#if the writers fuck this up I'm going to burn something down

[consistencynevermether]

Hello!!! I saw that did so much works on vere and I love all of them,they are the best vere fics!!! I love how you characterize vere and make him feel so in character.

And if you're still taking requests, can you do a headcanon or fic being in a relationship with vere or maybe doing a fic about a confession between vere and the MC. Like who would confess and how it would happen.

Anyway, have a good day and no pressure about doing this request if you're not up for it. You been doing such a good job of all your fics, and you're my fav vere x reader writer!!!! <3

Asidhasjaisdhflkasdh thank you, the fact that some people really like my silly lil vere fics means so much to me! I try to write Vere as in canon as possible, I'm so glad that comes across! I decided to do something a little different than normal and do headcanons instead of a full fic. Thank you for the ask! :D

Vere relationships headcanons:

The core of a romantic relationship with Vere would be based on loyalty and understanding. Vere would have to 100% trust you would never sell him out, or leave him (I feel like he lowkey has some trust issues left over from whatever situationship he and Ais had going on)

Despite how secretive he is, once you get into a relationship with Vere, communication is key. He needs to know the big things, like what the two of you will do once you're both free. Do you want to stay in Eridia? Get revenge on those who fucked you over? (he's a big fan of that one.) Start a new life somewhere with just the two of you? All options.

I think Vere would find himself willing to stay in Eridia, at least as a home base. At first, he'd just want to burn the synovium to the ground, not caring what happens to the surrounding city. But if you want, I think you can steer him away from that. He won't admit it, but there's few things he wouldn't do for you. Not limited to, actually giving a shit about this soggy marsh people dained to call a city. You had friends here, it was one of the safest places for humans, and he had memories with you in this city. All reasons he could find ways to think fondly of Eridia. 

He also wants to know about the little things, like where you're going or who you'll be meeting with if it's someone he doesn't know. There are a few hints in the demo that Vere is a “fell first” kind of man, and he holds onto the people he cares about tightly, only letting a select few get close. He's not trying to control you, he knows you can handle yourself. Despite this, you're still human. If something does happen to go wrong, he wants to know where you are and who you're with, so he can come find you if need be, and kill whoever is stupid enough to try and hurt you.

Speaking of other people, how many people know about your relationship will definitely change over time. If you start off together before he's free from the Sinobium, nobody can know about your relationship. Ais at most. But after he's free? You're going to have to physically stop him from making out with you in front of the Abbess. If you really don't want everyone to know, he’ll respect that. But if it's up to Vere? It'll be the most obvious thing in the city, and he has three major reasons for that

One: his pride. Once the Sinobium loses its control over him, he's free to be as chaotic and wild as he wants. What better way to say fuck you to the Sinobium by making it clear you and him are an item now. They wanted both of you for their little experiments, and now they get neither. 

Two: his nature. Vere naturally seems to gravitate to being a touchy person, even in public. Its not intentional, its instinct. He cant help that his tail wants to wrap around you, or that resting his head on your chest feels so nice. So even if you ask him to keep it on the down low, itll be a bit of an open secret.

Three: safety. Once again, you're a human. No matter how strong you are, how clever, how impressive your magic, how good your foresight is, there will always be a certain fragility to being a human that will always haunt him. Even if you're the strongest person around, one dagger into one of your vital organs, and you're gone, just like that. But if people know you're with him, then there will be an understanding; messing with you is bad for someone's long-term health. Specifically, their ability to keep breathing. 

Speaking of human fragility: absolutely not. Vere is not the type to just accept he only has less than 70 more years with you and thats it. He will not “carry on” or “find the joy in the world they left behind” or any of that bullshit,. He will find a way to make you just as immortal as he is; he will not be left behind again. Don't go dying on him, because he will drag you back from hell if he has too. 

While your home base can be Erida, Vere does want to explore the world again. Go back to the places he used to haunt, see new sights, anywhere that lets him know he's truly free of his chains. If you don't want to come along, he's 100% fine with that; he appreciates his alone time just as much as you do, but he definitely wants you to join him for a few trips. Now that the two of you are together, he wants you to know every aspect of him, all the good and bad parts. And trust, he absolutely wants you to do the same. It's fine if there are certain things you don't want to talk about, you can't keep secrets like your curse from him, not while in a relationship. 

A/N: i hope yall enjoyed! I had a few headcannons about vere confessing but i wasnt really sure wether to go tragic or humorus with them, so i decided to leave them out. Maybe ill go back to it one day lmao. Make sure to stay hydrated yall, peace out ✌️!!!!

[itsapipedream]

Welcome welcome to my vey messy aftg fic master post *cheers*

Okay okay okay so this will be all my fav fics and then some, I'll be uploading it from time to time with the new things I read <3

Ah also also I will be put the authors' names from AO3 to have some consistency

Series

I Will Always Choose You series by NikNak22 miscommunication, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort

Travelers series by unrise_and_death uncompleted, AU, kind of soulmates

best thing ever writen I'm still crying about it not being finished...

Lessons in cartography series by profenity post-canon, the best characterization of Andreil I've ever read

Shut Up, This is Love series by lady_flash first long part post-canon, LDR, angst, one shots for the rest of the series

Healing series by Lostintheuniverseslies post-canon, Neil goes to therapy, healing, incredible work probably my fav post canon series

New Tricks series by likearecord AU, rommates Kevin-Alli-Neil

on the tip of my tongue (say something) series by Willow_bird post-canon, recovery, selective mutism, ASL, comfort

The Manny series by orphan_account AU, dad Andrew, past character death

progress comes in small steps series by Ominous multiple POV, kind of post-canon, twinyards shenanigans

Branches of Solace series by Lostintheuniverseslies AU, small town, plant store owner Neil, bookstore owner Andrew, PTSD

SW AU series by Punkin_Carcass explicit, sex worker Andrew, porn with plot

Tales From Foxhole Aquarium series by Fortheloveofexy merman Andrew, human Neil

AUs

Fell for a match made in hell by yourinsomnia reality show, strangers to lovers, this was SO GOOD, they also play exy but Neil never went to plameto

under the kitchen lights (you still look like dynamite) by ephemeralsky neighbors, disabled character

in another life by bazookajo94 Neil writes letters to a "fake" person that ends up being Andrew, no exy

quicksand by likearecord no exy

Firelight by sundowne camp, second chances

If You Love Me, Come Clean by sundowne exchange student, soft, FWB

Why do we feel alone? by Leocante writer Andrew, translator Neil, disabled character

i'll be seeing you (wherever i go) by melopeya, TeoMoy musicians, getting back together

does the dog die at the end? by stillmadaboutpetra disabled character, slice of life, fucking fantastic

The Heat is On by NikNak22 A/B/O, alfa Andrew, omega Neil

Flavors of Fall by NikNak22 small town, slice of life

12 Ways to Woo a Minyard by NikNak22 college, all the romantic tropes

Take This Lonely Heart by simonsrosebud highschool, not mafia but Nathan is still a piece of shit, soft Andreil

Such a Fool for Sacrifice by likearecord Author Neil, bodyguard Andrew, canon torture

Andrew's Kill List by sundowne 5+1, friends to lovers, explicit

The Sun Still Rises by mordax Neil has a little brother, follows canon general plot

Dear Advice Guy by fuzzballsheltiepants paramedic Neil, advice column, manic pixie dream girl Andrew

Point Nemo by moonix one shot, disabled character

Odd Eye by tdashshirts one shot, angst, hurt/comfort

Act Of A Life Time by chaoticas_hell actor Andrew, agorapgobic Neil, flufiest shit ever, ansgt, self harm, lots of comfort

Finders keepers by honeyyghostt childhood friends to lovers, the best thing that ever happened to me

Post-canon / canon compliant

never fallen (from quite this high) by crystalcrow THEE Andrew POV of the OG trilogy

Unbiased and Reliable Results by yourinsomnia explicit, roommates

Kiss My Skin (Burn Me Baby) by Ma_Dude one shot

the right words by rwnjun one shot, 5+1

body count by gay_irl one shot, trading truths

knee socks by tamarsilan one shot, smut

if you really love nothing by seasy33 post-canon, angst, secrets, forgiveness

Feverish Minds by Ficswithcloud Sick Andrew

Call Me By Your Name by Fortheloveofexy petnames, explicit

Baltimore Blues by SpangleBangle Andrew's POV Baltimore

eidetic by hitchups explicit, bottom Andrew

deep down (i'm still just a wreck) by hitchups post-canon, trauma, bottom Andrew

Tell Me Where To Touch You by Fortheloveofexy one shot, comfort, shot Andreil, massage

Paint me a picture of you by Ficswithcloud post-canon, healing an injury, injured Neil

Blooming (Only For You) by NikNak22 post-canon, angst, gardening, miscommunication, Andrew's POV

If Only I Were Enough by Lostintheuniverseslies post-canon, long distance relationship, break up, angst with a happy ending

flashes of intimacy by mostly_maudlin post-canon, introspection, intimacy, comfort

No straighter path than to struggle by otatop post-canon, sick character, sick Neil, PTSD, ansgt

Not Nothing by TheRainbowElectric one shot, 5+1, post-canon

i only need the working of my hands by allyasavedtheday post-canon, temporary amnesia

people problems by loveroulettes one shot, post-canon, LDR, angst, miscommunication, OOC

Deep pressure by Kingfluffkinss one shot, post-canon, slef-harm

Muscle Memory by elesary post-canon, amnesia

lazy, fractured pieces by flitwickslittlebrotha post-canon, explicit, emotional hurt/comfort

Got Me All Choked Up by pistolpidge one shot, explicit

Pretty Boy by Justthislazy 5+1, miscommunication, hurt/comfort

[all-was-not-well]

Michaela Stirling

I'm definitely going to regret dropkicking myself into this conversation but....

I fucking love what they've done with John and Francesca this season, I think it's a great change of pace from the hyper-passionate, demonstrative love stories we've seen so far on Bridgerton. I'm also super excited for Francesca and Michaela's season, and for the way Michaela's gender is going to play into that.

Because yes, her gender is going to change some aspects of the story. There'll be less pushback against the two of them living together (Francesca has to temporarily move back into Bridgerton house because even as a widow she can't live alone in the same house as Michael, her cousin-in-law) and likely more pressure on Francesca's pregnancy due to the lack of an heir that's both known to the remaining members of the family and willing to provide for them (I think they actually are going to do a version of Francesca's struggle with infertility, I just think that the way they handle it is going to be very different). Characters are probably going to lean harder on Francesca to remarry, and depending on how the ton perceives Michaela (the general vibe on Bridgerton is that society doesn't take issue with men like Anthony or Colin sleeping around, but women like Daphne and Prudence risk ruin for being alone with a man) her family will likely want her to marry as well. (My guess is that Michaela will be charming as hell and the toast of the season, there'll just be fewer rumors about who she has and hasn't slept with.)

I'm curious to see how they continue to navigate queer sexualities in the Regency era, even in a story that plays as fast and loose with history as Bridgerton. I'm pretty okay with how they handled Benedict, Tilley, and Paul this season, and I'm optimistic as hell for watching Francesca and Michaela grow and change together.

My one real worry is an extremely modern one. As much as I love all the edits to "Good Luck Babe" that I've been seeing on Tik Tok, I really don't want them to frame Francesca as a lesbian. I really love the idea of Francesca's relationship with John being something real and true and valid -- she loved him, she was attracted to him, she wanted kids with him, she mourned him to hell and back when he died-- and over the course of the story, she grows to want something different -- not more or less, but different-- with Michaela. They can still tease each other, they ca still push each other out of their shells, they can still be best friends who fall apart when they lose the person who mattered most to both of them, and fall back together when they risk losing each other. The heart of the story can still be the same-- changing Michael to Michaela only changes the skeleton.

Does that make any sense?

[junojoel]

Everytime

QZ!Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: Joel needs to use you sometimes. Sometimes.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, unprotected piv, creampie, anal, and a bad understanding of anal prep, vaginal fingering, anal fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), spanking, choking, fucking everything, loving sex is a warning in this too, mean joel but reader can handle it, he doesnt mean it guys hes a loverboy :(

i'm suffering horrifically from writers block so this is my way of writing like 4 smut oneshots in one lol. end of the semester is kicking my ass

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

He only brings you here when it gets bad.

Not bad like blood-in-the-streets bad, not even when deals go sideways or when FEDRA gets too close. Not because it’s safe, though it is. No—Joel brings you here when he’s bad. When he’s seconds from cracking. When the city feels too tight, and he needs something real to hold on to. Something that reminds him he’s still alive.

And more and more lately, that something has been you.

Inside the city, he keeps his voice low and his hands to himself. Tess gives him side-eyes when you’re around, and everyone else knows better than to ask what you are to each other, knows better than to give you any trouble. But out here? Past the fences, past the dead brush and the broken steps?

Out here, he doesn’t pretend he doesn’t want you.

The safehouse is a crumbling old farmhouse outside the QZ perimeter, long abandoned and half-swallowed by the forest. It looks like nothing. That’s the point.

Clean sheets. Wood stove. Whiskey. A real bed. You and Joel.

He slams the door shut behind you with one hand and has the other already on your waistband, fingers digging into the worn fabric of your jeans.

“Clothes. Off. Now.”

You don’t ask, you never do. You know this version of him. Wild-eyed and breath hot against your neck as he crowds you backwards, the floorboards creaking under his weight.

“You gonna say hello first?” you tease, already peeling off your jacket. The fabric rasps against your skin as you shrug it off, the chill of the room prickling your arms.

He grabs your chin, tilts your face up, calloused fingers pressing just shy of bruising. His eyes burn into yours, dark and hungry, pupils swallowing the hazel.

“Keep talkin’ and I’ll give you something to say.”

You grin, even as your heart thuds heavy in your chest, pulse jumping under his grip. “Promise?”

And just like that—he’s on you.

His mouth crashes into yours, all heat and desperation, lips rough from the cold, tongue sliding against yours with a possessive growl. His hands are everywhere—yanking your shirt over your head, the drag of fabric sending sparks across your skin, then palming your waist, your ribs, his thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts. The scrape of his stubble burns your chin, the bite of it sharp and sweet.

The back of your knees hit the bed, and you drop with a gasp, legs falling open, welcoming him in. The mattress groans beneath you, the sheets cool against your now feverish skin.

“Fuck.” Joel mutters to himself as he slides a hand down, pressing between your thighs, fingers slicking through your arousal with a satisfied hum. “Already so fuckin’ wet.”

His touch is electric, rough pads of his fingers circling your clit just once, just enough to make your hips jerk.

“You miss me, Miller?” you breathe, grinding into his palm, the friction sending sparks up your spine.

He doesn’t answer. Just presses his forehead to yours, jaw clenched, breath ragged. His fingers slide lower, dipping inside you with a slow, deliberate curl that punches a moan from your throat.

“You gonna keep talkin’,” he murmurs, voice thick, “or you gonna let me shut you up?”

“I like it when you try,” you whisper, biting back another moan as his thumb finds your clit again, pressing just hard enough to make your vision blur.

He slips two fingers in, thick and unrelenting, the stretch burning and spreading fire through your limbs. Your head falls back, a broken sound ripping from your throat as he crooks them just right, hitting that spot inside you that makes your toes curl.

“Jesus—”

“Say my name.”

“Joel.”

He growls low in his throat and kisses you hard, swallowing your gasp and working you open with brutal efficiency. His free hand fists in your hair, tugging just enough to sting, his mouth moving to your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point.

When you finally reach for his belt, fumbling with the buckle, his breath hitches. The leather slides free with a sharp hiss, the clink of metal loud in the quiet room. You yank his jeans down, freeing him, his cock heavy and hot in your hand.

He groans against your skin, hips jerking into your grip.

“You think you can handle me like this?” he mutters, voice wrecked.

You wrap a leg around his waist, heel digging into the small of his back.

“Prove I can’t.”

He pushes in with a groan, one slow, steady thrust, stretching you full until you gasp. His hands are planted on either side of your head, muscles trembling with restraint as he holds himself still—just long enough for you to feel every inch of him, the heat of you wrapped around him, the way your body clenches instinctively.

“Goddamn, baby,” he rasps. “Always so tight for me.”

Then he moves, slow and deep. Every drag of his cock inside you is maddening, the fullness unbearable. His hips roll against yours, grinding just right, drawing out your pleasure until you’re writhing beneath him, nails biting into his shoulders.

He watches your face, drinks in every twitch, every bitten-off moan.

“Look at you,” he breathes. “Actin’ like you don’t beg for this every time I call you out here.”

You claw at him, pulling him down to kiss you, your teeth dragging over his bottom lip.

“Only ‘cause I know you can take it.”

He growls, hips snapping harder now, each thrust knocking the air from your lungs. The bedframe rattles against the wall, the headboard thudding in time with his pace.

“Fuckin’ right I can.”

His hand finds your throat; possessive, anchoring. Yours goes to his jaw, thumb brushing the scar that cuts through his temple, feeling the flex of his teeth as he grits them.

There’s nothing but heat between you. The wet sound of skin on skin, his ragged breaths mingling with yours, the creak of the bed beneath you. Your voice breaks around his name, whispering it like a prayer, like a curse, like the only word left in the world.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You can feel it before he even speaks.

Joel’s pissed. Not the quiet, simmering kind from before, but something sharper. Bleeding off him in waves as he yanks the safehouse door shut behind him, the wood groaning under the force.

You barely get a word out before he’s on you.

His hands slam against the wall on either side of your head, the impact vibrating through the plaster. His breath is ragged, uneven—hot against your cheek. Clothes still soaked from the storm outside, the fabric cold where it brushes your skin. Blood streaks his sleeve. Not his.

“Joel—”

“Don’t.”

His voice is low, dangerous. Not like before. This isn’t foreplay.

You press your back to the wall, chin lifted, eyes locked on his. The flicker of the oil lamp paints shadows across his face, deepening the lines of tension in his jaw.

“What the fuck happened out there?”

He doesn’t answer. His teeth grind, the muscle in his cheek jumping. Eyes won’t meet yours.

“Was it Tess?” You reach out, fingers skimming the soaked leather of his jacket. Cold. Stiff with rainwater.

“No.”

“Then what?”

His eyes finally snap to yours. And it hits you—whatever it was, it rattled him.

“Almost didn’t make it back.”

You inhale slowly, the air thick with the smell of him—sweat, whiskey, the iron tang of blood. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

For a second, the tension is quiet.

Then suddenly, Joel grabs your waist, yanks you toward him, and slams his mouth against yours like it’s the only way to make the world shut up. His tongue is rough, tasting of salt and smoke, and you whimper when his teeth catch your lip.

You break it, panting.

“What the fuck is this, huh? You almost die and now I’m just—what? Your therapy?”

“No.” He pulls you closer, “You’re mine.”

You barely make it to the bed.

He tears your shirt over your head, the fabric ripping at the seams. Pushes your pants down with one hand, growling when they catch around your knees. His fingers dig into your thighs, callouses scraping skin as he spreads you open. You’re wet already—because of course you are—and he knows it. Smirks when he drags his fingers through your slick, then brings them to his mouth.

“Always ready for me, aren’t you?”

You moan, grinding back against him.

“Maybe I like it when you lose your shit.”

He drags his mouth down your neck, biting at your shoulder hard enough to bruise. “Yeah? You like makin’ me crazy?”

You arch into him, gasping.

“Love it.”

That’s all he needs.

He flips you onto your stomach, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave marks. The mattress dips under his weight as he kneels behind you. His cock drags between your thighs, hot and heavy, smearing your wetness against your skin.

Then his fingers press against your ass, testing, circling.

“This what you want?” he rasps, voice wrecked.

You push back into his touch with a grin. “Fucking try.”

He spits, the sound obscene in the quiet room, then works a thick finger into you, slow and deliberate. Your breath hitches, muscles fluttering around the intrusion.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, curling his finger just right. “Take it.”

A second joins the first. You bury your face in the pillow, muffling a whimper as he scissors you open.

Then his fingers are gone, replaced by the blunt press of his cock.

“Breathe,” he orders, and pushes in.

The stretch is brutal, exquisite. You gasp, fingers twisting in the sheets as he sinks deeper, inch by relentless inch. His grip on your hips is iron, holding you still as he works himself inside, groaning through clenched teeth.

“Fuck—Joel—”

“Shhh,” he soothes, though there’s nothing gentle about it. His palm rubs slow circles over your lower back. “Just relax, baby. Let me in.”

When he’s fully seated, he stills, letting you adjust. Sweat drips from his brow onto your spine, his breath hot against your shoulder.

Then he pulls out almost all the way—and slams back in.

You cry out, the sound punched out of you as he sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving the air from your lungs. The bed creaks under the force, the slap of skin on skin echoing through the room.

“That’s it,” he growls, fingers digging into your flesh. “Take it. Take all of me.”

Every stroke is a claim. You’re here. You’re both alive. You’re his.

His hand slides around your front, fingers finding your clit. Rubbing hard. Fast.

“Come on, baby. Gimme one.”

Your mouth falls open. Eyes squeeze shut. “I—I can’t—”

“Yes, you fuckin’ can.” His voice is rough, possessive. “This body’s mine. You come when I say.”

You shatter with a broken scream, clenching around him so hard he curses, hips stuttering.

He groans and comes inside you with a final, deep thrust, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You collapse. Boneless. Breathing like you’ve run ten miles.

Joel stays on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, one arm curled under your body like he can’t let you go just yet. His lips brush your shoulder, the touch almost tender.

“Mine,” he murmurs again.

And god help you—you are.

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

You should’ve kept your head down.

You know that. Joel told you—explicitly—to let him do the talking. Just like he always does when you’re dealing with FEDRA.

But the guy was being a prick. All attitude and a swinging rifle. And maybe it was stupid, maybe it was reckless, but you couldn’t help it.

Joel didn’t say a word at the time. Didn’t look at you. Didn’t flinch.

Just handed over the rations, gripped your arm a little too tight—his fingers digging in like a warning—and steered you out of there before the guard could decide to make an example out of you.

The walk back is silent.

He doesn’t say a damn thing until the safehouse door slams shut behind you—and even then, it’s not words. Not really.

It’s the click of the lock sliding home. The thud of his bag hitting the floor. The way his boots scrape against wood as he turns, slow and deliberate.

His eyes track you—dark and furious, jaw tight enough to crack.

You feel it before he touches you. The heat. The pressure. The way the room seems to shrink until it’s just the two of you, the tension coiling tighter with every second.

Joel stalks forward, slow and deliberate, until your back hits the wall. He braces one hand beside your head, leaning in close. His breath is warm against your lips and his eyes search yours like they’re trying to burn the lesson into your brain.

“What the hell were you thinkin’?” he says, low and dark.

You swallow hard. Try to keep your voice steady. “He was a dick.”

Joel’s nostrils flare. His jaw ticks.

“You think that matters? You think they need a reason to put a bullet in your head?”

“He wasn’t gonna shoot me—”

“You don’t know that!” His voice rises, sharp and ragged, cutting through the quiet like a whip. “You don’t know what they’ll do, you don’t know what line you’re walkin’, and you sure as fuck don’t get to decide when to run your mouth.”

His hands are trembling. Just barely. But they are.

You stare up at him, chest heaving, mouth dry.

“You gonna hit me?” you ask, soft but sharp.

His eyes narrow. “Don’t,” he growls.

“Then what?” you whisper, stepping in close, chest brushing his.

His expression flickers—something feral and frustrated flashing through before it all slams back into place. That mask he wears so well.

He grabs your chin, thumb pressing against your lower lip, eyes locked to yours like he’s daring you to speak again.

“You think this is a game?”

You smirk, licking the pad of his thumb, slow and deliberate.

“I think you like it when I piss you off.”

There’s a second, only one, then he snaps. Grabs your waist, spins you around, and pulls you over his knee before you can even blink. The sudden shift knocks the breath from your lungs, the rough fabric of his jeans scraping against your thighs as he pins you in place.

“Since words don’t seem to sink in,” he mutters, voice rough, “maybe this will.”

The first slap lands hard, his palm connecting with a sting that makes you gasp. The heat blooms instantly, sharp and bright, and you squirm, but his arm locks around your waist, holding you still.

“You don’t get to gamble with your life,” he growls, delivering another sharp smack, then another, each one landing with punishing precision. “Not in there. Not ever.”

You bite your lip, trying not to whimper, but the sting is relentless, the ache spreading with every strike. Your skin flushes hot under his hand, the sound of each slap echoing in the quiet room.

Finally, he stops, his palm resting possessively on your reddened flesh.

“Still think it’s funny?” he asks, voice dangerously soft.

You swallow, thighs pressing together, the throbbing heat between them impossible to ignore.

“No,” you admit, breathless.

He hums, fingers tracing the curve of your ass, then sliding lower, teasing.

“Good.”

Then he flips you onto your back, his weight pressing you into the mattress as he unbuckles his belt. The leather slides free with a whisper, the metal clinking as he tosses it aside. His fingers grip your hair, tilting your head back.

“Open.”

You do, and he guides himself between your lips, the thick heat of him heavy on your tongue. The taste of him fills your mouth as he pushes in, groaning when your lips stretch around him.

“That’s it,” he growls, fingers tightening in your hair. “Take it. Every inch.”

You hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue working the underside as he thrusts deeper. His breath comes rougher, his hips jerking when you hum around him.

“Fuck—” His voice is ragged. “You’re gonna learn your lesson one way or another.”

He fucks your mouth with slow, punishing strokes, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat until tears prick your eyes. You gag, but he doesn’t let up, his grip unrelenting as he watches you struggle to take him.

“Should’ve thought about this before you ran your mouth,” he mutters, dragging himself out just enough to let you gasp for air before shoving back in.

When he finally pulls free, your lips are swollen, your chin wet. He drags his thumb over your mouth, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

“Now,” he says, flipping you onto your hands and knees, “let’s make sure you remember.”

His hand grips your hip, and then he’s pushing inside you in one brutal thrust. You cry out, fingers clawing at the sheets as he sets a relentless pace, each snap of his hips driving the point home.

“This is what happens,” he growls, teeth scraping your shoulder. “You don’t listen? You get punished.”

You whimper, the pleasure and pain blurring together as he fucks you raw, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

You shatter with a sob, your body clamping around him as the orgasm rips through you. He follows with a groan, spilling deep, his hips grinding into you as he rides it out.

“Next time,” he murmurs, voice rough, “you keep your damn mouth shut.”

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

You were only supposed to stay the night. Just one.

Tess had taken a bullet on a bad run, nothing fatal, but she needed time to recover. Joel didn’t want you on the street alone. Didn’t trust anyone else to watch your back. So he’d handed you a key without looking at you and muttered something like, “Just until she’s back on her feet.”

You thought maybe he meant to sleep on the couch.

The room’s dim. Just a sliver of golden light leaking through the curtain from the streetlamp outside. You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his shirts. It’s soft and faded, hangs loose over your thighs. Joel’s across the room, stripping down in silence. His movements are slower than usual. No tension. No frenzy.

You watch him undo each button, eyes trailing over the strong lines of his body—broad shoulders, the cut of muscle under worn skin, the trail of hair down his stomach that disappears beneath his waistband.

He doesn’t look at you right away. Just folds his shirt and sets it on the chair like he’s buying himself time.

When he finally turns, the look in his eyes steals your breath.

It’s not lust, not really. Not only. It’s want, yes—but it’s wrapped in something deeper. Something unspoken. Something aching.

You slide back beneath the blankets and hold them open for him.

“Joel,” you say, soft.

He gets in beside you without a word. The bed dips with his weight, and his arm immediately comes around you, pulling you in like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

You settle into his chest, fingers tracing slow circles across his skin.

“You ever done this before?” you murmur.

He huffs a soft laugh. “Had sex?”

You glance up at him with a crooked smile. “No. Had someone in your bed. Like this.”

His face shifts. “No,” he says quietly. “Not in a long time.”

You nod. You knew the answer before he said it.

Joel’s hand finds your jaw, tilting your face to his. His thumb strokes your cheek, slow and reverent, like he’s still not sure you’re real.

“I want this to be different,” he murmurs.

You lean into his touch.

“It already is.”

And then he kisses you.

Soft. Careful. Like he’s trying not to break you. His lips linger, his breath warm against your skin. He kisses you like he has all the time in the world.

Your hands drift to his body—familiar and unfamiliar at once. You’ve touched him before, felt him everywhere, but not like this. Not when there’s no fire to put out. No edge to ride.

Just him. Just you.

He slides the shirt off your shoulders, slow as molasses, like he’s unwrapping something delicate. Like the heat between you needs to simmer tonight.

“Want you,” you whisper, tugging him closer. “All of you.”

“You got me,” he says, voice hoarse.

Joel kisses you like it’s the first time all over again. Slow, aching, unhurried. His hands explore every inch of you like a man trying to memorize something fleeting.

And then he starts trailing down—kisses ghosting over your jaw, your collarbone, the swell of your breasts. He pauses to mouth at one, sucking softly, tongue flicking over your nipple until your back arches. His hand massages the other, fingers pinching just enough to draw a whimper from you.

“Joel,” you breathe, your voice already wrecked.

“I got you,” he murmurs against your skin.

You feel him shift lower. His kisses follow a path down your ribs, over your stomach, reverent and slow. He’s in no rush—he’s savoring. And when he settles between your legs, spreading you open with calloused hands, it’s with a look that’s nothing short of worship.

You’re already dripping for him, aching, and he just stares for a second—eyes dark, mouth parted slightly.

“Look at you,” he murmurs. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

You reach for him, fingers threading into his hair, but he gently presses your hips down, keeping you still.

“Let me.”

He lowers his head, and the first drag of his tongue over you nearly breaks you.

Soft. Wet. Slow.

He hums against you like he’s tasting honey, and you can feel the sound in your spine.

He flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow stripe up your center, then does it again, lips wrapping around your clit with practiced care. He sucks gently—just enough to make you gasp—then releases with a soft pop before diving back in, tongue circling and teasing, building you slow.

“Jesus, Joel—”

Your hips buck, but his grip tightens, holding you steady.

“Stay still, baby,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “Lemme take care of you.”

And he does.

He devours you like it’s the only thing he wants in the world. Like your pleasure is something sacred. His tongue moves in perfect rhythm—languid, focused—while one of his hands slides up your thigh, then down, two thick fingers easing into you as he keeps his mouth on your clit.

You keen at the stretch, hips grinding against his face now, too far gone to care.

Your hands fist the sheets. Your thighs tremble.

“You’re gonna come for me,” he murmurs into your skin. “Come on, sweetheart. I know you can. Just let go.”

You fall apart with his name on your lips, coming hard against his mouth, thighs clenching around his head as he groans like he’s the one being wrecked.

He doesn’t stop right away. Keeps licking you through it, tongue gentle now, coaxing you down from the edge like he doesn’t want the moment to end.

When he finally comes up, his mouth is glistening, beard wet with you, and his eyes are dark—wrecked—like the sight of you falling apart has undone him completely.

You tug him up by the shoulders, breathless and shaking, pulling him into a messy, deep kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue and moan into his mouth, hips already rolling against him again.

Joel grins into the kiss, rough thumb brushing your cheek.

“Didn’t know you could sound like that,” he murmurs.

“Neither did I,” you say, still dazed, still breathless.

He presses his forehead to yours, chest heaving.

“Wanna hear it again.”

When he finally sinks into you, it’s like exhaling after holding your breath too long. No rush. Just the warmth of him, stretching you full, grounding you to the mattress like he’s pressing you into something sacred.

His forehead rests against yours, and he groans—quiet, almost pained.

“Jesus, baby…”

You wrap your legs around his waist, hands tangled in his hair, holding him impossibly close.

He starts to move, slow and steady, each thrust purposeful and deep.

Your fingers drift over his back, nails tracing lazy lines into his skin. His name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper—no begging this time, no teasing.

“Look at me,” he says, voice low. “Wanna see those eyes.”

You do. And what he sees there makes his rhythm stutter. He’s not used to softness like this. Not used to being allowed to want without fear.

You touch his face, thumb tracing the crease of that familiar scar.

“I’m here,” you whisper.

“I know.”

Joel’s hand finds yours and threads your fingers together, pressing them into the pillow beside your head. You don’t say anything else. The way he moves inside you—slow, aching and reverent—says everything.

He kisses you through it. Again and again. Mouth gentle, tongue soft. When you finally come, it’s quiet and full-body, radiating out until your fingers curl tight around his.

He follows close behind, hips grinding deep as he buries himself with a low groan, your name on his tongue like it’s holy.

After, he doesn’t let go.

Just holds you to him like something he’s afraid to lose.

You curl into his side, lips brushing his chest.

“Feels real,” you whisper, afraid to break it.

Joel kisses the top of your head, pulling the blanket higher over your shoulders.

“That’s ‘cause it is.”

[eraserbread]

omg. i love horny pregnant wife so much. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE more with nanami or toji🙏 you’re such a talented writer ily

you're seeing sides to your husband, nanami, that you didn't even know existed... until three months ago when you found out he got you pregnant.

creeping into the second trimester, your body is in constant aching pain -- it starts in your abdomen, sometimes, morphing into cramps in your lower back as your belly begins to bulge.

it's knocked you into needing to waddle everywhere you go, and stuck in bed when he's not around.

but, this morning, he is around. you wake up alone, the sun is bright, and the air smells like miso and eggs. kento knows it's all you've been wanting to eat lately, so he wakes up early on his day off to make it for you.

his back is turned to you when you waddle into the kitchen, feet dragging in your house shoes over the cold floor. ken stands shirtless, standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup -- it awakens something within you.

you're left staring in the doorway, swallowing down the thickness of absolute, carnal, bodily need.

you can't even find the strength to speak, all of the life you had is rushing between your thighs, burning you alive. biting your lip, you cross your knees.

of course, he notices you after a second, drawn in by the savory, familiar smell of you behind the waft of miso. kento peeks over his shoulder.

"love, you should have stayed in bed."

"why?" your whisper is fucked already, rasping and grating in your throat.

"because your body needs rest. doctor's orders." then he's turning around, steaming bowl of miso cradled in his grip.

you're sweating, watching his bare, sexy chest stare you down in a way that genuinely makes you feral. him and his ruffled hair, shadowed eyes, and furrowed eyebrows.

"pleasepleasepleaseplease," you're begging, mouth full of cotton as you're tearing through bedsheets. kento's situated behind you, thick tongue drawing masterful, sticky circles against your quivering cunt.

yours to the core, there's nothing he loves more than eating you up. since the pregnancy, that feeling is heightened tenfold. you're pulling off your pants, and he's getting that smell in his nose -- that hunger in his body.

and even better, your libido is coming back with this trimester, letting him take his time as he sucks you clean. face down, ass up - hips supported by a pillow, because he wants you to be as comfortable as possible.

kento lets you do all the talking -- all the blubbery crying and pitiful moans you've been keeping. it's like a river down here, buried nose-deep in your ass, his tongue can't keep up the onslaught of constant, dripping slick. he's full off of your taste, but that doesn't mean he won't give his wife what she wants.

"oh, my god. i'm gonna die. gonna -- gonna kill me 'f you don't put it innn!" you're arching your back when he pulls away, licking over his flushed lips, memorizing the taste so he can carry it with him throughout the day.

but, he's taking too long. just one second over your limit, and you're sobbing. "put it in! what are you fucking waiting for, it hurts!"

"oh..." kento doesn't react, knowing anything could set you off further. he does sit up, fishing his erection from his loose linen pants to slide between your aching cunt. he won't tease you for very long now, but he is curious to see how much you're willing to beg...

"you motherfuc-

that disrespect? kento uses it as fuel, and with one fateful swoop, he's burying himself inside of you, punching a guttural, needy scream from your chest.

"well, that's not very nice." he's growling, rolling his hips forward to chase some friction. closing his big body over yours, a single hand presses over the back of your neck, squeezing just enough to emit some pain. he doesn't want to actually hurt you now that you're carrying his daughter, but he does want to establish patience.

cursed nicknames have no space in your loving home.

"i'm sorryyyy--mmhmf!"

he's fucking you so well, now, thick, slippery cock sliding out to the tip, only to slam back in to the hilt. he hurts so good -- so wholly. it's like he's devouring you whole.

this feeling... it was so different, so perfect. all you can think about is your kento pressing another baby in you.

call it greed or lust, kento thinks it's something adjacent to absolute, abiding love and trust.

[vanteguccir]

Hey i have a request if u have time and like ittt!!

So basically matts fucking you and chris is tired of all the noise, so he walks in to matts room casually. Proceeds to pick up ur panties from the floor and stuffs ur mouth. And sum hot idkkkkkkkk i aint a writer

Love ur fics tho girl

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPANTIES IN MY MOUTH * MATT (AND CHRIS) STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Chris had had enough of Y/N's loud moans with his brother and shut her up with her panties... and she's a exhibitionist little shit

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader (and Chris)

WARNINGS　::　SMUT (mdni)

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form of plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

"Oh fuck- Matt-" Y/N gasped, her voice breaking with every breath.

She couldn’t think straight, couldn’t focus on anything but the overwhelming pleasure coursing through her veins. Her thighs - wet with her arousal - quivered uncontrollably, her toes curling against the bed as Matt thrust into her with raw, primal need.

But beneath them, Chris had had enough.

For the past thirty minutes, he had been subjected to the incessant banging of the bed against the wall and Y/N’s loud, unfiltered moans. He tried to block it out, putting a pillow over his head or playing random songs in the top volume on his headphones, but it was no use. The noise was relentless, invading every corner of his room, and his patience had finally snapped.

With a growl of frustration, Chris pushed back his blankets, stormed out of his room, and headed upstairs.

Y/N didn’t hear Chris’s footsteps approaching. Her mind too far gone in the pleasure coursing through her body. She moaned Matt’s name again, her voice loud and breathy, the sound echoing in the room as Matt quickened his pace, his own groans mixing with hers.

The door to Matt’s room suddenly burst open, and without warning, Chris strode in, his face a mask of annoyance. Y/N’s head was still buried in the mattress, her body still trembling as Matt froze mid-thrust, too shocked to react right away.

Chris, however, didn’t seem the least bit phased by the scene before him. He walked into the room far too casually, his eyes sweeping over the pair with a mixture of irritation and curiosity. His tongue slipped between his pink lips, wetting them while taking in the sight of Y/N’s completely naked form, her body bent over the bed, her fingers digging into the dark blue sheets, clutching them like a lifeline, and Matt’s shocked, wide-eyed expression.

"What the fuck, Chris?" Matt sputtered, his voice filled with disbelief as he finally reacted, trying to cover Y/N's boobs with his large hands and her ass with his own body, ignoring the loud whine that echoed from her with his movements. "Get out, man!"

But Chris ignored him. His gaze drifted down to the floor where Y/N’s discarded pink lacy panties lay. Without a word, Chris bent down, scooping it up, and then moved toward the bed. Y/N, still lost in the haze of pleasure, barely registered his presence until she felt slender fingers pressing her jaw with moderate strength, forcing her to open her mouth before something was stuffed against her tongue.

Her eyes widened in shock, muffled sounds of protest escaping her throat as she realized what had happened, her eyes meeting the blue ones that looked right back at hers.

Chris really had shoved her own panties into her mouth, effectively shutting her up. Her face burned with a mix of embarrassment and something darker, something that thrilled her in a way she hadn’t expected.

Matt, still in shock, didn’t know whether to laugh or be pissed off.

"Chris, what the hell is wrong with you?" He growled, though there was an underlying tension in his voice, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him as he searched for his brother's eyes.

Chris smirked, his gaze gleaming with mischief as he glanced between the two of them.

"If I’m going to be forced to listen to all this." He said smoothly, his voice low and teasing while his hands motioned from one to another. "The least I could do is shut her up. A guy needs his silent time, right?" He gave Y/N a pointed look, his lips curling into a smirk as he watched her squirm beneath his brother, her muffled whines filling the room with the feeling of Matt's dick moving only a bit inside her walls.

Y/N’s mind was racing, her body responding despite the embarrassment flooding her senses. The feel of her panties getting dump in saliva inside her mouth and the sheer absurdity of the situation had her heart racing in ways she hadn’t expected, causing her to press her face deeper against the mattress, trying to disappear.

Matt, however, was less amused. He shook his head, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"You’re such an asshole." He muttered, though he couldn’t deny the tension in the room had only heightened after Chris’s interruption.

Chris chuckled, clearly pleased with himself as he straightened up and turned toward the door.

"Just keep it down next time." He said over his shoulder, throwing one last smirk at them before sauntering out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Chris, leaving Matt and Y/N in the heavy silence of the room, Y/N's body reacted almost immediately. Despite the absurdity of what had just happened - or maybe because of it - her hips pushed back instinctively, seeking more of Matt. Her body begged for him to continue, her mind still reeling from the humiliation and thrill of being caught.

Matt's eyes widened at first, surprised by her reaction, but then a dark chuckle escaped his lips as he felt her ass press insistently against him, almost fucking herself on his dick. Her whines, now muffled, were desperate, needy. She wanted more. She needed it.

"Fuck." Matt muttered under his breath, his voice taking on a darker, more commanding tone. "You liked that, didn't you?" He murmured, bending his upper body and pressing his chest firmly against her back, his breath hot against the nape of her neck. "Getting caught like that... having him see you like this. Like the little whore you're for me, yeah?"

Y/N whimpered again, her body responding eagerly as her hips pushed back against him harder, silently begging him to keep going. Her face was still pressed deep into the sheets, her muffled whines escaping through the makeshift gag Chris had left in her mouth. She was trembling, her body aching for more.

Matt’s hands gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he laughed again, this time lower. He leaned his head, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered.

"You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you? Letting him see you so exposed and open, and now... you can’t get enough, can you?"

Y/N moaned into the fabric, her eyes rolling up her skull with his talking and the fresh memory of Chris's eyes on her, the sound vibrating against the panties in her mouth. Her body was practically begging for Matt to move, to do something, to give her the release she so desperately needed.

Matt grinned wickedly, the dark amusement still dancing in his eyes as he tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her back against him before pushing her forward again, forcing her to fuck herself on his cock.

Her thighs trembled when she felt his tip brushing only a bit against her sweet spot, and she let out another muffled whine, her hips rocking back against him again, needing him right there. The feeling of her body pressed so tightly against him, her whimpers of need muffled and helpless, only served to ignite Matt’s desire further.

"Alright." Matt murmured darkly, his tone teasing as his hand slid down, fingers brushing the curve of her ass, squeezing the flesh hard. "You want it? You’ll get it, but you have to work for it."

He pressed his other hand on her small back, forcing her to bent her upper body even more - if that was even possible, searching the control he needed. With a slow, deliberate movement, he ground his hips against hers, teasing her, dragging out the moment as she squirmed beneath him, her muffled cries growing more frantic.

"Is this what you want, baby?" He taunted, his voice a low growl as he pressed himself harder against her. "Because I can feel how fucking wet you're." He let out another dark laugh, enjoying the power he had over her in this moment. "And all it took was Chris walking in on us for you to become this needy mess."

Y/N's muffled response was a mix of whimpers and "Matt's", her body trembling as she tried to raise her ass more in the air, searching for the friction her body was begging for.

Matt's grip on her waist tightened even more, his fingers digging into her skin as he finally snapped his hips against hers hard enough to make her thighs shake and her fingers dig into the sheets.

"Alright, baby." He whispered, his tone full of lust and dominance as he positioned himself, ready to turn her into a cock drunk mess. "Let’s see how loud you can be now... even with your mouth so fucking full."

© vanteguccir

[soulwrencher]

Hi!!!! I don’t know if you take request.. but I can’t stop thinking about vi coming home from the gym, or reader going to meet vi at her gym? But her sweaty abs? Those back muscles? Those arms? 😩 and vi just being so smug about it because she knows the effect she has on reader 😭

yesss i like this! note: i don't really workout at the gym (embarrassing i know...), so if this is super unrealistic just... gawk over her body! be horny!

also you should totally read this by my fav writer ever if you haven't already, you'll be OBSESSED. kisses n hugs @vampiefemme 😘

1, 2, 3, 4,... were you counting your own reps or vi's? your mouth was practically on the floor, eyes ogling at her back from afar. there's quite the distance between you and where she is working out at, but that doesn't stop you from dislocating your neck to watch her do pull-downs.

there is just something about the way she's built, tattoo climbing down her neck as well as the usually headache inducing overhead lights making the sweat on her traps shine, and her big, to drool over, triceps. and fuck were they moving with every pull too, actively flexing underneath her drenched tank top. absolutely soaked, (you or her?) vi takes her tank top off, you almost slam the weights. feeling the blood rush through your body from the embarrassment of just almost pissing people off (and the fact that you've been staring for full 5 minutes), your mind carries you away, to your bed, underneath vi, who's doing pushups over you and then smiles at you, how dreamy.

and then she smiles at you. wait, what? a small but very potent 'fuck' escapes your mouth. she's done with her sets and quickly redirects her focus to cleaning the machine.

vi is grinning like an idiot, it's hard to stay oblivious when she literally felt something (your pretty eyes) burning into her back. and besides, it was super hot watching you too. she overthrew her whole workout routine just because of 8 little words:

'heyyy i heard you go to the gym?☺️'

it took her an hour to reply, Yeahhh I do, erase, We should go together, erase, I think you're really cute, erase, I'm going this Friday you wanna join me cutie? send. vi wasn't stupid, it takes two to play a game. and you were going to lose.

"you looked distracted," vi chuckles, sweat dripping down her forehead.

slam. "oh god, that startled me, haha." you look around, 'i'm sorry' plastering your whole face. you feel the heat rush up into your head and accumulating there. what the hell.

"is it fun watching me?" she continues. she's facing you, arm stretched out and resting on the leather of your seat. you're fucked.

"i was just trying to see when you're done—" you pause to look at her, but vi's eyes are elsewhere, further down, was she checking you out?

"—not sure if i'm doing this right," you say as your eyes wander to her stretched out arm, suddenly you feel warmth spreading from in between your thighs...

she hums in response, scoff-laugh following. vi gathered that you weren't going to lose easily.

"can i?" she asks and you nod, hot palms adjusting your foot placement on the board. you like how her hands feel, they were rough and calloused but still so, so warm.

you press against the board, small grunts and groans escaping your lips. fuck, you sound a little too good, vi totally did not just imagine all possible (well, rather a small selection) of scenarios where you'd make exactly those noises.

she tries to distract herself from her thoughts where you are moaning her name, so she strokes your left hamstring to make sure you're... to make sure what exactly? you immediately look up, but the way vi is looking at you... you can't help but get lost in her eyes, you wanted her to get lost in you. and she couldn't ignore the throbbing that was practically begging to be taken care of from just looking at you and touching your skin.

one thing leads to another and her fingers are filling you up and pumping into you as slick gushes out from the sides of her fingers. iiiiin the bathroom of the women's locker room. gross, absolutely, but you're too busy trying to swallow your moans.

"not sure if i'm doing this right." vi whispers into your ear. you roll your eyes, she's obviously mocking your awful attempt at covering up the fact that you were staring.

"'doing, mhmmmh, just fine," you slur.

fuck, you were driving vi insane. she throws her head back, hard nipples graze against the fabric of your workout top as she thrusts her body against yours, pressing your back against the stall wall. and she's still inside you, vi is still curling her fingers against the walls of your gaping cunt. you dig your nails into vi's back, "more," you whisper.

"fuck, i—" vi slowly slides out her fingers, you successfully flustered her, she's completely worked up, cute. and then, seemingly out of nowhere, she brushes a lose strand behind your ear, it feels like you're dripping onto the gym floor. kinda gross, but whatever, because vi's hand is right there where you want it, cupping your face.

"let me take you to my place," she then says, voice low. she watches a small smile appear on your face. "sure, show me your home workouts," you wink, causing vi to turn the same color as her hair.

got you.

[thebibliosphere]

I both believe "poor people deserve art" and "artists deserve food", but it's hard to reconcile those beliefs. I blame capitalism. And I suppose it mostly matters who you're stealing from?

I don't mean to question you at all, I'm against people pirating your stories. I guess I was just wondering if you had more thoughts regarding the reconciliation the two beliefs I quoted above.

I think the reconciliation is working toward a future where things are better, and authors and artists don't have to beg people not to steal from them because they think every author is Stephen King, who wouldn't notice if you stole the pennies found under his couch when in reality most of us are hunting for spare change down the back of the couch because we are earning below minimum wage.

We need people to embrace the idea that art belongs to the working class, both in terms of consumption but also creation.

If you don't support the working-class creators, you'll only end up with rich fucks with no scope of the world beyond their own narrow view of privilege.

Indie creators are actually working very hard to change the way the industry works, and the publishing industry is shitting itself over it. They don't like the success some of us are having. It's why they keep upping prices while slashing corners on their own production (while never affecting the man at the top) to try and stay competitive within the rat race they've created.

They're not interested in the proliferation of art. They're not interested in making sure their authors can afford to live. They don't want more diversity. They don't want inclusion. They want profit at whatever the cost.

And while indie creators very much need to get paid because we live in a capitalistic society and everything is burning down around us, and a carton of eggs now costs more than what I earn per hour, our creativity is directly at odds with the type of profiteering big publishers want.

The money should go to the writers. Not the CEOs. The money should go to the workers in the print houses. Not the CEOs. No one needs the kind of wealth these people have. It's obscene. We need direct action against these conglomerates. We need unionization. We need a means to fight back so that we can make art and make it accessible.

So, how do we do that? I don't know. I'm just a very tired, disabled creator doing my best to keep my head above water. But I think getting people to realize that art and books are worth saving up for would be a good start.

That putting money in the pockets of creators is just as important as your own enjoyment of their art. Because if there aren't any artists, you've got nothing.

Getting them involved with their local libraries would also be a great start. Educating them on how the industry works is part of that. The number of people telling me they had no idea libraries paid authors is staggering. And that's intentional. It's a by-product of right-wing propaganda to make you think libraries are worthless and just sap taxpayers' money.

They're not.

If they were, the fash wouldn't be trying so hard to take them away.

Basically, we need working-class solidarity and for certain people on the left to rid themselves of the idea that just because something isn't borne of manual labor, it doesn't have worth. We need the artists and the dreamers as much as we need to bricklayers and the craftsmen. Otherwise, what's the fucking point of it all?

[ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused]

jealous hotchner because he can’t take his brother flirting with you so he shows you who you belong to 😘😘😘 (as in he wasn’t aware he liked you like that until he saw his brother with you and realised he didn’t want sean doing to you what he wants to do to you)

ps. you are an amazing writer and i love your work 🩷

ೇ bathroom bitch ― aaron hotchner .ᐟ

pairing .ᐟ aaron hotchner x plus size!reader

summary | things change thanks to the helpful youngest hotchner (or aaron's a little oblivious but then realizes he's jealous and you guys have sex in the bathroom at work).

warnings | yet ANOTHER pwp, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, mentioned vaginal fingering, rough sex, doggy style, backshots, mirror sex, bathroom sex, dom!aaron hotchner, sub!reader, dom/sub dynamics, kind of mean dom!aaron, he's just being a little mean, but only 'cause he's jealous, the reader is enjoying every second of it though, a lot of dirty talk, teasing, ass smacking (like once), implied oral sex at the end (m rec), they just match each other's freak.

wordcount | 1048

۶ৎ a/n .ᐟ | WOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO AND DISAPPEAR INTO A HOLE NOW!! this is just a whole mess if i'm going to be honest, but in like... a good way. i don't know if this aaron is ooc 'cause usually he's sweet in most of my fics, but this is just a whole different ball field!

— links .ᐟ masterlist | ao3

You really, really had no idea how you ended up here, but somehow you were pulled to the side by your boss and found yourself tugged into the gender-neutral bathrooms.

Your lips were rolled between your teeth and your eyes were squeezed shut tightly in order to try to keep the sounds of pleasure from spilling between your teeth. Your hands curled into the counter of the sink, head hanging low. 

Aaron’s large palms gripped at the fat of your hips, your pencil skirt shoved up and over your waist, your panties pulled halfway down your thighs before they sat on top of your knees that were squeezed together. It was hard to keep yourself still in your heels, but you were determined to be good for him, just like he had asked.

One moment you were sitting at your desk chatting away with Sean, the youngest Hotchner brother when Aaron had come storming over, mentioning something about, “Leaving his Agent,” Alone. The tone was unfamiliarly possessive, but you would be lying if you said you hadn’t felt his brooding from atop of the stairs near his office.

You could always feel him near you, it was like your body was pulled towards the earth that was Aaron Hotchner. 

You could see it in Aaron’s face as he all but dragged his brother away from you, jaw set tight and eyes narrowed, arms crossed over his suit covered chest. They bulged out in the material and you had to keep yourself from moaning at the sight of them.

Sure, you knew Sean was flirting with you, but it was rare that men would show any interest in you, so you can’t blame a girl for taking advantage of a situation in front of her, though it wasn’t the brother that she wanted.

Anywho, that’s neither here nor there. All you know is, is that one moment you’re walking down the hallway after visiting Penelope’s cave to be dragged away by Aaron into the bathrooms and pressed against the door.

The way he peered down at you was dark and hungry, and he definitely had a goal in mind as you coward. He held you there with his body, large, broad shoulders pinning you to the metal as you peered up at him through fluttering lashes.

Your body fucking burned for him. You knew you would do anything he would ask you too.

Of course this was disorderly conduct, that it was inappropriate, and quite frankly taboo, with the way that he was your boss and you were his subordinate; and oh, you guys were currently fucking in the company bathroom.

If you were going to be honest – and nasty – that only added fuel to the fire that was your dampening core.

You had begged in a small voice, shaky hands raising to set themselves on his shoulders, fingers curling in the material to… steady yourself? Pull him closer? You didn’t know, but he just watched you.

“Tell me what you want.” The question was sultry and demanding and a shiver ran its way up your body, wracking it in its haste. “You.” You would go to whisper, gaze falling on his lips before following back up to his eyes.

He had bent you over the counter, fingering you open quickly before tugging himself out of his slacks and entering you.

“Mmf… fuck!” You couldn’t help but cry as his tip kissed your g-spot over, and over and over again. The stretch burned so good, and the coil in your stomach was tightly wound, but not quite there yet. You needed that extra stimulation and you didn’t know if Aaron was willing to give it to you.

“Shush.” He puffed harshly, the warm air hitting the shell of your ear before he tugged on it with his teeth.

“Oh God.” You whimpered, leaning back into his bites. “I need it, Aaron please… Don’t be mean.” You whined. “You’ll take what I give you. That’s the least you could do after flirting with my brother right in front of me.”

The mention of his brother caused him to punch back into you harshly, sending you forward slightly. You scrambled to tighten your hold again, another cry lodging itself in your throat.

“Nasty girl.” He growled. “What made you think that was appropriate, huh?” Another emphasizing thrust. “I – I didn’t think…” You mewled.

“‘Want you only. I promise.” You said with a pout, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah? Only me?”

“Mhm.”

He studies your face before leaning forward to join your lips together. Despite the awkward angle, he holds you steady, one of hands leaving your skin to run circles over your clit.

“Gah!” Your yelp is muffled by your lips, the man all but eating it. You don’t know which fountain of pleasure to chase, hips rocking forward and backwards constantly. 

“I… I…” Your words failed you, and your eyes squeezed shut again.

“‘M gonna cum, Aaron baby, can I? Can I cum?” You beg.

He forced you to meet his gaze in the mirror, strands of his black hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead. “Do you deserve it?” He asks darkly.

You think you could cry.

“Aaron…”

“Answer me. Do you think you deserve to cum?”

“You know I do.” You breathe petulantly, but he isn’t having it, the hand your hip slapping your ass instead. “Fuck.” You sigh. “You’re lucky we're running out of time, or I would be making you beg more, understood?”

“Yes, yes! Understood!”

“Good.”

The tight circles return and you keel over, teeth digging into your bottom.

“I wish I could hear you, my pretty girl.” He coos and you cry out as you cum. Your body trembles but he works you through it.

You’re breathing heavily by the end of it, your heavy eyes meeting his in the mirror.

“You think we're done?” He asks with dark amusement. “I haven’t cum yet.”

He maneuvers your body and turns you around, and by the pressure on your shoulders, he’s trying to push you down, and you understand what he wants. You follow his wordless instructions wordlessly, staring face to face with his dripping wet cock that’s stained with your creamy cum.

“You know what to do.” Aaron encourages, and you do.

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[sweetpascal]

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 — 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫

gif by: @richardgrimes

pairing: perv!stepdad!joel x fem!reader

summary: when you do the unthinkable, joel takes it upon himself to let out all of his anger and frustration onto you. the punishments that follow are ones that officially tear you apart and turn you into an unrecognizable girl.

warnings: MINORS DNI. DUB-CON. BIG AGE GAP [18/52], joel is VERY VERY VERY mean in this chapter, face slapping, hair pulling, hella manipulation, finger sucking, spanking as punishment [with his hand and belt], TW: isolation as punishment, TW: emotional abuse, joel spits on your face, oral [m receiving], TW: forced asphyxiation, joel has a very big dick ok, masochism, sadism, dacryphilia, kinda angsty ??

wc: 7.3k

notes: i felt kinda blah about this series cause i feel like i'm not making joel mean enough compared to how some writers write dark!joel (´•︵•`) so i got really sad and put all my emotions into this chapter as a coping mechanism and made joel REALLY fucking mean and just... a horrible and nasty man. trauma ?? i think so. ENJOY. ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )

edit: i posted this later than expected UGH. expect two updates in one day.

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By the time you awoke, the space beside you in bed was vacant. You have no recollection of drifting off in Joel's embrace. As you rise, the fluffy blanket cascades down, gathering around your hips. Joel must have draped it over you once you had succumbed to sleep. The absence of his clothes on the floor and the chill of his side of the bed leave you questioning whether he stayed the night at all, stirring a sense of unease within you. He had done something new, something that made you feel good, and he wasn't here when you woke up. Why? Why wasn't he here? Why do you feel so cold all of a sudden? Was this something normal that men do? Embarrassed by the series of events from last night, you pull on your discarded panties and shorts.

The sunrise had not yet begun. Looking out the window, the sky displayed an almost purplish tint with the sun barely cresting the horizon. It was a cloudless sky, yet the faint chirping of morning birds could be heard from their respective trees. Unsure of the time, as Joel had confiscated your phone and you lacked an alarm clock, the day's start remained ambiguous.

As you tiptoe out of your room, you notice the house is completely quiet. Joel usually wakes up before dawn, but today, a faint snore drifts from his and your mom's bedroom. Moving down the hall, you gently push the slightly open door further. In the dim blue light filtering in from outside, you can just make out Joel's form. He's sprawled on his stomach in the center of the bed, clutching his pillow while your mom's lies abandoned on the floor. Shirtless, the sheets are drawn just below the dimples of his back. The bedside clock shows 5:22 AM.

"Daddy?" you whisper faintly into the darkness, pausing for an answer. Only his soft snores, muffled by the pillow, meet your ears. Drawing nearer, you notice Joel is lying on his good ear, the other affected by partial hearing loss. The urge to rouse him is strong, yet you hesitate, knowing these moments of peaceful rest are few for him.

The rumbling of your stomach makes you whimper. Joel usually prepares meals for you when asked. Your mother, however, rarely agrees, often reminding you that you're old enough to cook for yourself. But Joel always protests, saying, "I don't want your pretty little hands to get all cut up and burned." Perhaps he wouldn't mind if you made breakfast just this once. It would be a sweet gesture to surprise him with breakfast in bed. You wonder if your mom ever did something like that for him.

"I'm going to make breakfast for us, okay, Daddy?" you whisper, a bit louder this time, your hand hovering just above his broad back. You can feel the warmth radiating onto your palm. When he doesn't respond, only emitting another snore, you quietly tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, cringing when it makes a loud noise at the last moment.

Descending the stairs, a sense of unease weighs heavily in your stomach. Alone, with dark blue hues filling patches of the vacant house and shadows stretching across the walls, you almost feel an invisible presence. You find yourself wishing Joel were awake to fend off the lurking shadows. Rushing to the kitchen, you flip on the light, blinking against the sudden brightness until your eyes adjust.

Opening the fridge revealed a lackluster array of dinner leftovers, several half-empty condiment bottles, an empty milk carton, and a bag of grapes beginning to rot. It was disappointing to find nothing inspiring to cook with. A glance at the stovetop clock showed it was 5:30. The local market would open at 6, and it was only a half-hour walk away. However, the prospect of walking that distance didn't appeal to you, dramatic as it might seem. Your eyes then fell upon Joel's truck keys and wallet in the bowl on the kitchen countertop. Surely, he wouldn't mind if you borrowed them for a quick shopping trip.

Right?

By the time you returned home, it was nearly 8 o'clock. The neighborhood had fully come to life. The groceries in the truck's backseat jostled with every gentle turn. A sinking feeling emerged at the thought of Joel's anger over you borrowing his truck without asking and taking some of his twenty-dollar bills. Yet, it stemmed from a desire to do something kind for him in gratitude for his good care during your mother's absence. An excitement bubbled within you, eager to burst.

You hadn't planned to be out this long, but losing track of time and procrastinating on your tasks is a frequent issue. Joel often chides you for this, playfully urging you to get your head out of the clouds and to come back down to earth. Your only hope is that Joel remains asleep, unaware of your absence. However, the missing money from his wallet, the extra miles on his truck, and the depleted gas are sure to give you away.

As you park the truck in the driveway, you notice the porch screen is wide open, though you remember closing it before sneaking out. Your heart sinks at the sight of Joel's daunting figure in the doorway, his gaze piercing through the windshield. It's a wonder the glass doesn't crack under the weight of his stare. Your pulse quickens, a flurry of nervous butterflies takes flight in your stomach, and your palms dampen with sweat as you clutch the steering wheel tightly.

Joel points at you and then to the ground at his feet, silently mouthing, "Now." He then vanishes back into the house, clearly pissed off. Fear grips you, making it daunting to leave the truck's safety. After six agonizing minutes, you gather enough bravery to step out, your breath hitching in your throat and almost making it difficult to breathe.

After hoisting the grocery bags into your arms and nudging the back passenger door closed with your foot, likely leaving a mark on the polished metal, you make your way to the porch with unsteady steps. The door stands slightly open, and you gently push it wider. As you spin around to close it, a hand reaches over your shoulder and slams it with such force that the house seems to shake. Startled, you yelp loudly as Joel grabs your arm firmly and pulls you into the kitchen, his long strides causing you to stumble over your feet.

"Sit your fuckin' ass down," he practically barks, pulling out a kitchen chair and slams it down. He pushes you toward the chair so forcefully that the grocery bags tumble down around you. As you land on the wooden chair, the impact from Joel's shove nearly expels all the air from your lungs.

He stands over you from your seated position, towering and nearly trembling with fury. Joel's hands are clenched into tight fists, his knuckles whitening under the strain. He scratches his jaw and paces, a low growl emanating from deep within his chest as the intensity in his eyes burns fiercer. You close your eyes, sitting motionless, bracing yourself.

"Are you out of your GODDAMN MIND?!" He bends down to scream in your face, his face contorted in a way that makes him look scary and so different from the usual angry Joel you normally see. This Joel was drowning in rage. His eyes were nearly black and the lines on his face deepened as he snarled in your face. "You fucking ANSWER ME!" One hand grabs the back of your hair and yanks your head back so fast that your nerve spasms, a shrieking cry escaping your lips. His other hand grabs your face and squeezes your jaw so tightly that pain blossoms throughout your gums.

"Stop, stop, stop, please, stop!" You're babbling in his face, thick tears sliding down your cheeks from the intense pain in your scalp, neck, and jaw. You could barely catch a breath from how hard you're crying. "Da-Daddy, p-please!" You're grabbing on both of his forearms, nails digging deep through his long shirt, no doubt leaving indentations.

Joel only grunts lowly, his breath heavy and fast. His hands squeeze tighter, and he roughly shakes your head, loving the way your face scrunches up at the pain he's causing. Then, he forcibly pushes your head away, releasing his hands from your knotted hair and your already bruising jaw. Tears streaming down your face, you draw your knees up to your chest for comfort and hesitantly reach for the back of your head, while your other hand softly caresses your jaw. Your eyes are wide, reflecting a state of shock and fear. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his frown growing more pronounced as you quiver uncontrollably.

He pulls his wallet from his back pocket and flings it towards you. It strikes your knees and tumbles to the floor, unfolding just enough to reveal its barren interior.

"You take my fuckin' truck," Joel says in a low voice, trembling with anger. He steps back, his boots thudding on the floorboards. "You take my fuckin' money." At this point, you're nearly hyperventilating, silently cursing yourself for such a foolish act and expecting him to accept it. He goes on, his tone grave, "And you sneak out without telling me, huh? What, you want more freedom than what I'm giving you here?"

The anger that Joel feels is indescribable. It's coursing through his veins like heroin, poisoning his blood and gradually taking over his body. He doesn't know what to do, or even think. All that he can do is react. How stupid of you to think this was okay. How mind-numbingly idiotic it was of him to expect you to follow his rules and obey him like a good girl. As he looks down at you like smeared shit at the bottom of his shoe, there seems to be only one option left.

Before you can react, Joel has seized your arm and pulled you up from the chair, nearly dislocating your shoulder. His footsteps are long, resounding, and forceful. Tears continue to flow as he hauls you up the stairs. You stumble on each step, crying and sobbing, while you try to keep pace with him. Your knees are banging against every edge as Joel practically drags you up the steps.

"Da-Dad-dy!" Choking on your tears, you can barely see anything. Your vision is blurry, and your hearing is muffled. Every nerve in your body is on fire. "Pl-Please, Jo-el!"

"Get up, girl! C'mon. Get your fuckin' ass up!" He grunts through labored breaths, jaw clenching tightly as he drags your body by the arm up the last step. "I've had 'nough of you."

Suddenly, he kicks your bedroom door open, your heartbreaking cries falling on deaf ears. Your body is shoved into your room with enough force to make you collapse onto the ground. You're gasping for air, your fingers slick with sweat as they frantically claw at the rug, desperate to find something to hold onto.

Joel stands motionless in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you without a trace of emotion. Thoughts flood his mind, overwhelming him like a tsunami. Make her hurt. Make her cry. Make her beg for mercy. He retrieves a key from his front pocket and observes as you pathetically curl into a ball on the floor, your shoulders shaking violently while you cry into the carpet. His hand rests on the doorknob. Before leaving, he speaks in an unexpectedly gentle tone, "Until I believe you've learned your lesson, you're going to stay here, and you're going to think about what you did."

Then, he departs and forcefully closes your door. Amidst your heavy sobs, the sound of the bedroom door lock engaging is audible. Glancing over your shoulder weakly, you notice the doorknob has been altered from before. Gone is the twist lock, replaced now by a keyed lock mechanism.

The epiphany strikes with overwhelming force. Enclosed by a door that's locked and windows sealed shut, you find yourself imprisoned with no means of escape.

Unaware of how much time has passed, you stay on the ground, curled up, emotionless. The tears have stopped, leaving behind an empty stare. The night has already set in, shrouding your room in darkness from top to bottom. Joel's footsteps are audible everywhere, hardly silent. Whenever he approaches your door, there's a halt, a moment of stillness, and then the sound of his steps resumes. Undoubtedly, he was listening with his ear against the door. Each approach brought a heaviness to your heart and a sinking sensation in your stomach.

The aroma of garlic sizzling in oil drifted from the kitchen, prompting your mouth to water and your stomach to knot with hunger. You hadn't eaten since the night before. The clatter of pots and pans, either being used or stored away, brought tears to your eyes. "Stupid, stupid girl," you chide yourself. It was foolish to attempt a kind gesture for Joel, only to have it go horribly wrong. It was a rash and impetuous move. Now, he'll never forgive you for this. This realization has you weeping once more into the spit-soaked, tear-stained rug.

Engrossed in your thoughts, you fail to notice the door has come unlocked and now stands ajar, the hallway light spilling in and illuminating your huddled form. Joel pauses in the doorway, a plate of food in hand, and tuts softly at the pathetic sight before him.

"Sit up," he commands, making his way deeper into the dimly lit room. The sound of his rough voice had your entire body tensing and your quiet cries immediately halting. When you remain still, Joel becomes irritated and prods your hip forward with his muddy boot, leaving a mark on the pristine white dress you wore especially to surprise him. "I said, get your fuckin' ass up, little girl. Don't make me tell you again."

With trembling limbs, you gradually unfold yourself, grimacing as your muscles burn. Your scalp, jaw, neck, knees, and arms feel as though they are on fire. After hours of immobility and neglecting your aching body, the pain strikes you with overwhelming force.

Joel squats before you, emitting a soft grunt as his knees pop and his lower back tightens. In silence, he extends the plate of food between you both: parmesan garlic chicken, green beans, and red roasted baby potatoes. The aroma and appearance make your eyes widen, your mouth water, and your stomach rumble.

The moment your fingertips graze the plate's underside, Joel pulls it away and sets it on the ground. Your faint smile vanishes, replaced by a frown as you meet his stern gaze. He remains silent, his stare unwavering. Looking down at the plate, it dawns on you that there's not a fork, knife, or even a spoon in sight.

"Eat," he commands, his voice a quiet murmur. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes unblinking, his facial expression shifting subtly. The softness and tenderness that were once reserved for you have vanished. He never used to look at your mom the way he looked at you. But now, his gaze is identical. It leaves you feeling sorrowful and heartbroken.

Confused and very much embarrassed at not knowing what to do, you hesitantly reach out to grab the chicken with your bare hand. Joel's hand roughly clamping around your wrist and shoving it away prevents you from doing so. There was a surge of panic that shot through you like a shotgun blast.

"No," he snaps, his eyes narrowing and his scowl deepening. It's clear he's losing patience. Joel has no time for games. "Bend down… and eat," he commands.

There's a tense, heavy moment of silence as you thoroughly think about what he's telling you to do. Warmth spreads throughout your neck and rises to your cheeks before settling on the tips of your ears. Your heart plummets to your stomach. So, like an obedient little dog, you lower your head down to the plate on the ground and begin eating.

Joel smiles at your obedience, one hand gently petting your head and tenderly massaging the tendrils of hair connected to your scalp that he viscously yanked. He softly quiets you when you flinch and unintentionally whimper. He maintains the gentle, affectionate strokes of his hand through your hair, even gathering it into a ponytail to help you eat more comfortably.

"That's a good girl," he softly praises, settling onto his knees in front of you and using his other hand to gently stroke your jaw. "See how easy it is to obey Daddy? You just needed some of Daddy's tough lovin', huh?"

Is this what it was? Some tough love? You've never encountered that before, much less experienced it. Since you were never a problem child, discipline was seldom necessary. Maybe this is exactly what you needed to be a good girl for Joel. Maybe this tough love is what will help you do better and learn from your stupid mistakes.

As you continue eating, Joel finds himself slowly loving the sight of you eating like a fucking mutt in front of him. Knowing that he can push you so far as to do something like this excites him. His hand tightens in the makeshift ponytail he has your hair in, and his eyes darken. Letting out a whimper that was muffled from your food, you make sure to not complain about it to Joel. He was already upset with you from earlier and you really don't want to push it further.

"That's enough," he declares, his hand in your hair stopping your movements while his other hand takes your plate away, leaving half of the food untouched and uneaten. His hand pops you on the cheek when he hears you protesting, a pained yelp escaping your slobbered lips. He forces your head up to be eye level with his. "Listen to me, little girl. From this moment forward, Daddy will decide what you eat, when you eat it, and how much you can eat. Have I made myself clear?" His voice's tone is so authoritative that it holds no room for argument, not that you could muster one even if you wished to.

Nevertheless, you find yourself nodding within his grasp. Choosing not to protest was wise. Should this behavior be part of your punishment or his version of tough love, you certainly wouldn't want to witness him at full strength. Merely the thought was enough to make you shudder with fear once more. Joel was an incredibly strong man, often unaware of his own strength. He could break your jaw with one squeeze--he almost fucking did it this morning.

Joel mocks your nod. "Good," he hums, offering you a pleased smile as he lovingly strokes the apple of your cheeks. "Now, come to the bathroom so Daddy can brush your teeth."

Leaving your half-finished plate behind, you follow Joel into the hallway. You trail behind him aimlessly, your steps shaky and limping. He notices but chooses not to comment. It's for the best, a silent reminder that such consequences will recur if you act carelessly again.

Joel opens the door to the main bathroom and guides you inside with care. He lifts you with ease under your arms and sets you down on the countertop. A small squeak escapes from your chest, a sound that Joel finds adorable. He flashes a subtle grin and begins to wet your toothbrush, dabbing on the toothpaste. He shuffles between your thighs and thumbs your mouth open to start brushing your teeth. His actions brought you comfort, making you feel cherished and cared for. Even though you could have done it yourself, witnessing Joel display his nurturing side was touching. You longed to see more of this aspect of him, silently promising to be well-behaved with every passing minute.

"Alright, babydoll," he says as pats your thighs lovingly and rinses off your toothbrush after instructing you to lean over the sink and spit out the minty froth. "Now, get your butt back to your room and lean over the bed, panties off."

Joel notices the confusion spark in your eyes before it manifests in the furrowing of your brows. Your lips part to question him, but the words become stuck in your throat as his eyes darken and he gives a subtle shake of his head, tutting softly to himself.

"And here I thought you were goin' to start listening to me," he lets out a dark chuckle before invading your space with his strong chest pressing against yours. The force of the action causes your back to crash against the mirror, your head striking the glass while the sink spout presses into your lower back, causing discomfort and pain.

He bares his teeth just barely as he gets in your face, nostrils flaring and eyebrows furrowing, the storm brewing wildly in his eyes. Joel laughs gruffly as your eyes widen and you put your hands up in front of your body against his chest to protect yourself from his unpredictability. Oh, how cute. You were shaking under his hold like a frightened little bunny. Joel presses you harder against the mirror, no doubt forcing the sink spout deeper into your back. He grumbles pleasantly under his breath. He was causing this terrible fear clear as day on your face. The blooming bruises on your body are caused by his hands. The finger shaped bruises looked like a work of art on your delicate skin.

"Oh, babydoll," his breath fans across your face. He gives you a mocking pout, hushing you softly when the tears spill. "You're makin' it real hard not to paint that ass black and blue, you know that?"

Your bottom lip trembles and your body quivers, eyes shutting tightly as you mentally prepare yourself for Joel's next action. Tears spill and disappear underneath your aching jaw. He wipes them away at first, but when they keep sliding down, he wipes a tear-stained thumb across your lips before pushing the appendage deeper into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue.

"D'you taste that?" He asks you so quietly that you almost missed it. He's looking at his thumb between your lips and bites down on his own. Joel gazes into your wide eyes, which stare back at him as if he were the boogeyman. In a way, he is. "That's the taste of fear, sweetheart. Don't it taste fuckin' delicious?" The laugh he lets out is depraved, deranged, and delirious. With his thumb still in your mouth, he uses the other fingers to wrap under your chin before using that grip to force your head to move up and down roughly. "That's what I thought. Now, I ain't going to ask you again, babydoll. Take your ass back to your room and take off your fuckin' panties. When I get back, you better be leaning over the edge or so fuckin' help me God."

The mere threat was sufficient to send you scuttling down the hallway, pushing past Joel in a rush to get to your room. He watches you do so with a sadistic smile on his face. To see you react in such a way has him so fucking hard in his jeans. He cups a hand over the thickness and squeezes. There was a brief warmth pooling in his groin, and he let out a husky moan before his hand falls away. In due time, he silently tells himself.

Shaking, stuttering breaths were muffled in the bedding. You did exactly as you were told. The tips of your toes just barely skimming the rug, you were leant over the edge of the bed with your panties pooled at your ankles. One of your hands had blindly reached across the bed to grab onto your stuffed animal to curl an arm around it and press it against your side. The only comforting thing you can have at this moment that can hopefully ease the unsettling anxiety that won't go away.

Uncertain of how much time has passed, it might have been five minutes, ten, or perhaps even an hour. You caught a fleeting sound of Joel entering the room to retrieve your plate, then he left, securing the door with a lock behind him.

Long stretches of silence enveloped you, allowing the sound of your own heartbeat to echo mercilessly in your ears. It was a fleeting moment of tranquility before Joel determined his next move. In this stillness, sleep nearly overtook you, the exhaustion from hours of weeping creeping up silently. Then, the door unlocks, knob slowly turning. The ominous creaking of your door opening has you tensing as you hold your breath.

The steady stomp of Joel's footsteps enters your room before the door is shut behind him. The sight of you in a position that he demanded from you was driving him fucking wild. Panties at your ankles and your cute ass on display, the hem of your dress stopping just at the middle of your cheeks. He can see your pussy nearly calling out for him to play with her. But he can't, not at this moment. He needs you to understand that your actions, done behind his back, were unacceptable. They were reckless and dangerous—just the thought of it is enough to make Joel feel like punching a wall over and over.

"Now, what am I goin' to do with you, babydoll?" The question is rhetorical. He knows what he's going to do to you, but you don't. Leaving you in the dark of where his mind runs wild, keeping you pure from his deranged, perverted thoughts was for your own good. He intends to maintain a safe distance to prevent any critical harm, beyond what has already been inflicted.

The sound of Joel's voice has your hips shifting, your pussy lips just barely parted to give him a show of your exposed clit poking out from the hood that protects the exposed nerve. As he gets closer, he can see your stuffed animal in a headlock under your arm. How cute and pathetic.

"I gotta say, honey," he starts talking, his voice humorless and no longer holding that warm tone he previously had when he walked in. "It was adorable you thought I was done with you tonight. I mean, you really thought Daddy locking you up here was all that he was goin' to do?"

Unsure if the question was rhetorical or not, you still answered in a breathy voice, "Y-Yes, Daddy."

A smile makes its way onto Joel's face. "Yes, Daddy," he mocks your high pitched, breathy voice. The act of him doing so caused an embarrassed flush to warm your cheeks and ears. To be mocked made you feel so small. But that's what you are to Joel; this tiny, little thing that is so easy to crush in his big hand.

His groin rests against your ass cheeks, both of his hands lifting your dress higher until it pools around your upper back, further exposing your naked body to his eager eyes. The rough denim of his jeans and the cold metal of his zipper pressing into your backside made you hiss under your breath. Joel's hands hold onto your hips, forcing your body further onto the bed until your toes are no longer skimming above the rug, your feet now only dangling a few inches up.

"That's more like it," he grunts quietly, biting down on the plump flesh of his body limp when he sees goosebumps erupt on your soft skin. So, so fucking soft and untainted. As one hand pins you down at your lower back, his other hand gently rubs across your left ass cheek. Barely glancing at you to make sure you're prepared for what's to come, Joel mutters, "Brace yourself, sweetheart."

Then, he thwacks his palm across your skin. The force and strength of the smack made you cry out in surprise and pain. He smacks your other cheek with the same force. He does it again and again, back and forth, back and forth. Your legs kick behind you as fiery warmth blossoms along your backside. Your arm squeezes tighter around your stuffed bunny as you blindly reach a hand behind you to cover your bottom. Joel was quick to grab your wrist to pin it at your lower back.

He doesn't fucking stop spanking you. Not even when his own handprint is starting to show on your skin. He grunts with every thwack of his hand across your sensitive flesh. The cries that are forced out of you were music to his ears. Your backside feels like it's on fire underneath his wide palm; he doesn't know when to stop or ease up. The frustration and irritation from earlier were slowly making their way into Joel's mind.

"Bad." Smack. "Bad." Smack. "Fuckin'." Smack. "Girl."

Joel grunts like an animal as the smacks happen in quick succession. You're wailing into the covers, feet kicking weakly as you try so desperately to wiggle away from him. He won't stop. The pain is indescribable. It burns so badly, throbbing non-stop and feeling like a million needles are being stabbed into your skin. Your throat hurts from your pain-filled wails that are muffled into your bedding.

He's panting heavily and sweating. Wiping a forearm across his forehead, Joel removes his hands from your body, tilting one hand to the side to observe your marked ass. His handprints are on your skin, clear as day. He can feel the blazing heat radiating from your backside. But again, he's not done with you yet. And he tells you just that.

"Quit your fuckin' whinin'," he orders, both hands lowering to his thick leather belt to undo it from the hoops of his jeans. "We're not done until I say we're done." He folds the leather and snaps it together, the resounding sound causing you to cry harder in the sheets.

You learned your lesson. You know that you've been a bad girl. You know this. But the words fail to emerge, your voice and mouth unable to coordinate effectively enough to communicate with Joel. A tumult of emotions rages through your violently trembling body: fear, confusion, intense pain, and fatigue.

Folded, thick leather smacking against tender, angry skin is what forces a scream to erupt from your throat. With your bunny discarded, both hands desperately grab at your bedsheets to pull you away from Joel and his offending belt. You can faintly hear him sucking his teeth before one of his hands roughly yanks you back down by the back collar of your dress.

"Cry as much as you want to, babydoll!" he shouts through your pained wails. Then, the belt strikes across your ass repeatedly. Joel was barely giving you time to breathe through your tears and dribbling snot and drool that slides down your chin. "Kick all you want! Daddy ain't stopping!"

He lowers the position of the belt so that he can strike the back of your thighs as well. You're sure that after tonight, you won't be able to sit or speak for a very long time, for your vocal cords are nearly shattered from how hard and loud you were screaming, and Joel's hands and belt are bruising your backside. You're wishing that this torture will end. You're wishing that Joel will stop and hold you while you cry in his arms like a blubbering baby. Stop. Stop. Stop.

"Stop!" You screamed and screamed, both hands desperately reaching back to cover your backside. Everything burns. Everything feels like it's on fire. The pain only intensified when Joel tossed his belt aside and resorted to the palm of his hand again. "Please, please, stop, p-please!" Your speech now slurred and unrecognizable from thick tears, your hands claw at Joel's wrist, his hand wrapped around both of your own wrists to pin at your lower back again.

Only then does Joel snap out of it.

He's breathing so heavy that an innocent bystander would think that he was having a panic attack. Joel looks down at his creation and finally pulls his hand off of your wrists. Your arms go limp at your sides; you don't even bother trying to cover yourself. He looks at your backside, his thumb gently wiping away some blood that dotted around broken skin that was caused by his belt. He hums thoughtfully, bringing his thumb to his lips and licking your blood from the tip. In a day or two, your ass was going to be badly bruised and marked, all thanks to him.

"Such a sweet girl," he whispers, leaning down to press his nose behind your ear and inhaling deeply. Your body violently shakes underneath his chest. His groin is crushed against your horribly bruised ass, the pressure of it making you cry weakly, all the energy suddenly drained from you once he stopped abusing your ass.

Glancing down at his hard cock, now thick and pressing uncomfortably into his thigh, Joel decided now would be a good time for you to make him feel good. Though he knows you're not up for it, he doesn't fucking care. A darkness lurks within his mind, akin to an alter ego that commandeers his body, a monster in its purest form. This other facet of him is sadistic, vicious, and relentless. With you, it's so easy to fall into this second body. It's addicting. He can't stop, even if he knows this is wrong.

With a hoarse grunt, Joel grabs the back of your arms and yanks you off the bed to drop you down onto your knees. With a hand under your chin to keep your face pointed up to him, his other hand unbuttons his jeans and pulls them down, along with his underwear. He pushes both offending fabrics mid-thigh, sighing with satiated relief when his cock slaps up, nearly poking you in the eye.

You could hardly pay attention. Your eyes were unfocused and hazy, swollen lips parted to inhale and exhale shakily. You were so deep in another world that Joel had to roughly shake your head to bring you back down the earth. Unsure of why you feel so dizzy, you tried focusing on the pain in your backside that was still throbbing relentlessly, the burning fire now sizzling into a numb sensation.

"Tongue out," Joel demands roughly as he holds your hair into a makeshift ponytail with one hand as the other holds the base of his cock to tap his leaking tip against your lips.

Hearing his order, you look up at him with tear-filled eyes and do as you're told. You don't even know what exactly you're doing, but all you can hear in your mind is be a good girl and listen to him. Your eyes almost cross as you get a better look of his cock, and they widen comically. God, Joel was really long and thick. You wondered if all men were this size. It was intimidating to look at. You don't know if even less than half could fit in your mouth, let alone inside of you. Joel observes the revelation in your eyes and drops his left into a wink.

"Careful with your teeth, baby," his voice was gruff and strained, his mushroomed tip throbbing against your lips as his heavy balls tighten from the warmth pooling intensely in his groin. "Yeah, just like that."

His praise was something that you desperately needed tonight. Forgetting about the unrelenting abuse you endured on your backside, you can make it up to him by showing you that yes, you really are a good girl, and you will listen to him and do what you're told.

When you take too long to give Joel what he wants, he decides to take charge in one way that he knows how. Both hands grab either side of your head, forcing it to stay still as he shoves half of his cock into your mouth. Your eyes widened and you sputtered sloppily around his dick, your hands frantically fisting his jeans at his thighs. He grunts and groans, sweat pooling behind his neck and sliding down the line of his back.

"Goddamn," he hissed under his breath, moving his hips forward and back to start fucking your mouth with a brutal pace that has his balls slapping against your wet chin. "Born natural, ain't ya?"

Coughing and choking around his cock, you gagged and dry heaved as his thickness fills your mouth repeatedly. Spit dribbles down your chin and slides down your chest as you bite back the bile pooling in the back of your throat. Joel's breathing stutters for a split second at the sight below him. Your lips were obscenely stretched around his girth, eyes wide and glassy with thick tears just waiting to spill over. The sloppy, wet noises coming from your mouth nearly made him bust right in your mouth.

"Let me try somethin'," Joel mumbles to himself before roughly grabbing the back of your head and forcing your head all the way down until your nose and lips were crushed against his dark public hair. The contractions of your throat squeezing around his cock has him moaning gruffly at the ceiling, his head thrown back, Adam's apple bobbing in time with each moan that comes out.

Taking advantage of Joel's lax state, your nails dig into the thick meat of his thighs to push yourself off of him. His cock slips from your lips, strings of spit connecting from the enlarged tip to your puffy lips. You're coughing and dry heaving, your throat burning terribly. Joel looks down and grins wolfishly.

His hand languidly strokes his soaking cock. The sight of you struggling from his size was an image he wanted to engrave in his mind so he can watch it over and over again. He liked seeing you struggle. Hell, he fucking craves to see it again. Without giving you any time to prepare, he grabs the back of your head to force you down onto his cock once more.

The sopping wet choking sounds that are emitting from your throat are driving him insane. He wonders what would happen if he just...

Both hands roughly grab your head to yank you down until his cock goes down your throat again. This time, he keeps you there for a few, long, grueling seconds. You're sputtering wildly, eyes wide with terror as tears spill over your waterline. Your fists are weakly punching at his thighs, and you try to pull your head back, but Joel only crushes your head harder into his pelvis until your nose is pressed so deep into his pubic hair.

Joel grunts like a wild beast. "Just like that. Fuckin' choke on it." He sees your lashes flutter weakly, your eyes half-lidded and rolling into the back of your head. The lack of oxygen to your brain has your heart slowing dramatically. This is your death. Yeah, this is definitely how you're going to die: choking on Joel Miller's dick, also your mom's husband.

Suddenly, your head is pulled off and you're gasping for air like it's the last thing on earth. Your head is spinning and you're doubling over until your forehead is almost touching Joel's boots. Your throat burns and you can barely feel your tongue. This wasn't supposed to be happening. This is all your fault. You deserve this punishment. Bad girl. Bad, bad, bad girl. Slowly rocking yourself back and forth, you sniffle softly and take a weak glance up at him. A shadow almost casts over your face from where you kneeled, his long cock perfectly aligned below the ceiling light.

Joel bends down to lift you higher on your knees. His big hands gently hold your cheeks, and your eyes shut as this is the first tender touch you've felt in hours. You savor this moment, sniffling again and licking your bottom lip. Joel smiles sweetly, lowering his head to kiss your forehead, nose, and then your lips. A sweet little whimper reverberates against his lips. When he pulls away, he quietly instructs you to open your eyes, babydoll.

When you do, you're met with sweet, nice, tender Joel again. Have you really made it to the end of your punishment? Are you his good girl again? Is this really it? The moment doesn't last long. The smile on Joel's face vanishes gradually slowly. There's a sick feeling that returns back inside your stomach. This is going to be never-ending. This is your well-deserved punishment. Pain, pain, pain.

When Joel purses his lips, you flinch when a wad of spit lands on across the bridge of your nose and slides down your cheeks prettily. Your eyes open and your mouth drops. This was the most demeaning thing for him to do. Spitting on your face is a clear indication that you're nothing more than a personal toy for Joel to use. This whole entire night was of him showing you what you mean to him. The thought added a crack to your heart. All you ever wanted was to be good.

Joel's fingers filthily rub his spit all over your face, a crude smile on his face as he does so. His middle and index fingers are shoved into your mouth, the pads of his fingertips covered in his slick and are now laying against your wiggly tongue. "There we go," he breathes out, gently prodding his fingers further down your throat until they brush against your uvula, causing you to gag and sputter.

You barely have enough time to react before he's yanking his fingers from your mouth and landing a smack to your cheek. It almost sends you flying to the side if it weren't for his hand holding onto the other side of your face. Joel hushes you quietly when your eyes shut tightly, fire spreading across your face.

"This is for your own good, babydoll," he whispers against your forehead, pulling away to pop your cheek again, and then landing another smack to your other cheek. He shushes your pained cries again, giving you a messy, tongue-filled kiss. You can't stop crying against his mouth, snot, spit, and tears all over your face. The anguish won't diminish. It gets stronger and stronger the more Joel breaks you apart little by little.

His hands curl into your hair, tightening into fists and yanking your head back a few inches from his face. His eyes darken as he sees the fear in your beautifully broken eyes. He spits on your face once more, trailing his eyes over the artistic splatter across your nose and cheeks. His cock, still rock hard and soaking wet, hangs out of his jeans.

Joel is a patient man. In due time, you and he will finally become one. Whether you liked it or not, you were his--his to use, his to play with, his to destroy. You don't have a voice anymore. Joel Miller broke you apart with his bare hands and left you scrabbling to pick up the pieces.

taglist:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @heyhihello-4771 @blueberrypancakesworld @codenamekitten @natalieispunk @koshkaj-blog @giowritess @beardropascal @pascaltesfaye @callmeafra @nexy00 @josephquinnswhore @baronessvonglitter @peelieblue @paanchusblog @b3bybunny @sugadolly @ktluvsmen @elliesr1fle @taeslarityy @yourgirljasmin444 @laloestoyvivo @aquanatalie @vickie5446 @cowboybootjoel @olicity-boo @ashleyfilm @withakindheartx @puduvallee @psychoenergy @chuutzuyu

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 1/?

God I'm a sucker for a soulmate au. (AO3) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 2383

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

Other info: About this au - Soulmates find each other through touch, which establishes a mental link that lets feelings through, and if solid and built up enough over time, simple thoughts/words can also come through. Some bonds are purely platonic, about ⅓ in total. Multiple soulmates are not unheard of, but rare, more common with platonic soulmates. 

Quickly about the reader - mercenary/gunman/thug for hire. Great shot with pretty much any gun, has two knives as backup weapons, has fought with swords before. Looks wise he has hair and is shorter than Wade and Logan, but I try to keep no specific height in mind while writing. Has a few scars scattered over his body, but nothing specific as of yet. Wears gloves almost everyday. Does not want a soulmate, thinks it just leaves people vulnerable. Lives on his own in an apartment he owns and is content with his life.

All you were, really, was hired help.

All you were supposed to do was stand around and look scary, dressed in all black down to your gloves (an item you forgot even though you wore them almost everyday), with a few other tugs in a warehouse with high shelves stacked with crates, while your employer (a generous word for the drug dealer that hired you) met with another drug dealer.

It had gone tits up the second a man wearing a red and black spandex suit and katanas on his back of all things came crashing through a window.

You had dived for cover, because there are gunshots ringing out in the milliseconds after the glass shatters. You curse, reaching for your gun, with just one single 10 bullet magazine, because your stupid employer had insisted you only needed one when you asked for more. So to have something more you had your adamantium knives strapped to each thigh, hidden enough under your black joggers.

You curse under your breath, cause this is fucking awful. You hear gunshots over and over again, people are dying, wood from shipping crates are splintering, metal is hitting the floor. 

And there’s talking. 

Fucking talking.

“Come one guys, your aim is all off! Did none of you ever train on the neighborhood cats?”

Well, more like yelling. Because even though the warehouse wasn’t empty, it still had an echo. You are used to the loud sounds, it fuels your adrenaline as you peek out from behind the crate you are using as a shield.

The man, you are just going to call him Red for now, is flipping and bouncing between crates, avoiding any big hits. A few bullets graze an arm, but he doesn’t seem to take notice as his own bullets find their marks, bodies dropping around him. He’s nimble and quick about it, taking down guys from both sides with equal gusto, and you find yourself just watching him carefully. He’s almost elegant, light on his feet, and a jab or taunt spewing out of his mouth every few bullets. 

Careful not to alert Red or anyone else about your position, you shift, gun in hand watching him saunter over to your employer, the last man standing. Well, not really, since he’s down on his knees, begging for something incoherent while fat tears and snot roll down his face. 

“Newsflash asshole, I don’t care for your tragic backstory that the writer won’t let you talk about.” Red raises his gun, one last loud bang filling the warehouse before it’s quiet once again.

“Last fucking one, my amazing math skills once again making me winnerrrrr.” Red claps his hands together, before moving his hands to his hips, looking around the warehouse. “What a fucking mess.” He shakes his head, and you see your opportunity now that he thinks it’s all over.

You move up, pulling the trigger as soon as your gun is aimed right. Red doesn’t even get to turn before six bullets go through his chest, two through his throat, and the last two finding their mark in his skull. You shouldn’t use all your bullets on one target like that, but still, you do, too full of adrenaline to be fully rational. Red drops like a sack of potatoes, and you draw a sigh of relief, lowering your gun as you too look around the warehouse. You’re glad it’s far away from anything else, because it should take at least a few hours before the cops are alerted, and by that time you would be far away from this warehouse that is by now covered in blood, bullet casings, and dead men.

Your earlier relief turns into utter confusion as you hear shuffling, and when you turn back towards where Red’s body is, you see him shake his head where he lays crumpled on the floor, and seconds later he’s on his feet with a groan.

“Okay, good shot whoever that was.” You gape, words slipping out of your mouth without meaning to.

“What the fuck.” Red’s head snaps towards you.

“Oh, there you are.” His voice is light, almost like he’s halfway into song. “I would return the favor, but I’m fresh out of bullets so this will have to do.” He pulls out the katanas strapped to his back. You grab your knives, managing, somehow by the grace of whatever runs this universe, to bring it out just in time to block both katanas that were coming at you in tight formation.

“Oh so you weren’t just happy to see me.” Red jokes, and though you can’t see his face under the mask, you are pretty sure he is grinning. You grunt, because there is no way for your brain to form words as you parry another attack from him, retreating.

You are in no position to attack, , so all you do is stop his attacks and try to escape, backing off. Or rather, you try to, but Red is not letting up, so all you end up doing is walking backwards through the warehouse in a vague path between boxes and shelves as he attacks. 

He manages to get a few slashes here and there to connect, but they are shallow, just enough to draw blood and sting. One on your left arm, two on your right arm, three on your left leg. You wonder if amounts are on purpose. He seems to take it all as encouragement, laughing, keeping up his quick attacks. 

You don’t know you hold out, breathing heavy, arms and hands hurting with how you are clutching and shielding with your knives like your life depends on it. 

Because it 1000% fucking does, that’s why you manage.

Red finally lets up, just enough that you can create some space between the two of you. You don’t dare to actually turn and run, certain he has no moral code of cutting down someone from behind. So you just try to slowly create even more room between the two of you as you watch for his next attack.

“Oh I am having fun!” Red tries to clap, but he just knocks the hilts of his katanas together. “Though we are just a little unevenly matched here.” He sounds like he’s breathing just a little bit harder at least, even though there are no cuts next to the bullet holes riddling his suit. He tilts his head for a moment, then bends down, and then there’s a katana sliding over the floor, bumping into your boot. You look down at it, before looking back up at him.

“Come on, pick it up.” Shifting your knives into one hand, you keep your eyes on the white eyes of his mask as you bend down and pick up the sword. 

“Oh yeah, look at me during.” You ignore his comment, feeling the weight of the katana in your hand. It’s heavy, but perfectly balanced, feeling perfect as you spin it in your hand a few times, the hilt still warm from Red’s earlier hold. 

“Hot.” Red says as he twirls his second katana, mimicking you. Once more ignoring him, you put your knives back in their sheats. “Do you have them there to distract your enemies by making them think you are going to jerk off mid-battle?” You snort.

“No, they are there so they are more hidden, and more difficult to grab.”

“If you wanted my hands in your pants all you had to do was ask, baby.” You think Red is winking at you through the mask. You roll your eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Shut the fuck up.” With both of your hands on the hilt of the katana, you are ready to defend yourself from his first attack.

“Ohhh, you remind me of someone. I think the two of you would get along, he’s also a man of few words. Maybe I’ll let you live so you can meet him and fight him too, more material for my spank bank.” He definitely winks this time, then you are defending yourself from another attack from him. It pushes you backwards, again, but this time, you are able to attack back.

Though you can’t help but wonder if he’s letting you, just indulging you. Because you can feel how strong he is when you parry his strikes, you felt how strong he was when all you had was your knives.

It’s a dance, a dance he lets you participate in as you block, attack, block, attack, block. Redirecting his sword coming for your throat so it splinters wood instead of flesh.

“How did you learn to fight like this?” Wade asks, almost spinning as his energy is redirected away from your body. He is at least breathing a little heavier, and for some reason, you find yourself having a little fun, even though you think you know how this is going to end.

“I was a loser in high school. What about you?” You speak through gritted teeth, the sound of metal on metal filling the warehouse as you block another attack. You don’t even know why you ask him back, but it feels right.

“Something similar.” It’s still kinda hard to tell, but you think he grins under his mask as you attack back.

You do get a few cuts in, deep enough that it slices through his suit and the skin underneath, but it leaves you with little satisfaction as you see the cuts heal in seconds. Though at least his suit can’t fix itself, growing more tattered by the minute as new slashes and old bullet holes make a mess of it.

“So you are not just a pretty face, there’s some skills there.” You frown, anger flaring, and you are about to say something, but with a quick move that you have no opportunity to block, and that  truly demonstrates the difference between the two of you, he nicks you with just the tip of the katana, just on the left corner of your mouth. You startle, but on instinct your tongue goes out to lick at the blood now sliding down to your skin. It just gives you more motivation to strike back, a big one that leaves behind what could almost be called a titty window on his chest, showing textured skin underneath.

“Ohhhh, freaky.” Red taunts, slicing your chest too, though your skin doesn’t heal when metal connects after slicing through your shirt like it was made of nothing. You curse, adrenaline causing your ears to roar, and the world to go a little fuzzy at the edges. You touch your chest, fingers coming back bloody, watching Red. Your own katana pointing towards the floor, ready, but down as you breathe heavily.

“Leaving yourself all open for me? You shouldn’t have.” Red coos, and that is what you are counting on. Letting him attack you straight on, thinking you have given up, so you can shove the katana through his skull, killing him again, and leaving you at least a few moments to high tail it out of there.

It’s what the plan is.

It does not work out like you intend it to.

It goes in a whole new direction.

Because when he comes close enough, you manage to get a hold on his shoulder, which gets you a hopefully not deadly slice over your abdomen for your efforts. You are moving quickly, seconds away from stabbing the katana through the bottom of his jaw. But then your for once gloveless fingers touch a bare spot on his shoulder where his suit had gotten torn, and there’s a sparkler going off in your brain, a sizzling sensation that settles in the back of your head as feelings of excitement, adrenaline, and happiness that are not your own speeds through your mind.

You gasp out loud.

You can’t help yourself.

Because you know what that was.

And there is no fucking way.

WHAT. THE. ABSOLUTE. 

FUCK.

Fucking no.

A soulmate.

You have a fucking soulmate??????

And this is how you fucking meet him????

In all of your turmoil, you have dropped the katana that was destined to go through Red’s skull. He is a few paces behind you, not immediately attacking, just watching you as you turn around in your now mostly frozen state.

“Wh-”

“Touch me.” Red blinks, owlishly even with the white eyes of his mask.

“Wow, so forward. You know, con-” 

“Shut the fuck up.” You march over to him, and in what seems to be confusion he lets you tug the glove of his hand that is not holding his katana. You interlace your fingers, the motion absurdly tender for the moment that is currently playing out. You see his eyes widen behind the mask, and you are sure his mouth opens and closes several times even hidden as it is.

“What the fuck.” The words are so soft out his mouth that you are not even sure he said them. Not that it matters, because a second later he is wrenching his hand back like you burned him. He runs past you, and you watch as he picks up his katana where you dropped it, and then keeps running after that brief slowdown, heading towards a door you hadn’t noticed while you were fighting. You startle yourself into action finally, following him, but he’s out the door before you can reach him.

On the other side there’s a hallway, and his back is quickly retreating, and all you feel is panic. You are not sure which of you it is coming from.

You try to keep up with him through multiple hallways, but he’s fast, getting out of the building before you do. It’s enough of a headstart that you only see backlights and hear the roar of a motorcycle speeding away.

You run over to where the cars you all arrived in earlier are parked, but of fucking course all tires are slashed. Not like you had any of the keys anyway, but they would have been easy enough to find in some dead man's pockets.

“Fucking MOTHERFUCKER!” You know he can’t hear you, but you hope Red feels your frustration through your bond as you punch the hood of a car, denting the metal.

(Part 2)

[yoongelectric]

Make the time - CA

pairing: carlos alcaraz x fem!reader

genre: fluff, smut, established relationship

warnings: pet names, p in v, rough sex, oral (both receiving), fingering, edging, doggy style, choking

notes: english isn’t my first language. everything written in cursive is supposed to be spanish, as a spanish speaker i find it cringy when writers put random words in other languages so i couldn’t bring myself to do it sorry 🙏🏻🙏🏻

summary: after weeks of not seeing each other you decided to surprise your boyfriend on his vacation

You had already lost count of how many days it had been since you had last seen Carlos, your work and the tennis season had made it impossible for you to coincide and although your boyfriend had asked you over and over again to go on vacation with him now that the season had ended, you felt a pain in your chest every time you had to say no, your responsibilities were not something you could abandon whenever you wanted, not that it wasn't a tempting idea, your insufferable boss, all the extra hours you worked without being paid enough and the horrible work environment got you closer and closer to quitting.

It was on a cold Monday in January when you woke up to a message from your boyfriend saying good morning and a photo of him lying under the sun on a yacht, his hair just at that length you loves, a pleasure that you could have very few days a year before your boyfriend's barber ruined his brown locks, his skin tanned by the Brazilian sun and the light reflecting on his toned muscles made you start the day with a burning sensation between your legs.

The deep void you felt in your chest from missing your boyfriend so much and this morning when your boss seemed especially irritable formed a tragic mix making you explode and finally quit, you knew you would regret your impulsive decision but at least now you hated your life a little less.

Proud of yourself for the decision you made, you called your boyfriend to tell him, but it went straight to voicemail, you started to think about what could he be doing, swimming maybe? taking a nap? having lunch with his friends? then you had an idea, you would find out for yourself.

Excited by the thought of ​​surprising him, you texted Alvaro asking him to help you out, you bought the first plane ticket to where your boyfriend was, you packed your suitcase full of flowy dresses and tiny bikinis and you headed to the airport.

On his part, Carlos was checking phone all the time. You hadn't answered his calls all day. He knew that it was already nighttime in Spain and he was starting to worry. His friends' attempts to distract him with music and alcohol only managed to piss him off more and just when he was about to call you once again, his brother's voice took him out of his thoughts.

"Carlos, put that phone down, man, look, I brought you a girl to distract you a little" Alvaro's joking tone went unnoticed by Carlos, who was about to tell him to fuck off, but that’s when he saw you

He got up in a hurry and ran to hug you, with so much emotion that he lifted your feet off the ground.

"I can't believe you're here, love, I almost beat the shit out of Alvaro. Did you got days off? How long are you staying?" Your boyfriend began to ask non-stop, in disbelief that he finally had you there with him. He grabbed your face and looked at you for a few seconds. "You're really here, I'm not imagining it." He smiled, hugging you again and making you laugh full of joy

He realized he had been holding you for too long when his friends told him to let you go so they could greet you too.

The night went by peacefully, y’all had dinner, a couple of drinks and lost track of time talking about everything and nothing at the same time, you’d always liked your boyfriend's friends so you only noticed what time it was when you saw that your boyfriend's eyes began to close on your lap while you caressed his hair.

"Carlos, are you sleepy? We can go to bed if you want" your boyfriend nodded his head and you could notice the subtle giggles of those who were still there, to whom Carlos gave a threatening look.

You got up and took your boyfriend's hand who led you to his room, it was small but cozy, with a nice navy vibe to get you into the vacation atmosphere, you felt Carlos's arms wrap around your waist from behind and his lips giving you a kiss on the cheek.

"I missed you so much, dear, thank you for coming."

"I think today's events prove that I was going to go crazy if I went one more day without seeing you" you grabbed his hands and leaned against him enjoying his touch, the relaxation your boyfriend provided made you yawn.

"Let's go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll have the whole day just for us" your boyfriend said smiling at you as he lay down and extended his arms for you to throw yourself on him.

You don't know how long it had been since you fell asleep but your restless boyfriend woke you up. The room felt hot and his breathing was heavy, you moved your hips slightly and felt his hardened member poke your ass.

"Baby, haven't you fallen asleep yet?" You rubbed your eyes trying to get the sleep away.

"sorry, y/n, I didn't want to wake you up, you can go back to sleep" he hugged you again and you heard him grunt as his pelvis touched your hips, your tiredness was dissipating more and more and the only thing you felt was a growing desire for the man next to you.

"Carlos, just say the word and I'll help you that, love" you laughed softly.

"No, beautiful, you're tired, I don't want to bother you, we have plenty of time for that, it's just that having you here in my arms after so long…I just can't help it." He took a deep breath and the air made the hairs on your neck shiver. "I'll go fix it myself."

"You're not going anywhere." You stopped him with your hand on his chest and straddled him. "I'm awake now."

Your boyfriend smiled under you and pulled you by the neck towards him to kiss you hard and passionately, you moaned into his mouth and rocked your hips on him, gently grabbing his hair, you felt his erection in your pussy getting harder and your boyfriend's hands holding your hips and moving you back and forth on his dick.

Carlos moved his hands under your shirt, grabbing your breasts and circling his fingers on your nipples, making the wet patch on your underwear grow by the second.

“carlos, please- just” a moan escaped your mouth as your back arched into his hand.

"shh, love, you have to be quiet, tell me what you want me to do to you" your boyfriend whispered in your ear, going down to kiss your neck, sucking and biting leaving purple marks on your delicate skin.

"You're not doing anything, I want to make you feel good" you said, trailing kisses from his neck to his stomach, your boyfriend's habit of sleeping only in his boxers giving you easy access to his skin, you sucked and licked his toned abs while your hand played with the waistline of his boxers.

"shit, I missed you so much, I'm dying to have your big cock in my mouth" you continued teasing him, kissing his member over his underwear, you felt how your boyfriend pushed his hips against your mouth indicating that he couldn't stand it anymore

"then do it, stop playing with me, princess"

You freed his dick from the confinement of his boxers and watched hypnotized as it hit his stomach, hard as a rock and the tip angry red, the vein that ran along one side swollen from the amount of blood that passed through it and a drop of precum coming out, your mouth watering, licked along his shaft while your hand expertly played with his balls, you looked up meeting your boyfriend's look of pleasure, Carlos looked so handsome like that, lips pursed and his brow furrowed looking at you with lust.

You could only think about making him feel good, so you grabbed his cock with one hand and wrapped your lips around his tip, your tongue drawing circles on it, your boyfriend held your hair into a ponytail but he didn’t push your head yet, he just needed to grab something and see your face clearly.

You pumped your head a few times, your tongue pressing against his length, working to open your throat so you could take more and more of him, until your nose was pressing against his pelvis.

After being there for a few seconds, you let go of his dick, a string of drool connecting your mouth and his member, your thumb gently caressing his slit as you spoke.

"I want you to fuck my mouth, baby, use me however you want, Carlos"

“shit, y/n, you’re going to be the death of me.”

A moan of pleasure escaped from your mouth when your boyfriend pushed your head down his cock, at first he took it slow, feeling how your tongue worked skillfully on him, but when he finally lost control he began to fuck your face without mercy, the only thing you could hear were both of your moans and your gagging, squeezing your throat over his cock.

your boyfriend's face of pleasure turned blurry by the tears that accumulated in your eyes and fell down your face, but you wouldn't have wanted it any other way, you missed so much when your boyfriend used you just the way he liked, being quiet because of the people sleeping in the next rooms had been long forgotten.

your boyfriend pulled your hair to get you off his cock

"shit, love, I need to fuck you, I want to cum in that pussy of yours"

You wiped the drool around your mouth and the tears that ran down your cheeks with the back of your hand and lay down with your back on the pillows.

"damn, so wet just for me, I love you so much, sweetheart"

Your boyfriend ran two of his fingers through your folds, applying pressure to your clit as he leaned down to suck on your nipples, your back arching and your hips thrusting into his hand seeking more friction.

"Carlos, please, more, make me cum, please, I need it" you couldn't think straight, the only thing that came out of your mouth were pleas.

"as you wish, beautiful" without warning the hand on your clit was replaced by his tongue, his hands gripping your hips tightly and pressing you against him.

Shocked by how sensitive you were, you tried to close your legs over his head, but his strong arms stopped you.

Carlos's tongue worked quickly over your clit, sending you over the edge in seconds. You gripped the sheets tightly, and your head leaned further onto the pillows, and just as you felt your climax about to hit you, your boyfriend pulled away from you.

The cry of frustration you left made Carlos laugh.

"not yet, y/n" his hands moved to caress your thighs while he left kisses on your stomach "not so quick, let me enjoy you a little longer"

"we can stay up all night, carlos, but please I need it now" you felt like crying

"oh you can count on us being up all night"

You felt him ease two fingers into your hole in a single movement, curving them inside you and pumping them while pressing down on your stomach, overstimulating you with pleasure, he stretched out his thumb to draw random figures on your clit.

"Come on, make a mess on my fingers, beautiful"

His words like a trigger making you finish on his fingers with a moan of his name, his movements slowed down and went softer waiting for you to come down from your high.

"Fuck me now, I want you inside, love"

"God, woman, you are insatiable" your boyfriend laughed, flipping you so that you were on all fours.

You looked over your shoulder, smiling at him, “and you love me for that.”

Your boyfriend slapped your ass, watching it jiggle hypnotized, leaning in to kiss and bite your cheeks.

"Fucking hell, I'll never get enough of you"

"Carlos, please"

You felt him spread your buttocks with one hand and ran his dick through your folds to collect your juices. eased his cock inside you in one movement and you heard him grunt as he pulled your hair. He stood still waiting for you to adjust to his size

"Move, baby, i want it hard please" the desperate look you gave him making him lose all control.

Your boyfriend began to slam his hips onto you, slow but hard, making you feel every inch, the grip on your hip and the slaps on your ass surely leaving marks that you would have to cover tomorrow.

Your moans and his grunts were the only thing that filled the room as the two of you seeked your orgasms.

"Carlos, I'm so close"

At your words, Carlos pulled you towards his chest by your neck, choking you just right and drawing circles on your bundle of nerves.

"Then come for me, I want to feel you finish on my cock, princess"

the way you grabbed his thigh and your walls clenched on his member made him cum at the same time as you, filling you with his seed.

"God, thank you, I love you, you are the love of my life" you heard your boyfriend whisper in your ear as he squeezed your breasts and slowed down his thrusts.

Your boyfriend pulled away, and after quickly cleaning you up, and lying down he hugged you from behind.

"I missed you so much, you don't know how happy I am that you're here" Carlos said as he gave you kisses on your shoulder.

too tired to answer you just smiled at him and held his hand, falling asleep in seconds.

[you-little-arsonist]

sooooo, i haven't read everyone's takes yet but. my expectations for a buddie hint in the finale were higher than i realized and i'm not Great At Emotions so i had to kind of sit with my disappointment for a while bc i felt upset, and i felt kind of stupid for being upset. but after i turned it off, logged the fuck out for a few hours, got some sleep, and talked it out a little with a pal, i feel a lot better and things seem clearer

everyone's feelings are valid, feel however you feel about it, i am not here to be all toxic positivity. to anyone. i was really disappointed. after the ryliver press tour, the kitchen scene, and all the callbacks that made me think they were going to drop a buddie hint, it sucked when they didn't. am i way too invested in the gay firefighters on the gay firefighter show? probably i guess

but. i don't think it's as bad as it felt last night. like, we didn't get an explicit reference to buddie, but we didn't get nothing, either. we have actually gotten quite a few significant things in the episodes leading up to the finale. lots of feelings!! buck thinking about his feelings for eddie, eddie letting him know he needed him when bobby died, those things are not nothing. they're small steps toward a big thing. it's going to take a lot of small steps to get there

just some thoughts

eddie and chris are back in LA, and eddie back in LA means buck has to physically look him in the eye after now having been asked about his feelings for him. that's going to have to be addressed

sure buck is looking for apartments but why is he doing so in the most pitiful, meow meow way. his bestie is home, you'd think he'd be thrilled, but no he looked sad in a way that wasn't tied to bobby. personally i feel that there's something there that's going to have to be addressed

not to keep going about GA this GA that but as a friend pointed out, for the queers the slow burn might have started in season 2, but for those GA viewers, the slow burn hasn't even started yet. the seed was only just planted by tommy and maddie. we're going to have to show the general audience the YEARNING, it's about the PINING. do you see the vision

as for the queerbaiting allegations, those feelings are valid and i stand by that, but personally - for me - i don't feel truly queerbaited by a show that has so much queer rep and partly run by queer ppl (i know it can happen, i saw teen wolf happen but i don't think that's what's happening here) and for myself i feel like maybe it's okay to lean on that a little and trust it. maybe i will get hurt again, but i do have more trust in this show than i did for say, a prior unnamed show where the writers were actively homophobic

basically tldr i don't think it was queerbaiting, i still think they're doing buddie slowburn, they're just doing it slow. and you want slow, even if it feels unbearable now, so they do it right. there wasn't time in this episode to do anything justice, and i see that now that i've put down the ryliver cocaine and slept it off a little

which, final point - if you are doing a queer slowburn, turning the ryliver chemistry hose on full blast on a press tour before the finale is shitty but actually a smart strategy to keep the ratings up and the queers occupied going into hiatus without giving the GA whiplash, no matter how it makes me feel personally. yeah it's an underhanded, show business-y dick move to do it before the finale but i don't think that automatically makes it queerbait or means they won't do buddie. just my unpopular opinion i guess

[intoanotherworld23]

Not Free To Go

Summary: Sheriff Tyler Owens catches you breaking into his home, and he takes you back to the station to teach you a little lesson

Warnings: explicit content, mature themes, dominant Tyler, sheriff Tyler, submissive reader, fingering, spanking, overstimulation, use of authority, mention of crime, attempted burglary, implied sex

A/N: comments and reblogs are totally appreciated to show support for your writers! If you wish to be added to my Glen Powell tag list let me know so I can be sure to add you! Thanks everyone so much! XOXO

Hall of hunks

Tag list for everything: @iam-laiya @rosie-posie08 @madzleigh01 @alwaysclassyeagle @mytbel0st @shanimallina87 @marvelstarker-mha98 @powellssugarbaby @lora21 @kmc1989

Tag list for Glen Powell: @djs8891

"So you like breaking into peoples home huh?" The sheriff asked sternly as he bent you over the cold steel table. “Well you picked the wrong fucking house to break into.”

"I'm sorry." You whimpered pathetically as his foot pushed your legs further apart. In fact too far apart you could feel a slight burning in your muscles on your inner thighs.

"Oh now you're sorry." He chuckled devilishly at your poor excuse of an apology. You broke into the sheriffs home, and all you had to say or could say was just a plain and simple sorry. "I think you're just sorry you got caught.”

You weren't meant to get caught at all. It was just a dare that went too far, and you're the only one he was able to grab. Your stupid friends dared you to break into the Sheriff Tyler Owens house, and try to find something nice and expensive. Only thing is you didn't expect him to be at home waiting.

Then he had no time in driving you back to the station throwing you in a cell. There was something about the way he handled you, and looked at you that was dark. There was something much more than anger behind his eyes. You couldn't quite tell what it was though.

"Please I'm sorry I wasn't going to steal anything." Hoping that would make things better, but the sheriff just ignored you knowing that you were just lying.

"Were you by yourself or with friends?" Hands patting your legs squirming in his hold.

"Isn't a female supposed to check me?" You asked turning your neck to get a better look at him.

"Shut the fuck up." He raised his voice at you. "You lost that privilege when you decided to break into my home."

"You can't treat me like this." Speaking out again.

"Better watch that mouth sweetheart or it's gonna get you in big trouble." There was something in his tone as he said those words that had your thighs pressing together. It was the kind of trouble a woman like you was looking for.

"Or you'll do what?" You were really pushing him this time.

Tyler was fuming at this point, and all he had on his mind was teaching you a lesson. The way you talked back to him like a spoiled child. You were just asking for a punishment. There was only one way that he knew for sure would work.

"Now answer me." Feeling his hands now patting close to your area. "Who else was with you?"

"Nobody." You lied quickly not wanting to rat on your friends like that.

"I don't believe you." Tyler responded as he swatted at your inner thigh making you jump. The smack echoing around the room.

Most people would be terrified being in this position, but right now you were incredibly turned on by how dominant he was becoming. You couldn't help but feel you weren't the only one feeling this way.

"I'm telling the truth, sheriff there wasn't anybody else." Pleading with him to believe you. He still wasn't buying it.

"I'm gonna ask you one more time." His voice quieted as his thick hand pressed against your clothed core. "Was there anybody else?"

"What are you gonna do?" Whispering loud enough for him to hear fear and lust evident in your voice.

"Whatever I want with you." His hand smacking down where it laid your legs folding together.

The air had left your lungs, and it felt as if someone turned up the heat in this room several degrees. The only sound that could be heard was your heavy breathing. It felt like the room was closing in on you two, and there was no way to escape.

Quickly opening your legs back open for him. Feeling his hand back on you as he kept it there for a few seconds. He could feel how warm you were between your legs, and he was loving it. He was glad that you were feeling the same mood that he was.

“I bet you are just completely soaked down there.” He was stating more matter of factly than a question. It was the truth though if you were wearing any pants you would be dripping down your legs. “Bet you’ve got a creamy little cunt too.”

You could tell him you don't want this, and scream for help in hopes someone would come running in and stop all this. Instead you chose not to, and wanted more. You were hungry for his touch, and lust was all you could think about.

Tyler rubbing his hand up and down the pants you had on the fabric pressing into your clit. A tiny whimper slipping past your lips. Biting down on bottom lip hoping he didn't hear that. The air around you was becoming thicker making it harder for you to breathe.

"That feels good doesn't it sweetheart?" Tyler grinned knowing exactly what he was doing to you. Putting more pressure on your core just wishing he could feel how drenched you were for him. He wanted nothing more than to reach his hand down your pants, and collect your juices on his fingers.

"Just tell me what I want and I'll let you cum." Tyler whispered seductively in your ear pressing his now fully clothed erect cock into your backside.

Pushing unknowingly back against him to feel more as he kept rubbing his hand up and down more aggressively this time. Tyler saw what you were doing and chuckled to himself. He let you keep it up for a little bit before pulling away from you making you cry out.

"Ah ah ah." Pulling his hand away this time too not letting you get exactly what you wanted right away. "Not until you tell me what I need."

He already knew the truth that you didn't work alone, but he was the one in charge right now, and he needed to hear you say it. Right now he needed you to submit so he could also get what he wanted.

"Okay fine there was others." Blurting out finally telling him the truth just so desperate to feel anything at this point.

"Good girl." Patting your ass with praise making your cheeks heat up. "See that wasn't so hard now was it."

Before you could even respond the same hand that was rubbing on you was now sliding your pants off down to your ankles. Pushing past your panties feeling exactly how turned on he was making you. Tyler almost growled at how drenched you were so quickly.

"Fuck you are wet for me aren't you?" You could only respond with a moan unable to even speak as he touched you like a piece of artwork.

Able to easily slip his fingers inside of you pushing all the way to his knuckles. Your mouth hanging open as he pulled out and then pushed back in. Immediately starting a rhythm that had your body rocking against the table.

“Such a tight little cunt for a little thief.” Hissing more to himself than you as he watched your walls suck his fingers inside of you.

Pressing his whole body into you so that you were squeezed between the table and his body. Wanting nothing more than to rip yours and his pants off, and fuck you until tomorrow. He had patience though, and knew it would be worth it to hold out a little more.

"Is this what you wanted?" His tone condescending, and you felt ashamed for wanting this so easily.

"Yes yes yes." You babbled out already feeling the pressure building between your legs.

Tyler wanted a different response as his free hand smacked your ass harder this time. This time you could really feel the sting from the impact. He wanted you to know he was the one in charge, and the one with all the power right now.

"You wanna say that again sweetheart?"

"Yes sheriff." Responding back to him hoping that's what he wanted.

"That's a good girl for me." He praised again his fingers going faster this time as his palm smacked against your pelvis.

The suction noises echoing in both of your ears hearing exactly how drenched you were. Feeling your ears and cheeks burning a sudden embarrassment washing over you. Tyler was loving it though more than he ever thought he would.

Maneuvering his thumb so he could rub your clit pushing you over the edge. Crying out as his hand grabbed your mouth to keep you quiet. Hushing in your ear, but never once stopping or slowing down his movements.

"Can't have anyone know what I'm doing to you in here." Whispering in your ear as he nibbled on it. "Can you imagine what they would say if they caught you fucking the sheriff?"

That's the last thing you wanted for everyone in this town to hear about this. To know how easily you folded for him, and you broke into his house. Your reputation would be completely tarnished, and nobody would look at you the same.

Tyler knew he had the upper hand here. He knew you wouldn't say anything to anybody, cause they would probably take his word over yours. In fact Tyler might even keep you around longer to do this again.

"Dirty little thief spreading her legs to keep from going to jail." He kept going as if it was a shared secret between you two. "You'll do anything to keep from going to jail won't you?”

It came out more like a statement than a question because he already knew the answer to that one. He could tell you were the type of girl who would do anything to avoid jail time.

"Please." Begging him feeling so close to release already.

"Please what?" He teased again knowing what he wanted. Not wanting to let you get off so easily without having to work for it first.

"Please sheriff I wanna cum so badly." That was all he needed to hear for motivation. His hand gripping onto your hips as his fingers literally drove themselves into you pushing and pulling your body. Clenching around his fingers as your hands gripped the edge of the table.

Tyler’s fingers stayed still inside of you as they curved inside motioning in a come here action. Gasping loudly as you turned your head to bite into your arm at the motion. Tyler having you right where he wanted you.

Your entire body was on fire right now. Your legs were already trembling, and you didn't know how much longer you'd be able to last. Thank god for him holding you otherwise you'd have collapsed to the floor.

Tyler’s inner beast was banging against the cage wanting to be let out. All he wanted to do was devour you right against this table. He wanted you completely at his mercy, and to hear you beg for his cock.

Watching as your body wriggled under his hold, and how you couldn't control what your arms and legs were doing. It was like something was possessing you, and Tyler was the reason. Who would have ever thought getting caught breaking into the sheriffs office would leave to an amazing orgasm.

"Fuck yeah I want you to cum for me." Growling into your ear. "Want to feel that cunt cum around my fingers."

That was all you needed to hear as your entire body tightened. Legs shaking as your orgasm came over you violently. Mouth hanging wide open as whimpers and moans left your lips.

Tyler keeping you in place though against his body his cock really pressing into you. Imagining the whole time it was him inside of you instead of his fingers.

Your entire body felt defeated and weak. Not being able to lift your head or even move your arms. All that was just from him fingering you. Not sure if you were gonna be able to handle his cock now.

"Fuck I could tell you needed that." Tyler joked as he soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your back.

If you weren't in such a state of bliss you would have felt so ashamed for what you just did. Not being the type of girl who would spread her legs for just anybody. Let alone the sheriff of this town.

"Am I free to go now?" Asking timidly wondering if he would let you go.

"Oh no baby girl," hands gripping onto your hips harshly, "I'm not nearly done with you yet."

"But I told you what you wanted to know." Cranking your neck to look at his reddened face, and blown out eyes staring down at you.

"You still need to tell me your friend's names." That made your eyes go wide. "For that you get to cum around my cock."

[esmedelacroix]

04 - Party 4 U

synopsis ! he’s an American football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night. She’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life. They lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room.

previous chapter | series masterlist

cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol abuse,

fic radio ! party 4 u by Charli xcx

You sat in front of your vanity, some random music was blaring from a speaker, and Suguru and Shoko were pre-gaming and getting you ready for the first party they successfully dragged you to.

You stared at yourself, wondering if this was all a good idea. You suddenly felt large, cold hands on your exposed shoulders. "You look cute," Suguru complimented, smiling at you through the mirror.

"Thanks," you replied, looking up at him. "Your breath stinks."

He chuckled and grabbed a mint from your desk that you kept solely for him and Shoko. Somehow, Suguru convinced you to take two shots before all three of you walked to the Kappa Phi Epsilon house. Most of the football players were in the same frat. This one always threw the craziest parties. They only ever ended if the cops stopped it. "Who the fuck are you," Aoi Todo spat. "Name three brothers," he demanded as he sized you up.

"Enough, Todo, they're with me," Gojo said in a warning tone.

Gojo led you through the crowd, introducing you to the football guys. Some of them already knew you. You had a couple of classes with Choso Kamo, and his younger brother, Yuji, was well known because of how good he was at football as a rookie.

"Where's Ryomen?" you tried to ask in the most casual way possible. Gojo pretended not to catch on.

"Oh, Ryo doesn't really come to these functions. Just stays in his room. Or he just flat out leaves the house after seeing who's here," he explained.

"I can let him know you're here," Satoru offered.

"Let who know she's here?" Sukuna asked, appearing behind them.

"No one," Satoru lied, "Yuji, get down from there!" he exclaimed before running off.

"Hey," you greeted, unable to stop the stupid smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

"You came," he stated.

"How dirty," you quipped. He chuckled showing teeth.

"I don't usually see you at these parties," he pointed out as he poured two Vodka Lemonades. He could barely make out what he was pouring with the electronic lighting and the disorganized sea of alcoholic drinks, mixers, and chasers on the kitchen island.

"They're not really my scene. But you won your big game today, so I thought I'd pop out," you admitted.

"You usually don't come to those either," he said, handing you a dubious drink in a red Solo cup.

"Are you trying to roofie me?" you questioned before bringing the cup to your lips. He rolled his eyes and downed his drink. To your surprise it tased okay.

Just when he was about to joke back, you were pulled towards the livingroomdance floor by Shoko. "I'm gonna steal her away for a second!" she called out to Sukuna.

His piercing gaze followed your movements on the dance floor. You went from feigning annoyance to dancing in a matter of seconds. You and Shoko were in your own worlds. Not even aware of the subtle attention you were attracting. You were wearing dark-wash jeans and a black lacy “going-out top.” So basically the same thing every other girl was wearing. But for some reason it looked different on you and you were all Sukuna could focus on.

How could he be annoyed by Todo making advances on you? You painted your lips the perfect flushed shade. They were begging to be kissed as always.

Your hair looked amazing. How could Todo not feel inclined to offer you another drink? It's what Sukuna would've done. Just for the chance to spark another conversation with you. To see you looking up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours. He eyes tracked Todo’s lips slightly brushing your ear as he whispered something in your ear handing you a beer. He noticed the way you squirmed and giggle as the hot air touched your ear.

Sukuna couldn't blame Todo for spinning you around and dancing with you. For shamelessly checking you out the way he often did. You were perfection personified. Rich, beautiful, respectable, with a killer personality.

If he could peel back your skin and feast on the fruits of your insides until it made him somewhat on the same level as you, he would, without a second thought.

He felt like the universe was being cruel to him. The only reason why he stayed for the party was because you were here. But there you were, swaying your hips to the beat of a song with another guy. As much as he hated to admit it, you made Ryomen nervous.

"You gonna keep bein' a creep or are you gonna ask her to dance with you instead?" Toji grinned, handing Ryo a beer.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, staying quiet. He finished off his chilled beer and turned back to the dance floor, where you were nowhere to be found.

His eyes scanned the room, but he couldn't find you. He pushed past a group of drunk freshman he had to kick out and couples shoving their tongues down each other's throats. So much time had passed looking for you when he finally made his way down to the basement you were nearly shit-faced and knee deep in a game of truth or drink.

Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru spotted Sukuna descending the stairs and smirked. "Smash or pass, Ryo," he purred. There was a flurry of smashes, passes, and shots being taken amongst the group.

"Smash," Gojo slurred, half-joking.

"C'mon, are you gonna drink?" Shoko whined as the whole group turned to hear your answer.

"Sma-" you started before vomiting all the contents of your stomach on the ground. The group winced and got up. Sukuna appeared from the shadows of the stairs, helping you up.

"Some friends you are, letting her drink past her limit," he muttered under his breath before putting a big hand around your waist and helping you up the stairs.

"Where are you taking me?" you hiccupped as he helped you up more steps to the rooms. He didn't answer.

Your eyes were barely opened, but you could tell you were entering a bedroom. It was dimly lit, and you were placed on a bed. You lay down on it and got comfortable.

You could hear Sukuna opening drawers in the background. "Is this how you usually get women in your room? Look for the drunkest ones?" you asked in a small voice.

"No?" he answered in disbelief.

"How many women have you had on this bed?" you asked.

"Just one."

"Who?"

"You."

You shot up in surprise. "Don't get up to quic-" he started before pausing as you vomitted all over yourself and his sheets.

"I'm sorry," you whimpered.

"Come here," he sighed as he took your wrist in his hand, guiding you to his bathroom by the small of your back. Thankfully, it was connected to his room, so he didn't have to worry about the couple he could hear having a fight right outside of his door.

He brought you to kneel before the toilet. Sukuna held your hair back as you 'let it rip' as he said. He then wet a towel with warm water and handed it to you. You brought it to your mouth as he briefly left the bathroom, trudging back in with a colossal T-shirt and PJ pants.

He left the room to change his soiled sheets as you wiped yourself clean. Despite having to fold the pants over eighty times and tighten the drawstring, his clothes fit you so nicely. They were large, but comfortable.

Sukuna could barely look at you in his clothes without getting flushed. He left the room to clean your mess that sat in the basement, which had been completely evacuated soon afterward.

"Hey, where's my friend?" Shoko asked, tapping his shoulder as he threw out dirty paper towels.

"She's recovering in my room," he answered.

"Alright, Suguru and I are going to head out," she answered, patting his shoulder.

"Nonfunny business," Suguru almost warned, grasping Sukuna's shoulder as he walked past him and led Shoko out of the party. Sure, he wasn't nearly as buff as Sukuna, but he was slightly taller than him. With his personality adding about three more inches, he was pretty intimidating in that moment.

When Sukuna walked back up to his room with a bottle of water and medicine in hand, you were spread out on the bed with the sheets and comforter in disarray. You had also somehow kicked the PJ pants off in your sleep(you were a sleep stripper, you couldn't help it). He placed the things on the nightstand and grabbed a pillow before leaving the room.

Somehow, there were still people downstairs, but Sukuna simply ignored them. He opened Gojo's door to find him surprisingly not doing anything weird, but his usual activity, playing "Hello Kitty Island Adventure."

"Yo," Satoru called out, eyes glued on the Sanrio characters dancing around his screen.

Sukuna stayed silent and stood at the doorway with his pillow in hand(Looking too cute). Gojo's head turned, but his eyes stayed on the screen for a moment. After peeling his eyes off his screen, he saw the big, hulking Sukuna standing in the doorway with a pillow in hand.

"Ryo, is someone hooking up in your room again?" he asked in disgust.

"Nah, _____ is sleeping in there," he answered.

"Oh, well, I have someone coming over, so you can't sleep in here," he lied.

"Bruh, it's two in the morning," Sukuna deadpanned, before leaving.

He walked back into his room. Somehow, you completely changed positions, and you were now on one side of the bed. I'm going to have to make this work, he thought to himself, seeing that your bra was now on the ground. You lay in just your panties and his shirt now. He tried not to look at your soft, exposed bits of skin, tucking you in and taking the side of the bed you weren't occupying.

His weight made the mattress depress a bit as he settled next to you, sleeping in his boxers. This would be odd to explain to you in the morning.

. . .

-> next part

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[uneducatedraccoon]

You called

Summary: Ais told you he'd always be there if you needed him.

No use of y/n, gender neutral, trigger warning of violence but nothing too extreme imo. Probably a misuse of how the Seaspring works with Ais and the hivemind.

Authors note: uh I'm not a writer, just usually a enjoyer of fanfic but I had this idea in my head like a little brain worm and I had to get it out. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated because I need validation :').

Your POV

Ais had once told you 'If you ever need me just shout. I mean it, I'll come find you wherever you are.'

At the time you had just laughed it off, rolled your eyes and told him you'd be sure to remember that for future reference, or something equally as dismissive. It wasn't until you found yourself in a dark alleyway with some guy twice your size, who apparently didn't appreciate your 'shitty attitude' as much as Ais that you even thought about the conversation. Furthermore, it wasn't until you had been thrown on the ground, and your left knee curb stomped that you thought to test it out.

"Ais!" You screamed as pain radiates up your body in sharp waves, "Ais I need your help!" Your voice escapes in a hoarse scream as you fight the urge to throw up from the feeling.

The asshole had the audacity to laugh at your desperate cries and gave you another kick to the ribs knocking the air out of your lungs. You saw stars as you fell to the side, your body trying desperately to find air that wasn't there.

Ais' POV

He had eyes everywhere thanks to the Seaspring, it connected him to everyone who had ever drank from it in a sort of hivemind. Something most wouldn't know was that there was near constant input from everyone else who drank from the Seaspring too, sights, sounds, smells, it was always there, a constant live feed. For the most part Ais had learned how to tune it out, making it background noise in his head so he wouldn't go insane. But something caught his attention, a familiar voice yelling out his name. It caused it him to stop immediately and focus in on the sound, identifying where it had come from.

A woman had heard the cry and from her eyes Ais could see his familiar companion laying on the ground crying in pain. He watched through her eyes as they yelled his name again and begged for his help, the woman watching turned and ran. Rage boiled up inside him alongside fear, he watched as she ran until he saw enough to know where they were. Without a second thought he severed the connection and took off.

Your POV

You were going to die, you were sure of it. At least one of your ribs had to be broken based off how hard it was to breathe and pain was burning through you, making it feel like your nerves were on fire. It was hard to tell where you weren't injured, a warm trickle of blood working its way past your lips. The man responsible for this situation sneered down at you, letting out a low chuckle.

"Still think your friend is coming to help you?" He asks, his voice thick with disdain and unbridled arrogance.

"Fuck you," you sneer back not willing to give him the satisfaction of breaking you.

"You little-" he didn't get to finish the sentence as one moment he was above you, the next there was just the dark sky.

Well...that's unexpected... you think to yourself. Maybe this was your body shutting down? Trying to protect you by imagining the night sky as you die instead of your would be killer. But that can't be right, everything still hurts and you're pretty sure death doesn't look like...wait Ais?

There's suddenly a new face above yours, this one is the familiar face of your favorite demon.

"Ais?" You croak your eyes widening with disbelief, he came. He actually came.

He scoops you up gingerly into his big arms, a cry escaping past your lips as a wave of pain so intense it causes black spots to swim in your vision before it slowly subsides.

"I'm so sorry," Ais says softly, "I should've been here sooner, I came as fast as I could. We're going to get you to Kuras and he'll have you good as new, Sparrow." He promises his voice soft as he gently maneuvers your body so your left knee is supported but not straining on his arm.

As he walks so carefully it's almost like he's floating, you can't help but bury your head into his chest, the familiar scent of smoke and blood oddly comforting.

"How?" It's all you can manage to ask as the adrenaline slowly loosens its grip on you like your body realizes you're now safe.

"You called," is his only response, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he looks down at you with a mixture of concern and helplessness.

Each blink feels longer than the last, at first you're staring at the swirling ink on Ais' chest, next time your eyes open you're in front of the clinic, the third Kuras is looking down at you with a reassuring expression. The next time you open your eyes you're in the Seaspring, still tucked against Ais' chest as he whispers reassuring words into your hair, eyes drifting shut once more as you fall asleep.