#my shoulder hurts from how I had to sit and my eye is itching and I had to skip breakfast for it

[tarantula-hawk-wasp]

Unironically i love managing things and being in charge like yes let me be in control rather than someone else

[hoshigray]

Hey 🫶🏻 Can I request having sex with Sukuna when he is extremely jealous? Like reader is kinda popular and other guys always tryna flirt with her and shit (she is not interested ofc) So when Sukuna saw another man shooting his shot he needs to blow off steam by fucking you dumb 🤕 and he saying shit like “what a good little cocksucker, maybe I should record you and send this video to all those bastards, so they would know who’s dick you’re gagging on” 😭 I’m so sorry if this is too specific, feel free to ignore 😭

Love your works 🥰

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ofc ofccc !! and ty for loving my stuff~

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Sukuna x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern setting; you and Sukuna are college seniors - rough sex - fingering (f! receiving) - impact play (spanking + pussy slaps) - oral (m! receiving) - dumbification - choking - backshots + legs-up positions - degradation (cocksucker, dumb bitch, slut, whore) - overstimulation - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - pet names (dove, little girl, princess, woman) - possessive behavior (it's sukuna, duh) - use of a phone; sexual photography and videography - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of tears and spit.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.5k

“—Khaahh, oohhh!! Sukuna, pleasee, it hurts—Ahhhnn...!”

“Who said you’re in any position to tell me how to handle you, woman?… Fucking shit, you’re tight as hell…”

Everyone knows that you are off-limits. Knowledge of this fact is the bare minimum when dealing with the one known as “Sukuna’s girl” — no one should dare lay a finger or bat an eye on his woman. And yet, somehow, Sukuna continues to find strays that think this rule doesn’t apply to all. 

He saw it not too long ago today when a guy came your direction at the hall, concealing himself in the shadows to eavesdrop. The junior was dumb enough to invite you to some get-together, foolish enough to think he should even be speaking to the partner of the cold and intimidating Ryōmen Sukuna. 

You were the most popular girl in the class year — expected as Sukuna wouldn’t deal with someone who wasn’t [barely] on equal footing as him. However, unlike him, you carried a much kinder cadence. You greet others with sweet words, converse with professors in a mutual light, and engage with everyone with a compassionate and tranquil soul. — the complete opposite compared to your boyfriend. So, of course, it would be hard for you to turn away people when they come to you for guidance or opinions. 

In this case, you had expressed to the junior that you weren’t interested and had plans to study at your boyfriend’s apartment later. It wasn’t a complete lie, yet a respectful diversion that was expected of you and pleased Sukuna observing.

However, the dull-witted brat put his hand on your shoulder and continued to press on, emphasizing that you’d miss out on people wanting to have a good time with you. A ballsy thing to remark as if saying your boyfriend holds no priority over some boring party. Besides, the man had to stop the itch of coming out of the shadows to strangle the kid for laying his hands on you.

Nonetheless, you gracefully pushed his hand aside and apologized again for declining his offer before heading on your way. The situation was disentangled, both parties carrying on with their days. But that wasn’t enough to calm the salmon-haired man. 

Especially when you were in his apartment, protected under his gaze the entire time; you were sitting across from him at the coffee table while sorting through your coursework, unaware of the fixed look of his red eyes on your frame. Because all he could do was look at you, replaying the interaction from earlier today. 

It all angered him deeply — how the junior said your name so casually, the laughs you shared with him, and the touch on your shoulder. Everything from that moment added fuel to the fire scorching in his gut. He couldn’t relax, knowing there were still imbeciles who had the gall to act so familiar with you, his princess. 

The twitch of his brow couldn’t cease, same with the bounce of his knee – his nerves having an inner battle of maintaining a low profile. And being the caring piece in this relationship, you noticed. You blinked up to where he sat, “Is everything okay?” 

Of course not, woman. As much as he wants to put all the blame on the guy, Sukuna felt that you also played a part in this charade. To him, you were just as worse as that fucker. How could you, his precious dove, allow such trash to be so close to you? Allowing that thing to touch you was such an insult to him, downright disrespectful to the man you call your boyfriend. And the fact that you didn’t think of telling him — believing that you could keep this as a small matter insignificant to his awareness — left a sour taste in his mouth.

In his philosophy, Sukuna knew you were in the wrong as well. And for that, you would also have to be dealt with by him, to be reminded of your place in all this.

“Ohoooo! Ooof!! ‘kunaaaa, your fingersss…! Too fast, please slow—Daaahhh!!”

He’d smack your wet cunt, forcing you to grip his satin sheets. You’d instantly try to close your legs, but Sukuna wasn’t having any of that, quick to pinch the skin of your inner thigh to correct you. 

“Dumb bitch,” he throws insults, void of caring that you were on the brink of tears. He brings a hand to your throat, resulting in you gagging from your circulation being cut off. “I told you to keep those legs open. First, you let some fucker touch you, and now you can’t obey me when necessary? Do you enjoy disrespecting me like this?”

“Ahck! I–hic–I’m sorryyy,” he could feel you clench on his fingers, gripping them as if you refused to let them go.

It humored Sukuna, who effortlessly removed his digits to give your slit another harsh slap that made you gasp for air. An action proved difficult with his whole right hand constricting your airways. “Are you? How can you be sorry when you’re latching onto my fingers like a slut?” His hold on your neck goes tighter; your hands claw at his forearm, a desperate plea that doesn’t sway him. “Say it like you mean it, Y/n.”

“Khh..Ahh—Please, forgive me, Sukuna…!” Your apology came through wheezes, tears now welling up to fall on your pretty face, yet you knew it wasn’t enough. “I should have…Never let that junior tou—Mmmph! …Touch me… I’m your princess, only yours.”

A pink brow is lifted, but his expression remains unchanged. With one last slap to your leaking chasm, Sukuna lets go of your throat for you to cough and gasp as much air as you can. While you do that, he removes his turtleneck and unbuttons his dark jeans, bringing his briefs down to spring his erection out before lying back onto the pillows against the bed headboard. “Prove it then,” his voice has you turn to listen. “Suck me off the way I like it.” 

You are in no position to resent him, crawling towards him on all fours and immediately going to work. Your tongue greets his reddish-pink glans with swirls, licking his frenulum and nibbling on the skin before taking the head to your mouth. You lather his cock with your spit as you bob your head, hallowing your cheeks to take in every inch while your hand glides up and down his shaft. 

“Nnmph, fuck,” Sukuna groans at the feeling of your feverish sucks of his cockhead, your hand stroking him while you tend to him with your mouth feels too good. He peers down to watch you suck hard on his tip, and you return his gaze with a hooded look while sucking on his balls, causing him to hum. You then bring the tip back into your lips, making raunchy noises as you take his girth and lick his precum. 

“Heh, what a nasty little girl,” he comments after you exude a trail of spit onto his dick before hurriedly slurping him back inside your warm mouth. “I outta take a picture of you…No, a video is better.” He’s pleased to see your watery eyes twinkle with dread when he pulls out his phone from his jean pocket. He slides to open the camera application, “Maybe I should show that fool how such a good cocksucker you are for me.”

“S–Sukuna, please, anything but—Mmmm!” Again, no one said you were in a position to speak out of turn. Hence why, your boyfriend grabs your cheeks roughly with a single hand. Crimson eyes pierce through your fragile skin, and your figure fills with fright within milliseconds. 

“What did I say about giving me orders?” His tone is enough to send shivers down your spine, his nails denting your cheeks. “Does my woman want me to expose them for the filthy whore they are? Cause I couldn’t care less if I one day start leaking these shits and have your reputation crumble in seconds as a lesson.”

A tiny bit of you wants to believe he wasn’t serious; however, the single tear shed from your unblinking eyes tells a different conscience. You reply with a shaky breath and a quivering lip. “No, Sukuna...Please forgive me.”

He releases your chin with a push of the thumb. “Then get back to it, dove.” The sweetness of that pet name wasn’t present as he smacked your cheek with his length. You listen to him, taking him back into your throat with a euphoric mewl while cupping and kneading his balls. He sneers and presses the record button, “Just like that, princess.”

And don’t think that it ends there — because it doesn’t. 

“Ahhhnn! Oooooh, my God, ‘Kuna..’kunaaaa, I can’t—Ahahnn!”

“—Nngh, that’s right, Y/n; scream for me…Fuck, this tight ass pussy…”

Sukuna now has your face down ass up, pinning you to the satin mattress by the shoulders and hammering his bare cock right into your messy cunt. Your cries are muffled by the sheets you bite into, tears streaming down hot cheeks as your boyfriend plows himself deep side your core. The commotion coming between your sexes fills his bedroom outside of the squeals that bounce against the walls.

Your figure jolts with every thrust, Sukuna’s pelvis smacking on your ass that stings with hot skin after taking onslaughts of slaps from his hands. Your clitoris, exhausted from the constant tweaks and pinches, rests with the cool air treating the sore button. Sweat is covered all over your nude body, evidence that you and your boyfriend have been going about this for a long while, and of course, you’re getting a bit fatigued and overly sensitive to his every touch. But you know he doesn’t care; this is all for your punishment.

Sukuna throws your butt another smack, having your vaginal walls instinctively contract around his girth. He hisses with a grin, “Damn, I love seein’ you like this.” His eyes trail down from your sweaty shoulders, following your spine and hips, down to your ass, where he sees the insertion of his dick being swallowed by you. Seeing the white, soapy ring shielded around his cock makes him bite his lip. “All sore and dirty for me…Mmmph, gripping on me like a slut, going dumb on my cock.”

His hips then propel erratically, having your howl with eyes shooting up. You were too far gone to think of proper thought, with your brain churned into mush and your head pounding nonstop. The heat on your face is just as unbearable as the throbbing sensation down south. Your trembling legs try so hard not to give in and slump, yet you can’t lie; you’re tired, sore, and sticky all over. 

“Nmaahh! OhhhJesussss, ‘kuna, pleaseeee, lemme cummm—Mmaahh!” Another smash to your ass, followed by a pinch to your clitoris to juxtapose with the slow strokes he uses to massage the delicate spots of your walls.

“Why do you think I should let you cum, woman?” He swipes on your clit, listening intently to the whines that climb higher with the brush of his finger. 

Your words come out in slurs, yet you must answer to him. “I’m shorryy, I didn’t mean to—oh, fuck…do you wrong. Yer the only man who can touch me, wound me,” You peer over your shoulder to see Sukuna, an action that has him release your clit and hear what you have to say. “And love me…just as I love you, and only you. No one else can have me like you…Hahhh, I’m yours, both in mind and body…” Salmon brows furrow as you continue. “I love only you and want only you to touch me, ‘Kuna..Please forgive me, I won’t do it again…”

He was already sold once you turned to look at him, you little minx. Your watery eyes suddenly struck his heart — you are the only thing in the world that could do that, his little dove. He can tell by your heaves and pants that you wish to rest, that you had enough of his lesson and want to be in his embrace. 

However, no unpleasant deed shouldn’t go unpunished. Within a second, Sukuna has you flipped on your back with your legs brought up to his left shoulder. He brings out his phone once again, swiping to put on the camera after inserting his length back inside you.  “Hey, princess,” he calls to you. “Why don’t you say hello to the camera for me? Want something to look back to.”

You gulp with a dry throat, sheepishly smiling at the camera phone. “Hello, I’m Y/n—Ooohh!!” He surprises you with more ruts to your chasm, clamping onto him as if your life depended on it. 

“Who do you belong to, Y/n?” He calls out to you with a steady breath, as if his pelvis wasn’t poisoning deep to grind your insides to evoke pretty moans to escape puffy lips. 

“Hahaaa!! I—Hnnph..I belong to Sukuna Ryō–hic…men…”

“Who does this pussy belong to, Y/n?” Ruts become harsher with every word.

“—Mmoohhh, fuuuhuck, it’s yours, only yoursss,” you voluntarily take up your legs and hold them from behind your knees, bringing them to your chest. “Me and this pussy belong to only Sukuna, no one else can touch me…!”

Sukuna pans the phone down to the union of his dick, moving to and fro from your slit. The white essence painting both sexes was making an erotic mess, strings of his come covering his girth with every push and pull. He chuckles to himself. “This right here is all mine, ya hear?” He looks at you to see you nod your head hurriedly. “Don’t you ever forget that, understand?” You nod again, clenching around him when he drops the phone and leans towards you to place his hands on yours.

It’s here that he finally finishes with you, pounding his hips into you as hard as he can. Your voice gets higher and higher, your headache getting intense with the ruts on your cunt. And with how he stretches and grazes your walls? Jesus, it was terrible to control yourself, your orgasm increasing by the second. “I wanna cumm, ‘kunaaa, let me cum on you, pleaseee….!!”

“Heh, desperate to tighten some more for me, huh.” He adds more weight onto you, forcing you to submit to him. You shudder under his bow, “You may now cum, dove.” 

As if on command, you let yourself loose and allow the climax to finally be free, wailing during yet another crescendo as your vagina flutters around him for the fourth time that night. And Sukuna relishes the feeling of you tightening on him, doing excruciating slow strokes to enjoy the moment. 

“Hmmm, that’s it, just like that…Remember this, princess,” He bends down to lick the tears on your cheeks before kissing them. “Know your place.” He then brings the phone back up to close this session.

“Now smile for me.”

requests/thirsts are open hehe~ 🧸

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are wholeheartedly appreciated ☆ header edit done by me, dividers by @/benkeibear.

[writtenbymoonflower]

how about

and hear me out

room mate! marauders who are obsessed with their shy roomate

oh trust me, hunny, i am hearing you. hope this is okay! shy gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: nothing really, just fluff, reader is very flustered

1.1k words

Your eyes were blurry as you shuffled into the sunny kitchen. You weren’t used to waking up to the curtains open and breakfast on the stove. You’d lived with people before of course, but none as lively as this bunch. You weren’t complaining, though, you were quickly warming to them, even though you had probably spoken a total of 50 words to your new housemates in the three weeks you had lived with them. Most of these words likely consisting of sorry, excuse me, thank you. 

They had been talking though. Ever since the day you met they had been treating you like their best friend. Not even that. They were all best friends. (Though you considered that wasn’t all, on more than one occasion you had caught Sirius with his head in James’ lap, or Remus’ legs swung over one of the other boys. You had also observed a fair number of kisses between the three boys). But rather, they treated you like something precious, like a porcelain doll they were begging to get a hold of.

That thought made you immediately think of the nickname Sirius (or ‘Pads’ as the boys occasionally called him) had stuck you with. 

“Hey, dollface! You sleep well?” The coal-haired boy looked like he was itching to beckon you under his arm, but resisted. You were thankful, not knowing if you could survive that.

“It was good.” You hummed, barely legible to James over the sound of his bacon sizzling. You padded over to the breakfast table, sitting one chair away from Sirius and his huge bowl of cereal. No sooner had you sat down when a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you by a spindly hand. 

“Here you go, dovey.” Remus sat in the chair between you and Sirius. 

“Oi, Moons. You’re blocking my view.” You turned in your chair to look behind you at the ‘view’ he was referring to, brows scrunching in confusion when all you saw was the archway. You heard a light chuckle from Remus and a snicker from Sirius as you whipped back around. The possible meaning dawned on you, making you his your heated face in your mug.

“Don’t torture the poor thing.” James scolded, giving a (what you were sure he believed was comforting) squeeze to your shoulder before he sat on your other side.

“I never tortured anyone.” Remus corrected from behind his morning paper, slowly eating a cup of berry-yogurt. “Collective punishment is a war crime, Prongs” 

“Leavin’ me to the wolves huh, Moons?” Sirius sassed, sipping on his coffee that was mostly just cream and sugar. 

“Oh trust me, I’m sure we all know how much you’d love to be left to the wolf.” James smirked, clearly in on a joke that you had no idea about. He abandoned his teasing to turn to you, fixing a horribly kind look that made your tummy turn to mush. “There is some bacon and eggs on the stove for breakfast, but I’m sure Sirius would let you into his cereal.” 

“There’s also yogurt.” Remus looked pointedly to his near-empty cup. 

“Oh no, I’m okay. I could never take your food. I’m not hungry anyway.” You muttered into your mug. 

“You’ve gotta eat somethin’ babydoll. Can’t have you skipping meals.” Sirius had a playful, if not protective tilt to his tone. 

“I’ll find somethin’ don’t worry.” You scrubbed your bleary eyes with irritated cadence, still on the brink of sleep despite the warm caffeine swirling in your system. Thick fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull your offending hand away. 

“Gentle, sweetheart.” James scolded lightly. “Gonna hurt yourself like that.” He squeezed your hand before letting it go but it felt oddly like your face and your lungs were being squeezed as well. If this was the boys normal, you weren’t sure if you were going to survive. 

You mumbled a sorry looking at the mahogany table like it held the meaning of life, or the extra hour of sleep you desperately craved. 

“What’ve we told you? You say sorry too much, sweet thing. It’s like, your favorite word or something.” Sirius laughed, slurping down his cereal milk and licking his chops. You bit back another apology and rubbed your eyes again, though much more gentle this time. James cooed in sympathy. 

“You still sleepy?” He rubbed your back again, which made you both more heated and more drowsy. 

“Yeah.” You hummed, shamefaced as you played with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You were thankful that you were still too shy to not wear long pants around them, because they would definitely be able to tell how tensed your legs were. Remus set his paper down.

“Do you have work today, love?” 

“No, ‘s my day off.” James grinned at that, but Sirius spoke up. 

“Happy coincidence! It’s ours too.” He grinned. “How about we all watch something? We can put something on in the lounge room and you can catch a bit of sleep on the settee?” He suggested. You shrunk at the thought of sleeping in front of them, but weren’t opposed to the idea.

“We’ll make sure to wake you up so you don’t sleep the day away.” James added, still rubbing your back. You were easily convinced. 

“Okay, that does sound nice.” Barely above a whisper. 

“We can all have a big lunch when you get up, too. Maybe we could go out?” Remus suggested as he led you gently to the living room. You tried to make your way to the armchair, but you were tugged to the couch. 

“That won’t be comfy, dollface. Here you go.” Sirius sat on the settee close to one arm, Remus by the other. Sirius pulled you between them while James sat on the floor and you whined in protest. 

“No, I’ll move. You sit here, James.”

Remus swore that was the loudest he had ever heard you speak. 

“No, I’m good right here. Thanks though, sweetness.” James reassured. He was sat in the middle, though rather close to Remus so the mousy boy could reach out with one hand and scratch James’ scalp, roving his long fingers through the thick curls. You were so distracted that you were startled when Sirius tugged on you again, maneuvering your head onto a pillow that laid on his lap. You tensed before relaxing into his warmth. You tucked your legs into yourself as Remus covered you with a blanket before going back to loving on James. 

“There you go, baby. That feel nice?” Sirius said, unfamiliarly soft as he stroked your hair, hand a welcome warmth on your scalp. 

Baby. Baby. Baby.

It would surprise you if you woke up from this nap. Your heart had nearly stopped on the spot.

[verstappen-cult]

Having an argument with Max, sounds exhausting. Especially when both of you are stubborn, but guess what? He'd willingly beg for forgiveness if you are still upset with him and avoiding him as a result of the argument

“I can’t do this anymore.” You whisper, shaking your head and taking a step back. 

That is what finally makes Max stop dead in his tracks, mouth hanging open with whatever he was going to say next. 

You’re tired. You woke up less than an hour ago and the first thing you and Max did was argue. And you really didn’t want to start the day this way, but neither of you backed away. Things escalated quickly and you just can’t do it anymore. 

“What are you talking about?” He sounds desperate, his chest heaving. Max clenches his fists by his side, like he wants to reach out. 

You turn your head away, eyes filled with tears. “I’m gonna go see my mother. We’ll talk later.” 

Max feels paralyzed, he can’t seem to do anything but watch you leave. 

*

It’s past eight when you get home. 

The first thing you notice is that the house is lit only by candles. A lot of candles throughout the house. 

Max is nowhere to be seen, Jimmy and Sassy are the ones greeting you by passing between your legs. You bend over to pat their heads and give them a few ear scratches. 

The more you walk into the house, the more your heart breaks. There on the table is a big bouquet of your favorite flowers along with a small card with the word ‘sorry’ written in Max’s handwriting waiting for you. The table is also set with the chinaware you only use on special occasions, and a few more candles. 

When you turn around you see Max curled up on the sofa, your favorite weighted blanket —the one you use when you’re feeling down and Max is away for work— around his shoulders. He looks so cozy, you want to curl up next to him, but you are still a little hurt and angry from the argument you two had in the morning. You’re thinking about what you both said to each other when Max stirs, eyes trying to adjust to seeing in the dim light. 

“Hey,” You say as a greeting, trying not to scare him. 

Max turns around immediately, surprise crossing his features. “You’re home.”

“Yes? Sorry I didn’t say anything but mom wanted me to help her with gardening.” You shrug, leaving your bag and keys on the table next to the couch. 

“I didn’t think you’d come back.” His voice is barely a whisper, but you hear him anyway. Max exhales deeply, clutching the blanket tightly around his shoulders. 

“What?”

“I’m so sorry.” He blurts out, shoulders slumped. Max shuts his eyes tightly, like he’s in so much pain he can barely have them open. “I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. I should’ve listened to you—I’m really sorry. I don’t want us to argue like that again, I felt horrible because I love you and I promised myself I would never do something like this.” You let him talk, to spill everything he has inside of him. “After you left—I wanted to go after you but I knew you needed time. But it made me remember how my dad used to talk to my mom, how they would yell at each other while Vic and I hid in our rooms.” You are already moving towards him, even before you hear how his voice breaks. 

You sit by his side, leaving some space between you two, hands itching to reach out and touch him, to draw him closer to you and hold him. 

“I don’t want to be like him.”

“You’re nothing like him,” You move closer, taking his hands with yours, thumb caressing the back of them. “Don’t you ever dare to go there, okay? You will never be like him, Max. Do you understand?” 

But he doesn’t look at you, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Max, this is not the first and it’s definitely not going to be the last argument we have. But if we talk about it, if we give ourselves some time to think things through like we did today—this doesn’t mean you are a bad person, or that you are turning into your dad.” You cup his cheek with one of your hands, caressing his cheekbone as you look into his stormy blue eyes. 

“I’m so sorry,” He says again, tears in the corners of his eyes. You smile softly at him when he begs for your forgiveness again. 

“Can you forgive me too?” 

“Darling, you’ve nothing to be sorry for.”

“Well, you’re wrong there.” You sniff, already feeling the tears wanting to stream down your face. “We were both wrong, don’t take all the blame.” Max opens his mouth to refute, but you shut him up with a kiss. It’s chaste, full of promises, and leaves you with blood pounding in your ears. 

“Do you forgive me?”

Max nods, gaze fixed on your lips. “Yes,” He directs his gaze back to your eyes, and you can see so much regret in them. “Do you forgive me?” 

“I don’t know,” You tease him by pretending to think about it. “it depends on what you made for dinner.”

A grin spreads across his face and he’s standing up in a second, tugging on your sleeve. “It’s definitely gonna make you forgive me.” He says, pulling the chair out for you to sit. “And if this doesn’t work, I have many other ways to make you forgive me.”

[etfrin]

⤷❝Blood Red Roses | Coriolanus Snow❞ˎˊ-

⇢☾Warning: NSFW | blood play, riding, pinv sex, crying during sex, dubcon if you squint, period sex, marking, biting, Snow is his own warning, creampie, belly bulge, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), breath play, dom sub undertones, fingering (f. receiving) | lmk if I forgot anything

⇢☾Pairing: young Coriolanus Snow x fem! Reader

⇢☾Summary: filthy porn <3

⇢☾A/N: read at your own damn risk, idc how filthy this is :D

< masterlist > < bc: @cafekitsune > < taglist >

He's supposed to be disgusted, in a sense he is. Even as he pushed you to the bed, despite your protests, his mind was reeling but he was desperate. Desperate in the most pitiful way possible. Desperate in a sense that proved he was a man who easily succumbs to the greed of flesh. Desperate for you.

Nobody could blame him for his actions. His actions switched the position so that he was lying down on the bed. Your legs straddling him on either side. Both of you were exposed to each other's eyes. His dick was leaking pre-cum onto his abs. Your pussy is slick with your arousal and blood from your period. Your inner thighs are covered in the variant shades of blood red.

His eyes look down onto your skin, the shade of red contrasting with your color. His mind itched at him for this was beneath him, having someone like this, being so desperate that you don't worry about the mess it causes. A pearl of blood rolls down your skin, and Snow catches onto his fingertip. The bead of red liquid was interesting in a way he hadn't thought possible. His breath hitches as he spreads the blood onto your skin.

He can't take it anymore, he sits up, surprising you by putting his hand into your hair and pulling you down to catch your lips with his greedy mouth. His tongue ravishes your mouth, swiping over your teeth, stealing your taste and your soul as he bites your lower lip. His palm moved to cup your cunt, his hand getting coated in the mixture of your blood and juices. He groans into your mouth, your slick thicker because of different textures. He immediately knew it would feel different. His lips travel to your jaw to press wet kisses. Snow takes a moment of pause, preparing himself to cross his limits as his fingertip presses to your entrance.

“You don't have to,” you whispered, sensing his tense body, “I could blow you.” “You wish,” he scoffed, “It's your cunt I want, it's your cunt I will get, my bird.” His finger finally slides in, and your tight pussy is wetter than ever before. He easily slips another finger in making you whimper.

You let out soft moans as his fingers stretch you out for his cock, your walls more sensitive than usual. The smell of iron and sex filled the air, making him lightheaded. He looked down, his fingers connecting themselves to you, his hand bloody red. The sight makes him gasp, his mind flashing unpleasant memories but his cock getting incredibly hard that it hurts not to give it any attention.

His head was spinning, his mind disgusted by the filth and the mess but his body was hot. Whatever boundaries he had left for himself died when he took his bloody fingers out and cleaned it up by wiping his hands onto your skin. The red stains your skin in small strokes, underneath your breasts, and your tummy. The sight of it made him snap, his mouth latching onto your nipple sucking onto it like a vampire, a starved one. It makes you cry out, your hands on his shoulder for support.

His mouth sucks your supple breast as much as possible as one of his hands (the bloody one) kneads your other breast, marking you even further. The thought turned him insane, you bloody red, the similar shade to his usual outfit. His teeth sinks around your round flesh making you let out a small scream with how hard it was. “Coryo!” You cry out, your lips gasping from his more than-usual rough behavior.

He pulls back, his blue eyes blown wide into a feral black. His teeth marking your skin, dents into flesh as a small invisible bead of blood begins to form. He had bitten hard enough to break the skin. His tongue lavs around the wound he had caused, his hands now digging into your hip making you gasp, knowing that it will bruise. He lets the taste of blood bloom into his mouth, his mind accepting this as another extension of his sick self.

He repeated the process several times, around your breasts, neck, shoulder, and collarbone. Your skin was tainted with blood, tears falling from your eyes as he licked it all clean and pressed small kisses onto the wound as if to say sorry. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you continued to fall prey to his actions. Deeming himself satisfied as he sees your marked body, his twitching dick finally came to his mind. He drags his lips from your neck to your ear, and he whispers, “Ride me, my dove. Like your life depends on it.”

Knowing him, it might as well do. He leans back, his back onto the mattress. You couldn't enjoy the sight of his bare body because of the tears in your eyes. The pain was overwhelming your veins in the most delicious way possible. Your pussy pulsating with the need for his cock.

You start to sink on him, your cunt so much more wet it seemed impossible, it made the slide graciously smooth that you take him down to the hilt quickly enough despite the burn of the stretch. You both let out moans, his eyes rolling back because of your pussy, your lips letting out a gasp from how good he filled you up with his cock.

“Fuck, Coryo”, you whimper, “fuck.” This angle made his cockhead press into your spongy spot perfectly, making you see stars as you adjust to his length. “Come on, baby,” he whines, his hold on your hips getting harder, “Come on.”

Your eyes closed shut as you raised your hips before falling onto his cock. Moans begin to echo into the room as you get desperate, fucking yourself onto his cock, your blood gushing onto his skin, covering his cock red.

Meanwhile Snow had his brain shut off, his lips panting for dear life as your cunt sucked him in with each thrust your hips made. The glide of his cock so much smoother, your blood making a much better lube than your arousal ever could. He berated himself for his thoughts only for him to know he's right as more blood gushes out of your tight pussy and covers your skin.

You looked so beautiful to him right now, like a goddess trapped in mortal flesh. Not an inch of your upper body was free of marks, your skin perfected with various shades of red, purple and blue hues. Love bites that it would be impossible to cover. His balls tightened as he couldn't keep his eyes off you. Coriolanus never thought his self-control could be tested like this. It took every ounce of his restraint not to fuck you like an animal.

All it took for that mere man to break was a loud moan that escaped your lips when you took deeper him than expected, his cock bumping into your cervix. His eyes roll back, a groan of his mixed with your moans into the air. He snaps. Snow was never a fair man after all, he didn't have to play nice.

He switched positions, hooking your legs onto his shoulders so his cock would reach even deeper, impossibly deep, making you whine that you couldn't possibly take it. He didn't hear your pleas, his mind focused on your warm, wet pussy ruining him for anyone else. “You can,” he sneers, “and you will, my bird.”

And so you do. His dick throbbing inside of you as his thrusts get fast and needy. His self control is completely breaking. For the first time, Corios' actions weren't calculated. His thrusts get sloppier, as he pays you no mind, chasing his own relief like a dog in heat.

His palm pressed into your lower stomach, he feels his cock thrusting in and out of you and smirks, “See? You're taking it.” You couldn't even reply to his teasing, your oversensitive walls fluttering around his length. You were drooling, and never had Snow turned you into such a speechless mess.

His hand pressed harder, making you moan. “Yes, fuck, Coryo!” You scream, as your pussy begins to spasm around his cock. The sudden orgasm surprises you as much as him. His cunt continues to milk his cock and as you gasp much needed air. “Cum,” you begin to beg, “I can't- please Coryo!”

His free hand goes to your jaw, gripping it tightly as he leaned down and whispered against your lips, “You can, my dove. You can.” His sickly sweet tone makes your mind believe that you could do it only if your body agreed. You give him a meek nod, your mind filled with pleasure to disobey his words. His lips pressed against yours into a harsh kiss you had no control over. He groans into your mouth, as his pace gets sloppy but harder. His cock twitching inside of your cunt.

His hand that holds your jaw goes to your neck, pressing your throat to restrict your breathing, it makes your pussy clench perfectly around him causing his hips to stutter as he cums in you, filling your womb with his seed. He pulled out, laid beside you. Both of you are catching much needed breath.

Your eyes close, your body and mind exhausted. Coriolanus leans over you, his lips pressing a delicate kiss to your forehead.

“I'll buy you more red dresses, you look pretty in red.”

tags : @stelleduarte @nowitsmissing @lifeonawhim @le-lena @maurdershavemyheart @motley-baby @champomiel @slytherinholland @justacaliforniandreamer

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Migraine Ministrations

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by @wasteofatoolbox

Synopsis: you get a migraine during a hunt, and things go wrong.

Not now not now not now, please not now.

The mantra played over and over in your mind, as if you could wish away the pain that was beginning behind your eyes—wouldn’t that be nice.

Instead, the pain got worse as the Impala roared down the side road; which of course was full of potholes.

“Road’s gonna ruin my tires,” Dean grumbled, oblivious to the way you cringed at every jolt and jump. Or at least, he was oblivious so far. You’d have to hide it better before the three of you arrived at your destination, or Dean would make you sit out on the hunt.

He’d only decided a few months ago that you were old enough to start hunting, and since then he’d been very picky about what hunts you were allowed on. It had been weeks of “too dangerous” hunts since you’d been invited to come, and you were itching to join in.

But if Dean found out you were getting a migraine, he definitely wouldn’t let you go. Once you coughed too many times last month, and Dean made you sit out the hunt because you “sounded like you’re getting sick.”

You didn’t notice the Impala pulling to a stop until Dean was turning in his seat to check on you.

“Grab your machete, and don’t forget the—hey, you ok?”

You looked up, forcing your face into a neutral expression; you didn’t want to look pained, but smiling would be too far.

“Yeah, I’m great. You sure you’re ready, old man?”

Dean’s concern dropped immediately, a prideful smirk on his face.

“Oh, it’s on newbie.”

…

You were cornered, but not worried. One vamp had taken it upon himself to go after the smallest human, and you let him back you into a corner—now he had no choice but to get close to you, and all you’d have to do was swing.

You were adjusting your grip on your machete, waiting for just the right moment, when the pain that had been beating behind your eyes suddenly pulsed painfully. It was so sudden and extreme that your eyes shut of their own accord for just a split second…

By the time you could force your eyes open through the pain, the vamp was already on the move, and you couldn’t get your machete up fast enough.

You cried out when he grabbed hold of your arm and slammed it hard against the brick behind you, forcing you to drop your machete.

He was leaning his head down, his vampire teeth extending from his gums in more detail than you’d ever seen—you didn’t appreciate the close-up.

He didn’t get the chance to sink his teeth into your neck. His head was on the floor before you even noticed Dean sneaking up behind him.

“You ok?” Dean demanded.

You tried to assess yourself for injuries, but it was hard to do when your migraine was the worst pain you felt; nothing else really registered.

“I’m…I think so,” you mumbled, swaying a little on your feet.

“Whoa, hey.” Dean grabbed your shoulders to steady you. “You didn’t get bit, right?” Dean’s loud voice had you cringing in pain.

You shook your head, lifting your hands up to rub your eyes—you couldn’t hide the pain anymore; you didn’t even know how long you’d be able to stand.

“What’s going on?” Sam’s—you assumed—hand was on your arm suddenly. Where had he come from? Last you saw him, he was tackling a couple of vamps. “They’re all dead,” Sam said. “We should get going. Are you hurt?”

You couldn’t tell if he was talking to you or Dean, and you didn’t want to open your eyes to look—the boys had turned the lights on in the building to disorient the vamps, and even with your eyes shut the light was nearly unbearable.

“Is it a migraine, kiddo?” Dean’s voice was softer now, which you appreciated.

Despite not wanting him to know, you have a tiny nod, knowing that trying to hide it was pointless.

“Alright, ok, we’re gonna get you back to the bunker.” Dean tugged on your arm and guided you outside and into the Impala.

“Here,” Sam said, pressing a water bottle into your hands. “Drink this.”

Ignoring Sam’s order, you just pressed the cold bottle against your forehead.

“Hey,” Dean spoke up once he was on the road. “How long have you had a migraine?”

“An hour or two,” you mumbled, before realizing your mistake.

“You had this before the hunt?” Dean demanded. “And you didn’t say anything? Are you crazy?”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” you mumbled.

“It’s always that bad,” Sam argued. “And you know better than to go on hunts when you’re not ready.”

“I was ready!” You argued.

“The fact that you lied to me tells me you weren’t,” Dean scoffed. “So…you’re benched from hunts.”

“What?” You finally looked up, regretting it when your head pounded. “For how long?” You cringed.

“I don’t know,” Dean huffed. “Indefinitely. And I don’t ever want you to do something stupid like that again, understand? If you’re not a hundred percent, it puts everybody’s life on the line. Are you hearing me?”

“I understand,” you sighed, dropping your head back into your hands.

“Ok.” Dean’s voice was noticeably gentler. “Good. Now let’s get you home and see if we can do something about that headache. How does a nap sound?”

Despite yourself, a small smile creeped onto your face.

“Yeah, ok. Can I pick a movie tonight?”

“It’s my night,” Sam argued, but at Dean’s glare he huffed. “Ok, ok. Fine.”

“You’re gonna milk this for all its worth, aren’t you?” Dean asked. When he glanced back and saw you still smiling, he chuckled. “That’s my girl.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[moonydustx]

I look better under you

Based on the song Snooze - Sza

Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader

Warnings: smut, mentions of scars, jealousy. Doesn't exactly follow plot canon.

Summary: After two years apart after the incident with Kuma in Sabaody, you and Zoro meet again.

A/N: I was thinking about doing some stories based on songs, especially in the future using one from Cowboy Carter for Ace because it makes so much sense to me. While that doesn't happen, we're left with Snooze, which is one of my favorites from Sza.

requests open | one piece masterlist

Long as you dreamin' 'bout me, ain't no problem

I don't got nobody, just with you right now

Tell the truth, I look better under you

I can't lose when I'm with you

How can I snooze and miss the moment?

You just too important

Nobody do body like you do

Your body itched when you saw a handful of greenish hair appearing on the horizon of the Sabaody archipelago. It was two long years without seeing each other, without talking, without the little escapades in the crow's nest where you spent hours tangled up in each other. Before you could prepare to talk to him, Sanji and Luffy also appeared in your field of vision, running in some direction you hadn't noticed yet.

"Let's go!" Luffy passed you who immediately started running to keep up with them.

"Finally a beautiful and real woman." Sanji's eyes practically threw hearts in your direction. "So beautiful, so fragrant, so..."

For a few seconds you thought Zoro was going to complain about Sanji, like they always did, but he remained quiet just as he didn't show any reaction when he saw you.

Your companions didn't know about the little escapades the two of you had and for a long time it was what made sense to you. Until your eyes witnessed Kuma erase Zoro's existence before your eyes, at least that's what you believed for a while.

"Isn't that the pretty girl from Thriller Bark?" Sanji caught your attention. A few meters away you recognized the pink hair and the gothic style.

The woman's face was almost glued to Zoro's as she yelled at him. Too close to be just a coincidence. "Why haven't you left here yet?" "I brought you here for nothing." Perhaps your vision was obstructed by the anxiety of being back - which now became a bitterness on your lips. Apparently the two years passed differently for him.

Ignoring the confused feelings, you and your companions ran towards the Sunny and before the navy even thought about reaching you, the ship was already sailing towards the next island.

"It's so good to have everyone back!" Nami hugged you tightly in a hug. "Come on, tell me what you were doing this whole time."

Islands with carnivorous plants, strange laboratories, giant birds, a castle with a certain girl with pink hair. Zoro was sitting next to you. As they listened to everyone talk, something about his posture seemed to show some discomfort in being there.

Everyone seemed to accumulate stories and adventures to tell and despite the small puddle of hurt that accumulated in you, you were happy to see your friends again.

"And you." Robin turned towards you. "What challenges have you encountered?"

"I went to a village that was being attacked by venomous insects. We had to keep shooting at them all the time and maybe that improved my aim." You took one of the small knives from your waistband and threw it past the small gap between Nami's neck and hair.

"Shown off." Zoro murmured next to you, attracting your attention for a brief second.

"Did the animals do this?" Usopp pointed to your arm.

Attracting everyone's eyes, you turned your arm, showing the scars that started on your fingers and went almost to the height of your shoulder.

"No." you smiled sympathetically as the shooter looked on attentively. "Let's just say not everyone on this island was nice or interested in the end of the demonic insects."

The others nodded and it didn't take long for them to engage in another story, paying attention to all the news. Even though you weren't looking in his direction, you could feel yourself being watched the entire time.

After a long conversation, everyone decided to explore Sunny. Review what they left behind, prepare for the next challenges. Before you could do the same, you felt an arm pulling you towards one of the rooms.

"What the hell is this." you saw Zoro in your field of vision. One of his hands closed the door and the other rested on the side of your head.

He tried again and saw you repeat the gesture. It took his brain a few seconds to process all the possibilities.

"It's been so long." he murmured, his face seeking the direction of your lips. Begrudgingly, you dodged his kiss. "What?"

"I understand." he started walking away. "Two years is too long, I understand that maybe you found someone else."

"I did this?" The tone of his voice was shrill and full of indignation. "Says the guy who was with the goth girl there. Did you enjoy your enchanting romance in an incredible castle?"

"Are you crazy?" Zoro analyzed you for a few seconds, seeing how safe it was to approach you. His hands found your chin and when you tried to move away from his touch, Zoro held on even tighter. "You know I had nothing to do with her. You know no one is like you."

Your own hands found his and went up to your face, relief was written on your face. Gently, one of your fingers traced the scar that closed his eye.

"Who made this?" you whispered, wanting to hold that little moment between the two of you.

"No one that matters now." He turned his face, kissing one of your hands. His gaze soon reached your immense scar. "About what you said outside, who was the bastard that hurt you?"

"No one that matters now." You smiled, enjoying his touch on your face. "You know I hate her, don't you?"

"Perona?"

"I wish I had killed that bitch in Thriller Bark!" you grumbled, earning a laugh from Zoro.

He wanted to kiss you, heavens he wanted to be able to take you there but he had missed hearing you too much and seeing your eyes shining in his direction. Everything else could wait.

"You only say that because she was playing with the ghosts and you."

"Exactly." your hands went down to the back of his head, pulling him closer. "I'd kill that bitch again just to think of her stealing what's mine."

You could feel Zoro's laughter almost on your skin, given the proximity. "So jealous" he murmured and before his lips stole yours, the two of you were interrupted when you were thrown from the door and the presence of a euphoric Luffy appeared.

"Let's eat! Sanji is going to make a huge feast for you and us." he pulled you by the shoulders. "Can you get your knife between Brook's ribs, say yes, please."

"Does he know you want to do this?" you asked him, taking advantage of Zoro's support to stand up.

"He said he'll accept it, if you let him see the color of your panties." Luffy spoke with a naturalness that brought laughter from you and a groan from the swordsman.

"He won't see, but..." you warned, tugging at the waistband of your pants. "It's pink, with white polka dots." Brook's scream outside indicated that he had heard the entire conversation and had probably combusted.

"Hit his head." Zoro grumbled, leaving the room before you.

A lot of thrown knives, a huge feast made by Sanji - and considering that Luffy ate more than half of it claiming he missed the food the cook made. You watched some of your friends retreat to your quarters.

"Has anyone seen Zoro?"

"He said he would be upstairs if anyone needed him." Chopper warned you and you thanked him, leaving him behind.

Knowing he would probably be alone, you walked up the stairs to the crow's nest and entered unceremoniously. Zoro was lying down, contemplating the ceiling.

"I thought it would take longer." He stood up, coming towards you.

"It's just that everyone is going to sleep, I think we can talk properly now." the words barely had space to leave your lips before Zoro reached you and crashed his lips into yours.

Your hands were against his chest and even though you wanted to move away to at least try to talk before finding out what happened during this time outside, Zoro's lips took yours in an intoxicating way. Honey, drinks and longing mixed in your mouths.

"We can talk later." he murmured, almost reading your thoughts. "I just miss you."

"Me too." your lips heaved as you felt his arms lift you so that your legs were wrapped around his.

Such a movement was made only so that Zoro could take you to the ground in a strange delicacy on his part. The green threads became your fingers' favorite path while his hands removed the few pieces of clothing that your body still had.

"No one that matters now?" he traced some scars that adorned your back and watched you twitch. "I'll still kill the bastard."

"This someone is no longer here for you to take revenge on." you took his lips as a distraction for your hands to slide over the shoulders hidden in the kimono.

"That's my girl."

Scars, bruises, nothing would take away the pleasure of Zoro's contemplation. The long two years didn't really seem that long until he saw you. How can you wait so long? How did he not go crazy and come back even if he swam to Sabaody?

"Hi greenie." You caught his attention by letting your hands caress his cheek. "Are you ok babe?"

"You are so beautiful." The words came out suddenly as if it were common for you to hear that every day.

If it were up to him alone, he would make a point of repeating that all night and for the rest of the next nights as well. Your eyes looking down at him asking for attention to your body, your legs closing against his body, small sighs as you felt him touch you. You underneath him was one of the best sights Zoro would have for the rest of his life.

His lips traced every contour of your skin. Every shiver was swallowed by a kiss, every shiver was trapped between his lips. The damp fabric of your panties didn't last long as a hindrance to the swordsman who turned you into tatters. It was like enjoying a feast after years of scarcity, drinking the divine honey that flowed from you.

"Still delicious." "I missed you so much."

Zoro couldn't contain a light laugh when he saw you cover your mouth with both hands, avoiding the screams that hit your body as you poured yourself onto his lips. Your waist took on a life of its own with the sensitivity of your pussy against his tongue.

Without any effort, Zoro turned you around and, handling you, placed your body on top of him, in a lotus position. His cock brought friction against your clitoris, your belly burning with pure anxiety and his hands made your hips move against him without even penetrating you. Your lips already hurt from the pressure you used to not let any noise escape.

"Let me hear you, please." One of his hands caught your hair, placing your head against the back of his neck. "Moan just for me baby. I need to hear you."

"Zoro, fuck, don't torture me. Just fuck me, please."

Hearing you beg was the closest thing a devil like him would get to heaven. Wrong, so wrong. Feeling your pussy contract with every inch he put in, that was paradise.

Despite feeling like you could explode at any moment, you moved slowly, not wanting the night to end. The grips against your ass, the eager hands pressing you against the base of his cock. Neither of them seemed to be able to last long.

The peak reached you first, your lips against the sweaty back of your neck, your fingers prickling the green strands begging for more and more, it was enough for Zoro to sink his teeth into your soft skin, containing his own moans and filling you up.

He lay down, still keeping himself inside you and allowing you to lay against his chest.

"You have new ones too." Your fingers traced some new scars.

"You don't like them?"

"Still beautiful, as always. Zo?"

" What do you need, sweet?"

"I know it wasn't our choice, but... Promise that if we get separated again, we'll find a way and find each other." Your eager eyes drew a sigh from the man, who pressed you even tighter against his embrace.

"This is the easiest promise I've ever made."

The sun began to rise when you could no longer keep your eyes open. With your body tied to Zoro's and covered by his kimono, without worrying if anyone would arrive, the two of you both took a snooze.

[tacticaldiary]

can you do a ghost x head doctor!reader? kind of that scenario where ghost is like, “i don’t want a regular plain nurse; i want reader 🙄” and reader is like, the head doctor of the medical wing or whatever, and doesn’t usually deal with regular military injuries, but puts up with ghost’s shit anyways? 😋

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; Hurt/Comfort

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with the gauze.

"All you need is to stop scaring away the field medics." She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant.

Masterlist

"Ghost?" Her head snaps up from the clipboard. "What's wrong with him?" She frowns, pushing down the bubbling panic in her chest.

"He's asking for you to treat him in room Q42."

"Is he bleeding?" The urgency itches just below her skin but her cool professionalism doesn't crack. She doesn't deal with superficial injuries, only the most complex cases. She's seen it all. Mangled faces, guts hanging out, disfigured bodies.

So the fact that they were asking for her-...

Wait.

"Is command asking me to see him?" She says slowly.

The soldier shakes his head. "No ma'am. It was a request from the Lieutenant himself."

She releases a slow exhale, relief tingling. "I'll see to it." She dismisses him with a wave, starting down the hall.

Simon had this...habit of seeking her out. It was a perk of his rank, she supposes, but she'd been the only one to treat him ever since they'd encountered each other way back when she was an on-site combat nurse.

It's impossible to forget seeing him for the first time. That skull mask of his was splattered blood red, a bullet wound in his shoulder as he sat on one of the dusty cots in the emergency tents they'd set up in the middle of the desert.

They'd just clicked.

She ended up treating him again after that, and that's when he started personally requesting her.

It hadn't taken long for the spark between them to explode into something intense and loving. He was the anchor to her stressful life, unshakable and a steady presence. She was his person, one of the only people he trusted with his injuries and his heart, the warmth that let him focus on being better.

Swinging open the door without knocking, the man in question sits there in all his glory in front of her.

Admittedly, the first she stares at is his chest. He's shirtless, a cut that she can tell is superficial and non-fatal from all the way by the door.

"You can come inside." His voice is amused and knowing, the bastard.

"Inviting me into my own house?" She swallows, but listens. The door is kicked shut behind her. The moment it's closed he tugs off his mask, the weary lines of his face much more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. "How was your op?" Stopping by the cot he's sitting on to press a quick kiss to his sweaty head, she breezes past him to the medical trolley nearby.

"Fine. Did what we had to." They both know he won't volunteer any more information. Just as she doesn't confide in him with every horrific injury she deals with, he doesn't expose her to the horrific things he has to do. A mutual withholding of information for the peace of mind of both parties.

"Thought you weren't due to come home until tomorrow. I was gonna meet you on the tarmac and everything."

"Surprise." He deadpans, making her snicker.

"You know, for the big bad Ghost you are, you sure need to cause such a fuss about a little cut." Gathering what she needs, she casts him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thought it was your job to make sure I was in the best state possible for deployment?"

She loves this back-and-forth they have. He does too, if the relaxed way he leans back on his arms is anything to go by. It had taken years and years to get to the place they are right now. Years of work, of communication and trust.

"It's my job to take care of the worst, highest profile cases."

"I'd say this is pretty urgent." This playful side of him came out when they were alone.

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with her spoils.

"Can I prescribe you to stop scaring away the field medics?" She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant. He doesn't wince or cringe or even flinch at the burn, eyes fixed on her face as she works.

"I'm a Lieutenant, I can do what I want."

She pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really pulling rank on me right now?"

He hums, sliding up to hold her hips, tugging her closer. "Don't seem to mind it when we're alone, love." A smirk tugs at his mouth when a flush creeps up the back of her neck. God, he loves that look on her.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking her head but unable to push down a smile, she works on securing the gauze, taping it down. "Getting clingy, are we now?"

He...well he can't deny it. He doesn't want to tell her the reason for it either, even if she's subtly fishing for answers.

He'd been an inch away from getting shredded by flying shrapnel from a car bomb today.

If Gaz, quick-witted, sharp, Gaz hadn't yelled and yanked him to cover behind a brick wall he would've been embedded with scraps of metal and rusty nails.

Dead, as his namesake.

Ghost wasn't afraid of death. Ghost got up every day ready to not see the sunrise again. Ghost was a cold blooded machine ready to do whatever his orders were.

But Simon wanted to live.

Simon wanted to come home to her. Simon wanted the last thing he saw to be her smile. Simon selfishly wanted her more than any victory his rifle could earn him.

Ghost had been unfazed, Simon had realised the inevitability of the avoided consequence.

Lips press against his bare shoulder. Right, left, and then gently on the gauze. It brings him back to the present, his grip on her tightens for a moment. Her gaze is soft, knowing. Because of course it is. She's the only one who's been able to get into his head like this, been able to crack the code to thoughts he himself doesn't have the key for.

"Any of other glaringly dangerous injuries I need to take a look at?" His eyes follow the smooth line of her neck as she tilts her head towards him. He exhales, shifts, and pulls her closer without warning, banding a strong arm around her.

"Dunno. Think you might have to conduct a comprehensive examination."

She laughs against his lips and goes down with him when he shifts farther up the cot.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(1/09/2023)

[bunniesanddeer]

Heat: Part Two

Part One

Pairing: Alastor x Reader (AFAB) Lamb/Sheep Reader

Warnings: MINORS DNI, Smut, fingering, fluff, very gentle touches, heat, female anatomy

Word Count: 3,128

It’s barely dawn when he wakes. At first, Alastor isn’t sure what had woken him. Although he was often an early riser, he had figured the long night keeping watch over his soul-bonded would have made him sleep later than usual. He flicks his eyes around the room he had moved them to for a moment. It is after he has taken stock of the room, and the dim, red light filtering through the curtains, that he hears it. His little lamb is whimpering. 

Alastor sits all the way up so he can look down at them. His first instinct, had, of course, been to make sure that they weren’t hurt. With the way their brows are scrunched tight, and the soft sounds leaving them, he still wasn’t sure. 

“Ma bichette, you should wake.” He settles his hands on their shoulders, going to shake them, but their eyes pop open.

Their eyes, which are normally blue with black sclera, have become black voids. Alastor felt as if he was staring into empty space. It was oddly hypnotizing. As they move, incomprehensible noises escaping them, their scent drifts up to him. It is almost overpowering, and stronger than it had been in the last two days. His head feels heavy, and the itching beneath his skin returns. 

“Oh, my dearest, I do believe it has begun.” He kicks back the blanket, to help them untangle their legs. His soul-bonded moves around the bed, their eyes scarcely leaving him for even a moment. 

“Alastor,” They whisper. Oh, their voice! It was heavenly, and it only drew him in further. “Alastor, please.”

Their pleading, in their breathy whisper, sends heat down his abdomen. The fiery heat growing within him feels very much like how they had described their symptoms. Every bit of his body felt too confining. But oh! He mustn’t get distracted with his own feelings. His little lamb needed him. 

“Come here, ma moitié,” he calls. He opens his arms, legs swinging over the edge of the bed. He watches as they hesitate, nose twitching as some instinct calls for them to do. With a tilt of their head, something in them decides he is safe, and they crawl to his lap. His arms immediately wrap around them, pressing them as close to his chest as he can get them. Their heat is the comfort of a roaring fireplace in winter, and it makes him shiver. He drags his nose into the wool atop their head, breathing in deeply. They smell so wonderful; there is something heady, but also something comforting and familiar. 

“Mon trésor, can you understand me?” He rubs a claw against their soft cheek, trying to draw their attention. Their ears twitch, and their tail moves at the sound of his voice. “Dearest,” he tries again. “I need you to answer me, if you can. I want to make sure you still want me to help you.”

“Alastor, please. It hurts.” They wiggle back, trying to look him in the eyes. Their pupils are visible again, but only just; they are tiny pinpricks in the void of their eyes. “Please help me.”

Alastor closes his eyes at their request, and his smile loosens. Their request made him feel incredibly strange, as if some ball of energy was bouncing about in his body, begging to be freed. The heat their scent caused, still hadn’t abated. He opens his eyes again, and nods. 

“Of course, mon cœur. Do you wish to remove any of this clothing? You are getting quite warm.” Alastor tugs at the thin tee they wear, and they nod. Without any help from him, they pull the shirt over their head, and their chest is revealed. 

Alastor’s breath hitches. He had been expecting some sort of undergarment, but it is their bare flesh he sees. He was aware that their chest was rather small, compared to the bodies of other female demons, but it didn’t matter to him. His hands almost immediately cup their breasts, rubbing against their already pert nipples.

His little lamb gasps, their breath stopping for a moment. “Oh,” they start, their voice pitched higher than normal. “That feels nice.”

Alastor takes it as his cue to continue exploring everything they’ve laid bare for him. One hand continues to rub at their, so very soft, chest, and his other hand travels downwards. The skin of their belly is also very soft, a slight give beneath it. 

“You are so very soft, little one,” he coos to them. He ducks his face into the junction of their neck, nuzzling against them. He squeezes one of their hips, and they shiver. “What would you like to do? I know it must be getting quite uncomfortable.”

His soul-bonded wiggles, making him pull back so they can move easier. Their eyes seem to scan his form for a moment, before settling on his legs. 

“Can-” their voice cuts off, their already flushed face darkening further. “Can I ride your thigh?” They start shivering, as if their little body couldn’t handle the anticipation. “It’s probably the easiest, for now. I think, uh, that you can use your hands later, if you would like.”

Alastor lets his smile soften. They are so nervous, and it makes his chest ache. How sweet and wonderful they were. He nods, gesturing for them to find a comfortable position. Although the idea of them riding his leg, whatever that meant specifically, was new to him, he knew it must be helpful. They seemed so eager, and he wanted them to feel good. 

Alastor realizes, as they prop themselves on one of his thighs, closer to his knee than his groin, what exactly they mean. He also notices that they are, in fact, only wearing underwear now. It is a thin, soft, red pair, cut high enough to see where their thighs and pelvis meet. His eyes are glued to the soft skin at the point where they meet. Something, deep inside of him, wants him to bite there, and he couldn’t tell where it came from. 

His little lamb settle their hands in front of them, grasping at his thigh for dear life. He watches with fascination as they shift their hips forward. Their entire body seems to light up, breath stuttering. 

“Oh,” they shakily exhale. “That’s- that’s good.” Their eyes flutter closed, and their claws scratch his thigh lightly. Alastor nearly falls forward with the shock of such a feeling. No one had ever touched him like that, without meaning harm. 

He grasps their hips, as if to steady the both of them, and he leans forward just slightly.

“Come on, ma chérie, do what you must.” His voice drops, the static often accompanying it, gone. “Let me see you ‘ride’ me, dearest.”

His voice spurs them into action, and he watches, as if enchanted. The front of their underwear is darkening, and he can feel something damp soaking through his trousers. (He winces, realizing he had slept in his clothes. It was too late to worry about that, he needed to focus). Alastor lets his thumb sweep up their navel, the other hand cupping their face as they rock their body back and forth. 

“Oh, little one, you are so good for me,” he murmurs. They moan, the sound sending his body ablaze. His skin tingles where he touches them, and his groin feels hot and tight. Oh, the things his little soul-bond did to him. Oh, how wondrous! “Yes, ma moitié. Give yourself pleasure, for me.”

“Alastor,” they mewl as their back bows backward. Their heaving breaths draw his attention back to their pert breasts. Unable to stop the strange desire, Alastor catches one of their nipples in his mouth, tongue immediately exploring the surface. They cry out, and their hands clutch at his shoulders. “Oh, please!”

Alastor feels their muscles tighten beneath his hands. He feels each shuddering breath they take, and the way they moan makes his ears twitch. He places one of his hands between their shoulder blades, pressing them closer to his mouth, and he put the other on their hip, guiding them in their rocking. 

“Please what, dearest,” he asks. He lets their nipple free from his mouth, and replaces his head back against their neck. His tongue laps against their neck, prompting a groan from them. Their skin tasted of salt, and their unique taste, (one he had not experienced since they had made their deal). “Oh, you taste wonderful, my dear.”

“Alastor, please,” they beg, again. Their hips are still grinding down against his thigh, which is growing noticeably damp from the slick coating their underwear and the junction of their thighs. “Please.”

Alastor breathes in deeply, scratching his teeth along their throat. His hands tighten in his hold of them, and he grinds their hips down into his leg, harder. The ache in his chest growing too hard to ignore, and the heat in the pit of his abdomen, his lightly bites down on their shoulder. And then they’re keening, a high and breathy thing, that makes his ears limp. He bites down harder, licking at their skin roughly. Alastor can’t get enough of every little noise they make, and he wants more. 

Alastor lets his voice dip to inhuman levels, and makes his made-for-radio accent drop, he growls, 

“Ma Moitie.”  

His little lamb gasps, and their hips stutter in their pace. They convulse strangely, all their muscles bunching up tight. He feels their muscles beneath their navel twitch sporadically, and their breath stop. Alastor thankfully has a good grip on them, because they go limp in his arms a moment later.

“Oh, mon cœur, look at you.” He pulls them into his arms so he can settle them back onto the bed. Their eyes are dazed, pupils visible again and blown wide. Alastor feels almost as if they are a little doll, so easily moved and adjusted. When they are finally settled back onto the bed, he lies beside them, searching their face. 

“How do you feel, my dear?” He rubs their cheek gently, focusing entirely on their reaction. He can hear the light thumb of their tail against the mattress, (and it makes him thankful that his own is too small to make such a noise. Alastor could feel it twitching the entire time they sat upon his leg). 

“Alastor,” they breathe. One of their hands pulls at his suit jacket. “That felt so good.” Their eyes flutter close, and he watches their whole body jerk. “Unfortunately, I don’t think once is enough.”

A grimace crosses their features. Alastor smiles wider, and he rubs their frown lines with his thumb. “Worry not, dear. I am up to the task.” He lets his voice fill with a confidence he does not feel, but he wants this. He wants to make them feel good again, and to end this ‘heat’ that had been forced on them. “You mentioned, that I could use my hands earlier.”

You can still feel your body twitching, the muscles of your pussy clenching around nothing, as you come down from your orgasm. It is while you are still processing the fact that you had ridden Alastor’s thigh like a saddle, that you feel that painful heat in your belly return. It makes your chest seize, and your head feel fuzzy. When you inform Alastor, he almost immediately mentions making use of his hands. Your brain nearly melts.

Although the two of you had been together for some time now, this was your first, even remotely, intimate experience. You had had a handful of kisses, but nothing more than that. He hadn’t even said anything remotely risqué to you! Now here he was, offering to touch you with his hands.

His hands… the thought sent delightful shivers down your spine. His hands were very large, and they were so warm right now. You wanted him to use them to explore every inch of you, to touch you until his every desire was met. Unfortunately, you couldn’t voice more than a, “Yes, please.”

You felt a tiny bit pathetic, at first, but the soft smile on his face stopped that. He almost looked like he actually wanted to. Not just for you, but for him too. The thought made your chest ache, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up against him and tell him everything you felt about him. You could not, however; there were more pressing matters. 

Alastor sits up, and presses his back against the backboard of the bed. He curls a claw at you, wanting you to move closer to him. 

“Come, my dear. Let’s remove these. They will be very useless in a moment,” he says, pulling at the hem of your underwear. Your face flushes with heat. It was the last scrap covering your skin, and it caused anxiety to grow within you. He hadn’t seen you in such a state before. Would he find this part of you attractive? Did he find you attractive at all? Did he actually want you? Your mind spirals with dreaded questions you couldn’t voice. 

“Ma bichette. Come back to me,” he coos, his hands rubbing your chest and one of your hips. “Do you still want me to touch you?”

The soft way he asks nearly makes you cry. How sweet and kind he could be, despite everything. Tears nearly spring to your eyes at how safe he makes you feel. You can do nothing but nods in response, lest you sob as you try to answer.

Alastor holds the back of your head as he leans you back. He pulls your underwear down your legs as he maneuvers them to his liking. Once the cloth is removed and dropped over the side of the bed, he cradles you in his arms, letting your legs go across his lap. “Mwen renmen ou.” His voice is deep and comforting. You have no clue as to what he whispers against your hair, but you let his voice soothe you. 

Alastor keeps whispering to you, even as he trails a hand down your navel and around your mound. With a control over his form, that you haven’t yet mastered, he blunts his claws, and trails his fingers over your newly exposed skin. His lips caress your forehead as he shifts a finger to press between the lips of your slit. A ragged breath escapes you, and your eyes fall on his face.

There is this look that you can’t describe, on his face. His eyes are softer than they have ever been, their radiant glow further softening his whole expression. His smile is small, but more genuine than you had seen it in weeks. Then, he starts whispering again, just as one of his fingers catches against your clit.

Your whole body lurches at the sensation. The hand holding your head tightens, and you’re forced to remain prone as he continues exploring you. 

“J’adore ton sourire, mon cœur,” he purrs, finger pressing harder against your clit. It sends tingles up your body, and a moan escapes you. “Tu es ma joie de vivre.”

Alastor leans down, and finally presses his lips against yours. Your whole body trembles, and for a moment you see stars. His middle finger is pressing against your entrance as his thumb presses your clit firmly. Combined with his soft, warm lips, you feel overwhelmed. He pulls back, eyes hooded, as he presses his finger into you. Your legs clench, and your eyes flutter. Every worry that you had about the experience fades away as he slowly slides his finger in. Despite how slick you are, there is a lot of friction, making his entrance slower.

“Te me rends fou. Tu ma fait me sentir tout chose,” Alastor coos as he finally presses his finger in, all the way to his knuckle. His thumb rubs at the side of your neck as he grunts. “Si serré.” 

“Alastor,” you whisper, your brows furrowing as you try to calm yourself. Your whole body is shaking now, chest and throat tight. You feel like a live wire, electricity coursing through you like a river. 

“Yes, my little lamb?” Alastor asks, finally rubbing your clit again. Despite his inexperience, his touches are deft, and gentle. It feels unfair that he be so good at things he hasn’t done before. 

“Please. I need it,” you beg, softly. Your back arches as he slowly pulls his finger out, and thrusts back in. You need him to just keep touching you. Anything. It feels better than you could have imagined this feeling.

“Of course, little one.” His forehead touches yours, eyes lidded as he gazes at you. “Does this feel right, my dear?”

You nod, trying to kiss him, but the hand on the back of your head keeps you from turning it too far. A breathy chuckle leaves him, and he kisses you.

As your lips connect again, he sets a pace with his fingers. Sparks flare out from beneath your navel, and it just feels so good. Your hands finally give up trying to find purchase with each other, and you grab at the arm reaching across your belly. Your fingers dig in as he curls his finger. 

Alastor leans back from you, watching you closely. “Oh, look at you. Ma bichette. So good for me, aren’t you?” 

His words turn up the heat in your belly, and you feel like you’re going to implode. Noises keep escaping you, and your eyes close tightly. You grasp at his hand, and then he twists it. The move sends you crashing over the edge, one you weren’t aware of being on. 

Your body is white-hot for a brief moment, and then it all fades to static. Not quite like Alastor’s, but more like the fuzzy TV static. It blankets over you as your muscles spasm. Your lungs stutter and heave, muscles failing to find the rhythm you need. You vaguely hear your own voice muttering, and you can feel Alastor’s hand still. 

“Ma moitié. You were so good for me,” Alastor mumbles, his hands cupping your face. “So good.”

“L’ve you, Al,” you whisper, feeling exhaustion crash over you. Your body gives in, and your eyes slide shut. You can feel Alastor stiffen, for just a moment, before he starts whispering words you don’t understand again. 

“Que ferais-je sans vous, mon cœur?” Alastor’s voice is still that deep tone that he rarely lets you hear, and it soothes you. Within a few moments, you succumb to the need to sleep. 

Alastor would stay vigilant, by your side, for the whole night. Even his own eventual need for rest couldn’t prevent him from whispering sweet words to you, and keeping you safe. 

[evilslushy]

make-up (and irritations)

Hamzah x f!reader

(A/N): no proofread, first time writing hamzah and also anything x reader in a while… hope yall like it idk LOL send me requests maybe??? Idk fuck

“Okay, just don’t move and you won't look stupid in the end.” You hold your hand up to gesture a pause. Hamzah involuntarily paused his movement like a puppy, tensing up as the seconds passed. Somehow, after weeks of pleading, Hamzah found himself stuck in this god forsaken circumstance where you sat opposite him with your make-up bag comfortably still on the coffee table beside his beat up stained couch.

Hamzah broke himself loose from your trance by moving his eyes away from your gesturing hand that had a brush hanging between your index and middle finger to your stern eyes, excitement highlighted all across your face. “I don’t know. Your excitement is kinda freaking me out.” He responded, his eyebrows furrowing at the thought of products rubbing across his sensitive skin.

“You being negative is making me want to make you look stupid.”

Hamzah sighed, throwing his head back to rest it against the sofa, he looked up at the ceiling, murmuring: “I’m not being negative. I’m just being… cautious.”

“Cautious has a negative connotation to it.”

Hamzah only closed his eyes in response. Coming up with something in response only ten seconds later, “Big word alert.” Making you giggle. “Shut up.”

Hamzah’s smile grew at the sound of your laughter—opening his eyes to look at you. Using his hands to sit back up, he crossed his legs and faced you, the sunlight casting a warm glow on his features. There was a relaxed look in his eyes as he settled into the moment, the atmosphere around you charged with an unreadable energy. “Just go.” Your eyes clicked in place with his, your smile still lingering—nothing in your mind anymore other than your comments about how cute he looks.

“Don’t rush me.” You opened your eyeshadow pallet. “This is a form of art. Do you think good art is rushed?” You tapped the powder onto your brush, “you’re taking this way too seriously.” Hamzah’s eyes followed your movement, partially nervous. You clicked your tongue, saying: “hun if you don’t wanna do this we can stop.”

Hamzah looked at you blankly, trying to read if he’s starting to irritate you or not. The last thing anyone wants is an angry girlfriend. The last thing that he wants, matter of fact. Though you weren’t angry—you were genuine about your concerns, you put your brush down to show surrender to his protests. A reassuring smile tilting your lips. A strain in his heart formed at your demonstration of love and care. (Slightly fluttering at the sudden nonchalant nickname drop).

“No. No-no-no. It’s fine. I’m just joking.” He probably looked like an idiot right now. After months of dating he still gets flustered over little things like a teenager. Your hand moved back down to grab the brush again. “You’ll be fine. I know how to do this.” You reassured, smiling as your thumbs glided over his right eyes to close it.

It was quiet, Hamzah relaxing at the feeling of the brush running across his lid. Breathing steadily. You didn’t expect him to be so still. At one point you thought he was asleep. But the random: “my eye itches.” Or “my back hurts.” Reminded you who exactly your boyfriend is. You sighed as you finished one of his eyes.

“My back hurts.” He whined yet again, “I wanna lay my back on the couch.” He continued his whining. You were too focused to notice what he was saying, Hamzah holding your hand away from his face to break out of your focus cycle. “Can we take a break?” A suggestion that almost goes unacknowledged by you when you notice how close you are to his face, for the first time it seemed like you were the flustered one. “Why did you break me away from my art piece?” Hamzah snarked in response.

You pushed his shoulder towards the couch, forcing his back against it. Hamzah raised his eyebrows in curiosity, wondering what you’re doing to him. You uncrossed your legs, your back also aching from being in the same bending position for around fifteen minutes. “What’re you doing?” He asked.

“Sitting on your lap so you’d rest your back against something and stop whining.”

Hamzah liked to pretend like he didn’t care, but he was freaking the fuck out for sure now.

You slid yourself on his lap, not giving attention to the matter. Your right arm wrapping around the back of his neck to prop his head against it. The side of your body resting against his chest, your other hand going back to work and continuing his makeup.

Obviously you weren’t going to address the sudden position change. Especially knowing how Hamzah always reacts to ‘out of nowhere intimacy’ not that he doesn’t like it, it’s just easy to tense him up with—in his opinion, too much—TLC.

You couldn’t help but giggle when you noticed that he stopped breathing for a few seconds. He’s not moving at all. “You okay?” You asked, moving your brush away from his face. “I feel like you're too close, anything and I might mess it up.” He spoke, raising his head up from your arm to look at you.

“Hun, this isn’t a permanent marker, we can wipe it away.” Your thumb wiped the excess eyeshadow powder under his eyes. “Why are you so tense? Relax.” Your hand moving down to his shoulder and squeezing it.

“You’re just pretty, I don’t know.” He rested his head back against your arm, avoiding your eyes as he spoke. His signature awkwardly goofy laugh fills the silence between the both of you. “Wow, such a charming delivery.” You sarcastically teased, “you don’t know?” Both of you started to laugh at the way he phrased his words. Hamzah still avoided looking at you by closing his eyes while he laughed.

“You know what I mean.” Resting his head to the side to continue avoiding eye contact. You raise an eyebrow, holding his chin to turn his face towards you to continue his makeup look. “Yeah well, look at me the next time you compliment me.” You run your brush along the bridge of his nose to contour it. Hamzah’s eyes meeting your focused face, feeling a bit awkward as your comment floated around his subconsciousness. You noticed the way he went silent, regretting not clarifying your tone.

“I’m joking. I know what you mean.” You let out, moving the brush and yourself away from his face. Hamzah sent you a half smile—“I know.”—nodding his head. The guilt for calling him out still weighed heavy on your heart, especially with that look on his face. (By that you mean his awkward half smile, he looked cute.)

You couldn’t help but lean in and give him a rushed peck. Hamzah kissed you back but still gave you a confused look afterwards. “Why?” He asked, unable to hide the warmth spreading from his neck to his ears. It was cute that he wasn’t the kind to flush across his cheeks but rather mainly on the tip of his ears.

You snarked, “not the confusion. Can’t I just kiss you?” Going back to the makeup, starting to set his face. “No, it was out of nowhere.” He responded, “should I give you a countdown next time?”

Hamzah giggled at the thought, “that would be funny, I'm not gonna lie.” His giggle was contagious, because there you go; giggling as well. “Three… two… one. Trigger warning, smooch.”

“Okay, don’t say that word.” He puts his index finger up between your faces, shaking it left and right to shush you. “What?!”

“Millennials' word.”

“Trigger warning millennials.” You say back, making you both go back to the fit of giggles you were sharing a second ago.

[pedgito]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐘 — two: first to lose | Joel Miller x reader

↝ masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi

chapter summary | Left to your own devices in the cabin with Joel, you lean toward other means of entertainment and a game over food leads to more than you're expecting.

author's note | beta'd by my lovely jo (@jolapeno) who i originally undertook this idea with. it has been really hard to focus lately, but i am itching to work away at my wips and this one has been sitting around for a while unedited. we're in a rut right now, but powering through.

chapter warnings | 18+, early outbreak, age gap (early 20s, mid 30s), morally grey!joel with trust issues, tommy is buffer, sex games, fingering, oral (m receiving), mentions of hunting and animals, joel is only softer when he's exhausted, they're both sore losers jsyk (more to come on that)

word count —4.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST, PLAYLIST, AO3

“There’s more out there,” Tommy says over your canned dinner, huddled around the fire in the living room as Joel stuffed his mouth full of beans, his conscious distance from you not going unnoticed. You were less layered, more comfortable, stripped down to your jeans and a tank top, your socks stuffed into the boots placed beside the couch, “I think another trip tonight and we’ll be good for at least a month, it’ll give us time to plan.”

“For?” You question, taking the last bite from your bowl before shoving it aside.

“Gotta find a QZ,” Tommy offers in response, “can’t survive like this forever.”

Joel seems less than hopeful, his eyes flickering away from the conversation and toward the fire. And Tommy, oblivious to the events that had transpired in his absence, doesn't address his brother’s pessimism. He’s learned to work around it, listen to his older brother when he sounded reasonable, and remain amicable around the rest of it.

He knew Joel’s tendencies, but found ignoring them was easier than bringing up the issue.

“Can I tag along this time?” You ask curiously, those pleading eyes falling on Tommy.

He chuckles, his spoon clanging against the ceramic as he shakes his head, halfheartedly as he speaks around the food he was chewing in his mouth, “I can handle it, kid. Besides, someone’s gotta keep an eye on Joel.”

You tense at the mention of his name, forcing a soft smile. Tommy doesn’t suspect a thing, wouldn’t even have the inclination, but the look of disdain Joel offers to you both stings.

“It’s a long drive, probably a couple days,” Tommy nods his chin up toward his brother and kicks at his foot, the boot scuffing against the wood, “you can teach her how to hunt while I’m gone.”

Joel doesn’t respond immediately and Tommy presses, leaning slightly to obscure his brother’s glare at the wall across from him, eventually Joel nods but it was entirely unconvincing and Tommy shakes his head in amusement, disapproval crossing his face as he chews at his bottom lip.

“Don’t hurt each other while I’m gone,” Tommy jokes, “alright?”

You smile half-heartedly and spin your knife on the barely standing end table to your left, “I can behave—right, Joel?”

Joel grunts, barely an acknowledgement at your expense as he walks between you two and lands on the couch, kicking off his boots over the edge and allowing himself to get comfortable, forearm slung over his eyes as he shimmied his shoulders down until he was comfortable.

“We’ll be fine.” You tell Tommy softly and he nods, looking at his brother with a brief frustration.

He could take you with him, he knows that. But, he’s almost fearful that Joel would run off in the middle of the night, that Tommy would never see his brother again. Losing Sarah had taken a toll on both of them and while Joel tried his damndest not to show the effects, Tommy feels them lingering. You were the most rational out of all of them, despite your inexperience and hesitancy to fight for yourself, your emotions were in check. For the most part.

You could be the perfect little watchdog Tommy needed.

But, in the back of your mind, you knew Joel was in command. It had been that way from the beginning; the dutiful little brother, the helpless young girl who had nowhere to go. It just worked.

Tommy departs with a nod, chuckling quietly at the already snoring Joel on the couch to your left. And you sigh with your own creeping feeling of exhaustion taking over, falling back against the balled up coat on the floor and finding yourself drifting to sleep eventually too. 

–

You wake up in a different spot, feeling the rigid but somehow softer fabric of the couch under your body as you roll over, peeking your eyes open to the blinding light. You groan quietly, stretching out tense limbs as you spot Joel. He’s leaned back in a chair, feet propped up in another as he flicks away at a solid chunk of wood, knife gripped in his hand.

“That’s mine,” You grumble weakly, spotting the weapon in his hand. His eyes flick up briefly, a chuff of acknowledgment from his nose has you squinting in his direction, “—you didn’t ask.”

Joel squints in response, flipping the knife in his hand until the handle is facing out, offering up the knife to you. You rise slowly, feeling slightly wobbly on your feet as you approach him. He brings the knife back toward his chest as you reach for it, “I think you’re forgetting, it was mine.”

You snatch it against his weak grip, too irritated from the lack of decent and comfortable sleep to argue, tossing it away on the couch as you round the dining table, peering through the slip of curtains covering the window, spotting the pile of burnt and charred bodies outside the window.

“Why did you move me?” You ask idly, dragging your fingers down the silk curtain, watching a few drops of rain hit the window before the trickle becomes stronger, followed by a low clash of thunder.

Joel stares at the chunk of wood in his grasp, fiddling with it until he slides it on the table, speaking to you nonchalantly as he stands, “You looked uncomfortable,” Within a few second he’s at your side, looking out the window at the incoming rain storm, “besides—you kept tossing and turning, once you were on the couch it stopped.”

“Oh, so I was disturbing your sleep,” You snark at him, turning your head to look at him. He mimics the movement and chuckles lazily, nodding in agreement, “add it to the list, I guess.”

“Of?”

He’s feigning cluelessness, watching the rain take on a stronger current as it pounded against the roof and you speak absently, “So, hunting is out of the question?

Joel’s arm rises to rest against the wall beside the window, hand tucked at his hip, “No. There’s still plenty to hunt ‘round here, if you have enough patience.”

“Well, I’m hungry.”

“Well, that’s an issue, ain’t it?”

For you, yes. For him, no.

He knows you don’t have the first clue what to equip yourself with, what animals to look for and your head turns, peering up at him curiously with the beginnings of a too sweet smile gracing your features.

“Not happenin’, don’t even ask.” Joel tells you, your smile immediately falling as you step away.

Whatever intensity had lingered the night before—the adrenaline from the attack, was gone.

Joel looks exhausted, conveys it in the slow and tired blinks he aims your way. He’d given up sleep to allow you to get rest, sacrificing his own without outwardly admitting it.

He’s only now starting to regret it as his head pounds, attempting to work through his exhaustion but feeling it catch up on him in waves, “We’ve got a can or two left to pick at, try that.”

Your face contorts in subtle disgust, “We need meat. Beans and peaches can only get us so far.” Joel doesn’t hear your complaints though, departing for the couch with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck, tense and knotted up muscles causing a deep ache in his back. He falls to the couch and throws his head back, allowing a few minutes to pass where he feels himself drifting into a slumber with his large hand rubbing at his forehead, thumb and middle finger digging into his temples as he nurses a headache, only looking over at you when the couch dips under your weight.

“Rock, paper, scissors?”

Joel huffs at that, knowing that only you could find how to pull the levity out of a shitty situation. 

“I’m not—” Joel shakes his head, his hand falling to his lap, “We’re not doing that. It can wait until the rain clears up.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

There was no way to tell, really. It was all an educated guess, the darkened clouds hovering overhead letting you know that it didn’t have any plans to leave quite yet.

Joel doesn’t offer a response, his head tipping back against the back of the couch with his eyes closed, his hands resting in his lap as he shrugs his shoulders and settles, you tilt your head curiously.

“You seem tense,” You tell him, “like—more tense than usual.”

Admittedly, he was restless too. But, unlike you—he could fight it. 

All that energy, nowhere to put it toward.

There’s so much silence, a thickness in the air that lingers as his own gaze on you does. He’s become used to studying you; upset, worried, irritated—he’s got it all down by now. Although, he had one that stumped him hard: want— but, he seemed to be picking up on the cues, noticing the look on your face as your lip pulled between your teeth in absent thought, tilting your head at him. You’re staring at his exposed skin, the scruffiness of his jaw where he’s allowed his beard to grow out. 

“Fine,” You sigh, noting his stubbornness, “what about a game?”

He doesn’t like the way the word slips from your lips, noticing how much closer you’ve gotten. Your knees pressed into his hip as you slowly worked your way over, legs tucked under your ass. Joel’s eyes narrow before they relax, turning away with a grunt of indifference.

“Impossible,” You mumble under your breath, “look—either I go out there and risk my ass or you do it for me. It’s late, I’m hungry,” And, as if on cue, Joel’s stomach growls too, “and so are you.”

Joel relents, watching his chest rise and fall in one heavy breath, “What game are you talkin’ about?”

You could think of something on the fly, although Joel has done everything but touch you since the night prior—because if he did, he was doomed. So, you make the first move.

Your finger drags along his open flannel until it catches on the first button it finds, the rest of your hand slipping under the fabric and noting the lack of undershirt. He must have taken a layer or two off at some point, unbeknownst to you. His skin is warm under your hand, his chest hair soft against your fingertips.

Joel grabs at your wrist but doesn’t take the step to move it away—a warning. Stay still, don’t go further. He’s looking at you by then, eyes wider and more present and darker around the edges than usual, icing out the warm brown.

“Whoever loses goes hunting,” You suggest, “sound fair?”

“That still doesn’t explain the game,” His fingers tightening around your wrist, feeling your quickened pulse under his touch, “besides—you also don’t know shit about hunting game birds.”

“I can manage, Joel,” You argue, “can’t be that hard to kill a fuckin’ duck.”

Joel chuckles at the thought, a subtle smirk pulling at his lips and his cheek dimpling with the expression. He can appreciate the confidence, the stubbornness that you carried with every word.

“Rules?” Joel inquires again, a smile creeping its way onto your face as he takes the bait.

“You come, you lose.” It really was that simple. 

Besides, it was a better way to pass time than tense, uncomfortable silence. Sex could be easy–detached, emotionless, and fun. Something you desperately needed right now.

Joel is quiet for a while, longer than you’d like. The gears are turning in his head, his eyes trailing slowly over your frame, like he’s dedicating it to his memory, before they fall upon your face. His softer around the edges like this, still guarded, but less…vengeful. 

Fuck it, he needed this.

“I hope you can manage huntin’ on your own,” He taunts, earning a squeal of laughter as his fingers dig into your side and pull you to him, your leg swinging over his lap in time with his movements, “‘cause I don’t lose.”

Neither of you bother with anything other than your jeans, wrestling against each other’s confines and flicking open buttons on deft fingers, wiggling them down your legs and off as you leave his lap for a millisecond before he’s pulling you back to him with his hand wrapping around the back of your neck and squeezing, pulling you back far enough that you can see his opposite hand dip to your cunt, thick digits pressing against your clit as your eyes flutter shut.

While you expect intensity, his movements are torturously slow. Slow circles with his thumb against the sensitive nub while his middle finger teases your hole, clenching around the emptiness that yearned to be filled. He only grunts when you wrap your hand around his cock, hardening under your touch as you squeeze, jerking him to full attention.

Joel was a mystery still and you’re working out what he likes as you move, noticing the way his face twitches when you drag your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the small dribble of precome at the tip as you rub, noticing the way his jaw tenses at the motion.

And you want to watch him, study him. But, his fingers are making it near impossible. Your sated sigh turns into a pathetic whine as he slips a digit inside of you to the first knuckle. It wasn’t nearly enough to quell the growing ache in your core, but then his teeth are on you.

Not his lips or his tongue—teeth digging into your collarbone as he pulls you to him, one large hand pressing against the center of your back and you hiss, cunt pulsing at the tinge of pain it allows but then his tongue is soothing over the marks his teeth left behind, lazy kisses following as he repeats the process along the expanse of your chest and eventually biting into the side of your neck as his fingers circle your clit quickly. 

Your opposite hand digs into his shirt at his waist, crumbling the material in your hand as you hand moves against his shaft quickly, hurried. It didn’t help that you couldn’t think, foolishly you expected to have the upper hand but it was easy to forget how quickly Joel could cloud your mind and rid you of any coherent thought besides want. And with that, Joel adds another finger, sinking them deeper inside of you

“You’re not even puttin’ up a fight,” Joel taunts, “I can feel that pussy squeezin’ around my fingers.”

You gasp, the heat in your gut swirling around as you try desperately to regain control. Your forehead drops against his shoulder, feeling pitiful as you moan and move your hips in time with his efforts and Joel chuckles beside you, so quiet you almost miss it. 

He’s amused clearly. It’s a taunting laugh, no deeper meaning than a ‘gotcha’. Because he did, he had you so wound up against his touch that you couldn’t think, making this game an easy win on his behalf. 

“Let me—let me suck your cock, I wanna—” You beg weakly, rambling incoherently, “—this isn’t fair.”

“You rules,” He retorts, “can’t go switchin’ up on me now, just ‘cause you’re losing.”

You feel the spiral coming, his hot breath against your neck as your hips jerk and the pressure builds. There was no use fighting it, giving into Joel’s selfless touch and his dirty words, moans growing in volume and intensity as he brings you over the edge with a satisfied remark.

“That’s right,” he declares with a deep growl, “go on, give it to me.”

The lewd sounds of your slick as he presses his fingers inside of you a few times as you catch your breath are enough to make you shove him away, too ashamed to allow him anymore satisfaction as he wipes his hand away on the inside of his flannel and reaches for his jeans, his eyes tracking the frown on your face as you settle into your own clothes again.

His fumbling with the button on his jeans as he leaned back, adjusting them better on his hips as he speaks to you, “I’ll be back in an hour,” he tells you, your eyes flicking up curiously despite your silence, “—you’re still hungry, right?”

If anything, you were ravenous now. 

“But, I lost.”

Joel shakes his head in amusement and slight disapproval, a smug smirk pulling at his lips.

“Either way, I was still goin’ out there,” Joel tells you, adjusting his still half-hard cock in his jeans and your gaze pulls down, unconsciously reaching for his arm but he shakes it off, standing on his feet, “—game’s over, I won.”

“But, you didn’t—”

Joel unravels his sleeves where they’re bunched at his elbows, buttoning up the loose buttons on his shirt before he’s wandering, reaching for his jacket folded over the back of a chair, effectively ignoring your attempts at returning the favor. He clearly didn’t care, so neither should you. 

He already seemed satisfied enough by the look on your face, knowing you were overconfident in the moment and hoping to knock him down a peg, but that had backfired. He considers a thought for a moment, knowing it was a bad idea. But, he wasn’t one for good, thoughtful choices as of late.

“Next time,” He offers quietly, tucking a knife away into his coat pocket and slinging the cheap bow over his shoulder, “keep quiet—shouldn’t take long.”

The words come as a shock, any inclination or acknowledgement toward your weird arrangement was enough to make your eyes widen in surprise, but you mask it well. Joel leaves without another word, braving the pouring rain for a desperate meal. It had been a long time since you’ve had a decent, filling meal. A handful of canned food a week, spread out sparsely to keep the three of you just on the edge of satisfaction. It wasn’t the best way to live, but it was all you had. 

The lighting cracks through the sky and is followed by a low, booming thunder that shakes the entire house as you sink into the couch, waiting anxiously for Joel’s return.

-

You can’t be accurate, but it feels like Joel returns right on time.

The storm had dissipated to a steady rain by now, occasionally fading into a soft trickle. He’s nearly drowning, but two ducks richer as he slaps the dead game on the table and slowly strips himself of his damp clothes, struggling with the sopping wet layer of his flannel. The fire was a welcomed warmth, his eyes closing as the floor creaked under your footsteps. He feels you hands before he sees you, helping him silently to unbutton his shirt.

It was harder to undress like this, the layers sticking heavily to his skin. When his flannel is unbuttoned you reach for his jeans, taking them to the sink to squeeze out the excess water before you lay them out in front of the fire, hoping it would be enough to dry them by morning. 

You repeat the process as he discards the layers, a silent chore to busy yourself while he strips to his underwear, not nearly as wet as the rest of his clothes but he hesitates, knowing he had an extra change of clothes in his pack.

He decides against it, finding that his hunger was far too persistent to allow him to go any longer without eating. He nods toward the already skinned and prepped animals on the table.

“Let’s eat,” Joel suggested, “before we ended up starvin’ to death.”

You weren’t going to argue, fetching the ducks off the table and presses them into Joel’s waiting hand, watching as he knelt down in his underwear and reached for two pokers resting in the holder besides the fireplace, situation the soon to be food onto the iron rod before he’s resting them directly into the flame.

You fetch a couple blanket off the couch as you watch, tossing one silently to Joel that he accepts with a nod, his eyes following you as you took a seat across from him, staying quiet as he turned the food a few times, allowing it a hopefully full cook—not that you could complain about eating slightly raw meat at a time like this.

The meal is messy but delicious, wiping your fingers against the blanket wrapped over your shoulders and licking away at the juices left behind and Joel mirrors you, devouring the food without a thought. It feels oddly domestic when you forget about everything happening around you, belly full as you set the iron rod aside and settle deeper into the cover.

You watch curiously, like a cat, while Joel rises to clean up the mess. His movements are slower, his stomach slightly fuller now that he’s eaten but it still amazes you at his broadness when the blanket drops to the floor. He strips out of his underwear without any acknowledgment, tossing them alongside the other slowly drying clothes and begins to depart for the bedroom, stopped by your hand scrambling for his wrist as you appear beside him.

He hadn’t even heard you move, wondering how you managed to keep so quiet. You’re startled by the warmth in his face, his gaze dropping to the fingers wrapped around his arm. His other hand is cupping himself, attempting some layer of decency but you’re only looking at his face.

“Tommy won’t be back ‘til morning,” You remind him, “how about a rematch?”

Joel doesn’t answer for a moment, feeling your stomach flutter with a disappointment you’ve never felt, but then he’s surging forward, fingers curling into your hair and tipping your head back as he kisses you, forcing in a sharp breath as his other hand mirrors and presses you backwards, guiding you toward the bedroom rather than the couch. 

His lips don’t leave, guiding you toward the mattress that was covered in a curtain Joel had ripped from its hinges. This kiss isn’t gentle, driven by lust and a need to keep you quiet. Joel finds it impossible to think around you sometimes and shutting you up was the easier route. So, it wasn’t genuine but it was needy, desperate. His tongue licks into your mouth as his hands trail down your body, lifting at the back of your thighs until you’re seated on the bed, level with his cock and eager to redeem yourself.

You pull at your top that Joel is itching to remove, his fingers tucking under the end of it and pulling up before you’re grabbing at his cock, dragging your tongue along the side and under, tracing the tip of your tongue along the vein that ran from base to tip, taking the thick girth of him into your mouth as you peer up, finding that he was staring right at you, eyes half-lidded and cloudy in the darkness but it was there. Admiration, a crack in his facade. He hisses under his breath when the tip of his cock presses against the back of your throat, repeating the motion until your eyes string with tears, trading your mouth for your tongue against as you circle it around the head.

“Up the bed,” He coaxes, gently pulling you away with a hand pressing against the front of your neck, a frown of disapproval thrown his way, “go on—up.”

You don’t argue though, crawling back on your hands as he tugs at your jeans, removing them alongside your underwear and leaving you in a complete state of undress alongside him. The clothes pile on the floor and Joel climbs over the edge of the mattress, prowling toward you slowly as you breathe consciously, comforted by the spread of Joel’s hand over your chest, his fingertips tickling the center of your throat.

“What’s the prize this time?” You ask softly, terrified that speaking too loud would spear the thick cloud of tension surrounding you both, “We never established that.”

“We can figure it out later,” Joel affirms, allowing the hand at your chest to trail down your stomach, to your core, fingers dipping inside of you again without warning, “when you lose.”

His confidence is attractive, but the smugness only infuriates you further. 

And with full stomachs, nearing the edge of exhaustion, you find that the delirium hits you both faster than you’re expecting. The pace is slow, exhausting—tantalizing and teasing touches that drag you both along the edge for far too long and you can’t tell if Joel’s doing it on purpose, bringing you so close to the end before letting you slip back, but eventually it happens by accident.

You flip him to his back when he’s distracted, his cock trapped between your stomach and his own as you grind yourself against his thigh lazily, his eyebrow pinching together at the surge of the sensation that hits him and he comes without warning, painting his stomach with the spurts of cum that spill from his cock with a low groan in his throat, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“You lose.”

Your voice is distant in his ears, but he chuckles quietly at your words.

By then, you’re both too tired to move and fall asleep as is, pressed against his chest as his cum dries against your skin and surely you’ll both regret it come dawn, but for now, sleep consumes you.

[triasticalwarlock]

More Adam brainrot with me(blood lust addition)-

Can I just talk about the size difference that you and Adam have in blood lust?

Look, just look. If adams hand is that big compared to lutes how big is it compared to yours? Like, your hand is just fucking engulfed in his, your hand is probably big enough just to wrap around his finger. A single finger, our hand must be the size of a peach or something. But the size difference just scratches the little itch in my brain to perfectly, so. :/

I know I've said this before, but imagine cuddling this dude. At our size in the story, if he picked you up, you would like a baby in his arms. He definitely likes to just grab your face and squish it, might shake you around lightly to. He would totally play with your ears, bending them and shifting them around, it helps him when he's stressed (he'll also squeeze your boobs/ass but we don't talk about that).

How he would just tower over you, he must have to bend his neck and back at a awkward angle just to look at you. If he got to his knees, he would probably still have to look down a little bit. He would let you hang onto his horns, sit on his shoulders, also letting you swing on his arms. Imagine him giving you his helmet, the mask overlapping your heads and a little bit of your shoulders. He is a little disappointed he can't preen your wings, but he doesn't hate them at all, likes to play with them actually, like your ears. And not only will he lend you his helmet, as well as his robe. And he'll let you keep it, he probably has more than a thousand of those things in his probably-house-like-closet.

Just like- LOOK

HIS HEAD IS SO MUCH BIGGER THAN LUTES. YOU WOULD BE ABLE TO BARLEY WRAP YOUR BODY AROUND IT. IF HE LAID HIS HEAD ON YOUR STOMACH, YOU COULD JUST- HUDHWMSJHXNDKFHFHDY

On to more sinister aspects-

I have full expectations that Adam is going to lose his shit at some point in this story, just lose his fucking mind. More than likely during the extermination(s). Just go apeshit. I personally think that Adam is going to be a fast burn even with you being a sinner because 1, the creator themself said they are shit at writing slowburn. And 2, in the SC (special chapter) they say, 'you've already met all the characters and they've all fallen into your hands', or something along those lines. So I think that Adam going to get obsessed pretty quickly. But back to what I was saying; he's more than likely going to lose his shit during the extermination because he can't reach you due to the others keeping him at bae, doesn't help that you're more than likely in the hotel it self because you know these motherfuckers are not going to take the chance of you getting hurt.

So he just starts shooting his holy light every where, screaming; 'get the fuck out of the way!' or, 'im going to kill all you motherfuckers!'. He just wants to take you 'home', and his pissed off because there's these little 'failures' (from what he calls them) keeping him from his main goal, other than killing all the residence of the hotel. But imagine if he does get to you, that he had lute hold vaggie out of the way and let Adam sneak in. You want to run up to him, he's your 'friend'. But you know that something isn't right with the way he's calling for you; his voice slightly shaking and desperate sounding, like he can't stand another second without you in his field if vision. His glowing gold eyes crazed and wide, like he can't let anything escape his friend of vision. Can't miss the chance of seeing you. And when he finally finds you, he grabs you, picking you up and forcfuly hugging you. Trying to soothe your cries, getting distressed and worried as you didn't calm down. Covering your mouth as he sneaks away to a portal to heaven, some how escaping everyone's field of vision. And as he stepped into the portal, he knew, he had you.

[deafsignifcantother]

annoying alastor

♥ summary: you wake up too early for your own liking and end up spending your time distracting alastor from his morning paper ♥ relationships: alastor x g/n reader who wears hearing aids ♥ word count: 600 ♥ reader details: reader looks just like a human, they have demonic powers though and uses them to fuck with people, alastor likes them teehee awww. ♥ notes: story is 100% spoken dialogue, this is for the people who liked my other drabble

You are kinda piece of shit, though not intentionally of course. Usually not. But sometimes you get bored, and seeing demons as strong as Alastor look at you with pure annoyance can be fun. He'd never hurt you, but god does he want to sometimes.

Things like taking off your hearing aids when he's trying to talk to you and walking away gets under his skin. Or when you pretend they aren't even on and ignore him before responding to someone else. But occasionally, it's less simple.

"I like your animal features." You lean against the couch where he sits, crossing your arms while perched. He holds the morning paper in his hands, not looking back at you. He does tense, though, painfully aware of your hands and where they might be. But you don't touch him. You stand there quietly, looking over his shoulder, your presence an itch. He can feel your breath when you lean in. You hum. It's a simple noise, and he turns to look at you.

You're gone.

Then he hears your voice next to him, opposite where his head is facing. "I wish I had some."

He closes his eyes. So this is how his morning is going to be. He turns to you again, staring into your innocent eyes. They almost captivate him. Almost.

He slightly shakes his head, looking back at his paper. "They're nothing special, darling."

"I could have been a deer."

He doesn't look back at you.

You add, finally capturing his attention. "We're matching."

And when he meets your eye, he flinches back. You have a pair of deer ears, the same color as your hair, perched on the top of your head, facing him. They even twitch.

He scrunches his nose, unimpressed.

You hum again. "Or a cat."

The ears on your head morph into cat ears, and a tail even peaks through your pants and wraps around your leg. But the features disappeared as quickly as they came. "A spider?" Three eyes open on your cheek.

His head whips back down, his eyebrows furrowed.

Your voice comes to his other ear. "Scary, huh?"  

The eyes are gone as if they never formed. Alastor tilts his head, turning to your changed position and squinting at you. Your theatrics are fun when you pull them on somebody else, but sadly, he is the only person awake.

"Are you usually this bothersome, or am I special?" He asks, rummaging through his memory. To his displeasure, you place a hand on the newspaper and push it down slowly, rendering it unreadable.

"You're special."

He makes a noise similar to a grunt. "And why are you up this early?"

"Early bird gets the worm."

"The second mouse gets the cheese, dear."

"Nice, I like that, that's funny." You smile, and in response, his smile tightens. You lean in. "Can you read me the paper? I wanna know stuff too."

His gaze is locked on yours, unwavering. If you're going to stay quiet through it, then maybe, but how likely is that? While at the same time, you don't have the habit of interrupting. Beyond the pestering, you are quite polite. You hold doors open for Charlie, and you actually pay attention to Angel's disgusting stories.

Alastor sighs, a hand going to the back of the couch, inviting you in. You are quick to take the place next to him as he wraps his arm around you to hold the other side of the newspaper. He sets the page in place with a small tightening grip and begins reading. But once he focused away from you, you let your ears melt into your skin, and the hearing aids drop; you sneakily catch them and hold them in your lap. You lay your head on his shoulder and close your eyes. Mission accomplished.

[allykabbet]

Sneezing dynamics I like 2

Small touches of comfort, almost without noticing, more out of habit than anything else. Lightly rubbing the back, a small touch on the forearm or leg, gently stroking the hair.

Extremely polite sneezers. Sneezing into the elbow, wrist, or forearm, or even into the inside of a jacket. Moving away from the person they’re talking to or interacting with in order to sneeze.

Sneeze forceful, congested exhalation. Pressing the bridge of the nose and shaking the head. Blinking several times and trying to focus on the pile of work ahead.

A congested person who doesn’t blow their nose productively because they don’t want to make too much noise and disturb the environment, instead passing a tissue over their nose just to remove the moisture, causing them to constantly sniffle.

*Stifled sneeze* "Bless you. You’re going to hurt yourself, why sneeze like that? / It hurts just to hear you." "That’s how I sneeze, I don’t know any other way." "You sneeze in a very unproductive way." (Casual conversations about sneezing)

Pre-sneezing face on someone who rarely loses control; their usually composed and controlled demeanor fades in a brief moment of vulnerability: their mouth opens slightly, eyes squinting in anticipation, and their expression becomes soft and unguarded, revealing an uncharacteristically delicate side just before the sneeze.

“Excuse me” after sneezing 😳 and if it’s like an exhale or very congested, or still pressing/with the hand on the nose *-*

“Can you pass me a tissue, please…?” In a soft voice, because they’re too focused on not sneezing yet. When the other person hands it over, they quickly bury their face in the tissue and release a stifled or muffled sneeze.

Two people sitting on the bed, chatting, facing each other. One of them sneezes three/four times mid-conversation, suddenly, although they usually sneeze once, maybe twice. "Uh, are you getting sick?" "I don’t know, my nose itches"

Hoarse voice when getting sick. The other people notice they’re sneezing more than usual, scrunching their nose every so often, or getting lost in the conversation/being less attentive than usual. The people around, however, don’t say anything because they know they doesn’t like to show vulnerability, but they make small gestures. They offer hot coffee, press their shoulder when they sneeze, hand them a tissue in silence.

Shivering after sneeze.

Two people sharing a hotel room (in two separate beds or the same). There’s not much trust between them, they’re just sharing space due to circumstances. From the perspective of one of them, X hears, but doesn’t see, that Y is shifting uncomfortably in bed and rubbing their nose. Y starts having a sneezing fit, trying to contain it as much as possible so as not to wake them. X pretends to be asleep but eventually decides to get up and bring them a roll of paper. Neither says anything other than a whispered thank you.

TIRED sneezes. A lingering cold, and sneezes that practically drain all the energy you have, barely coming out through an already scratchy throat and a sore chest.

Offering to turn on the heating when someone is having a sneezing fit, or rubbing their arms to warm them up.

A hand with long, thin fingers, full of rings, holding in a sneeze. No more. 😳

Someone else keeping count of how many sneezes the other have had when the fit goes on.

The head shaking from a forced sneeze, especially when it’s stifled.

Someone who usually stifles their sneezes deliberately to try to stop a sneezing fit. "Finally. A somewhat satisfying sneeze." "Shut up."

Small or gentle sneezes (ApTsch'u! PTschu!) in someone who appears tough, proud, or cocky.

Different ways of blessing. "Bless you" "Bless" "Blessings" "Bless dear" "Gesundheit" Or even saying it in another language if the person speaks a different one: "À tes souhaits" "Salud!"

Okay, let’s talk about allergies. Rapid blinking, throat clearing, twitching the nose and gently passing fingers or knuckles over the nose to avoid itching. Slight sniffles. The nose is slightly redder than usual. Tired sighs.

Someone at a public event, holding a relevant position (perhaps the head of a company, a mafia leader, something like that) and their subordinate are talking to another important person. The high-ranking individual feels the urge to sneeze, and after suppressing it throughout the conversation, they can no longer hold it back. They place a hand on their subordinate’s shoulder and subtly hide behind his/her shoulder to sneeze into their hand. Then composing themselves and apologizing to their interlocutor.

Someone sneezes and forgets what they were saying. The other person notices how lost they are, the rising fever, and their flushed cheeks and nose. Before saying "bless you," they place a hand on their forehead. The other person closes their eyes. What level of intimacy is needed to place a hand on someone’s forehead without them asking for it?

Sneezing when injured. Perhaps a gunshot wound or after surgery, and the wound hurts when they sneeze.

[Thanks for the support on my previous post! <3 Would you like to read fics too?? :) ]

[heeliopheelia]

"look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't fucking lie to me" (heeseung x reader)

genre: angst word count: 0.7k requested by @flwrshee ♡

warnings: swearing, break up, heartbreak, lying

a/n: fuck i love angst sm LMFAO absolutely looooved writing this one

The silence is starting to feel heavy as you sit in Heeseung's parked car right next to your apartment complex. You're just coming back from a meeting with his friends and throughout the entire ride you haven't uttered a single word to him.

"Baby, talk to me, please," he sighs out after the uncomfortable atmosphere starts nearly itching his skin.

"What do you expect me to tell you? I just found out our entire relationship is basically a fucking joke," you say, face turned towards the window.

You don't even try to maturely approach the subject. Because how else is one supposed to react after realizing that their boyfriend most likely still has feelings for his ex? The sole thought of it makes your skin crawl and Heeseung can clearly see it as he swipes his eyes over your frowned side profile.

He tries again, feeling as if he's losing you already, one by one. "Nothing about us is a joke to me."

You want to get out of the car, you really fucking do, but at the same time you know that it's probably the last time you see him, the last time you're this close to him and the weak part of you that still wants to stay with him doesn't allow you to leave yet.

You feel goosebumps spiking your skin when his fingers hesitantly touch yours, so you quickly jerk your hand away.

"I feel like some fucking rebound, Heeseung."

"YN, baby," he starts quietly, trying to gain your attention. Pressing your lips together, you try your hardest to hold your tears back. "Will you please look at me?"

And you do, turning your head away from the window, hard eyes finding his immediately. For a second you take in the uneasiness painted on his face, his wide open eyes only making you want to cry even more. So you drop your gaze to your knees.

"I hope you had fun at least," you finally say, fiddling with the bracelet he gave you on your birthday three months ago. "Playing with my feelings like that, hope it was worth it."

"Don't say that, love," he pleads, hand itching to reach out to you again. "You can't believe everything people say so easily."

You scoff, looking at him in disbelief. "These people are your best friends. I see no reason as for why wouldn't I listen to them."

Realizing he's a step away from blowing his entire relationship with you, he finally engulfs your slightly trembling hand in his and brings it to his lips to press a kiss on your knuckles. His jacket around your shoulders suddenly feels all too heavy and burdening, a complete opposite of the comfort it used to bring you so many times before. The smell of his cologne is too strong all of sudden, the warmth of it nearly suffocates you.

"You know I lov-"

You interrupt him quickly, the sharpness or your tone startling him slightly. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you didn't fucking lie to me." You swallow the bile in your throat as he sits in stunned silence, eyes gaping at you hopelessly. "I need to hear that she means nothing to you and we'll forget all about it."

"I- I can't," he stutters out, rubbing his face with his hand. "Fuck, I'm sorry. But I'll get over it, I promise. I can't lose you too, YN."

You jerk your hand out of his hold as if it was burning you alive and shake your head with a bitter scoff. "Then what the fuck are you even doing? Leading me on like that, do you realize how much this is hurting me? It's like the entire year we've been together meant absolutely nothing! That's so fucked up, Heeseung!"

"I know, I know!" He groans, pressing his palms to his eyes. "I'm sorry, I just thought that I'd lose these feelings along the way in a relationship with you. I never expected that she'd still have such strong hold on me even a year later."

"Well, since my love is clearly not enough for you, I'm finally gonna stop wasting both of our time," you nearly hiss at him, shrugging his jacket off your shoulders and shoving it into his chest. He catches it, eyes as wide as a deer caught in the headlights. "Thanks for the ride, Heeseung."

"Wait, YN!" He calls after you as you walk out of his car. He reaches out to grab you and somehow try to make you stay but his fingers only manage to graze the edge of your top as you turn around to him. "Don't leave."

"Stop being so fucking selfish. Goodbye. Don't call me again," you let his pleadings go past your ears before you shut the door and leave Heeseung in shambles.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @venividibitchin

[sadesluvr]

CAT AND MOUSE. (VI)

Miguel O'Hara x Black Cat! F! Reader Warnings: None, just smut ;) A/N: An overdue finale! A little short but sweet. PREVIOUS CHAPTER | READ ON AO3 | SERIES MASTERLIST

Miguel couldn’t sleep. 

That wasn’t anything new, but tonight he had a particular itch. In his brain, in his heart, he didn’t know – but he hadn’t found any relief in his late-night empanada, and he certainly didn’t feel like straining himself in the gym. At least not tonight. 

He needed something more.  

It wasn’t as if he could play around with himself anymore. You were right down the hall as you had been for the past three months, and given the nature of your relationship it was fairly likely you’d be able to scratch said itch. He just didn’t know how to breach it. 

It was ironic, really. The past year had been filled with nothing but yearning and straight sexual tension, yet he couldn’t figure out how to initiate.  

(It’s because of your feelings.) 

“LYLA...Is she sleeping?” 

“Hmmm...Who’s ‘she’?” 

[Fuck] “Carajo, you know who I’m talking about.” 

“Nope,” the yellow figure teased. “There’s approximately 299 ‘shes’ in the building, not including other dimensions.” 

“Ay, the Black Cat! The one we saved from Otto.” Miguel huffed, pushing his dark locks from his face. 

“Nah she’s not sleeping,” she grinned, responding almost instantly. “Her wounds healing pretty well if you’re trying to get a little rough.” 

“Jesus, LYLA, that isn’t necessary!” he exclaimed before squaring his shoulders. It was now or never. He wasn’t going to let you slip away again. “Let her know I’m coming.” 

“Copy that.” 

Your eyes were wide at the glitchy sound of the door sliding open. All rooms were usually kept with a passkey, and the only people that could override were LYLA, Miguel or Jess...Perhaps even Margo (Though it wasn’t favoured). You were certain LYLA didn’t need to use a door to speak to you, and Jess was almost definitely with her hubby...meaning it was Miguel. Or one of the younger Spider-men who’d gotten Margo to override the code just so they could talk to you. For some reason, you were like an older sister to them. 

You glanced up at the hunk of man that traipsed through your door. For once he was out of his costume, replaced with a black compression shirt and gym pants. It wasn’t as if it hadn’t been said before, but he was certainly pretty enough to model. Still, there was a normalcy to seeing him like this, as if you’d forgotten that underneath every suit was a regular person - they, like yourself, weren’t always superheroes.  

“Miguel, I’m not doing physio at this time of night.” you said exasperatedly.  

“I’m not here for that,” he said quickly, his face still solemn as ever but with a hint of playfulness in his voice. “I just wanted to talk to you.” 

“Has my visitors pass expired already?” you joked. “I’m not one to impose. I’ll leave if you want me to.” 

“I don’t want you to.” 

Admittedly, that took you aback. 

“Just -- Let me speak,” he began, and it occurred to you that you felt like prey as he stalked you, your heart pounding as he made the short journey to sit next to you on the bed. You watched as he mused, back hunched and ringing his fingers before he continued to speak. “I’ve been difficult, I know. It’s apparent that I – tolerate – you more than you think.” 

“Is that so?” you smirked, propping yourself up on your knees as you leaned into him, pressing your chest against his bicep and back. “I’d have never thought.” 

Miguel grumbled, and you could’ve sworn that his cheeks tinted slightly. 

“How long have ya been holding that in?” you continued, moving your face closer to his jawline, breath tickling his skin as you spoke. It was blatant to the two of you just how quickly the roles had been switched, and for once Miguel didn’t find himself fighting against it. In fact, he rather enjoyed it. 

“A while...” 

“That’s good enough for me,” you purred, eyes gleaming with lust. “I promise not to hurt you, but be careful of the arm, still, tiger.” 

With a swift motion you’d cupped his firm jaw in your hands, pressing your lips against his own. Miguel seemed somewhat taken aback, but responded instantly, one of his large hands finding their way to the back of your neck to gently pull you in, his prominent nose rubbing against your skin as you quite literally sucked each other's faces off. Dragging your long nails through his roots, you traced small circles on the back of his neck as you straddled him, beginning to grind yourself on his large thighs as you nipped at his lip. 

“Come on...” you cooed. “I know we’ve both got a bite...” 

[Oh my God] “Dios mio...You drive me crazy, bella...” he grunted, pulling back to bare his teeth, earning a sultry smile from you as he began to nibble down your neck. As much as you wished you were both in the heat of battle (and you wearing a low-cut suit), there was something far more passionate about him coming to you so vulnerably, right on his own terms.  He growled as you circled your hips on his pelvis to an imaginary rhythm, of which you were all too happy to find that he caught effortlessly, you wild hair flowing in tandem. You only wore a small pair of shorts under your black t-shirt, wherein underneath lay a thong. Positive that he could feel your wetness, you ran your hands down your body and between your thighs, spreading your pussy open for Miguel to glance down and admire. 

For a moment, his mind went blank, feeling like a bumbling virgin as he short-circuited trying to remember what to do. He felt the inexplicable urge to dive in, to prop you up on pillows in the regal position you deserved whilst you locked your legs around his head to coax his tongue deeper, but selfish lust had the upper hand and was telling him otherwise.  

“No creo que pueda esperar más,” [I don’t think I can wait anymore] he moaned. “I need you right now.” 

“Don’t worry,” you smirked. “You’ll make it up to me, got it?” 

Miguel nodded before kicking his pants off, the material pooling by his ankles as he angled his erect cock towards your entrance. As expected, he was big, well over six inches with a decent girth, clean cut and dripping precum. 

You usually made all your men wrap up – that would certainly be instituted in the future – but for now you wanted needed nothing more but to feel him. Every inch, every vein and every throb.   

Miguel let out a deep groan as he entered you, barely having enough time to process you pushing him back on the bed. Instinctively, you pinned his hands to his sides, whining your hips and lower body up and down his cock as you topped him. Glancing down at him was a truly beautiful sight, his long lashes fluttering shut and his jaw clenching and unclenching as he succumbed to the release of tension. You couldn’t help but pity him, not just because you’d managed to pin down a 6’9, however-so many-pound man, but because you knew that it had been ages; if ever in his weird sense of a lifetime, that he’d truly felt free.  

Even though you were a pro at this, you found yourself stumbling, occasionally having his cock pop out from between your slick walls. Although your ego made you feel like a failure, it drove the man wild, bucking his hips up desperately into you, filling the room with sounds of skin-on-skin. He spouted a litany of sweet nothings; some in Spanish, some in English, but it didn’t take a genius to know that he was infatuated, as you with him.  

You saw him for what he was, a good man who just happened to be broken and afraid. Miguel didn’t just admire your sex, but the whole of you; the slightly neurotic woman inside.  

And that was how you knew you loved eachother. 

(Love was still such a strong word, but neither of you found it so difficult to swallow anymore. In this world; in your weird and crazy lifetime where there were alternative versions of someone, you didn’t get a chance to question the nature of the feeling. You took it as it was, and in your current moment it was tangible, euphoric, and deeply honest.) 

FIN. 

Taglist: @fries11 @honeyluvsatj @saturnknows @vancehopper1987 @youngestxhearts @valleyoftheprimadonnagirl