.
dallas doesn’t argue with that , whether he understands or just doesn’t want to.
the only thing you can hear is the far away sounds of people talking. you decide it’s your turn to speak.
“ i love you too , dallas. like how ponyboy likes the sunsets or whatever. didn’t expect you to be so emotional , though. ” you giggle and he blows his breath.
“ shut it , will you? the silence is nice. ” he licks his lips and you relax into the seat.
“ it’s nicer when i’m around you. ”
this time , it’s dallas’ turn to nod in agreement.
and you remind yourself ; you never saw the scratches you had made on him.
you shrug to yourself.
the light turns green , and dallas pulls off.
“ yes , i’ll be your girlfriend dally. ”
you look over and see a small smile on his face.
you are so sure he needed to hear that just as much as you did.
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i have no excuse for not posting. nor do i have the strength to after editing this. i’m going to sleep.
taglist : @mrsdillonx , @r0seb100d , @socgf , @staygoldmarty , @every1hatesmayaa
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luwritesstuff · 3 days ago
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Hi! An eddie diaz x reader request for you. Reader has painful periods and eddie is there to comfort and take care of her, being really attentive. Thanks!
hope this has all of the comfort you were hoping for 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
to love you on my worst days
Eddie Diaz x reader
wc: 943
notes: mentions of periods/period pain, afab!reader, mild hurt/lots of comfort, no use of y/n
Being in a relationship as a first responder was not an easy task, but a relationship with two first responders was a beast of its own. Add a kid into the mix and your time together was rare. But your relationship with Eddie was worth it. Eddie was worth the 15-minute lunch dates and middle of the night catch ups. And once every two weeks, you both had exactly one day off together that lined up.
It was becoming a ritual at that point, spending that day together. It was hard to adjust to, only having one day to really savor your time together. But you and Eddie made it work, you learned to savor the small moments too. When Eddie left you notes between your shifts and you left Eddie leftovers for when he got home.
Your aligning off day took forever to get there; an atrocious week seemed to make the time drag on. So by the time that Wednesday came around, you needed Eddie like you needed air. You needed to wrap yourself around him and never let go. And naturally, as your luck would have it, your period started that Tuesday.
You knew it wouldn't ruin your time together. Eddie wasn't a child and rationally, you knew that you'd still enjoy your time together. But you weren't thinking rationally. Your hormones were fucked and your body was aching. Between an intense work week and your uterus contracting, you couldn't think reasonably and you couldn't hide your discomfort. So when Eddie came home, kissed your cheek and asked you what you wanted for dinner, you broke down.
Eddie’s instincts kicked in and he immediately thought the worst, which you really couldn't blame him for with how hard your sobs were wracking your body. “Baby, hey. Shh, what happened? Who got hurt?” He asked and dropped his bag in favor of pulling you into a bone-crushing hug.
You silently thanked Eddie’s patience because you weren't in any rush to answer him, too busy shoving your face into his shirt and gripping it tightly in your hands. He rubbed your back dutifully, quietly shh’ing you every few moments. After probably too long, you were able to loosen your death grip on him and explain that no one was dead or dying, you were just being a baby about your period.
“Hey, you're not being a baby. You're in pain, honey,” he frowned and used his thumb to wipe up your remaining tears, “Why don't I run you a bath, hm? That usually helps a little bit, right?” He asked and you nodded pathetically. You didn't realize how much you needed him speaking reasonably until he was in front of you.
You were suddenly overwhelmed with relief and love that he was home and it brought another small wave of tears. “I just wanted to have a good day with you today and I'm so tired and I just,” you let out a defeated sigh and sagged against Eddie’s chest.
In the end, you didn't need to finish your sentence because there Eddie was, holding you together and bringing you to sit on the edge of the bath. “I'm sorry you're hurting, cariño. I know it's not what you planned, but we still have the whole day together,” he reminded you, carefully undressing you as he spoke. After pouring some of your bubble bath in and making sure it was hot enough, Eddie helped you into the bath and peppered you with kisses in the process.
You held on to his hand when he stood up to leave and he gave it a squeeze, “I'll be back, it's okay. I'm just gonna go change really quick and get you a drink, okay? Ten minutes, I promise.” Reluctantly, you agreed and settled until just your head was poking out of the bubbles.
Eight minutes later, Eddie was back with your pajamas ready on the counter and a warm drink that he slid into your hands along with painkillers. “Thank you,” you breathed out and reached out to hold his hand, “God, this week has just been insane and I thought I had another couple days before I started. How was your shift? Tell me about your day,” you requested, just wanting to hear Eddie’s voice and distract yourself from the pain. Eddie told you about his best and worst calls of the day and brushed his fingers through your hair as he spoke.
Once the water ran cold, Eddie was there to dress you in your pajamas and refill your hot chocolate. After taking you back to bed, he rubbed your back while you laid on a heating pad on your stomach. “A little better?” He asked, kissing your shoulder. You nodded and rolled over to bring him into a real kiss.
“I love you,” you whispered and tugged at him until he gave in and let his weight rest over you. With the heating pad now on your back and Eddie’s weight a comfortable pressure on you, you felt calmer than you had since two weeks ago since your last day off together.
“I love you too, amor. Take a nap, we can order takeout later and that movie you've been wanting to watch came out on Netflix,” Eddie spoke softly and waited until you dozed off to remove his weight and turn the heating pad off. You woke up pressed to his chest, feeling his light snores rumble through him. The two of you spent another half of the day in bed and the other half on the couch, with all of the love and affection you could ask for in between
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couriersiccs · 2 months ago
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if i had a nickel for every time a morally grey character whose main motivation for the catastrophic betrayal he committed was initially described as being in the name of his people and his culture and then, in the next installment, was retconned to actually be because a woman he loved got murdered and he got real upset about it, i'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice
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keferon · 6 months ago
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Monster hunter au part 9
I wanted to cook a bit more fluff before I get back to drama hehe
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deadqueernoldor · 8 months ago
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Thinking thoughts about those from Cuivienen and how they later treated the Valar, especially after Cuivienen was destroyed.
I imagine a foundation of sorrow and a layer of betrayal and pettiness. They had promised safety. And how did it turn out? Kin of Tata and Tatie their first leaders, slain in Valinor by the Dark Hunter from which the Valar promised protection in Valinor.
And then, the War of Wrath comes and with it the destruction of Cuivienen.
If any of those were re-embodied in Aman, I wonder if they make it a point to always turn their back to Valar and Maiar. I wonder if they only speak in the tongue they had first devised all those millennia ago and spoke in Cuivienen before time and different kindreds changed the tongue, not Sindarin or Quenya from the Great Journey's time or later. I wonder if they sing songs in their ancient tongue, songs about the beauty and unsullied health of Cuivienen every time any of the Ainur are near.
I wonder if the Valar feel any shame when those who they once looked upon in wonder and love gaze back at them with indifference or disgust.
#i am so normal about the elves of cuivienen feeling the betrayal worse than anyone in aman including feanor and co#they PROMISED safety from Morgoth and orcs. they PROMISED beautiful lands without sorrow. they PROMISED all that and down the line#decided Mogoth had played pretend well enough to warrant him probation during which he immediately killed again#returns to the east and sullies what beauty had been left. and then even from afar he manages to hurt those from cuivienen with the WoW#dont get me wrong i think the cuivienen elves knew there had to be war against Morgoth for him to be defeated. but the fact that the valar#decided not to only abandon those of beleriand for over 5 centuries before that AND once the war is won also abandon#those of cuivienen to watch their beloved lands drown without as much a warning must sting.#i want there to be a concious decision of 'you abandoned your promise to us twice why should we ever trust you again even in your own lands'#a 'you promised our people who folowed you safety. you didnt deliver. you promised us freedom from morgoth. you didnt deliver. in fact your#inadequacy and decision to let him loose made everything worse for us in the east. why should we ever listen to anything you say'#and thus a concious effort to shed association with Aman as the Valar govern it. they cant leave. the way is shut. but they can establish#a sticking to their own tongue and traditions without the interference of the Ainur. they've done enough. not enough and yet quite enough.#the avari are welcome should some be reborn.#i never know if i want those of cuivienen to be reborn in aman or fade into unexistence entirely both have merit and sexy hcs#but if any were reborn i think they would get along fairly alright with the exiles. kinslaying exiles? 50/50 depending on repentance#but anyone who does not believe the valar's words and respects their decision to not ever be associated with them is welcomed neutral-warmly#they teach them songs about cuivienen. the sweet waters. beautiful meadows. the birdsong that sounds extra cheerful. fish in abundance#and in turn they get taught songs about beleriand. bewitched forests. victorious battles. wild rivers. frothy shores.#it is seen as an honour to be taught a song about Cuivienen by the people who sat by its shores once. in their language/dialect/whatever#instead of in sindarin or quenya. some millenia into the 4th age tou have a surge of ppl speaking cuivienen dialect#it becomes a clear distinction of who still has fondness left for the valar and who would feel indifferent if they vanished suddenly.#this tag essay has gotten way too long again. sorry besties it will happen again.#tag essay longer than the fucking post???? help#tolkien headcanons
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naivety · 6 months ago
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very weird to frame your abuse apologia as being aware that the writers intended to illustrate a mutually harmful dynamic and not an abusive one. when the writers in question also wrote the line 'once you put it out there, they [the audience] decide what it is' because nothing you ever create has any innate definition. when the writers in question decided to racebend major characters and then showcase them being harmed by white or nonblack characters in a repeatedly racialized pattern when they Did Not Have To Do That and then genuinely or disingenuously decide to dialogue about their directly or indirectly illustrated racialized dynamic of intimate partner violence within and outside the narrative. like to be quite honest it does not matter what they intended because this is what they made and this is how it Looks to a notably large amount of people. who just happen to be interpreting it wrong? according to what metric? the very metric they say Doesn't Work in their own fictional creation? ok
#j watches interview with the vampire#i keep saying i'm tired of talking about this but i'm not#iwtv is SO enjoyable to me when i Don't make excuses for obviously shitty people#cannot comprehend the level of mental gymnastics. well actually i can lol#like i'm not trying to suck the fun out of a fictional show of fun fucked up dynamics#it's fun and fucked up Because. they let it be fucked up#let it be fucked up!#so many people seem to have such an aversion to the idea that lestat ever abused anyone but especially louis#when we know even if he didn't abuse louis he definitely abused claudia. often IN very misogynistic and racist ways btw#which people conveniently ignore#let alone that he does similar things to louis even when he at the same time would never Want to abuse louis#like both are true. i think. like#it's good that we as a society have tried to be better about cutting off abusers at the heels to compensate for it not happening Enough#but we have to stop pretending they aren't human people and that abuse is a Human act and that their humanity#and our ability to understand them with Our humanity just Disappears the second they do something monstrous#like no. both are true. all of it's true#pretending lestat was never abusive does nothing for no one#and i really truly feel like it takes the bite Out of such a compelling story to view it that way#let it bite my friends i promise you will survive it#imo seeing lestat's abuse for what it is =/= Cancel Him NOW like. i still enjoy him for what he is as long as he's Allowed to be what he is#which the finale. um. appeared to backpedal lol which is why it immediately sucked to me#realizing i am Because Of Woke-ing lestat but like people are afraid to call him abusive because they like him and they feel like#they can't continue to like him if they admit he was ever abusive. Because of Woke HFKSDJF
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quietwingsinthesky · 11 months ago
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there’s a progression in there, somewhere, of even going from ‘the master might kill me any day now :(‘ to ‘the master is going to kill me :) she’s not going to let someone else do it after all this time’
#i wouldn’t call it hubris exactly. more like this pretty secure surity that that’s how they’re going to die.#and to them that makes sense. they chose this. they keep choosing it after the doctor offers them a way out.#because this is. they understand this. and they feel safe in the reprieve before their death.#how do you control death? choose who kills you. the last defense of a prey animal.#something something dark mirror to clara’s ‘i am owed’ speech for even is if this ever. doesn’t work out the way they thought it would.#clara tried to threaten the doctor so that he’d reverse death for her. even would turn on the master if she tried to spare them.#i am owed better. i am owed the death you promised… i am owed the knowledge that you don’t care enough to save me… you know. something like#that.#even is. kind of. meant to mirror the doctor’s companions at the time. they are a martha who can’t leave him. they are a donna who has to#remember and never speak about everything they know. they are clara if during deep breath clara reached back and truly didn’t expect. truly#hoped. that no one would take her hand. because if they can be certain it will happen they can know never to reach again.#jesus christ. go to therapy boy. you have so many trust issues.#but that’s why they’re Like That with the master because at the end of the day. who is easier to rely on? the guy who comes in to put out#fires but only sometimes. or the guy who. really really fucking likes starting fires.#better to get burned hoping someone is coming or get burned knowing that’s what would happen. and even. chooses the latter.#AND ALL OF THIS. for me to say thats why i cant actually let the master ever kill them.#i think she needs to do something worse to even. i think she needs to abandon them.#and that will either set them free to go have healthy normal relationships or. lets be honest much more likely. completely fucking break#them. which would be fun :) for me.#dw oc
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headslikekites · 3 months ago
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god I forgot how insufferable people could get about politics on here
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quirkle2 · 11 months ago
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hands u a bug
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