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lokisgoodgirl · 7 months ago

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The Rite: Consequence (VI)

A link to The Rite Masterlist is here A link to my regular Masterlist is here Summary: (6) It's the day of The Rite 🙈And whether Loki succeeds or fails in capturing your pleasure (and your heart) - there will be consequences. Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Mild angst. Asgardians behaving badly. Smut. I am begging, pleading for your trust. (w/c 5.6k)

Loki blocked the fall of the blade with a hanging guard, catching his brother’s wild stare through the angle of his arm.

Dust scraped across his eyes from the training ring, but he blinked it away. They both glistened with mid-afternoon sweat - muscles straining; all hard veins and gritted teeth.

Loki licked his lips, tasting salt, and his arm began to quiver beneath the press of his brother’s blade – but he wouldn’t relent. He never did.

The Rite was only hours away.

It began at sundown. He wasn’t allowed to see you, and beating his brother into the dirt was as good a distraction as any. Better than the ones I’m used to.

And besides, after the two of you had talked until sunrise – about everything and anything that avoided the question of love – there was nothing more to be done.

If Fandral had told you about the second part of The Rite, he was glad you hadn’t raised it. He didn’t think he could bear knowing its outcome in advance. Better the short, sharp shock of shame than its clammy shadow. Better to whisper in your ear and devour your lips and feel your hand searching the angles of him until he was sick with painful desire.

“Yield,” Loki grit. A thick strand of hair had come loose, trailing over his vision. The furrow of Thor’s frown grew deeper.

“Why would I? I have you on the run, little brother.” A soft grunt broke in Loki’s throat. He flexed his shoulder and parried Thor’s sword to the side with force, kicking the blonde’s left foot from under him in the same movement. Thor slammed down into the sand; sprawling and sword clattered against the stone beneath.

“You don’t fight fair, Loki” “Maybe you should fight better.” Thor scrambled to his feet, sand sticking in clumps to the sweat gathered on his chest. “I am the greatest warrior this realm has ever known because I fight with honour.” Loki rolled his eyes. “Honour,” he spat. “At least you shan’t have your ill-gotten reputation in the histories as its greatest lover for much longer.” Thor hacked a wad of dust-gritted saliva and spat it to his feet. He looked up with a twisted smile. “I don’t know about that, Loki. Of the two of us you’ve always been seen as the bigger whore. A talented one for certain, but a whore all the same. And soon enough, your Rite partner will join the throng; be forgotten like the rest.” Before he knew it, Loki’s dagger was at Thor’s throat.

His vision flashed white, and behind him came the jangle of armoured guards, circling them with their spears readied. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Thor’s hands rise to steady them.

“Brother…” Thor said slowly, “I know you’re nervous, but killing me really would remove any chance you have at the succession—”

“—I won’t take insult from those who wax lyrical about honour and leave their loin’s fruit to the vultures.” Thor frowned. “What are you talking about?” He tried to look down at the blade glinting by his thorax and only succeeded in nicking his skin. “Ow.” Loki released a withering sigh, flipping the dagger away and kicking Thor’s foot from beneath him. The other one, this time. His brother crumpled like a wet towel. He turned, seeing several of the guards’ facial expressions flinch between the gaps in their helmets.

“Disperse,” he muttered, striding past them and wondering mildly how long it would be until Odin found out. He needed to bathe. He needed to be alone. I need to be with her. But he couldn’t have that; so alone, it would be.

“Don’t worry brother,” he said dryly as he scraped sweat-soaked hair off his face. “I’m sure none of father’s spies will impart that you were bested by a whore.” Thor’s blustering protestations made a smirk curl the corner of his mouth. He must remember to tell you about this, when all was said and done: when the succession was set in stone, when the home for abandoned children was secured, when he knew that you loved him. And as he exited the training ring, Loki realised with horrifying clarity that one of those possibilities hung around his neck like a millstone: heavier than the others – threatening to collapse him to his knees.

If she loves me, he re-worded in his mind, beginning to walk a little quicker to the safety of solitude.

You’d been woken in late morning and bustled with minimal ceremony to the private baths on the upper floors of the palace.

Once there, your day-gown had been stripped by a flurry of exquisitely beautiful maids; each dressed in blue fabric as thin as gauze, hair like pure, precious metals. How you hated them.

You hadn’t realised you wouldn’t see Loki until The Rite itself until he’d told you last night before you parted ways. You’d kissed him so roughly against the wall, fingers digging into his scalp, that you’d almost passed out from lack of oxygen.

And now…here, with the most impossibly beautiful nymphs in all of Asgard – it felt like there was no time. You need to be near him. Isn’t that how love works? But then, you wouldn’t know. You suddenly wondered if absence before the ceremony was really part of the tradition, or if Odin and the rest of them were trying to keep you apart. Hoping he’ll fail. —Stop being so paranoid.

Steam rose from the hot spring, undulating like flame as one of the nymphs massaged your shoulders. I wonder what Loki’s doing. Does he miss me? Is he nervous…? You lifted one calf out of the water where you’d perched at the edge of the baths, the scent of orange oil thick in your nostrils. Suddenly the fingers stopped working, and she leant down. “Loki’s very good, you know. Everyone knows it’s his favourite thing to do to a woman, or a man. You’re so lucky.” She giggled, and your stomach tightened with a wave of inexplicable anger. “I’m jealous. They say he does this thing with his tongue that—" “—Oh hush, Mavor.” You winced as Frigga’s chide sparked like a lit match. She settled, dangling her feet in the pool beside yours. “Leave the poor girl alone, I’m sure the past few days have been much to contend with.”

You turned fractionally, almost blinded by the golden assault of her sunlit hair. She’s staring at you, faint crows-feet scrunched from the vaguely discomforting smile on her lips. “What happened last night with Fandral was improper. What must you think of us?” “I don’t think it of you,” you lied, memories of the sick little girl cinching tight around your mind; the fact that Fandral and all the other court-wankers had no clue that Loki was the one clearing up their mess, doing any real good. But it was a secret, and a secret it would remain.

And then you remembered what Lagertha said when the nurse had thanked the gods. ‘Not the gods,’ she’d said, beaming with pride as Loki blushed. ‘This one’s the only one worth having.’

Frigga’s close-lipped smile grew. “We can’t blame Fandral for being in love with Loki, even if his methods were…”

Your eyebrow rose. “Petty? Spiteful? Unforgiveable?”

Frigga laughed: a practiced, twinkling chirp. “When you live as long as we do, dear…nothing is truly unforgivable.”

You frowned, vision blurring as you stifled an eyeroll and Freya continued. “Perhaps you understand how he feels…now that you’ve gotten to know my second son a little better.” “You want to know if I love him, is that it? Well, I don't know.”

Shame swelled under your thin bathing gown, and Frigga inhaled quietly. “I of all people in this palace understand that words matter less than what we feel in here-” she said, pressing a fan of fingers to her chest. “You may think our customs strange, but they were born from centuries of upheaval and selfishness of our rulers. Markers needed to be set. It’s important that the general populace knows nothing of the second requirement of The Rite. It’s sacred.” You let out a petulant sigh. Don’t sass the queen, you willed, staring ahead at the water spilling over the edge of the balcony to a waterfall below.

Frigga cleared her throat. “The Rite ensures that those in line for succession can put another before themselves, represented through giving pleasure – and can capture their heart, their love—” “—Yes…I know that now,” you spat, eyes blazing towards her. “No thanks to any of you. Fandral had to tell me, of all people. Couldn’t resist rubbing it in my face that I’d fail Loki.”

Frigga’s face fell. But now you’d started, you couldn’t stop.

“And besides…Odin, Thor…they cheated the system, didn’t they? You and Odin were engaged! Sif was pretty much raised on a diet of Thor-infatuation.” You shook your head, heat flushing up your neck. “I didn’t say it was perfect,” Frigga said. “But the succession cannot be risked. And despite your current ingratiation, you are an outsider; you cannot understand these things.” “Oh,” you said, choosing to ignore her honey-drenched barb. “It can’t be risked, I see…unless it’s Loki, the one no one cares about?”

Despite her mask of diplomacy, irritation rippled on Frigga’s face.

“He had many options, and every opportunity,” she said through perfectly straight, gritted, teeth. “And he squandered every one of them. But something’s changed these past centuries in him. Something in these past weeks, too. A mystery, certainly.”

She stood, and the wet length of her glittering gown slopped across the floor. “Although I’m pleased to see you feel so strongly in his defence – it bodes well for his performance. Perhaps he’ll succeed after all.”

Your snorted. “And if I fail him, Fandral can step in: problem solved.” Frigga sighed, waving away an approaching nymph who skittered gratefully backwards.

“That’s not how it works,” Frigga said with a cloying sweetness, "- Loki would fail you: he would have failed to bring you pleasure, and capture your heart in a meaningful way. He only has one chance at fulfilling The Rite, at joining the succession. I did urge him to wait another 500 years but..."

She gave a delicate shrug. "And besides, in his haste to tarnish you…Fandral excluded himself from ever being eligible. The arousal of a god touched his skin. You should have seen his face when he realised he’d neglected to don the gloves in his pocket: pompous little oaf.”

A whirl of butterflies erupted in your gut. “So, you see, my dear…” Frigga tipped your chin up to meet her eyes. “You are my son’s only chance…”

You looked up at her: the glint in her beautiful irises – and for the first time you saw something more than the performance she presented to the court. Mischief. “My son’s…and those sweet little children.” A smile curled at her wine-stained lips. “And I hope you are prepared for the consequences of that.”

The silent, unbroken stare shattered as the doors burst open and Lagertha hobbled inside with an entourage of three. They held something in their arms like a dead snake, spread between them, covered in thick cotton and secured with the Asgardian royal seal in five places along its length.

Lagertha clapped her hands twice and you couldn’t help but smile at the irreverence on her face as she cast an imperious glance around the room. “There she is,” she said, waving you towards her. “Come, come – we haven’t got all day. Sun will be setting soon.”

You jumped up and scooted over, and immediately her surprisingly iron grip fastened to your bicep. “Loki sends his well wishes,” she hissed abruptly, “hopes his mother ain’t been too much of a cow.”

You pressed your lips together. “He’s alright? He’s not…” “Nervous? Course he is, dear. Near-on shitting himself. Not that he’d say that out loud, but I’ve known him a long time…the real him, like you do. Bless his silken hose. But now…we need to focus on you.”

Minutes passed in a blur as one of Lagertha’s deputy Weaving Crone who wasn’t quite so nobbled rolled out a small podium. You mounted it, following instructions to raise your arms and soon the dress was pulled over your head and in a heap on the floor.

A mirror was wheeled from somewhere, and behind your naked body you tried not to look at Frigga perched on a chaise, supping from a goblet.

Over your shoulder, the assistant crones were unpacking the snake-like thing. It must’ve been twenty feet long, and as it unfurled, your breath hitched. They held up the part which went over your arms, pacing forward reverently. It was as sheer as cobweb, tiny golden flecks weaved into the impossibly fine threads.

It slid up your skin like liquid moonlight. The fabric kissed your flesh like the graze of a lover, and beside you, Lagertha smiled.

You eyed your reflection warily. “How many people will see me in this?” “Just focus on the prince, dear.” “How many, Lagertha?” Her eyes flickered up to yours before taking a renewed interest in straightening the sash. “No more than twenty.” “Twenty?” you hissed. “I thought…I don’t know what I thought. Norns. Who are they?” “Odin, Frigga, Thor…some of the high gods; selected nobles to witness. It’s an honour, remember that. For them, as well as you.” You could swear the outline of your heartbeat was visible. “Oh my god��will they see everything?” “Not everything, child,” Lagertha whispered, untying the sash loop and re-assembling it; buying time. The robes sides covered your breasts but left a gap of bare skin in the centre, gathering at the naval before the flowing, split skirt began.

“It’s all very hush hush beforehand, so the participants can’t…skew things.” “Skew things?” You saw Lagertha’s lips roll together as she tried to dampen a laugh. Her eyes darted to Frigga and quickly back to you.

“Touch ‘emselves,” she said with a straight face.

“Focus on Loki, dear.” Her voice was as calming as poppy-seed tea. “I know what I see when I see it.” She ran a nobbled hand down the curve of your waist, smoothing the fabric.

You swallowed, looking at yourself in the mirror. “How will they know if I…if I love him? How will they know if I don't know?” Lagertha spun out the silence, fussing with the fabric at your breasts. “Focus on Loki, dear,” was all she said.

And soon, you were on the move again.

After his father’s ‘motivational’ speech, Loki felt no better. Although admittedly, he did feel slightly lighter when he’d left. Lagertha’s arrival had been the only bright spot in the darkness of his mood. She’d clothed in him in the same style of ceremonial garments expected from all participants in The Rite – far less grand than yours would be, but Loki’s held more elaborate stitching than his brother’s had done centuries before: tiny runes and charms woven into the hem with wishes that whispered when he moved. “Tell her…” he’d started, realising that he didn’t know what to say. He grumbled out some inane quip about his mother. Lagertha raised an eyebrow. “I know how you feel about her, silly boy,” she said under her breath, eyeing Thor snarfing down a third plate of cold meats like he’d been raised on the streets and not in a palace. "You can't fool old Lagertha."

Loki’s chest tightened: fighting the urge to deny it, fighting the urge to let his persona of bravado take hold. “I can’t love. Everyone’s always told me I’m not…made for it.” Lagertha’s laugh caught in her throat. She made a face. “Who? Him?” She yanked her head towards Thor leering covetously at a wheel of cheese. “Please,” she added under her breath. “And if she doesn’t love me?” Loki asked, voice crackling under the weight of the words.

Lagertha rolled her eyes. “It was a big ask in such a short time – any fool could see that, even your brother. But if you can…then maybe she can too.”

She shrugged, and patted his bare pecs twice. “I saw the way she looked at you when you came to get measured, and she couldn’t look away when you were playing with little Grisyna.”

Her eyebrow rose again. “Besides…if what she feels isn’t strong enough to fulfil The Rite…doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Doesn’t mean it isn’t worth exploring, tending.” “But the children," Loki hissed, ensuring he was out of Thor's earshot. "If I’m not in the succession, then if father finds out, he’ll—” Lagertha flapped a hand. “— We’ll figure out a way. We always have. Odin isn’t going to sweep in and decimate them – Frigga wouldn’t allow it…they’ll be shifted out somewhere, all nice and quiet so no one finds out what a bunch of unworthy vagabonds his court is.”

She reached up his neck and instinctually he stooped so her hands could cup his jaw.

“You are worthy of love, Loki Odinson. Giving and receiving,” she said quietly, searching his eyes. “No matter what some daft Rite says.”

“Brother you simply must try these prunes.”

Thor belched, pressing a fist to his mouth too late. Loki and Lagertha looked at him with matching expressions of disgust, and her hands fell from his jaw. Thor chuckled.

“Seems like your partner has competition for her place tonight,” Thor said, throwing a prune up and trying to catch it with his mouth. It hit off his eye and bounced to the floor. “I’ve been laying with gods since Odin was a sparkle in your grandfather’s eye, boy…I wouldn’t possibly qualify,” she said, gathering her things. She looked at Loki a final time, sharing a conspiratorial nod as Thor flushed pink. “Boy?!” Thor balked, as she shifted from the room with a quiet, purposeful grace. “Boy!?” he said again, marching to Loki. “That old witch is too familiar. I should have her removed from royal favour.” “You’ll do no such thing, brother,” Loki drawled, picking up a goblet of wine before setting it down again, untouched. “Who will make the garments that enchant your groin to look larger?” Thor’s cheeks began to turn violet. “That was supposed to be in confidence.” “Oh, dear.” Loki spun to his reflection, tilting his head. “Well, you’re lucky I’m very good at keeping secrets - if I choose to.”

Thor's lips pursed tight. Clearly, today would not be the one he’d break the habit of a lifetime and concoct a witty response. Loki’s gaze shifted back to himself.

The ceremonial Rite garment clung to every line of muscle like shimmering skin. It rippled at the merest breath; whether it was silver, or gold, or white depended entirely on the angle of the light. Bell sleeves draped from his wrists, hanging down to his mid-thighs and melting against his skin like dregs of foam into sand.

The fabric was split down his torso; cock on full display; sheer fabric leaving no inch of the skin beneath to the imagination. The hem of the robe brushed the floor as his bare feet shuffled, inspecting himself. He looked resplendent.

Loki sighed. “Fix my hair, will you? Or try, at least.”

A box rattled as Thor combed through a variety of pins. Loki rolled his eyes. “The gold one, with the emblem.” “Which emblem?” Thor asked, bored. “My emblem, you cretin.”

Thor worked in silence, and Loki was glad of it. His brother managed to gather the hair in a serviceable knot at the top of his head: fastened with the golden snake pin at its base. Loki’s cheekbones slashed deep shadows into his face, highlighting faint blue shadows under his eyes. The sun had almost set, and soon enough, there was a knock at the door. Thor squeezed his shoulder. “I wish you fortune, brother. May her heart be open.”

Loki waited for the quip about her legs being open too, but it didn’t come. And unlike the cowing pleasantries at last night’s feast, he felt a shiver of gratitude wrench up his spine at the sentiment.

“Thank you, brother,” he whispered, meeting his own eyes in the mirror. “I need it.”

The stone seemed to pulse beneath your feet.

You walked in procession: Frigga at the front, the Asgardian nymphs flanking you each holding a clutch of your train as the golden door grew closer. Goosebumps needled your arms beneath the silk-chiffon. ‘Just focus on the prince’, Lagertha had said. ‘Just focus on him’. Finally, the procession stopped. Frigga beat a fist on the door three times, and inside there was the muffled sound of trumpets.

Oh, for fuck’s sake. Heraldry? Be serious.

The doors swung open. The hall was narrow, with padded benches lining the walls like one of those Midgard chapels and torches throwing throbbing amber hues on the floor. It was so polished that the gemstone stars set deep into the dark ceiling reflected on its surface, and your feet wobbled as the world slewed around you. “It’s alright,” the nymph to your side whispered, staring ahead. “Just keep walking.” You tried not to look at the shaded figures who populated the benches, but the curiosity was too much. Fandral sat with a sullen expression, glowering at your progress, the centre of his face marred with a purple bruise which spread to his eyes. You smirked. Frigga stopped, and stepped to the side.

And then, you inhaled sharply. Loki stood with his hands clasped behind his back: posture impeccable, body tight with braced muscles and his raven hair swept up in a devastating knot.

He wore a robe made of the same material as yours. In torchlight, it looked like pure gold – rippling with opacity in time with the flames. But still, his alabaster skin was visible beneath it. The god’s bare form was as flawless as you remembered from the night in the baths – it felt like a lifetime ago.

And yes, his cock really is that big, that perfect. You thought you might have imagined it. His face was set in ceremonial stiffness, but those eyes sparkled. He isn’t embarrassed. You decided – fuck it – you weren’t going to be embarrassed either. You opened your mouth to speak but, regrettably, Odin got in first. “Gods, nobles…you are welcome to the attempt of my second son – Loki of Asgard – at fulfilling The Rite of Successional Pleasure, and taking his place as one of the realm’s true-royal sons.”

Loki sidestepped as you found yourself guided by the nymphs holding your train, nudging you towards a raised platform at the end of the hall. A firm looking cushion sat on top of it: the deepest navy blue, scattered with silver thread.

You climbed each of the four steps, turning to the crowd of shadowed faces occupying the pews and trying to ignore the graze of your hardened nipped against the fabric. For Loki, you reminded yourself.

Looking up, you could make out a golden railing suspended from the ceiling, thin bunches of material hanging from it in thin sections. Loki mounted the steps with easy grace, cock swinging, drawing your hand to his lips when he reached the top.

“You are well?” he murmured against the skin, looking up through his lashes. Your stomach roiled with the need to kiss him, but all you could muster was a nod. A silent understanding passed between you of how fucked-up this was. “It will be over soon,” he said, brows peaking. Your lips rolled together, but as words shaped your lips—

“Loki Odinson: God of Mischief and Lies, Son of Asgard.”

Odin’s voice rang around the cloisters like a war-cry. “I command you to prove yourself worthy of the people you seek to rule by bestowing unrequited pleasure on this woman. By doing so, you prove that you can put those you rule above yourself; that if you can cultivate their love, you may one day hold the crown.”

Cultivate their love. The phrase made a shiver tighten your shoulders.

A woman even older than Lagertha shuffled up the steps, and beside you, Loki stiffened. Red markings smeared down her face, paste crusting into deep wrinkles. She gathered your hands. Her eyes closed, face tipped to the feeling. The very air seemed to sharpen. “She is untouched by a god: she has known no seed, she is eligible for the ceremonial Rite,” the woman announced. Beside you, Loki’s muscles relaxed. A nymph tapped your shoulder and you drew your eyes from Loki’s. “My lady- we need to—” “—I can do it,” Loki cut in. He observed her visible panic with clear irritation. “Nowhere does it specify this in the ceremonial texts, I assure you.”

There was a hum from the crowd, but no objections. Loki ushered you to the bed. He leant down to your ear, and the warmth of his breath ignited fierce, obscene desire in your core. The crowd, forgotten. “Lie on the bed, so that your head rests near the top," he whispered, shivers running down your limbs. "Those two women will fan the train of your robe. It’s very important that you let them arrange it how it needs to be. You’ll be restrained, but don’t fear…it will not hurt. It’s only so—” “—I don’t touch myself,” you finished. Loki smirked. “Skew the results,” he replied, eyes glittering like the gems in the ceiling. His knuckles trailed down your bicep and for that moment, there was only you and Loki in the room. “Shall we?”

You did as he’d asked, settling on your back. True enough, the two nymphs spread the train of the robe until its huge length spilled down the steps and halfway up the narrow aisle. The rest of it pooled across the bed, pearling weave undulating in shadows. When they were done, your arms were spread and satin tied to your wrists; fastened somewhere down the sides.

And all the while, Loki stood where you’d left him – facing the crowd with what you imagined was a thousand-yard-stare.

One of the nymphs approached the long material draped from the ceiling. Loki brought a hand up, clicking his fingers. The material sprung to life, metal rings scraping on metal as it worked around the railing; surrounding the bed in a circle of thin, voile fabric.

You’d been prepared to repeat Lagertha’s mantra in your head at this point, but it turned out it wasn’t only easy to focus on Loki – it was impossible not to.

He drew a portion of the curtain to the side and slipped through: utterly beautiful in his regally-repressed lust. That lithe body shifted beneath the sheer robe as he knelt on the bed: one knee, then two. You squirmed, unable to help yourself. You were already wet, arousal sliding between your thighs.

“Kiss me?” you asked quietly.

His brow furrowed, eyes falling to his crotch. He was hard. It was the first time you’d seen him erect without any clothes on. Even in the baths, he’d been underwater. Saliva welled in your mouth, heart thumping. A bead of pre-cum had already swelled at the tip. “This is rather unorthodox,” he muttered. Whispers were audible from the world beyond the curtain. Loki swallowed. “But you look so…” He swallowed again, eyelids fluttering closed and hands falling to the mattress. “I’ll get seed on you. And we can’t have that. Not now.” “Not now,” you agreed as your legs parted.

Loki’s breath hitched as he drew the sliver of fabric covering your crotch to the side. The god lowered, lips fastening to your thigh as his hands scooped under your legs. You felt like you might catch fire.

He kissed up to the knee, lingering on each inch of skin like you might vanish. Your nerves were wild, and it wasn’t until the whine of his name had left your lips you even realised you'd done it. There was a ripple of amusement from the crowd, and one of Loki’s brows rose. “As you desire,” he murmured, before fastening softly to your clit.

A moan ripped from your throat.

The touch was almost nothing, but it was a lit match to sulphur. All the desire, the longing, the denial – it came rushing up your throat in that moan.

Loki’s tongue was silk. It smoothed over the folds of your sex, coating you in his wet enthusiasm. Every long, languid lap coupled with a groan of approval in his chest; the sharp angles of his jawline slotting perfectly between your spread legs.

“Loki,” you gasped, back arching while his fingers spread against your hips.

He suckled your clit, eyes opening with calculated precision to lock with your own. “Loki,” you chanted again, reaching to tangle a hand in his hair and failing. His mouth broke from your pussy. “Yes, little owl?” he hummed, chin glistening with your arousal, a playful dimple winking at the corner of his mouth. You huffed.

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded as the god chuckled against you thigh, wet, lazy kisses bitten into the flesh. His eyes met yours as he kissed over your mound, lowering completely before dragging his nose through your cunt and covering your clit again.

“Gods, yes….f-fuck,” you gasped.

There were more titters of mirth behind the curtain. But you couldn’t hear them – you could only hear Loki’s desperate sighs of need as he worshipped you, only feel the coil winding in your belly as orgasm began to crest; only sense the press of his fingertips pulling your hips deeper into his open mouth.

Suddenly someone shouted: another, and then another. They were hushed by a voice suspiciously like Frigga’s.

You turned your face unwillingly to the side, craning up, straining against the binds. The end of the train was just visible were it ended down aisle. You squinted. Where before it was a kind of white, now it was… “Green?” Loki’s palm pressed against your chest, sliding to cup your breast with a squeeze as you lowered.

“Ignore it,” he breathed: wet, hot. And then, he pushed your knees back. Your eyes widened as he towered above you, fingers spread on your calves like a chariot-rider. A single curl had come loose from the top-knot. Loki lapped from the base of your slit to the tip.

His movements were fluid, and wild – yet perfectly controlled. You’d heard tales of how he swept through battlefields like a whirlwind; slicing enemies down like they were paper; harnessing madness with the absolute precision. And this was like that. Except his battle was your pleasure – and gods, he was winning.

You’d begun to pant, and nonsensical words shaped your tongue as his movements became slower, massaging your cunt with slow, methodical licks. “Loki…” you pleaded, chest heaving, lips parted. And then, you came.

It was like nothing you’d ever known. Everything else had been a pebble of pleasure scattered on a beach – this was the cliff. It slammed into you, spine arching as he shifted to your thrashes; holding your hips fast to his lips as you spilled into him.

Somewhere, people were clapping – but all you could feel was him, guiding your sizzling pussy from its high with gentle, careful licks.

The binds at your wrists loosened and the moment they did, you sat up – audience be damned – and collided with his mouth.

The kiss was deep, wild: fingers digging into the tight hair at the base of his skull, his lips teased open by the demands of your tongue. The taste of you was thick: sweet, hot, dark with your deepest needs. It tasted like love - like trust.

Loki’s moan as you shifted onto his lap and dragged your pussy up his cock: scorching your insides with an unquenchable drive to have him buried inside you. “It’s done,” a creaking voice announced. You squinted through the curtain, panting. The old woman from before with red crusted on her face was standing, facing the crowd. “Loki Odinson has completed the Rite of Successional Pleasure.” A roar erupted through the darkness. Loki shook you by the shoulders, his face smeared with your cum a picture of fierce delight.

I did it, those eyes said.

For a reason you couldn’t explain, your stomach dropped.

The curtain was torn aside and you toppled from Loki’s lap, pulling bundles of the robe’s length to cover your modesty. And then, you saw it. The train spilling down the steps and onto the aisle was almost completely green: a deep emerald, like it had been dipped in ink which soaked its material like the tide. As you watched, the stain grew closer, starting an ascent of the steps. “He has proven himself able to give pleasure to those who serve him,” the woman’s voice cut through the din. “He has proven himself able to earn their love, their allegiance.” Loki stood from the bed, his arms spread wide to the applause: robe open, cock still hard. You frowned, shuffling forwards and tugged the back of his robe. He glanced over his shoulder, expression faltering.

You loved him. He knew that now. Everyone did. So why did it feel like… A mob descended and suddenly Loki was absorbed into a mass of congratulatory back slaps and cheers. Thor stood at the side, clapping all-too-slowly. His eyes darted towards you, before falling to the ground.

‘A triumph,’ the voices in the crowd around Loki said as his smile widened. ‘Never seen anything like it…magnificent.’ They pulled him down the steps. 'One for the histories.'

“Loki." Your voice broke, and you shuffled forwards and stumbled over the tangle of your train. You thought you saw the flash of Loki’s profile; you thought you saw him trying to lurch back through the throng.

But fingers curled around your arms and pulled. The mossy perfume of the Asgardian nymphs stung your eyes and you wrenched against them, hearing a rip from below as someone tore the delicate robe with their feet.

More fingers fastened to your wrist and you yanked away before meeting a pair of piercing blue eyes. Sad eyes. “Let him go,” Frigga whispered firmly. “He has much to celebrate.” Everything else was white noise. Only the memory of Fandral’s smarmy voice loud in your head. ‘He’s trying to make you fall in love with him,’ he’d said. ‘And afterwards, he’ll discard you like the commoner you imagine yourself to be.’ You faltered at the scrunch of Frigga’s brow, strength leaving your limbs.

Her pitying gaze said more than platitudes ever could. Glancing at the door, shouts of jubilation faded in echoing wisps as the green spill completed its ascent up the enchanted fabric.

Loki’s colour: proof that he held your heart in the palm of his hand, proof that you were willing to give yourself to him body, and soul.

And Loki was gone.

A/N. Just trust me, okay? Please? 🙏❤️ Please please. Tags in comments x Next Chapter : Marked (Finale) The Rite Masterlist is here

#the rite🕯️#loki x reader #loki smut #loki x female reader #loki x reader smut #loki x you #loki x female reader smut #loki x you smut #loki fanfiction #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki imagine #lokismut

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slimybeth69 · 1 month ago

Text

Girl Dinner

@pedrospookie made the cutest fucking mood board for this fic, she also gave me so much inspiration for this! Let's all thank her for her perfect brain.

Part 1 of 4- Knocked Loose

Rating: explicit

Series Masterlist | Part 2

kidnapped!Joel x isolated&unhinged&potentially crazy!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions besides having hair long enough to hold and fall into your face, the reader is actually crazy, talks to herself- hears little voices in her head. You gotta know this going into it)

thanks to @bonezone44 for this idea.

w/c : 9k (whoops)

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

warnings/tags: non-con/dub-con/ altered mental state(?) throughout the entire thing. stockholm syndrome, violence (reader and Joel both get hurt) Joel is an unwilling participant... or is he? cockwarming, unprotected P in V, dirty talk- more to come.

authors note: Hey! I know a lot people get icked out by the idea of non-con or dub con, and that's fine, but I like it, so I'm gonna write this. I don't think any of this should be acted out ITRL. DON'T KIDNAP PEOPLE!! This is your last and final warning just so everyone is aware of what's going on. this is unbeta'd, poorly proofread and probably incoherent. I love you all so, so, so much.

The weather is finally starting to change, it's not as hot as a pigs asshole anymore, and you wake up feeling refreshed, rather than sticky and sour from sleeping in a pool of your own sweat all night long.

The first thought that comes to your head though isn't the changing weather, or how you'll eventually need to break out your warmer clothes soon, nope— you don't give a shit about any of that.

It's just Mister-man that you're thinking about.

He might be the most pretty thing you've ever seen. With his shoulder length, brown and gray curls, and his patchy facial hair that matches so nicely. The thought of how rough and scratchy it would feel against your tongue makes your spine tingle.

Mister-man is a big boy. Hefty, broad, and looked so strong whenever he came into the mall.

You've been watching him for a while. He comes around every three or four days snooping in all the stores for supplies.

It's like he doesn't even know you're here…or if he does, he doesn't care. Rude! You're a pretty girl!

He's just coming to take our stuff, just like the rest of the monster-men out there. If he finds us, he might wanna take-

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!" You put your hands over your ears, even though those voices just get louder when you do that.

Mister-man wouldn't hurt'chya…

Yes, he would. He's a man.

"It's too early for this," You grumble, sitting up in your bed.

The mattress store is nice and clean, just how you left it last night before you crawled into bed. You think about how it would be alarming if it wasn't exactly how you left it before you went to bed. You did your nightly walk-through to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be, and that there weren't any extras hanging about.

As you get dressed, you think about what the dark voice was about to say. You know exactly what Mister-man would try and take from you if he found you. What all the other men in this fucking place want from you.

It's hard to make any of that matter as you skip to your hiding spot in the rafters above the food court. That's where he always enters from, even though the easier entrance with less glass and boards to climb through is on the other side of the mall.

It's a good thing you set up a trap there too, if he comes in through that entrance, at least you'll hear the snare go off and hopefully get to him in time to get his gun and knife.

Mister-man is a creature of habit, he doesn't like to switch things up, Sug. He'll come through this door.

He might. He might not. Mister-man might be playing your game better than you, kid.

"Well then, it's a good thing I thought of everything," you murmur, climbing up the discarded scaffolding to get into the rafters.

It's not scary up here, you like the thrill of knowing if you made one mistake—

Goner!

Splat!

"I've never fallen though!" You giggle, settling in to the perch just above the now blown out glass doors. It's a comfortable little spot, and you've arranged some blankets and pillows from the mattress store up here so you can nap if you want. There are some snacks, and bottles of water in case you have to stay up here for more than just a couple hours, keeping an eye out for Mister-man.

People must have stayed here in the mall during the outbreak, or right after because the doors are boarded up the best they can be, and the tables and chairs from the food court are set up all around like a barricade.

It was perfect, less work for you to have to do, and no one else bothers to come in here anymore— it's either too far, too hard to get too, or not worth the pay out.

Not for our lovely, handsome, soon to be perfect, Mister-man; the reason he comes every week is so sweet.

You wondered why he kept coming back when there really isn't much to scavenge anymore: every single store had been picked through before you got here, and you went and took the last of whatever anyone else didn't want or need and squirreled it away in a nice hiding spot.

Mister-man came every three or four days-- so that he could sit his ass in a comfortable recliner for a couple hours.

Remember that time he took a nap?

"Of course I do! How could I forget?!"

It's the cutest thing, and you love to watch him relax. Rest. Let his guard down for a little while.

"Slept like a lil baby that day," you mumble, feeling the heat spread up your neck and behind your cheeks. It's impossible to not smile at the memory of Mister sleeping in his chair, arms behind his head, snoring loudly.

His hair was real soft...'n he smelled so..

Why does he let us get so close? It's gotta be a trap.

Oh shut up, maybe he wants us to get close!

"I don't think he can hear me too good," you breathe out to the empty mall. The sun is starting to shine directly in your eyes— which means Mister-man will be here soon. "Always lookin' over his left shoulder. He never looks over his right, me thinks he can't hear outta that ear."

Mister has been coming for a couple months. He first started when the snow started to melt. And he kept coming through the spring when everything was wet and soggy, and he'd traipse mud through the mall like this wasn't your house!

That's how you knew he had been there though, so you waited to see if he'd come back-- and he did.

Mister-Man kept coming, even when the summer got so hot it was almost unbearable. Venturing outside was almost dangerous, but Mister always came.

Just to sit in his chair.

The air is filled with the sounds of birds singing, and insects buzzing in the lazy, summer heat. The mornings aren't too bad anymore, but the afternoon is still sweltering.

The late afternoon's are even worse when the heat finally settles, and everything gets sticky, and feeling all wet even though it's not wet outside! It's hot, but the air feels thick and damp somehow.

Awh, looks like he ain't coming today, Sug.

Good-fucking-riddance.

"He'll show up. If not today… tomorrow…or the next day. Or next week! He always comes, sillies. Gettin' me all nervous for nothin—"

Shhhhhh!!!! He's coming.

Mister-man is coming. You can hear him before he even crawls through the hole in one of the boards. He has to slide the table he sets up every time he comes and goes.

Once he's upright, brushing himself clean of any debris that he might have picked up on his crawl into the mall, he starts to walk.

It's not hard to stay quiet, you know exactly where the spots that creak are, and where things might break and fall apart if you were to put too much weight on them.

It's easier to follow him around as he slinks through the abandoned shopping center than you thought, as long as you stay on his right side. You've been watching and learning, and had a long time to figure him out.

Mister is so cute, walking real slow with his back to the wall, his head on a constant swivel. You wanna call out to him and tell him it's just the three of you in the mall.

He continues to sneak very quietly.

Can't hide from us.

"He sure can't," you giggle, almost silently.

Mister-man pauses, and looks over his left shoulder, as if something caught his attention. He looks all around, head twisting in either and all directions. At one point, he looks right up at where you're standing.

It's like he's looking right at you, like he can see you flitting through the rafters right above him.

Mister-man just shakes his head, as if he was hearing things, and continues onward towards the furniture store.

Fuck, he really can't hear for shit.

"He sure can't."

Mister doesn't make it inside the furniture store today, unfortunately for him.

When Joel wakes up, his head is fucking pounding and— he's upside down. Shit.

Not again.

"What the fuck?" Joel croaks, his hands feel like they weigh a thousand pounds as he tries to lift them from where they're dangling over his head. His shoulders hurt, and his back aches. His ankles feel like they're on fire.

There isn't much he can do but hang here, waiting for his vision to un-blur and for the throbbing in his head to go away.

Probably get gutted like a pig.

Finally, after blinking a million times, Joel can see things clearly.

You- a young woman- with a gun in your hand, another strapped to the outside of your thigh, and a fucking machete strapped across your back.

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Joel shouts, his hands now easily flying to the holster—It's empty. The pack he had been carrying on his back is gone too.

Joel watches as you look at him like he should already know what you're doing: a half smile plastered onto your pretty lips, the crinkle at the corners of your eyes, your head tilted to the side ever so slightly, couching in front of his pack.

"Lookin' through your stuff," you croon to him.

Joel's blood boils. What the fuck are you doing? Who the fuck are you? How did you manage to get him all strung up, hanging from the ceiling?

He says nothing as you stay picking through his backpack, taking out every single thing he has in there. His map, compass, the backup flashlight, the gas-mask— which you're putting on?

Why? There weren't any spores in here— were there?

"This thing is fuckin' cool!" Your voice is muffled, and you stand up straight. Then you hold your hands out at your sides, and spin in a circle.

"Hey!" Joel barks at you, flinching away from the revolving barrel of your pistol with each rotation you make. "Stop swinging that thing around, would ya'!?" Joel shouts as you continue to spin.

You stop suddenly, and stare at him through the big, dark lenses of his gas mask. "You know all about swinging around, don'tchya?" You giggle at him.

Joel literally swings back and forth as you say this, very slowly spinning around as he sways, and the throbbing in his head only makes him more angry.

"Cut me the fuck down, keep what'chya want— I don't got time for all this," Joel grumbles, lifting his head so he can look at the rope tied around his ankles. It's a good knot, and without a knife, Joel isn't going to get down on his own, not without his knife.

He reaches behind him to feel for it on his belt—

"Lookin' for this?" Your still muffled voice questions Joel as his fingers brush across the empty space on his waist where his knife would be.

He tips his head almost all the way back, and then to the side so he can see you— and is greeted by the sight of you, still in the gas mask, and now, holding his knife by the blade with your thumb and index finger. All he can do is sigh, close his eyes and wonder how a trip to sit in his favorite recliner led to this.

"Now, I ain't really wanna hurt'chya— I was hopin' you was gunna say knocked out long enough for me to cut'cya down and—"

Joel doesn't wanna hear anymore. "Just cut me the fuck down— people are gon' come lookin' for me if you—"

You apparently don't wanna hear what Joel has to say anymore either, because you start to talk over him. "—we're just gunna go—"

Joel doesn't care, doesn't want to listen to your muffled voice— he wishes you would take his stupid, fucking gas mask off and talk to him like a normal person. He's gotta be able to barter with you somehow. "—don't let me go. If it's food 'n water ya' want, I can get ya' some—"

The two of you are just talking louder, and louder, until the both of you are shouting over the other, neither one of you actually hearing what the other is saying.

"—let me go!"

"—stay forever!"

The two of you stop and stare at each other in silence for a moment. Joel can't really comprehend what you just said, "Stay forever?"

"Yep!" You exclaim happily.

Did he say that aloud?

"You 'n me, together forever, Mister-man," you sigh dreamily at him.

It's not what you say, it's how you say it— like you really believe what you've just said. Like…it was something you had been thinking about, for a while.

"Huh?" Is all he can say, still slowly swaying and spinning. He has to turn his head almost completely around before he whips it to the other side, he wants to keep his eyes on you at all times. You seem un-fucking-predictable.

"Ain't'chya so excited!?" You squeal, and it makes Joel's head ache.

"Gon' fuckin' strangle you once I get down from here," Joel half grumbles, half chuckles under his breath. He crosses his arms over his chest, watching you rummage around for something in his bag.

"That's why I gotta do this," your muffled voice sounds sad as you pull something out and whip it behind your back, hiding it, and that makes Joel nervous.

"Do what?" Joel tries to see what you pulled out of his backpack.

"Gotta close your eyes," you shrug your shoulders, and rock back and forth on the balls of your feet.

Joel blinks at you, just staring at him through the gas mask. He's not completely unsettled by the sight of you in a gas mask, he's seen women wearing them plenty— it's the fact that you have him completely at your mercy and he can barely see your fucking eyes.

He's so fucking stupid for coming out here alone all the time, Tommy and Ellie both warned him- both told him that something would happen to him out here. He'd hurt his back— or worse. And no one would know where to find him- because this was his secret hideaway. A place to escape the responsibilities of being a dad, a grandpa, and a big brother.

Joel loves Ellie, JJ and Tommy more than he ever thought possible— and loves that he got to be around them everyday— it was just starting to be a lot.

If Joel had the means to move that recliner into his house in Jackson, he would have— but it's too big, too heavy and way too fucking far.

Now look at him, upside down!

"Ya' ain't gunna wanna see it comin'." You give Joel a small warning. "Please just close them," you whine, starting to nervously dance on your tip toes.

"No." Joel growls, arms still crossed over his chest.

"'Kay!" You exclaim, running over to Joel. "Warned ya'!" You pull the brick Joel had put in his pack for emergencies.

"Wait! Wait—"

Cripes-all-mighty, Mister-Man is heavy as hell!

It takes everything you have inside of you to drag him to the mattress store. By the time you get there, your shirt is soaked through with sweat, your hair clings to your forehead and the side of your face. Every muscle aches and feels as if it's being torn from the bone it's clinging to.

Huffing and puffing, you drag him through the sea of mattresses until you get to the staircase that leads into the basement office.

"Sorry, Mister-Man," you grunt and push him down the stairs—

He's fine! You lined the stairs, and the bottom where he landed with mattresses a couple days ago-- after you brought his favorite recliner down here. All by yourself. Did it just for Mister-Man, because you want him to be comfortable! You want him to feel nice, and relaxed, and safe here with you.

Once you have him nice and secure to his chair— you wait.

He hit his head pretty hard when you snared him— you didn't think of that part. Then he had to go and wake up! Like a dumb idiot! He could have just stayed asleep, then you wouldn't have had to hit him again!

Thank goodness for that brick he keeps in his backpack, which, what the fuck is that about? It's a good weapon, but it's heavy, and made his backpack harder to carry than you would like to admit.

You were also lugging that giant of a man around, ya' did good, Sugar.

Yeah, ya' did good, kid.

You wrap your arms around yourself and sigh, "Thanks."

You wanna tell the voices in your head that you love them, but you don't really always love them. Sometimes you hate them, and wish they would shut up, and sometimes they don't talk when you need them to— finicky fuckers! And they almost never see eye to eye, and it's exhausting. So you just say thanks.

Mister-man is so pretty up close. Even more pretty than you could have ever thought or dreamed of. He doesn't look like he's shaved or cleaned up his beard in the last couple days, and his hair was combed back away from his face when he got here today— but now it's a mess, matted to his forehead in drying blood, falling into his eyes.

"Shit," you whisper, taking in the sight of him all beat up—

Sug, you gotta clean him up— make him pretty again.

The sweet voice is right!

Mister-man looks so sad all bloody and a mess.

"I'll be right back," you murmur and press a gentle kiss to his forehead through his blood stained hair, and then double check all of the ropes around his wrists and ankles.

He's secure, time to go get him lookin' nice again.

When you come back, your bag is filled to the brim with supplies from the the multiple stores that still have things inside them. You got him a comb, and a spray bottle that you already filled with clean water. You were able to find some clean clothes that look like they'll fit him.

He's also awake.

"Hi, Mist—"

"Let me go."

"—er-man!" You finish through the interruption. "I'm gunna clean you up now, and then we can have dinner. 'Kay?"

Mister-man stares at you.

"Oh!" You rip the gas mask off and place it on his lap. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to steal it. I promise." You cross your heart with one index finger.

"Let. Me. Go."

You wince with each barked word. "I. Don't. Wanna."

"If I ever get outta here, m'gon' fuckin' kill ya'," he growls.

You frown, pinch your eyebrows together and mock his thick, country twang. "M'gon' fuckin' clean ya' up real good, 'n then me 'n ya' can have fuckin' dinner." You growl back at him.

"Shut th'fuck up, untie me—"

"Why!? So you can kill me?" You shake your head at him, giving him a small smirk. "Not gunna happen, Mister."

His eyes go wider than you've ever seen them, as if he might be nervous. "What th'fuck you gon' do to me then, huh?"

"Clean. You. Up. Then. Have. Dinner. Did I say it too fast the first time, or can you really not hear too good?" You cock your head to one side, and look at him quizzically.

"Th'fuck did ya' just ask me?" Joel feels his chest going tight-- this hasn't happened in fucking years. It can't be happening right now.

"I talk real fast sometimes, and I don't realize it, and so sometimes all my words come out real jumbled to--"

"'Bout my hearin'?" Joel's working overtime to suck the air in, to bring precious oxygen to his brain. His head is still pounding, and now he can't fucking breathe, and he can't even imagine what kind of sick, twisted shit you're going to do to him.

Joel watches your eyes drop to the ground by his feet, and it's almost like you pull your body in on itself somehow, retreating into a place where you're trying to hide from him in plain sight. "I been watchin' you when you come in here... just act like you can't hear all that good outta your right ear," you say in a voice so small Joel can barely hear it.

"Watchin' me?" Joel scoffs.

Who the fuck are you? How long have you been watching him? How come he's never seen you before? Never even seen a trace of another person around here, just the stray raccoon or possum.

Joel's blood boils when you nod your head at him, still unable to look him in the eye. "Ya' should be ashamed. Whatever it is ya' wanna do to me is probably fucked--"

"I'm not ashamed," your voice snaps, and finally you lift your head to meet Joel's gaze. "Not even a little."

"Actin' like it," Joel's voice is snappier, and louder, and it makes you flinch.

"Maybe a little embarrassed--"

"Ashamed, fuckin' embarrassed, same fuckin' thing." Joel rolls his eyes at you.

"Not really," you shake your head from side to side and raise both of your eyebrows at him. "Not at all, actually."

"Would you shut th'fuck up?!"

"Would you shut th'fuck up..." You mock Joel. "I'm tryin' to do somethin' nice for you, and you keep telling me to shut the fuck up!"

"Do somethin' nice f'me?!" If this wasn't almost thirty years after the fucking apocalypse happened, Joel would think he was on some hidden camera show.

"Yeah!" You hold out the supplies you had brought back from wherever the fuck you had run off too while Joel was unconscious.

"Doin' somethin' nice would be lettin' me go, sweetheart." Joel switches his tone- does something he wouldn't normally do in a situation like this.

Your eyes light up. They crinkle in the corners a little, like they did the first time he saw you, but you're not upside down this time. The corners of your lips are trying to curl up, but you're actively trying to stop them.

"Don't call me that, 'less you mean it."

With the comb, water bottle and first-aid kit in hand, you take your place behind him and inspect the wound.

It's a surface wound, but dirty from the brick and still very bloody.

It's a painstaking process, because you don't want to be the cause of his pain anymore. Not ever again if you can help it.

Really, that's up to Mister, but he'll find out on his own soon enough! He just has to play nice, be sweet and kind— be the Mister you want him to be, and he'll be perfectly happy here with you. Life here with you in the mall could be perfect! He just needs to be perfect. He's almost there, he just has to keep his mouth shut.

He's not quiet, not at all. He hoots and hollers at you to stop, to let him go, that he's gonna gut you like a fish if he ever gets free from here.

The way he talks, his voice feels like the deepest note on a piano, or the thickest string being plucked on a guitar. It vibrates in the spaces between your ribs, and forces all the air out of your lungs when he talks.

He's taking your breath away... how romantic.

The sweet and airy voice in your head is right, he is taking your breath away. You wish he would stop saying those mean and terrible things to you-- they're making you hurt inside, where your stomach is.

Guilt. You should just kill him right now--

"Hurt him?"

Mister stops shouting, and raises one eyebrow at you.

Look'it those big brown eyes. Like a baby cow. All wet 'n big, kinda scared lookin'.

Ugh, shoot him right between those beautiful brown eyes, kid. You can do it.

He ain't hurt you yet, Sug...

Because she tied him up--

As she should, she's gotta feel him out a little, make sure he's really not gonna hurt her.

How is he ever going to hurt her if he's tied up?

"Okay, enough!" You almost shout-- there they go! Never seeing eye to eye, making things harder than they needed to be!

"I'll yell all I fuckin' want," Joel does holler, loudly. So loud. He's going to draw attention.

"Do I need to get the brick again?"

Joel stops shouting.

He really can't hold back the pained sounds coming from his throat as you attend to his wound.

You're being so, so gentle!

He's acting like a giant baby.

"M'hurtin' you?" You mumble as you drag the damp cloth along his forehead carefully, cleaning the moderately large gash you left there with the brick. It's swollen, and bruised now... you feel so terrible.

He'll forgive you, Sugar.

Mister-man doesn't say anything, he just flinches away from your touch for the millionth time.

"M'sorry, didn't mean t'hurt you this bad." You slowly start to work the comb through his hair, spraying it down with water when you needed to. You're careful to never pull on his hair too hard, and work the tangles out meticulously so you don't bring him any more discomfort.

"Got'chu some medicine." You reach into your pocket and pull out two white pills.

"I ain't takin' nothin' y'give me, fuckin' crazy bitch." He grumbles.

Mister watches you walk around to the front of him, and kneel between his legs.

"S'just regular," you hold your hand up to his face so he can inspect the pill on his own. "Nothin' strong like they had in the QZ's," it's a gentle explanation as he studies the medicine in your palm. "Can find some for ya' if you wanted me to, m'real good at findin' stuff."

"Find it in your heart t'let me outta here," Joel gives you the sweetest, crookedest smile that makes you stomach feel like it grows ten sizes, and your heart feels like it's racing something else inside of you.

There are sweet wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, and the lines on his forehead deepen, and he has the softest dimple on his left cheek.

Sug, he's so pretty.

Kill. Him. Before. He. Kills. You.

"So pretty," you catch your bottom lip between your teeth, and rest one of your elbows on his knee, propping your head up on the heel of your hand. The pills are still right in front of Joel's face, and his eyes flash between them, and your face.

"Not takin' them" he grumbles, twisting his head away from your hand.

"Suit yourself," you put the pills back into your pocket, dipping your head down to press a soft kiss to his knee. "M'gunna go get us dinner, I'll be back."

Joel stares at the tray of food you set down on the table you dragged over to be directly in front of him.

"Where's the protein?" Joel looks up at you from the plate of crackers with peanut butter, a small bowl of raspberries, two packets of expired pretzels you would get on an airplane, and a full bottle of labelless whiskey.

"S'in the peanut butter," you say through a mouthful of your own cracker.

Begrudgingly, Joel opens his mouth when you hold a cracker up to his lips. "Where's the meat?"

The crackers are dry, and kind of stale somehow? The peanut butter is still nice and creamy, just the way Joel remembered it before the outbreak.

"Where would I find meat?"

Joel pinches his brows together and blinks at you. "Ya' live in the woods, got a gun or two-- fuckin' know how to set a snare--"

You gasp softly, and rest one elbow on the table and point at him with a lazy index finger, "You 'spect me to go out there and kill an innocent lil friend? They ain't ever done nothin' t'me. Why would I go out 'n hurt 'em when I ain't got no reason to?"

Joel continues to blink, trying so hard to keep his eyes on you and not the ropes you have him tied down with so tightly they're starting to dig into the skin on his forearms-- painfully.

"Ya' kiddin', right?" He watches as you place a raspberry directly into the peanut butter on the cracker and hold it out for him.

"Issa good combo, try it." You nod your head at him, urging him to open his mouth.

Joel doesn't want to, doesn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing he needs you, and is going to keep needing you until you decide to kill him, or set him free.

He opens his mouth though, because Joel hasn't had a raspberry in years and he loves them, and the sight of that plump, juicy berry sitting so comfortably in that pillow of delicious, creamy peanut butter is making his stomach rumble. Loudly.

"Want some?" You hold up the bottle of whiskey, screw off the cap and take a swig. "See, it's safe," you look at him through your lashes, and give him a one-corner-of-your-mouth-smile.

Joel nods his head, because what else was there to do if he was going to be a prisoner here? He tried so hard to free himself of the restraints while you were gone, but you know how to tie a knot, and Joel just ended up giving himself rope burn.

An hour later, Joel feels pretty good, but not good enough to forget the situation he's in, but the booze is making you very chatty, and he might actually be enjoying the conversation.

"'N I get power from the solar things up on the roof, I think."

"Ya' think?" Joel smirks at you, he can't help it.

"I dunno how the solar works," you exclaim, holding one hand towards the ceiling. "It's the sun and black screens," you give the ceiling the middle finger and groan. "Barely works when the sun is out-- I just wanna watch my movies--"

"What kinda movies ya' got?"

He wishes he never asked.

You're sitting between his legs on the floor-- reaching behind you to feed him raspberries, never taking your eyes off the screen.

Joel thing's about biting your fingers off, thinks about taking the tips right off with his front teeth.

What would you do if he did that? Joel is still tied up, and he would just have raspberries and bloodied fingertips in his mouth, and then possibly a crazy, unpredictable, angry woman who would try and kill him.

Joel has seen angry people every day for close to thirty years... he knows what they look like, what they sound and act like--- you don't sound or act angry.

"Love this part," you sigh, leaning back into him, and resting your head on his knee.

Joel looks up to the screen, watching Cinderella transform into her beautiful ball gown.

Joel wishes he could reach out and run his fingers through your hair.

No he fucking doesn't? What the actual fuck? What did you put in the food, or the whiskey to make him feel this way?

Joel clenches his hands to fists on the arms of the recliner, and tenses his jaw-- grinding his teeth in the process.

You continue to drink throughout the movie, and when the credits are rolling-- you stumble to your feet, and then into his lap.

"Get off'a me," Joel gripes as you nuzzle your nose against the side of his face.

"Just wanna cuddle," you murmur, curling yourself up into his chest, yawning sleepily. "F'just a lil bit."

"Get off'a me, ya' fuckin' nut!" Joel shouts, and regretfully, tries to headbutt you.

His cheekbone, the side of his nose and part of his forehead connect with the top of your skull in a dull, aching thud.

You scramble off his lap, and fall to the floor, one hand holding the top of your head where Joel had just whacked you. The right side of his face is throbbing, and he thinks his nose might be bleeding, or he's crying- he doesn't know- he doesn't care. He just wants to go home.

"What the fuck!?" You shout back at him. "Mister, I ain't been mean to you at all, minus the brick- okay? What the hell is your problem!?"

Joel can't help but laugh, it starts off as a chuckle, but quickly matures into full on guffawing. "Y'fuckin' insane, ya' know that?" Joel rumbles through his fit.

Through the tears in his eyes, Joel can see you glaring at him.

Okay, he hurt her, can she kill him now?

Sugar, he ain't mean it... not really... he just needs some time to adjust.

He could have really hurt her, are you serious?

He's just nervous! Give the man a break--

Tired of giving men breaks- tired of letting them get away-

"Both of you, knock it off." It's a stern warning to the voice as you glare at Mister.

He stops laughing and blinks at you. "Huh?" He cocks one eyebrow up high, "Both o' ya?"

His question doesn't register, all you can think about is how disappointed you are in him.

"I was gunna let'chya sleep in the big bed with me," you huff, climbing to your feet. "Ain't gonna do that no more."

"I ain't wanna sleep in the big bed with y'crazy fuckin' ass, anyway!" He screams at you.

"What're ya' bein' so fuckin' mean for? I cleaned ya' up, made ya' pretty again-- fed you dinner 'n shared my drink with you!"

Do not cry! What're you doing!? Don't let him see you cry! Get out of here, right now!

The dark voice is right, the burn in your nose and the sting in your eyes are tell tale signs of tears- and you hate them. Hate the way they make your face wet and sticky, hate how they make your heart hurt, hate how your head feels like it's ten pounds heavier when you get done crying.

He'll come around, Sug. Gotta give him some time. If ya' stay nice-- it'll happen sooner than you think.

"I like bein' nice," you murmur, not taking your eyes off Mister.

"Th'fuck are you talkin' about!?" He exclaims, eyes wide, almost obsidian with rage and confusion.

"G'night, Mister. We'll try again t'morow."

Mister doesn't rest, doesn't relax, doesn't settle down at all.

When you open the door to his room, he's still screaming his head off.

"Hey!" You shout back at him, grabbing his attention. "We got raiders 'round here. We got infected movin' in and outta here all the time-- you know how fuckin' loud you are?"

"Hopefully they all hear 'n come runnin'. I'd love to see you get torn to shred-"

"'Kay, m'real sorry ya' feel that way. Even sorrier that I gotta do this."

Mister doesn't stop fighting you the entire time you shove the bandanna into his mouth. He even bites down on your index and middle finger as you stuff the last corner of fabric between his teeth.

Hit him.

It happens so fast, you don't have time to stop yourself from the back of your hand connecting with his cheek.

"Now, you gunna play that game? I can play, too," you inspect your finger and the deep indentation he left that's already starting to bruise.

The duct tape is hard to rip, and you need to use your teeth to cut a strip to go over his mouth.

Mister is mumbling something around the bandanna, but you can't understand him, and honestly are still mad about your fingers-- they hurt! Really bad!

"Glad I still got that medicine... I'm gunna fuckin' need it!" You dig around in your pockets and look for the two white pills. Your fingers throb while you look, the sensitive skin; tender to the touch as it brushes against the fabric inside your pockets.

Mister glares at you with his almost black eyes.

"I'm sorry!" You find the pills, throw them into your mouth and swallow dry. "I'm sorry for hurtin' you. I do not like doin' it, I mean it." You take a couple steps towards him, and drop to your knees between his legs again.

Mister watches, his whole body still as you rest your head on his knee again.

"Just want ya' 'round. M'sorry," you close your eyes, not wanting him to see them fill with those traitorous tears. "Jus' real lonely out here. Miss havin' someone t'talk with...'n snuggle up to at night."

The fuckin' duct tape makes it impossible for Mister to say anything--which is the worst. You wanted someone to talk with, not at.

"I'll take the tape off in the mornin', and we can try again over breakfast, 'kay?"

Mister doesn't make a single sound for the rest of the night.

Joel is drunk again. Fuck, this is never good.

You're in his lap, knees on either side of his thighs with one arm around his neck, your head resting on his shoulder. There is something about the way your fingers twirl around in his hair at the nape of his neck that feels good. Too good.

"C'mon, get off'a me," Joel groans, but there's no passion in his voice. It's been almost three weeks of just this, and he doesn't hate it. Not when he's drunk.

Honestly, he barely dislikes it when he's sober, but he's better at acting like he doesn't want you on his lap when he hasn't had a drink that night.

How can he not like it just a little bit? You're soft, and warm, and fit so perfectly on his lap it's like you were made to be there.

"Couple more minutes, Mister. Please?" You fucking whimper,

The sound floating through Joel's ear canal sends a shiver down his spine, and directly into his cock. It twitches in his jeans. He's got to start thinking about baseball, and carpentry work, and how he's probably going to die soon.

Nothing works. Joel can feel the heat from your cunt through the thin fabric of your shorts, and his hands have been tied down to this chair every time you're not around. The only time you let him up is to use the bathroom-- and you have a gun while you wait for him the entire time, so he's never horny then!

And, as thankful as Joel is for this- you've never even looked at him like that. You look at him like you're in love with him all the time, but you've never once looked at him like you wanna touch him.

Joel tries to push his hips further into the chair, away from the perfect, searing heat of your middle.

"Where'ya goin?" Your voice purrs in his ear, your fingernails ghost across the skin on his neck and he shivers again, his cock feels it tenfold.

You feel it now, too.

"What're ya'--" you pause to look between your bodies, and then your eyes flash up to his. "That f'me?" You're whispering, and your glassy eyes are wide, and look so flattered.

"Ain't for nobody, stop lookin' at 'em," Joel grumbles, again, not really meaning any of it even though he should mean every single word.

"'Em?" you question him with your big, wet eyes and his cock twitches again.

Joel swallows hard, his eyes falling to your bottom lip clutched between your teeth, and nods. "Him, yeah, whatever you wanna call it-- ain't for you." He sighs softly.

"Why not?" you sink down further into his lap. The thin shorts you have on to wear to bed do nothing to keep your warmth contained. It's almost like Joel can feel what it would be like if you just whipped him out and sat-

He's never drinking with you again. Never again.

"Get off'a me," Joel leans forward gently as you lean into him, the tips of your noses touch softly.

"Gunna bite me if I kiss ya'?"

Joel is a goner, your breath smells sweet like raspberries and whiskey and every single thing about you is warm and soft-- Joel knows that if he wasn't fucking drunk he'd be fighting you tooth and nail, but he cannot right now.

He can't think about anything but what you'd feel like wrapped around him, milking him.

"Take'em out," Joel is the one to lean into the kiss, his lips aren't hesitant, or tentative at all when they meet yours. He is going to try and bite you- and he does, he nips at your bottom lip, but gently. He pulls back with it still bitten, and listens to you moan softly.

The quickness of your fingers isn't your friend, you struggle with his belt for what feels like an eternity as you push back against his kiss, eagerly slipping your tongue into Joel's waiting mouth.

Joel groans low in his throat when you wrap your hands around his girth, and then chuckles at your shocked gasp when you pull away to get a good look at him.

"He ain't gon' bite'chya," Joel teases, leaning forward, searching for your lips again.

"Might split me in half," you moan, presumably at the thought of Joel stretching you open.

Joel can't contain his own moan as you put the image in his head. "Fuuck, sit on him-- lemme feel ya'."

The sound that leaves you makes Joel throb in your hand, "Ya' want me t'put 'em inside?" You whisper, the silky smoothness of your hands on him, stroking him so slowly is making his head spin.

"Jeeesus, yes-- fuckin' c'mon- do it," Joel lets his head fall back against the recliner, and watches as you pull your shorts to the side, and lift yourself to hover over him. "C'mon..." Joel eggs you on in a whisper. "Y'can do it, crazy girl."

"Don't call--" you pause when you notch the head of him at your entrance. "--me crazy."

Joel groans loudly as you sink down and let every wet, soft part of you engulf him. He throbs again when you whimper and whine, eyes clenched shut, your hands grasping at his shoulders as you inch your way down his length.

"Ow, ow, ow," you whine, leaning forward to rest your head on Joel's.

He could headbutt the shit out of you right now, but fuck, the way you're looking at him, with real tears in your eyes, not just from drinking.

"Hey, ya' doin' real good, sweetheart, keep goin'-- nice 'n slow," Joel encourages you, because he doesn't want it to stop either. "Jus' like that, crazy girl."

God damn, is crazy pussy always this good? He wouldn't fucking know, he wouldn't ever get involved with you if he knew you back in Jackson- but out here, after almost three weeks with you... it's hard to deny the physical needs of a man. And you're so fucking soft and wet.

The two of you groan in unison when you fully seated. The velvet walls of your pussy are fluttering, and clenching around him as you adjust to his length.

"You're so big," you hum, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. "Didn't think ya'd wanna do this," you whisper into his mouth. "Wasn't gon' take it from ya-- don't like that."

"Take what'chya need from me, whenever ya want it, shit," Joel tries to buck his hips up into yours to give you what you want but you whine in protest.

"Still hurts."

Joel settles his hips and leans into the best he can being tied down, his fingers grip the armrests of the chair tightly, groping it like he would be groping you if he could.

"Untie me," he murmurs while grinding up against you, not pulling out of you at all, just letting you feel him, letting you open up around him so it'll start to feel good.

"No," you nip at his bottom lip now, but you suck it into your mouth and tease him with your tongue as your walls start to rhythmically clench around him.

"Fuck, ya' doin' that on -ur-ose?" Joel groans with his bottom lip still being lapped at, The feeling of your tight, wet sucking him in deeper somehow- like it's fucking bottomless almost makes him come right then.

You pull back, his lip slips from between your with a wet pop "Mhm, ya' like it?" You clench harder around him and then release, and then do that over, and over again.

"Fuckin' untie me, wanna touch you- gotta feel how soft ya' are all over, c'mon," he's begging, he needs to feel the swell of your ass in his palm, or one of your tits spilling between his fingers as he grips you.

"No, you'll just try 'n leave me-"

"No, no, no-- I'll stay 'n... uh.. I'll... um- uh--oh, I'll play nice wit'chya" Joel racks his brain with anything that he could say that would possibly give him a chance at being able to really touch you.

"Lyin' t'me," you moan, and Joel throbs inside of you.

"Not lyin'-"

You pull back from his face at an alarming rate, and you scan his face slowly, as if you were drinking in every feature, savoring the flavor-- Joel watches you swallow hard and imagines that it's his load you just took down--

"Untie me, let me touch ya' a lil bit," Joel whispers, keeping his eyes locked on to yours. "Make ya' feel real good, promise." Joel licks his lips as he watches you struggle internally with the decision. "C'mon... gotta feel how soft ya' are, crazy girl. Just one hand."

"Fine."

You stay seated in his lap, his cock still throbbing inside of you as you work on the knot that will free his right hand. He's trembling in the anticipation of it all.

As soon as the pressure is gone off his wrist, Joel reels his arm back as far as he can, and sends it flying forward with as much force as he can muster after not eating meat for almost an entire month.

You scream as his fist connects with your right eye, and go flying to the floor.

Joel might be completely sober right now, and he knows he needs to move fast before you get up and probably shoot him for lying to you, and then punching you.

Yep. Shoot him. Shoot him right between his perfect, brow, baby-cow eyes. End it.

The dark voice in your head is right, but it's almost impossible to think about anything else but the pain shooting into your brain from your right eye socket.

"You motherfucker," you sob. The pain is electrifying- and you can't even see out of your right eye anymore!

That was your least favorite eye!

Kill. Him.

When you sit up, Joel is working on the knot around his left wrist.

You stumble to your feet, holding your hand over your eye trying to keep the actual ball in, in case it falls out, and walk over to the table with his book bag on it. You rummage around until your fingers wrap around the item you're looking for.

When Joel sees what you're carrying, not even attempting to hide it behind your back, he quickens his efforts on the knot.

Your left hand isn't your dominant one, but your right is busy keeping your eyeball in your head because it most surely got knocked loose or something.

You have to whack Joel twice before he goes unconcious.

"S'what ya' get for almost takin' my eye out!"

While he's still asleep, you take this opportunity to cut the jeans he's wearing off of him. You carefully unbutton the green and red flannel he was wearing and slip that off of him fully intact.

Once he's fully secure, with a new restraint around his chest to keep him fully pinned down to the chair, and the bandanna and tape back around his mouth-- you shut all the lights off, every single one, and leave him down there to think about what he did.

He's gonna learn to play nice, and if he wants to play rough first... so can you.

The air is thick with tension and stench of his sweat and fear.

The big-guy should be kind of scared- you didn't want it to come to this, but he just cannot participate nicely!

You circle your Mister-man slowly, drinking in every detail of him. His broad chest heaves with ragged breaths, muscles taut and straining as he fights against the restraints for the thousandth time.

No matter how hard he struggles, he cannot break free. Oh boy. Mister-man has some big feelings about it, and he's trying to let you know.

He is struggling— like, so fucking hard, against his bonds that tether him to the chair, that are cutting deep into the skin on his wrists. It's unfortunate, but he keeps wriggling around! If he just stopped, it'd all be fine!

You lean in close, pointing to your right eye, which is still black and blue, but thankfully not as swollen anymore, and frown at him. "This hurt!" You exclaim. "It hurt so bad, and you said you were gunna play nice. Why'd ya' lie t'me?"

His eyes are blown wide with fury and desperation. But he cannot respond, not really, his voice is saying things, but it's muffled by the duct tape stretched tight across his mouth.

He's still clad in only boxer shorts, a thin gray t-shirt, and socks, he looks vulnerable and exposed.

It really shouldn't be so hot-- but it is. You can't stop thinking about what he said the other night.

"Take what'cya want from me, sweetheart. Whenever you want it."

You wonder if he really meant that, because he punched you in the face right after.

But... he got excited! He wanted it, Mister-man kissed you first.

Oh Sug, he's down bad.

Please kill him. Shoot him right now, then you can just move to a different part of the mall. It's very simple.

He's really mad; which makes no sense! He punched you right in the eye! What is he mad for!?

"I thought after three weeks you'd be begging me to take you upstairs, Mister," you purr seductively, taking a step behind him, out of his line of sight. "Instead you hit me!?" You give Joel a good thwack against the side of his head with your open hand.

Not enough to really hurt him— that's coming soon— but enough to let him know to cut the shit. It's getting old, and now you want a fun, willing participant to play with you… and not someone who is going to act like they don't like… all this.

The perfect basement office of an old mattress store in an abandoned mall about a two hour hike outside of what used to be Jackson, Wyoming?

There's no spores, there's no mildew or stink! It's clean, you make sure to keep everything so clean for him.

Despite his insessant pestering about meat for some reason, he's well fed! He gets to drink whenever he wants!

Why is he so upset!?

Joel grumbles something from behind the duct tape and it's honestly lost of deaf ears because you don't care for what he has to say right now, it's never nice or sweet. It's always mean— that's why he's got the duct tape on.

Soon.

Soon the big-dumb-idiot will be singing your name, happily, and without restraints.

He's just gotta wear something else first.

You slip the shock collar around his thick neck while you're still behind him.

He doesn't like it, at all. He thrashes and writhes, and makes a desperate, pleading groan from behind deep in his throat.

"Well, you wanna act like all them other dogs out there, you're gon' get treated like one," you press a kiss to the top of his skull, and pull back before he can rear his head forward and smash it against your nose.

He's going to try-- he always does.

Slowly, you wind your way around him, trailing a finger along his sweat-slick forehead and crawl into his lap. He struggles at first, until he sees the remote in your hand.

"Gonna zap all the bad outta you… make you perfect for me." You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Have an idea...for how you can hug me-- and not hit me."

Joel mumbles something else, muffled through the duct tape. It doesn't really matter what he's saying, all that matters is how warm he is. How he makes you feel so safe and comfortable.

It's easy now, with the threat of being zapped, to rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle the tips of your noses together.

"You gunna be good for me, Mister-man?" It's a purr as you press a kiss to the duct tape covering his mouth. "Or am I gunna have to train you how to be good?"

omg this might be the longest tag list i've ever done let me know if you want me to take you off, add you, if I forgot you-- I'm SORRY!!!

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22

#kidnapped!joel miller #joel miller x reader #crazy!reader #dead dove fic #smut and violence #a little fluff #joel's dirty fucking mouth #joel miller tlou #Jackson!Joel #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #eventual smut #eventual angst #fic: girl dinner

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kpopscruggles · 5 months ago

Note

The people are asking for more txt twt links w/ Headcons and your thoughts! Love ur writing and maybe a sunghoon nsfw alphabet? I read some and it's a bit innacurate.. Would love your opinion on it (also new follower so idk much abt if u already posted that *I'll do some reseach :>*)

Thank you for requesting love! I decided to go with the sunghoon a-z because I've never done one and I've alr made a haechan request!

Nsfw twt are on hold due to me finding some but soon I will bring those back! Anway's enjoy!

A- aftercare, what he’s like after sex

I feel he def attends to your needs, he’s at least doing the basics. Wiping you down, getting you cold water and a snack. I feel like he also does this though because he does it for himself if I'm being honest.

Even if you didn’t care he was going to do it for himself so why not make sure his baby is taken care of too? It just makes sense to him.

B- body part, their favorite on theirs and partner's body

For him, his favorite body part on himself has to be his muscle. He’s not loke drooling over himself more than he is you but he does give himself good rep because he can pick you up, move you into diffrent positions with absolutely no problem. So i feel he values his muscles because of you in a sense.

His favorite body part on you is your legs, he loves your legs. He loves how they are always in his lap, wrapped around his waist, on his shoulders. He loves kissing your ankles while ponding into you, also bonus points if you're wearing an ankle.

C- cum, anything to do with cum

I think he’s a clean guy UNLESS it involves a creampie. If he’s wanting you to swallow then he’s staying in your mouth, you must bribe him little to give you a facial or pearl necklace. Now like I said if it’s a creampie it’s sticky, messy, a shower after type fuck.

Add in is I do believe he cums a lot, now realistic but he's got a nice stream going and is the type to squeeze his tip to make sure every bit comes out.

D- dirty secret, self-explanatory

Hoon’s got a few dirty secrets I believe but I think the main one he possesses and will never let you know unless you find out is bragging. And although this does not seem off but it's the fact, he could do the nastiest freaky things to you and has no shame in bragging about it when the boys try to tease him over it.

This is something that he says between the boys and the boys, he doesn't get too personal with it, but he spills it by saying it’s something they should try with their girlfriends.

E- experience, do they know what they are doing?

I think if he had experience it's only have been one person. Hoon doesn’t strike me as the type who bounces around, for example you two could have dated months and he’s going to be sad ab it for a bit because he takes him time to know if he wants to date or not.

So, one person but he’s mostly learned everything he’s fond of by himself, by watching porn, reading about it, etc.

F- favorite position

I don't think Hoon is basic, but he does use positions that slightly branch from the basic ones. Also keep in mind he finds ways to use his muscle. So, it falls under missionary, but he most has your legs on his shoulders and his moving your hips for you. It allows him to use his arm muscles, he's able to kiss around your ankles because he loves your legs. If not that then most the time it is quite simple missionary.

G- goofy

No, unless a simple mistake happens, he's profoundly serious cause he thinks sex is intimate.

H- hair, how groomed is he?

I think he keeps himself groomed and trimmed is his favorite. I think there is something about him that likes to keep the bit of hair because it is a human body and its gonna grow. Now he’s not freaking out if it grows a bit longer than planned nor is he judging you because your pussy is pretty to him no matter what.

I- intimacy, how are they during the moment

Super intimate, sex is a moment where in your relationship you're showing each other love and affection. Even after an argument sex is something that helps you both realize you love each other. He’ll do anything to have intimate moments with you because he genuinely does cherish them.

J- jack off, how often?

A lot. I am a firm believer Hoon has a perverted side and sometimes he’s too embarrassed to admit a simple thing got him hard.

I also do believe he’s a firm believer of the fact no one can make you cum like yourself. He thinks you should even have moments where even though you have him you nor he should be ashamed of pleasuring yourself

K- kinks? Top three

Top three for him is Marking, Teasing, and A bit of overstimulation?

Many people like to make these kinks rough, but they don't have to be. He likes marking because to him he loves when you nibble on his skin while he fucks you, He loves seeing you squirm a little or having you leave him with a raging boner even, overstimulation he likes because to him it kind of reveals how much or how eager you two wants each other with no shame or remorse for yourself to stop.

L- Location, favorite places

He enjoys just sex in the house (he may like the couch more than the bed) but if he’s out he doesn't mind meeting you somewhere private. It’s strange he has that vibe too because I also feel like he gives car sex after a few dates.

M- motivation, what riles him up

Anything you do sexually obviously riles him up but something nonsexual that gets him every.single.time, is when you wear certain colors. He thinks romantic colors like red, pink a dark purple, or a nice clean white takes him out every time, double points of the outfit is revealing

N- no, turn offs

He’s jealous that something I'll has to agree with most people on this app. Does that mean he won't share? Not technically. (not shipping when I say this) but he won't do threesomes unless it's with someone close, we can you jake as an example. But he’s only gonna do it once and all jake is getting is head.

Another ultimate turn off is when things feel forced, not like one forcing the other but more of if he feels you are just having sex because you haven't in like a week, yeah, it’s not getting up so don't bother babe, he thinks sex takes time.

O- oral, preference of giving or receiving

He prefers giving, I believe. It doesn’t bother him when you wanna give him head, he just doesn’t feel that same ego boosts as when has got you whining while he’s fucking you with his tongue. So, unless he just has the urge to cut down your throat, he’s probably gonna stop your mid-way to ravish you instead.

P- pace, fast? Rough? Slow? Sensual?

He’ll get down with everything I do believe. I think if he’s feeling more sensual, he’s keeping his thrusts slow and deep so that orgasm just builds up by the minute. Rough, this is my opinion, but a lot of ppl do make him seem the be super rough, but I don’t think he’s like that and if he is it’s only when you're asking for it. Other than that, his rough is a lil messy and a couple marks but I also think he keeps a medium pace and just makes sure every inch of him fills you.

Q- quickie?

So, when I said in the turn off category, he thinks sex takes time. If you get a quickie outta him it’s a giving you head quickie because if his baby needs to cum he’ll gladly help. Other than that, I don't believe out of enha he's a quickie guy.

R- risk, what are they willing to risk for sex with you?

If you seem eager to do it, then he’s making his baby happy. If it’s not ruining anything in any way, he’ll do it for you. If it’s something he’s willing to risk, then it was never important is what he'll tell you.

S- stamina? How many rounds

I think he can carry about three rounds in his belt, if it's a needy situation 4 but if that's the case then 1 or 2 of the sessions someone is getting head so eventually your guy's breath is caught up. I do believe he spaces these sessions out if it's a 4 rounder but barely does this happen. Other than that, he’s going about three rounds

T- toys, do they like them?

Yes, so as said, he does think it’s healthy for you two to have sessions by yourself and you can use toys together but if you two use them when it’s just your personal time.

U- unfair? Do they often tease?

He thinks it builds up the need for others. He would love it if you teased him too. I see him as a competition teaser where you two see who gives in first.

V- volume? Are they vocal?

He’s a 50/50, what he’s always gonna do is dirty talk, no matter if it’s whispering or full-blown words. Now vocal as moaning wise, he lets out the soft moans, but only the overstimulation hit where he gets louder.

W- wild card? Something that just randomly makes him relentless

Knowing someone's listening or watching, or even knowing what you just did. If you are leaving your space after sex and one of the guys makes it obvious then he's getting hard again knowing there’s someone who knew he got to be balls deep inside you. It riles him up knowing he’s that lucky and that someone is jealous enough to tease and try to make fun.

X- x-ray? What's he giving down there?

I think he’s skinny but decently big. His tip always stays a pink, he’s got a couple semi prominent veins depending on how long he’s been edge or has held a boner. His balls are settled too, nothing rlly different there, like said he’s nice and trimmed so has a little hair patch. All around he gives pretty dick vibes.

Y- yearning? High or low sex drive?

High or normal. Most the time high which I feel is why he’s a guy who takes his time, this man is not thinking about being buried in your cunt 24 hours of the day just for a quick fuck.

Z- zzzz, how fast he falls asleep after

He’s tired but he’s not going to sleep without letting you know he loves you and that he enjoyed making you cum, sometimes even tells you thank you. Give a couple of kisses and make sure you're comfy.

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #enhypen sunghoon hard thoughts #enhypen sunghoon hard hours

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lexaknoxville · 7 months ago

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𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 - ᴊᴏʜɴɴʏ ᴋɴᴏxᴠɪʟʟᴇ

“𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥, 𝘪’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶” - 𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭 𝘤𝘢𝘪𝘯

description. | in which the boys go to film on a ranch, and knoxville can’t seem to keep his eyes off the girl in the cowboy boots.

warnings. | foul language. crude humor? idk man normal jackass shit.

notes. | if you enjoy pls like and reblog!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! MASTERLIST!!

Hot couldn’t even describe it.

Summers in the south were vicious. Some days the heat was enough to shelter you inside, not even the constant efforts of the ac units were enough to cool people down. Today was almost one of those days. Had it been just the tiniest bit hotter and not a single person would be out here running around.

Lucky for you though, your boss, Jim, decided that it wasn’t all that bad. So against several complaints, you and all your coworkers got sent in today. Jim made the argument that yall had “Special Visitors” coming in today, and he couldn’t afford not having a full staff.

You’re not exactly sure what you expected out of the visitors, but you definitely weren’t expecting to pull up to an entire film crew sitting up by the stables.

“God this is gonna be fun”

You were able to avoid the filming going on outside all the way until your lunch break, which was unusual considering Jim is usually up your ass. Deciding to go for a quick smoke break you headed out to your car, only to be stopped by the sound of hollering and something falling over.

The sound was loud and the boisterous laughter following soon after had you not only curious, but a little frightened. Naturally, the curiousity got the best of you. Finding the source of all the noise wasn’t hard considering the large crowd of people.

Spotting one of your favorite coworkers, you pushed your way to the front to see what all the commotion is about.

“Janae, what in the hell is going on up here” you asked with an amused tone.

All she could do was laugh and shrug. Clearly confused as well, but mostly entertained.

Finally turning around to look at the group causing all the ruckus, they were interesting, to say the least. There was a boy with short black hair and black clothes, a goofy looking guy with a slightly grown out buzz cut, a guy with shoulder length brown hair, a blonde man with a beard, and a taller guy wearing a red cowboy hat.

odd group.

Standing in a circle of sorts, the 5 men were talking to the camera. It wasnt easy to make out what they were saying but there was definitely something along the lines of “horse shit” thrown in there. They stood around and talked for a minute before the man in the cowboy hat laughed loudly and ushered them away.

As they were all walking to do whatever it was they had planned out, your eyes seemed to linger on the cowboy a little longer than necessary. Finally taking the time to analyze his appearance, you realized he’s actually really fucking hot.

He had on a pair of dark sunglasses, dirty red converse that matched his hat, a little facial hair, and amazing arms. The sleeves of his t-shirt were tight around his biceps, and god did he look good.

You weren’t sure if it was the muscles, the light tan, or the way he was covered in sweat, but it drove you crazy. For the first time in a long time, the heat of the south was on your side.

The way you were staring must of caught the man’s attention, cause when you looked up he was staring right back at you. He smiled at you, and sent a small wave.

You waved back, but kept your smile small, trying to play it cool even though he had definitely saw you staring . He laughed a little, looking oddly flustered, and turned back to his group.

“Oh god, Janae i’m out. I’m gonna go find something to keep me busy. Bye baby.” you muttered out, a mixture of embarrassed and nervous. “Bye honey”

Taking long strides, you made your way back to work. Your mind still filtered back to what happened, you never get that flustered over random men!

What you didn’t know was that Johnny had watched you walk off. He had planned on showing off to get your attention, but you had left before they could even start the stunt.

“Knoxville i swear if you don’t get your head out of your ass i’m gonna smack the shit out of you.” ahhh Jeff always had such a way with words.

“Sorry man, i’m focused i swear” he wasn’t.

“No you weren’t, you were too busy checking out “mrs cowboy boots” over there.” Jeff laughed. Johnny just laughed, knowing he couldn’t deny it now.

“Listen, just get through this stunt and you can go talk to her during your break, ok man?” he swore. “ ok ok, let’s get this over with” he agreed before clapping Jeff on the back.

They had just finished all their stunts and Johnny was itching to come find you. He had been counting down the minutes until he could get off.

“Hey Jeff, i’m gonna go on over there, i’ll be back in a minute” Johnny shouted. “ok man, have fun” he shouted back, chuckling.

Immediately after getting the ok from Jeff, he ran off to find you. He must’ve searched around outside for more than fifteen minutes, but there was absolutely no sign of you. Right as he was about to give up, he saw the woman you were talking to earlier.

“Hey! Hey ma’am im sorry to bother you but umm” he paused, not knowing how to go about this without seeming like a creep. “i noticed you were talking to this woman earlier, and ive gotta ask, what’s her name”

Janae paused, trying to think of who he could be referring to. Once it finally hit her she smiled “Oh! was she wearing a white shirt and boots?”

“Yeah! yeah she was. What’s her name?” Johnny was almost bouncing he was so excited. “Yeah her names y/n, real sweet girl. She’s right inside that door over there if you want to go talk to her.”

Johnny swore at this moment that this woman was an angel. “Thank you so much, have a nice day!” he exclaimed, already turning around to go see you.

Once he finally got up to the door, he took a deep breath, making sure to collect himself. He opened up the door and walked inside, relieved to feel the cool air on his damp skin. He looked around for a quick minute before his eyes finally landed on you.

You were faced away from him, looking at some kind of paper. He took a second to admire you. A clean white shirt, a pair of dark jeans, and some roughed up cowboy boots.

God you were gonna be a problem, he could already feel it. He knew it as soon as he saw you outside, but seeing you up close made it so much worse. There was absolutely no reason for a woman to be so damn beautiful.

“Excuse me ma’am.”

Hearing another person in the once empty room startled you. You whipped around and took a second to catch your breath. Realizing it was the cute guy from earlier, you straightened yourself out and walked towards where he was standing.

“Oh gosh i’m so sorry, have you been standing there long? i was in my own little world over here” you admitted. “No, no i just got here, sorry to spook you.”

“No baby you’re fine, i should’ve been paying attention!” it was then that Johnny noticed your accent, and he could’ve sworn his knees almost buckled.

god she has a pretty smile.

shit he was staring.

“Ok, i’m just going to try to be straight forward here doll, i asked your friend outside where i could find you.” he admitted sheepishly. “I saw you out there while we were filming, and i was gonna come talk to you but you ran off before i could get the chance!”

All you could do was laugh. “Yeah i kinda dodged you a bit huh… my nerves got the best of me” you laughed. “So what’s your name cowboy?” you joked, motioning to his obnoxious red hat.

“Johnny, it’s nice to meet you.” he held his hand out for you to take. “Y/n, nice to meet you too.”

Feeling how much bigger his hands are than yours had you a little flustered. it was then you realized just how much bigger than you he really was. He had to be over 6 foot, and his wide shoulders added to the look.

“Well y/n, how would you feel about going out some time. I’m in town for a few more weeks if you’re interested.” Johnny questioned nervously.

Honestly you were shocked. There was absolutely no way this man who was not only handsome, but apparently pretty well known, was asking you out.

Your silence had Johnny worried, “If you don’t want to i understand completely, absolutely no pressure.”

“No, i’m sorry! i would love to!” you answered frantically, worried you had made a bad impression. “Why don’t you give me your number, and we can talk about getting together? I know some good places around here!”

Johnny let out a sigh of relief and smiled at you. God there was no way you were getting over that smile anytime soon.

“That sounds great doll”

THIS LITERALLY SUCKS IM SO SORRY!

IM HAVING SUCH BAD WRITERS BLOCK 😭 I HOPE YALL ARENT DISAPPOINTED 🙏

LET ME KNOW IF YOU WOULD MAYBE LIKE A PART 2?!?

tags: @vaporub4ever @maddieeb3 @stplvrr @ilovewhiteboyz

#jackass #johnny knoxville #johnny knoxville x reader #viva la bam #jackass fanfic #pj clapp #ethel cain #southern americana #southern fiction

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tommydarlings · 2 years ago

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I’ll take care of you | c.l

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

warnings: none :)

w/c: 0.7k

summary: You didn’t knew that men could be so gentle and careful with women after they’ve had sex, at least not before you me the sweet Ferrari driver charles leclerc.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! <3 (get access to +20 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

“That was… amazing.” You mumbled quietly, breathing still a bit uneven. The Ferrari driver chuckled, brushing his hair out of his face before he sat up, back now facing you.

Your legs were still shaking a bit, hair messy and a tiny bit sweaty, completely sprawled out over the soft cushions.

You turned your head and looked over to Charles, watching him standing up after putting his boxers and sweatpants on.

While he was in the bathroom, you slowly stood up and grabbed your clothes, collecting them all in your hands before you put them on the bed.

Right when you wanted to put your thong back on, you heard your one night stand entering the room again.

“Hey, why are you up? Get back into bed, mon amour.” He told you, hands already getting a hold of your hips since your legs were still shaking. You turned around and looked at the monaguesque, not understood why you should do that.

You furrowed your brows, “Shouldn’t I leave?”

He shook his head, “I mean, if you want to leave, then you can leave but not before I didn’t take care of you.” He said.

“You-”

“No discussion ma jolie, please lay down again.” Charles quietly demanded in a kindhearted tone.

You gulped and laid down onto the soft and probably rather expensive sheets again, looking up at him with a confused gaze.

Charles quickly noticed your facial expression, “Why do you look so confused mon amour?” Body already towering over you, hands spreading your shaking legs before he grabbed a wet washcloth.

You stared down at the washcloth, not understanding why he got that in his hand.

“For what do you need a wet washcloth?” He tilted his head as he heard your question, smile slowly forming on his lips.

“And why are you smiling now?”

After hearing that, his smile fell, facial expression now looking like he’s… disappointed? Why should he be disappointed?

Now it was your turn to tilt your head, basically asking him why he looks at you with those sad and slightly angry eyes.

Charles quickly went to work and cleaned your slightly sticky body with the small washcloth, being very careful while doing so.

After a few seconds of silence between the two of you, he spoke up,

“So that’s why you wanted to leave.” He mumbled, hands now putting your thong back on and then caressing your leg. “Not because you wanted, because you felt like you had to, right?” The Ferrari driver asked you, eyes now focused on your face.

You only furrowed your brows before you sat up, eyes not leaving his, “Well, I-I thought that you d-didn’t wanted to h-have me here anymore since y-you’ve already-” you briefly took a deep breath,

“used me.” You finished your statement in a quiet tone before you broke the eye contact between him and you.

Charles shook his head as you gulped, quickly coming closer to you.

“What? Used you? Do you mean as in… used your body?” He asked you, obviously not believing that you would actually think of something like that but on the other hand he also didn’t know how you’ve been treated in the past by… men.

You bit your lip while the monaguesque reached out to pull your barely covered body onto his almost naked lap, thumbs caressing your slightly cold thighs.

You nodded and his eyes immediately widened, “No má cherie, god no! Oh mon dieu.” Oh my god.

Charles eyes suddenly grew softer and softer by every comfortably second that went by, his hands gently glided up and down your thighs but didn’t went to high. He looked at you before he leaned forward and lovingly kissed your forehead,

“I don’t know that these disgusting men in the past did to you or said to you, but I am not like them, okay? I promise ma joulie.” Lips still lingering on your shivering skin,

“I’ll treat you like you deserved to be treated. With respect, kindness, tenderness and most importantly… love.” Charles whispered in a very gently tone before you put your arms around his shoulders, pulling him even closer.

“Okay… thank you.” You quietly answered as you intertwined your fingers with his soft hair.

He sighed, “No need to thank me, baby.”

#fanfic #fanfiction #aftercare #ferarri #f1 fandom #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 2023 #classic f1 #f1 ferrari #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc ferrari #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x female reader

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p0rk-guts · 5 months ago

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HUSKER!!!! Husk. Whatever. THIS OLD CAT!!!! ^ - ^

comparison + breakdown ⬇️

Look idk what possible lore reasons there could be for Husk having bird wings and tail feathers whether it's hidden somewhere online or to be determined later in the show even though I can't for the life of me even guess why they're there (if you've got any hc's tho I'd love to hear em) but I just got rid of em entirely, at least for the time being. Declutters him a little. They're definitely a little much.

And I've always hated those buttons on his chest fur... Are they part of his pattern.... Are they hot glued on...... What is it with Viv and melting clothing and flesh together.........

He also does NOT look 60-70 like at all (pretty sure that's canon but I just got it off the wiki) so I tried to remedy that by giving him more wrinkles and creases. He's a Persian cat thing now bc some of them really do be lookin like mustache wearing old guys fr. Also his neck fluff is sorta supposed to allude to facial hair w/ some greying sprinkled in! He's officially like... 62 now. + He's fatter bc 1) beer belly 2) Persian cat build and 3) Vivzie twink fatigue

Husk's outfit is objectively silly for his grown ass to be wearing but I like the hc I've seen around as that being a stipulation in his deal with Alastor where he figuratively and literally "took the shirt off his back". Considering how as an overlord he had a nice suit and he (possibly. Definitely In headcanons) doesn't even like showing off sinner features, or his body at all, especially not in such a way. Is this canonically the case? Probably not. But hey 🤷🏾‍♀️

I made some comparatively minimal changes there. I undid his tie bc man's usually drunk and doesn't have the energy to fuss with it. I also gave the ends a bit of a spade shape. The clasps on his suspenders are meant to be clovers and there are still hearts on his hands. For the diamond face... I kinda tried to put it into his tail? But that's kinda iffy so 3.5/4 card faces achieved 👍🏾

Turned his top hat into a more flat wide brim hat that i could NOT for the life of me find a name for... Just wider fedoras I think? but they seemed to be kinda popular at the time. For my Husk, as an overlord he occasionally wore a fancy top hat when he was showing off, and now this is like. His downgrade replacement he's got to wear. + Some playing cards tucked into the hat band!

Made those yellows his primary colors bc in my rewrite greed is gold and I definitely think that would've been one of his major sins in life. Also a bit of gluttony too, which I made orange, so I added some of those tones in there. Allsoo after fussing with the colors for literal days I stilllll kindahateemalittle BUT IT'S FINE. I'll figure it out

And that's all for him!! Realized I forgot to put the little anti Viv banner on my last post but then again idgaf fr it's whatever. If you don't know I hate her you'll learn before long

And, of course, dvelopment sketches 4 sticking around!!!!

Ok that's all bye ✌🏾🧍🏾‍♀️

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #husk #husk redesign #hazbin hotel rewrite #my art #digital art #character design

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shinestarhwaa · 1 year ago

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SEONGHWA NSFW ALPHABET

A - Aftercare (how is he after sex)

Seonghwa is super caring and will make sure everything's okay and he'll probably ask a thousand times bc that's the sweetheart he is.

B- Bodypart (his favourite bodypart on you)

This man is obsessed with your chest. Male/female doesn't matter, he loves your chest.

C - Cum (anything to do with cum)

Oh he loves to cum inside you and fill you up cuz it makes the breeding kink go BRRRR.

D - Dirty secret (his dirty secret)

He gets aroused when he sees the crowd simping for him, especially you in the crowd. He knows he looks hot, he knows you think he looks hot and he knows what's gonna happen when he gets off stage.

E - Experience (how experienced is he?)

I think he doesn't have a high bodycount, but he's got a lot of experience with those people, I see him as a person with a higher libido and he might feel adventurous and try stuff out.

F - Favourite position

This man loves missionary because it's romantic and he can see your facial expressions (and your chest).

G - Goofy (how he acts in the moment?)

I don't think he's very goofy during the act but he might be a little giggly sometimes, especially after drinking.

H - Hair (how groomed is he?)

He's either completely shaved or super neatly trimmed bc this man takes his pubic hygene SUPER SERIOUS.

I - Intimacy (how passionate is he?)

He is so passionate, he loves intimacy. For Seonghwa intimacy is already the feeling of holding someone close, holding someone's hand, cuddling naked etc.

J - Jack off (how often does he masturbate?)

Okay but have we all seen the tissues beside his bed in his Live's? LOL. No I think he masturbates quite often, he might get a little needy sometimes.

K - Kink

BREEDING KINK GO BRRR. He loves the idea of breeding someone, cumming inside someone. Doesn't matter if he doms or subs, he's going crazy for it either way.

L - Location (what's his favourite place to have sex?)

Seonghwa will probably prefer the bedroom the most but might also enjoy the bathroom every now and then. But he likes clean places so he'll just prefer the bedroom mostly.

M - Motivation (what keeps him going?)

PRAISESSS. I think if you praise him while he eats you out for example he will go nuts and only try to perform better for you.

N - NO (what is a no-go for him/turn-offs?)

Besides a little occasional spanking he will NOT hit you, especially in the face. He will be playful and he might joke about it but actually slapping you while he fucks you? No. No no no.

O - Oral (giving or receiving, skill etc.)

Seonghwa is more of a giver, especially when it comes to oral. We know about his tongue right?👀

P - Pace (fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

It depends I think? I think he could do both, it just depends on if the mood is more romantic or a I-have-to-have-you-now kind of thing

Q - Quickie (their opinion on quickies)

For actual sex he's not into quickies bc he really likes to take his time, but for some foreplay he's always down.

R - Risk (experiments, taking risks etc.)

I think he's not super risky but he might give in anyway if you wanna be risky. He is likely to be experimental though.

S - Stamina (how long does he last?)

Seonghwa can last quite long, at least for 2-3 rounds. He likes to take his time and after round 1 he might start with oral again so that gives him time to gain some strength and energy again.

T - Toys (do they own toys? does he use them with his partner or himself?)

I think he definitely uses toys on himself, with a partner maybe sometimes but he prefers to do it without any tools.

U - Unfair (how much do they like to tease?)

I think if he's feeling confident and sexy he's definitely a tease. He'll wear sexy clothing, give glances and bite his lip.

V - Volume (how loud are they? what sounds do they make?)

Okay but I think Seonghwa is pretty vocal actually. He will whimper, whine, moan and scream for you if he feels really good (I'm literally weak at the thought of it omg).

W - Wild Card (random headcanon)

Your legs are spread as you're seated on the edge of the bed. Seonghwa's between your legs, absolutely ravishing you, licking and sucking and going feral while you keep praising him, hands tangled in his hair.

X - X-Ray (what's going on in them pants?)

I think Seonghwa is a bit above average. More length than girth tho I think? Seonghwa's the type to have a seriously pretty cock.

Y - Yearning (how high is their sexdrive?)

His sexdrive can be quite intense, sometimes he can go for hours. He's just like monday tuesday wednesday thursday friday saturday sunday seven days a week.

Z - ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards?)

Will stay up to take care of you and will only fall asleep when you do<3.

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @1-800-shedevil @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630

#kpop #ateez #smut #shinestarhwaa #seonghwa

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pastel-peach-writes · 2 years ago

Note

caitvi x reader modern au flirting w u PPLSDDHDYDYVZ

SQUEEEE LETS GO

Catch Me In Vegas, Catch Me In Tokyo | CaitVi X Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: headcanons of CaitVi flirting with you!

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Lower Case Intended, MINOR nsfw, Vi's a little shit, Caitlyn is too, Brief Modern AU, No Use Of Y/n, Not Proofread

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

– okay so, believe it or not but caitvi loves flirting with you.

– (i mean, i'd believe it but i digress)

– when they're not teaming up against you, they have different flirting styles.

– vi's is sly, cocky, and blunt. caitlyn's is more subtle and uses (soft) touch and facial expressions.

– when vi flirts, she's always smirking. she'd lean back on whatever wall or surface she can and she'll lower her eyelids.

– a lot of "oh, yeah?"'s and "is that so?" with her!

– if you're an easily flustered individual, she will push the boundary so far she might as well be across the border.

– she'll lean down to you if you're shorter or press her body against yours if you're taller.

– did i mention she'll also lower her voice!!!

– vi knows all of your tells. all of them.

– she'll notice when you rub your thighs together, if you press your lips in a thin line to avoid a flustered noise, or even if you play with your fingers to distract you from her flirts.

– if you think she won't tell caitlyn, boy are you dead wrong.

– after first figuring out your tells, she'll run to caitlyn like an excited puppy or a kid when they learn something new from school.

– "cupcake! guess what i found out? no, don't just tell me to tell you... guess!"

– as soon as she lets the cat out of the bag, caitlyn's smirking and already thinking of ways to see these tells herself.

– obviously, she can't let vi know of her devilish actions (not yet at least) so she tells her not to exploit them while thinking of a way to exploit them herself.

– after that situation, caitlyn will find you and make basic conversation.

– she'll ask about your day, work, if you saw any cute animals on the way home, but then... when the conversation is slowing down and there's silence that's filled with romantic tension, she'll say

– "you're beautiful, did you know that?"

– it's tame sure, but cait wants to ease you into the flustering. she wants to see your walls slowly crumble and your facade fade.

– it's a bit sinister ngl...

– after a bashful thank you, you assume that's the end of that, but you were wrong!

– if you don't mind your hair being played with, caitlyn will run her fingers through it or compliment your protective hairstyle and how it suits you.

– she'll go on to compliment every. single. feature. on your face.

– you got freckles? they're complimented. you got beauty marks? complimented! nose bridge? compliment. big ass glasses? COMPLIMENT! needless to say, she'll compliment you from your forehead all the way to your lips.

– all while remaining intense contact and biting on her lip every once and a while.

– as mentioned above, the compliments are tame but the more they come, the more flustered you get.

– you bring your shoulders to your ears and with another bashful smile and warm cheeks, you thank her. you swore you could hear her whisper "bingo", but your ears were ringing from all the blood being rushed to your face.

– after that whole fiasco, it's like the flirting never stops with those two. caitlyn would compliment you on your outfit and vi would make a comment about how much better it would look on the floor.

– caitlyn has no other choice but to agree.

– during kisses and makeouts, they would have you sandwiched between them. that's their favorite thing.

– you can't escape and let's be honest, who wouldn't want to be sandwiched between these two?

– with swollen lips, you'd pant to catch your breath. vi from behind you brings her lips to her ears and whispers absolutely anything she could to keep you in the mood.

– "you wanna keep going?" "you look so pretty with your eyes dazed like that." "you're such a sweet little thing."

– meannnwhile

– caitlyn is on the opposite side either kissing on your neck, rubbing your thigh, or agreeing with vi.

– honest to god, caitlyn really loves seeing you an absolute mess.

– without sounding too possessive, she likes knowing she has some hold over you. it makes her feel in control somehow and knowing all she has to do is look at you in a certain way? oh buddy, you're in for it.

– MOVING ON BC WE GOT A BIT CARRIED AWAY

– vi will call you out on your staring.

– you stare at her arm muscles? she'll wink and tell you to take a picture.

– you're staring a bit too hard at caitlyn's outfit? she'll be like: "oh, cupcake. i think someone is in love with what you have on today."

– she likes ebing a little shit like that and its even worse when caitlyn chimes in

– "oh yeah?" (totally took that from vi) "well, what do you like about it then? should i lean over to hear you better? or should we talk in someplace more private?" and she says all of this while walking to you with a smirk!!

– vi is just in the back smirking proudly with her arms crossed.

– and oh my goodness, don't get me started on the modern au aspects.

– during the talking stages, caitlyn would take screenshots of EVERY. CONVERSATION.

– she says it's because she wants to save the memories but let's be honest, she wants to reread you getting flustered over text.

– after realizing what caitlyn does, vi decides to do the same but for different reasons...

– blackmail~~

– if you DARE to say "what? i didn't say that." "that's not me!"

– here comes the recipts of you in fact saying that and your content photo is included so you couldn't dare back out now.

– "what's this then?" vi would send every time she pulls up a receipt.

– by your delayed response, she can tell she caught you in the act and she'll cackle.

– even if yall are in the same room and are in a relationship! - "you didn't say that? oh, okay. *send*" - your text response: "..." - vi's verbal response: "AAAHAHAHAH"

– caitlyn doesn't even have to be in the room to know she sent a screenshot to the gc. she'll hear vi cackle in the other room and she'll just know.

WC: 1,028

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fayesia · 1 year ago

Note

Hi. Can you write a smut story with love at first sight between me (the female reader) and my favorite Disney villain Captain James Hook from Peter Pan please? I have a serious fangirl crush on him.

Captured — Captain James Hook x reader

a/n: I got kind of carried away sorry!! so i put a * to symbolise where the smut begins so please scroll down to that if you’d like to skip over any plot parts :)

warnings: nsfw 18+, p in v, creampie, fem!Oral receiving, dom!Hook, body worship, fingering, breast kink, praise kink, dirty talk and pet names, lmk if i missed anything

Heavy waves of water splashed across the wooden boards of the large ship. The pitter patter of the onslaught of rain making it even more difficult to hear anything, not to mention the numerous voices yelling out things that barely made any sense.

So to have the blindfold taken off your eyes felt like the ultimate relief you needed after being ripped from your bed in the middle of the night, all as Hooks act of retaliation against Peter. The relief, although you were shameful to admit, was mixed with a bit of anticipation.

You knew this Captain James Hook wasn’t exactly the best person, however you had heard all of these wild stories about him and yet the chance to ever catch a glimpse of him was simply not one you got.

So as you blinked profusely, chasing those black spots away from your vision, the sight you saw in front of you was certainly not expected…but definitely not unappreciated.

Stood at least a head taller than you was a man with dark features, he had black long curls that had most definitely been treated well by the many years spent out at sea. His blue eyes, matching that of the current stormy sky, scanned you up and down, almost trying to read you before you were swept up by the oceans tides. The facial hair he adorned seemed to add to his charm, almost too neat for a man out at sea but perfect for a person of his stature, for a captain. His outfit consisted of a clean almost translucent white shirt, with intricate designs stitched into it, tucked into a pair of dark brown breeches. However the main accent piece of it all had to be his long deep dark red coat, the shade a complete match of blood and the golden accents adorned across the rich velvet material seemed to make the whole outfit perfect. Not a single curl was out of place yet as the wind and rain whipped around your shivering body, you knew you, unlike him, looked a mess.

Being dragged from bed at nearly two in the morning left you barefoot in a white nightgown and your hair drenched down to the last strand. Hands bound together by tight knots of thick rope and the blindfold once covering your eyes was left dangling around your neck.

“well we’ll see how long it takes for him to pay to get such a pretty little thing back”

Hooks voice was not something you were expecting, the words were accentuated and clear like that of a highly positioned and well mannered person, however the strong rasp in it had you weak in the knees ready to do anything he asked.

So when he asked you to follow him below deck, well, you did just that.

Away from the hustle and bustle of the action of the other crew members the two of you ended up in a quaint little room slightly hidden below deck. Inside was a bed to the corner, a wooden box as a table and a slightly smaller box you assumed was meant to be a chair. Cutting the ropes loose with his hook hand he grabbed onto your wrist, harshly pulling you against his chest until you could feel the hard muscles tensed, pushing against the swell of your chest.

“you’re not to move from this room until further notice, food and water will be bought in and you may be escorted down the hall to do your business. If i find you have tried to escape i’ll slit that throat of yours with this hook myself”

Lifting up his hand, the large hook attached to his wrist glinted from the single lamp light, the sharp tip of it pressing against his throat gliding across, a show as to what would happen if you tried to run. The fear in your eyes seemed to show as his mouth upturned into a smirk and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Hot. Scary. But hot.

With that he walked out of the room leaving you to rest until someone came to rescue you.

But you weren’t going to wait for some knight in shining armour, you were stronger than that. The talking and laughter from above had died down by now and you knew this was your chance. Pulling out a hair clip from your pocket you knelt in front of the doors keyhole, inserting it and nudging it around until you heard a loud click. Silently celebrating you knew you had done it.

The celebration was short lived when the door swung open and lo and behold Hook was towering above you with a nasty sneer on his face.

“did you not hear what i said before. Couldn’t get the words through that pretty head huh? too busy staring to listen, is that it?”

his questions were left unanswered while you stared up in fear by his feet, your mouth was slightly ajar as you weren’t prepared but such an outburst.

*smut begins here*

He stared you down for a few seconds before hauling you up by your arms, both your wrists fit into his one large hand. You were pushed until the back of your legs met the edge of the bed, the two of you were once again chest to chest. The pressure of his large tensed thigh unknowingly rubbing against your core through the thin still wet nightgown had you moving uncomfortably. Hook was still berating you with threat after threat until he halted, the word he wanted to say was caught in his throat as he watched you writher. He went to move back, confused, but then he heard you whisper “wait please don’t stop” the pleading in your eyes was something he couldn’t resist, not even the mightiest of men could. So respecting your wishes he didn’t take that step back, rather, he watched intently as you moved yourself back and forth against him. His once slightly ajar mouth now moved into that same ego filled smirk.

“mm good girl just like that, keep going”

His words spurred you on as you were getting close, something that was clear to anyone if they took a look at the growing wet spot against Hooks pants. Suddenly he pushed you back onto the bed, with his knees on either side of you there was no escape, his head lowered, as his lips met yours. The rough facial hair he had tickled against your neck while he explored the skin shown above the gowns neckline, slowly travelling to your breast, his mouth and your nipples separated by the thin sheer gown you had on. Two of his hands came down to the middle of your thighs where the hem of your gown was bunched up, tugging the flimsy material off you, it met the floor along with his jacket.

You were left bare to him quickly trying to wrap your arms around yourself to cover up, but he was quick to notice, grabbing your arms apart he kissed you again, gentler, softer.

“you’re so beautiful, your face, your body, you, everything about you is beautiful and i love you it”

He kisses your lips

“your lips are beautiful”

Then your breasts

“these are so fucking beautiful”

Travelling further down he came to rest at your hips, kissing inwards until one last kiss was pressed against skin just above your clit

“this is especially beautiful, and you’re going to see exactly that”

his compliments left your cheeks feeling hotter than ever.

James described you in a way you couldn’t see yourself, he made you feel unlike anyone had ever made you feel before, and that made you want him more than ever.

So as you felt his tongue explore every crevice of your pussy, you knew this was the right decision…at least it was better than being decapitated right?

You were moaning and writhing around while you felt James tongue all over you, against your clit and sliding across every fold of your vagina, his hand squeezed your breast flicking the hardening nipples, while his hook gently grazed your side, the cold metal providing a sense of relief against your hot body.

“taste so good, fucking nectar to me, could eat you all day” His moans into you only spurred you on pushing you just that bit closer to the edge, until you couldn’t take it anymore, you were grabbing onto the sheets until the veins were prominent in your hand, loud moans escaping your mouth as you felt yourself come. His tongue lapped up every drop the squishy and wet muscle teased your wet and inviting hole, lightly grazing your entrance while your hips bucked at the overstimulating action.

He climbed from between your legs quickly kissing you again, the taste of you heavy on his tongue which wrapped against your own as you fought a losing battle with him. He bowed his head taking one nipple into his mouth while his hand pinched and pulled at the other, the pain relinquished by the gentle strokes of his tongue while you moaned pushing his head further against you. His hand reached your wet dripping pussy, softly brushing against your throbbing clit until he heard your mewls and inserted two fingers.

“i know it’s just your so fuckin’ tight baby need you ready for my cock, don’t want it to hurt you when i slide it in”

He pushed against your warm and wet walls his brain racking with thoughts of how good it would feel having you wrapped around his cock, the positions he would have you in and the things he would do to you. Until he couldn’t take it.

“need to be in this pussy right fucking now” you missed the feeling of his fingers filling you up leaning against your arms to watch him get undressed. The shirt was quick to come off as your eyes fell on his upper torso, slim but still muscular with battle scars littered across it, you couldn’t wait to explore every fucking inch of him, ideas reeling through your mind, your imagination cut short once he had removed any clothing from his bottom half. He was stood fully erected watching your mouth drop open. How the fuck did he fit that in his pants?!

“don’t look so scared honey, we’ll make it fit” he soft smile left you with no doubt about that as you watched him stroke it, the sides had prominent veins that ran up the sides while the tip was a pulsing deep shade of pink.

He then walked towards you leaning over the top of you, he spit into his palm stroking his dick, proceeding to rub himself in between the lips of your pussy. “need to make sure it fits in nice and easy, wanna make you feel real good baby”

He continued rutting up and down, whispered moans left your mouth as each thrust had the tip of his cock hitting against your clit, the smallest amount of pressure left you wanting more and more.

“please just fuck me, please James need it so bad”

“if you’re sure, don’t say i didn’t warn you about preparing you though”

Slowly he eased the tip into you, already you felt like you could take no more, your hand grabbing onto the flesh of his hip, halting him before he tried to continue. Both of you vocalised the feelings you felt as yours was a mix of a yelp and moan while he let out a deep groan. To finally get even just a brief taste of how your pussy would feel around him was enough to have him ready to cum.

He waited until you were ready to continue, further continuing to push himself into you, pulling out as half of him was in, just to again thrust in adding a few more centimetres of himself each time. Until he had finally fully inserted himself into you. You walls clenched and wrapped around him like a glove as you moaned from each thrust, the sensations felt like fireworks every time you closed your eyes. You’ve never felt so full and satisfied in your life and James could say the same, his hips soon were thrusting continuously into you agains and again. He felt you convulse a little before pulling out leaving you frustrated from the climax that was stolen from you. But he was quicker than ever to flip you over, pushing you down on the bed into a deep arch with your ass lifted into the air, swiftly burying himself deep into you once again.

“fuck such a good fuckin’ slut for me. bet you’ve been wanting this since we met, cause i’ve definitely been”

“oh my god yes please harder wanna feel you deeper in me”

And god did he do exactly that.

His thrust didn’t let up and you couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, resorting to just having your face squashed against the bedsheets.

His hand held onto a handful of your breast pulling you further against him, until he fully pressed your back against his front. James thrust were reaching even further deeper into you from this angle and you felt yourself about to come.

“oh yeah come for me, be a good fucking girl and come all over this dick, my dick”

He rubbed at your clit driving you over the edge until you couldn’t take anymore, convulsing in his arms you came on his cock feeling him release his load into you at the same time with a deep groan. Ropes of his cum shot into you one after the other until he slowly eased his cock out from your sensitive pussy, a trail of his cum following not long after as it dripped out of your hole onto the sheets below.

Rubbing the tip of his dick against your pussy spread the cum everywhere leaving everything in a bigger mess than before, but you were too fucked to even care. That phrase had more meanings than one for you and Hook, as you both heard the clashing of swords come from the deck of the ship.

#smut #captain james hook #captain james hook smut #disney smut #peter pan #peter pan smut #disney

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krypticcafe · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! I love your writing sm!!! Could I request how the boys + könig would react to a reader with curly hair? (We’re talking tight, kinky coily curls)

COD:MWII Boys w/a curly-haired partner

rating: PG-13

character(s): GN!Reader, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price, John "Soap" McTavish, Simon "Ghost" Riley, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, König, Hound

warning(s): none

a/n: aw thank you! And I love this request!! I'm not someone with curly, kinky hair, but I hear a lot about how they're super underrepresented. Even I'm tired of the "brushed his hand through your hair" or the "y/n with a messy bun/straight hair" bc PLEASSEE, my hair is a rat's nest, this would not work 💀 Anyways, I hope I did you justice and lmk if I got anything wrong!!

Gaz

Let's be honest, it's nothing new to him. He's experienced with coily, kinky hair, whether it be himself or his family or a friend.

I actually like to think he experimented with longer hairstyles before cutting it for military.

He gets you the most out of all of them, honestly. Knows exactly what you mean when you need a certain product or talk about maintenance, doesn't belittle you when you get upset over your hair, and helps a lot, too.

He doesn't have to do as much maintenance, so he doesn't use too much product, but sometimes he'll eye yours and make a note to try some for himself.

Since you and Gaz can trust each other, you sometimes have nights where you help style each other, just to spend some quality time.

Also yes, you guys have matching bonnets, it was actually his idea. You guys take so many pics together, too.

Gaz will notice if your hair looks healthier or fresher, and while he always thinks your curls are beautiful, he'll make extra compliments so that you know that he pays attention.

Oh, and if you do something special with it? He's all over you, all like, "What's the special occasion? Or am I just lucky today?"

Price

Your hair was one of the many reasons Price had noticed you so much, particularly because the military didn't really allow room for soldiers to do much with their hair and most have to gel it down if necessary.

When you tell him about the amount of care that goes into it, he starts thinking that his facial hair routine isn't so bad after all.

Once you get together, he starts looking into the product you need to get.

Unfortunately, he will have a bit of a hard time, so it's probably best if you show him the ropes for stuff like oils for protective styles, specific tools you use, etc. Otherwise, he'll be wandering around the aisle for a while. Please.

Sometimes, there'll be days where both of you guys take up the bathroom and go through your routines together, it's a pretty good way for him to learn your process and for you to learn his. There's a mutual respect.

Realistically, I don't think you would let either party take over for each other. At least, not for a long time.

If you put on a real nice outfit and let your natural hair out, oh this man will be on his knees, so use that information wisely.

Soap

Ooo, he's obsessed, I'm telling ya!!

Definitely gets stunned at how much it takes for you to take care of those curls, but not surprised that it's so difficult.

He does kinda wonder how you deal with it if you're someone that's on the battlefield.

You definitely had to tell him off for toying with it once, and he has stopped, but it's taking every inch of him to keep his ADHD ass from mindlessly twirling one between his fingers whenever you guys cuddle. But he isn't gonna do it! Unless you let him, then he loves how the texture feels.

You won't admit it, but sometimes you only let him touch it because of how happy it makes him, and you know he's being as respectful as possible.

He'll always be your #1 hype man too! Loves it when you experiment!!

You've definitely caught him wearing your bonnet multiple times, too.

One time, you decided to tease him by guiding him to help you detangle your hair, and frustration was absolutely worth it.

He got so pouty afterward when he had to give up, but you let him know he did a good job trying.

Ghost

He doesn't mean to be rude but he's definitely like "Can't be that bad."

And then you show him your grocery list.

It is that bad.

He gets frustrated and just buys one of everything, walking out of the store with like a dozen bags. He memorizes the ones you pick so there's that at least.

Don't mind him, he's just a bit blunt because he'll then ask, "Why don't you just cut/gel it?". Just explain it, and he'll respect your choice, though it intimidates him a little.

At one point, you're actually the one that lets him feel your hair, so he knows what it's like. He would never touch it unless invited, he's got too much self-control. People also become too intimidated by him to try to touch your hair too, so that's a plus.

It oddly soothes him, he likes how the texture feels on his fingers and especially when it's softer than usual.

One time, you used your own hand to help guide his through your hair, and oh man, was he flustered. Mans was glitching out for a few seconds.

Roach

He thinks your curls are so cute,

Like he literally can't stop watching you because of how they move when you walk.

On occasions where you let him touch it, you'll find that whenever you both are close to each other and really deep in an activity or conversation, he'll absent-mindedly roll a curl between his fingers.

His hands are good for many things, signing, fighting, and other fun stuff. Styling your hair is included!

One of his favorite things to do is help you find and try new styles with your hair. Roach loves looking up and researching about your hair type and what you can do with it, he finds it all super interesting!

Often buys you clips, beads, or whatever he thinks is pretty so you can try it on!

Loves to kiss your head because of how your hair tickles his face a little. He's been tempted to just bury his face in the back of your neck just to plant a bunch of kisses on more than one occasion.

On days where you put extra care into your curls, he's absolutely showing you off to everyone! He wants others to know how hard you worked to look so damn good!! (Gary says it's a full-time job, really)

König

Expect to find him staring all starstruck a lot.

Like a lot.

When you tell him it's your natural hair, he's surprised, he thought you just did a lot of work to make your curls so coily.

He once asked (very) politely if he could touch your hair, and because he was (extremely) nice about it, you let him.

Only for him to panic when the velcro from his glove got caught and he apologized a dozen times over. Afterwards, he treated you like porcelain, keeping his hands straight at his sides around you and acting like a spooked animal.

It got to a point where you had to confront him and tell him it was an honest mistake, and he didn't have to apologize which made him apologize more.

On the other hand, König enjoys watching you do your hair, just sitting there quietly with the occasional question. Sometimes, he helps comb your hair, but that's the most he'll let himself do since he doesn't want to mess things up.

Really loves how your products smell.

While he thinks you look amazing no matter what, he likes it best when you go natural.

Hound

Knows a lot more than you expected. They aren't well-versed, but they know more than the average person when it comes to the deal with kinky hair.

They'll go out with you on shopping trips and often help you pick out scents, one that you like but one that isn't too sensitive for their nose, it's something you didn't expect them to enjoy so much.

You can trust her to always have stuff on hand for you if you live separately or in different quarters. Oils, creams, custards, moisturizers, a hair pick (all from your fave brands, of course), she's got you.

He surprises you again when you come home one day, way too tired to do your routine, so he offers to do it for you.

If this was a test, they passed!! They even knew how to brush your hair the right way not to damage it and had already refilled some of your stock.

After that, you often find him helping on wash days when you're far too exhausted, as his way of pampering you. His favorite thing is doing your edges.

Her scary dog privileges also help ward off weirdos trying to touch your hair, and much like Soap, she hypes you up regardless if it's a frizzy day or a special occasion.

Expect them to be mildly addicted to the way your hair smells, it's literally one of their comforts because of how much it reminds them of you.

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lvrcpid · 2 years ago

Text

headcannons ii - modern!au

neteyam

— he was the type of kid who did the lemonade stands as a kid, backwards e and all.

— his led lights are always set to white. he doesn’t even use the light in his room

— he definitely goes trick or treating still. no matter the fact he’s almost 6 foot. he’s gonna get him some free candy

— speaking of candy, his favorite candy is..TWIZZLERS 🤢

— if there’s one thing neteyam will do, he gonna take a deep sigh like he a stressed father of 5

— he has his caps lock on 😟

— such a mommas boy

— ‘you need help ma?’ ‘i can pick her up for you ma’

— idc what y’all say him and jake ARENT THAT CLOSE

— nete def strays away from jakes old veteran ass but the first one to use his military discount anywhere they go 💀 he’s so me

— that boy loves him some the weeknd

— die for you is his favorite song

— the type to literally hit you while laughing

lo’ak

— he’s always in some sort of pain

— ‘my back hurt’ ‘my ankle hurts’

— he was the type of kid who got caught with kik at age 12

— when he finally got his car, he got a dent in it not even an hour later

— he thinks those a.i president videos are top tier comedy

— his closet is where he records his raps 💀

— neytiri has to FIGHT with him to make him wash his favorite hoodie

— ‘MA I CAN GO ONE MORE DAY’ ‘ITS BEEN TWO MONTHS’

— under his bed is literally comparable to a landfill. ITS SO DIRTY UNDER THERE

— when he was a kid, he ran into a wall and knocked his two front teeth out

— something tells me lo’ak is a fast eater like you could blink and his plate is CLEAR

— jake made him join jrotc 💀

kiri

— she’s def a morning person

— you can find her in her room mediating or doing yoga

— very in touch with her higher self

— she’s given herself a lot of stick and poke tattoos

— her favorite one is a heart on her finger

— shoes? hell no. crocs and slippers.

— funniest person in the family hands down

— she actually enjoys cleaning, it’s therapeutic

— the type to make twitter stans mad on purpose

— has way too much blackmail on everyone in the family

— she probably can’t dance tbh shed rather watch

— gives the MEANEST side eye to people

ao’nung

— he has facial hair (teehee)

— he probably was the type to go “boi 🫱🏽” in middle school

— he smells like irish spring ¿

— big big big sneaker head

— ‘where my hug at’ AONUNG GO TO HELL

— got that stiff athletes walk to him

— something tells me he has a letterman jacket with ‘A’ on it

— he definitely needs his license taken away. he has three tickets already

— speaking of license, his picture is his rizz. he looks so pretty in his picture

— poor baby hates eye contact, it makes him nervous

— he’s so fruity. talking bout some “POOKIE 😆”

— he’s a beast at mini golf

— da hood is his favorite roblox game. he definitely gets annoying and tells people to mic up

tsireya

— she actually believes in the tarot readings on her fyp

— she’s confident. not cocky.

— she can whoop ass. PRAY WITH HER DONT PLAY W HER

— she wants to dye her hair but she’s so scared

— she got a tattoo of a heart behind her ear behind her parents backs

— my girl loves her some astrology

— ‘WHATS YOUR RISING??’ ‘tsireya get the hell out of my room’

— she has a pet kitten named wiggles

— her lock screen is of her , lo’ak and wiggles

— she loves oreos

— her and the sims locked IN

— she’s spent at least 500 dollars on packages for the game

— she wears glasses but never wears them so she’s always squinting

— she’s a concert junkie. she’s been to almost every single nct concert she could attend

— ‘lo’ak let’s get matching silk presses’

#avatar #avatar x reader #awotw #neteyam x reader #jake sully x reader #kiri x reader #loak x reader #sully family x reader #modern avatar #avatar 2009 #avatar headcanons #avatar x you #tuk avatar #avatar 2 #avatar imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar memes

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official-darkforest · 10 months ago

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i am SOOO unbelievably thrilled by your anthro au omg. do you have fashion ideas for the characters? like their favorite outfits, fabrics, etc? imo one of the best parts of anthro characters is deciding how they'd express themselves through their clothing :]

I HAVE A FEW ALREADY!!!! i dont have many specifics because theres so many characters ahd i havent drawn them all yet LOL but i'll share the ones i do have at least SOMETHING for

im also trying to keep these reasonable for the time period and location, as in my au the clan cats are mostly rural and in small towns set (mostly) before the 2000s so most may dress more modest and conservative (especially if theyre older and very religious)

squirrelflight - the best i can describe her sense of fashion is that it ranged from tomboy as a younger girl and is currently closer to a working class butch. im not sure if masc would be a more appropriate term since i dont hc her as a lesbian (shes bi) but she dresses "like a man" and owns a lot of jeans, slacks, and button-up shirts of all kinds of fabrics and patterns. she also enjoys bright colors as well, but as she got older her fashuon sense got a little more sensible and less "loud" like it was in the 60s and 70s. she also has glasses like her daddy once shes like 35 or so. she and firestar dressed very similarly, and a lot of her shirts and neckties are things she stole from his closet

feathertail - very feminine. hippie adjacent, lots of loose and flowing garments and jingly pieces. breatheable clothes and open toed shoes. her favorite swimsuit had some little frilly bits on it i think. often combines neutral earthy tones with blues and whites

crowfeather - lots of handmedowns from his father. clothes you can do farmwork in like jeans, overalls, hardy flannel/denim shirts and boots. never grew out of this and still dresses this way and he likes it

jayfeather - he looks like a modernized (as far as the 80s goes) version of his father - same hairstyle snd way of dress. he isnt too formal but does have some more preppiness to his clothing style (polo shirts and sweaters). he avoids full button downs since buttoning them himself jjust gets frustrating since he cant match them up every time. new wave band shirts. he also wears orange tinted glasses to protect his eyes (in this au i wrote that hes able to perceive shadows and light pretty okay, but not much else beyond that) And Kinda As A Fashion Statement cuz it goes well with his facial structure and hairstyle i think

lionblaze - hes like if the stereotypical jock and stereotypical 80s rock+metal enthusiast had a baby. muscle tees and bandanas, ripped jeans, those absurdly short shorts, crop tops, etc. he's a drummer i think if that matters LOL

ivypool - punk, also sorta like joan jett to an extent. very homemade, tho sometimes she gets lazy and doesnt really commit to the outfits all the way (but definitely has the mindset, dint get me wrong). one of those girls with a chest small enough to go braless 99% of the time; wears a lot of tank tops and sleeveless shirts LOL

bone/brick/scourge - just google "the outsiders movie" or "greaser" and you'll get the idea. tho i imagine these three in particular also have some kind of bare minimum formalwear scraped together from their escapades. theyre kinda like the jetts/sharks from west side story if that helps at all

daisy - she combines flowing, pretty dresses with a sunhat and work boots. she also teaches horseback riding and owns a few (its a business she runs w smokey and floss. i think its be funny if they were polyam ITS MY AU I CAN CHANGE WHAT I WANT) and she has horseback-appropriate clothing as well

poppyfrost - THEE preppy girl of the 80s. big hair, perm and all. dresses with pastel colors. her sisters cinderheart and honeyfern are pretty similar, tho i imagine honeyfern is a little more sporty and cinderheart takes inspiration from madonna once shes trying to court lionblaze

hazeltail - long haired country girl butch. enough said

spottedleaf snd cinderpelt are nuns lol

#warrior cats #anthro warrior cats #micks anthro au

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 3 months ago

Text

Hit ‘Em Up! (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Cowboy!Gojo Satoru x Cowboy!Geto Suguru x Black!Cowgirl!Reader (Slow Burn/Enemies to Lovers)

Synopsis: You get to meet Geto & Gojo the Gunslingers, the notorious outlaws that have every town and law enforcement in a twist, when your bum-ass BF offers you as payment to avoid going to prison. Little do they know that this is only a part of your plan to get what you desire. But when you realize that the infamous gun-slinging, smooth-talking cowboys could be everything you want and more when they offer you a deal to team up with them, will you successfully be able to go through with it?

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINOS GTFO); poly!SatouSugu; Reader is Black & Fem; Mention of other JJK characters; Porn with Plot; Tragic Backstories; T/W for Childhood Trauma, Parental Death, Violence, Panic Attacks & Torture; Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Hand Kink; Masturbation; Voyeurism; Gay Sex; Polyamorous; Double Deepthroat; Mutual Oral; Fingering; CMNF; Spitroast; Riding; Unprotected PiV Sex; Creampies; Outside/Public Sex; Shotgunning; Multiple Positions; Spit Kink; Facials; MDom/fsub Undertones; Aftercare

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: LMAOOO I haven’t written action sequences in a minute so this one took me at least 5 days to write. I had to stop, come back to it, stop again & then come back when I came up with something good. Writing action shit is HARD. I hope it’s not too terrible tho 🥺🥺 pls be nice to me -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen PT I & II. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Epilogue + Soundtrack.

**********

TWENTY-TWO: UNTAMEABLE.

Your friends end up staying for longer than three days.

While staying at their bed and breakfast, Shoko, Yuki, and Choso spend every single day of their trip with you. Their visit turns into a week of shopping, drinking, and constant laughter. It is exactly what you need…including times with Nanami.

You call them ‘times’ because that is what they are according to you: times of laughter, friendship building, and fun. You’ve met him at the library, bars, restaurants, cafes, out in the pastures for horseback riding. You’ve even visited him at his job to have lunch with him.

Shoko called them ‘dates’ to which you always ignored, but deep down, you know that your denial won’t last long. You can’t deny that Nanami is a handsome man. Respectful, kind, and chivalrous. A total package. You have begun to cherish him a whole lot more since Geto and Gojo left. He has been there for you, always checking in on you and your family. You feel that maybe he could be something more, but so far, you’ve been ignoring those thoughts.

And it’s all because of two people.

After the week ends, you go with your friends to the train station and wait with them as the afternoon train to Bull’s Creek pulls up on the tracks. Dressed in their traveler’s finest, Yuki, Choso, and Shoko squeeze you in a group hug as people begin to board the train.

“Don’t be a stranger, alright, partner?” Choso jokes. “We swore you were dead all this time.” Yuki scoffs, smacking her partner’s chest. “He’s kiddin’, but seriously, Y/N, come and visit us once your quest is done…and once Nanami gives you a big, fat ring.”

She wiggles her brows at you, making you roll your eyes. “Will do,” you say as they begin to board, Choso carrying the luggage with ease. “And y’all had better invite me to the wedding once that proposal comes through!”

Yuki waves at you, her blonde hair flying in the breeze as Choso helps her on the train. You then turn to Shoko, already feeling pained at her departure and she hasn’t left yet. “Well,” you sigh, “this is it. Ya sure ya can’t stay for another week?”

Shoko puts a hand on her hip, smirking. “And leave Todo to fend for himself at the saloon?” she chuckles. “Nah. That boy may look intimidatin’, but you know his ass can barely handle himself.” You giggle at the mental image of Todo, missing your favorite security guard.

Your friend gives you a smile, looking around the train station where activity buzzes left to right. “You’ve got a nice little life here, hon.” It is a simple statement; one that you know is true and factual. You have a great family, three square meals a day, freedom to do as you wish. So why do you feel such a vacant feeling in your chest when she says it?

“What?” You sigh, already sensing a lecture from Shoko. She looks like she doesn’t even want to go down that road, but unfortunately, God cursed her to be the voice of reason for you. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Y/N,” she begins, “and you don’t have to agree, but I can’t help but think that this may not be enough for ya in the long run. There were times I’d look over at you and you’d look so far away…like ya were somewhere else.”

Her eyebrows draw together in concern. You don’t admit it or deny it, mostly because you can’t remember most of those moments. You were drunk most of the time you were with your friends this week anyway, but it still seems realistic. You’ve even caught yourself doing the same thing by yourself. You’d zone out and go somewhere else, your mind traveling far, far away.

Shoko leans in as if she’s telling you a secret and you know what she’s about to say next. “This got anythin’ to do with Geto and Gojo?” she hushedly asks. “Did somethin’...happen between y’all?”

The way she lingers slightly between the words makes it clear that she knows exactly what happened. You didn’t talk about the Gunslingers at all with your friends and you had hoped neither one of them would bring it up. Of course, Shoko saves it until she’s about to leave.

“Only a very bad, very drunk mistake,” you answer, your tone way more bitter than you liked. “But that was then and they’re gone now. I have to move on, Shoko.” You look past her to the train, steam rolling out of its engine.

“And you’re right about that, but that hurt is still in here.” She presses a finger to your chest. “And a quiet little life and a hot doctor can only do so much to cure that.” Deep down, you know that, but to hear it come from a friend irks you for some irrational reason. “So what do you expect me to do, Shoko?” you deadpan. “Ride off to find ‘em and demand answers from ‘em? I don’t even know where they are!”

Your voice raises along with your frustrations, but the sound of the train whistle carries your voice away. It’s almost time to go. Shoko sighs, pressing her lips into a thin line. “I’m not tellin’ you to do anythin’, Y/N,” she says, taking on the tone of a gentle yet firm mother. “But ya need to do what will make you happy. Do what you think is right for you.”

You suddenly feel tears prick behind your eyes and you quickly blink them away. Shoko will soon be gone and instead of boarding the train, she’s giving you advice because she cares. And yet here you are, irrationally angry at her just because she’s right.

Quickly, your emotions reach their breaking point and you wrap your arms around her as you feel the tears come. “This is comin’ from a chainsmoker?” you snort. Shoko laughs, hugging you back. “Get back safe,” you whisper, committing her scent and muscle to memory.

You then depart and you see her on the train, waving as she gets on. Minutes later, the train whistles again and goes chugga-chugga-chugging down the railroad tracks, causing your hat to nearly fly off. After the train disappears in the distance with your friends, you hop on your horse and go home to rethink your life choices.

It doesn’t take long. That night, when you meet with Nanami, you have already rehearsed your words a bunch of times in your head, during your shower, and while getting dressed in the mirror.

When you leave Reneigh tied to a pole outside and walk into the cozy little bar, Nanami is already sitting at a booth overlooking the outside so you can see Reneigh and the other horses. He is dressed in a casual sweater, jeans, and boots, his cowboy hat sitting next to his bottle of beer.

When you lock eyes, you each give the other a smile. You walk over in your boots and slid into the booth across from him. “Hey,” you greet him. “Thank you for meetin’ me. How was work?”

He shrugs, sliding you the beer he ordered for you. “Treatin’ illnesses and tellin’ off my staff for slackin’ off…y’know: same shit, different day.”

You giggle, earning a smile from him that hurts your heart. “Your day has to be way more interestin’ than mine. You saw your friends off to Bull’s Creek today, right?”

You slowly nod, sipping your much-needed beer. “Yeah,” you sigh. “Seein’ them helped me realize how much I missed them. I still can’t believe Geto and Gojo did that for me.”

You meet his eyes and you feel incredibly guilty. Luckily, a waitress comes around to pour you water and take your orders while you conjure up an apology. You and Nanami agree to split a fried multi-flavor wing appetizer before you’re left alone again.

“I’m sorry,” you weakly say. “I didn’t want to turn tonight into them, but I suppose that’s why I asked you to come here.” Nanami shakes his head, looking more kind than you deserve. “Please, take your time.”

You inhale deeply, taking a sip of beer for liquid courage. Soft piano plays somewhere in the bar to accompany you.

“I’ve been doin’ some self-reflectin’ while I’ve been here,” you begin, “and it’s crazy to me because I wanted this life for so long! A life of safety and peace. A quiet, normal life…”

You pause to swallow, your body suddenly hot and clammy. Nanami patiently waits for you to continue. “It’s been wonderful, don’t get me wrong, but…I’m also not with the ones I want to spend it with.”

Now is the time to say what you need to and there is no better time than now to do so. You sit up straight and reach across the table to take Nanami’s hands in yours. He allows you, his cheeks flushed under the soft glow of the lantern swinging above you.

“Kento, you’re an amazing man and I appreciate all the time we’ve spent together, but I’d be lyin’ to us both if I said I’m present in what we have.” You inhale again, cleansing yourself with every inch your lungs expand.

The truth rolls off of your tongue, unable to be bottled up any longer: “I can’t deny my heart any longer: I’m in love with Geto and Gojo.”

You expect Nanami to be irritated or disappointed in you, perhaps thinking you led him on or broke his heart. But instead, he smiles. “I know,” he says. “And I understand. I’d be lyin’ to you and myself too if I said I was fully over my fiancè.”

The waitress returns and drops your wings off along with a variety of sauces: hot, honey, garlic parm, and barbecue. “You were engaged?” you ask, shocked.

“Mmm,” he hums, nodding. “She was my childhood friend who turned into my high school sweetheart. I believed she was destined for me, and I for her, but…she had other plans.” The sadness in his eyes tell you that these plans didn’t include him in the end.

“She had always had a rough edge to her, but she was so carin’ and kind. After her father died at the hands of a robber and her mother disowned her, she changed. She became a vigilante of sorts, takin’ out criminals and hidin’ among society by jumpin’ from place to place.”

‘Like me,’ you think.

Nanami leans back in his seat, an indication that an uncomfortable part of this story is nearing. “At this point, I was in medical school and couldn’t afford to stress over grades and her…but I couldn’t let her go. So I proposed to her, hopin’ it would change everythin’ for us.”

“Did…somethin’ happen to her?” you carefully ask, unsure of whether or not you want the answer.

Nanami takes a sip of his beer. You do the same, both of you preparing for the end of this story. “She said yes, but the law caught onto who she was and was lookin’ for her. She asked me to skip town with her and move across sea, but I couldn’t abandon my home or my practice. So she made the decision for me.”

His handsome face grows sadder, his eyes filled with words left unsaid. “She left,” you conclude.

His eyes tell you everything you need to know. “I never saw her again. The only things I have left of her are the engagement ring and a letter she wrote apologizin’ and tellin’ me how much she wanted to be the woman I thought she was.” He chuckles to himself, staring blankly at his beer. “Y’know, sometimes I think about what would’ve happened if I had chosen to go with her…but then I realize how stupid that would’ve been. She wouldn’t have wanted me to give up my life to live hers.”

You realize now why he’s telling you this very intimate, personal story. Not only is he telling you that he trusts you, but he’s also telling you to do what you think is right. Go after the life you want. You squeeze his hands, your face flushed with unshod tears. ”Thank you for sharin’ that with me,” you say, near tears. “You’re a wonderful friend.”

Nanami smiles and squeezes your hands back before you pull away. The air between you is lighter now, the tension of unsaid words vanished. “So,” he says, “what will do you do now?”

You take a sip of your beer and smile at him.

************

You stop with Reneigh at Cherrywood Station which is only a two-minute walk from the sheriff’s office.

Cherrywood is a beautiful town, much bigger than Willow Springs and supposedly has stricter law enforcement. Nobody can get in and out of the town without flashing their ID at the train employees. If you don’t have one, it’s straight to the sheriff for you. Luckily for you, you didn’t take the train. Reneigh had more than enough muscle power to make the four-day trip to Cherrywood with some rest stops and cat naps in between.

As you walk to the office, you’re aware of the eyes on you. Some quickly move out of your way while others make it a point to stay exactly where they are and risk bumping into you, giving you the evil eye. It’s strange how a bandana can suddenly make you so recognizable. None of these people even know what you look like underneath it.

You feel Eren’s pistol bounce against your left hip along with yours on the right, giving you the confidence and strength to keep walking. Your parents were more than against you leaving to find Geto and Gojo when you abruptly came to them after dinner with Nanami and announced your plans. They tried to make you stay and see things their way, especially Yuri. She was so sure that this would end in you either dead or in jail.

“Do you really have to go, my love?” she tearfully asked, stroking your cheek. “You can’t just let the law deal with it?” You stood on the road in front of her house with Eren, dressed in your rider’s outfit, boots, and hat. Your pistol was loaded, your wits were sharp, and you had about a week’s worth of food and coin in your bag that your folks gave you despite your refusal.

“The law ain’t gonna help none, Mama,” you gently explained once more. “Geto and Gojo are wanted outlaws and they’d gladly arrest them than find Benji. Everyone is afraid of him.” You turned to look down at your pistol, the roses glinting back at you. “But I ain’t.”

You gave them each a long, warm look before you turned to leave before sunrise. “Wait,” Eren said, stopping you. He reached into his own upholstery and produced a silver pistol with a marble handle. “You take this and use it if you need to,” he firmly said. “And you eat the food and use the money we’re givin’ you. It’s a long way to Cherrywood from here.”

He passed the gun to you along with a small velvet drawstring bag of extra bullets. With shaky hands, you took both and slid them away for safekeeping, but still kept them on your body. You were unable to keep the tears at bay then. Eren gripped you in a hug along with Yuri, all of you sniffling and crying in each other’s arms.

“You come back, ya hear?” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “We just got you back. I don’t need you disappearin’ again.”

You suddenly felt like a scared little girl going off on her own for the first time, but you knew that this is what you need to do. “Yes, sir,” you gently sobbed. “Thank you both.” You pulled away to gaze at them both, committing each gray hair, wrinkle, and line to memory.

Yuri pressed a kiss to your cheek, wiping your tears away with her hand. “Now go get your men…I mean, friends.”

Feeling the ghost of her kiss on your face, you square your shoulders, fix your bandana on your face, and strut into the sheriff’s office. A guard sits at the door asleep while a young woman works the front desk. She looks up at you with boredom from her paperwork and all the color drains from her face.

On her left is a makeshift bullet-in board of Wanted posters. You’re among them. It’s almost comical the way the clerk does a double take before slinking out of her seat. “C-Can I help you, ma’am?” She stammers. She is so low behind her desk that you almost don’t hear her. “Yes, you can,” you reply, your voice even and calm. “I’d like to speak with the sheriff, please.”

You hear a sudden gasp behind you, no doubt the guard, and the clerk rapidly waves her hand for him to fetch the sheriff. “H-He’ll be out in a moment,” she announces just as the guard goes running.

You nearly laugh behind your bandana. You’re shocked no one has called the police to arrest you yet, but then again, you have two pistols in your belt that you’re sure no one here wants to deal with. After a couple minutes of sitting and waiting, you hear boots thud across the floor from the back of the building.

You stand from your seat to properly greet the sheriff of Cherrywood, Mr. Joseph “Jo” Black. He is shorter in person with pitch black hair and a bead that stands to his last name. He wears his tan uniform and hat along with a big gold medal star pinned to his collar that reads ‘Sheriff Black’ on it.

He stands in front of the big guard behind him who looks nervous to see you. But Sheriff Black is cool as a cucumber. He sighs and puts his hands on his hips as if he was expecting but not hoping for your appearance. “So we finally meet.”

You tip your hat to him in greeting. “My posters don’t do me justice, I know.” Black comes up to you and leans in, his whiskers tickling your cheek. “Not out here,” he murmurs. You look around, noticing other visitors and workers staring gobsmacked at you.

He waves you into his office and you silently follow, others curiously watching. The sheriff’s office is tinier than you thought, but organized from top to bottom with files, books, and achievement awards. He doesn’t ask you to sit or offer you a drink. Instead, he stands near the door and shuts it before jumping straight to the point. “What do you want?” He demands.

You decide not to waste his or your time. “Geto and Gojo are workin’ with you to track down Benji after the train massacre, right?” The sheriff nods once. “Well, I’m trackin’ them down too. They left Willow Springs weeks ago and I haven’t heard from them since.”

The sheriff shows zero emotion to any of this. “So you were workin’ with them,” he realizes. “The Sage County police showed me the note you left with Valentine before he was brought in for questionin’.”

You keep that in mind for Plan B. If you can’t get an answer from him, you’ll get it from Valentine. “I need to know if you have any idea where Geto and Gojo are. If you’re workin’ with them, you should know, shouldn’t you?”

The sheriff sighs, pinching his sinuses. “It doesn’t work that way. They agreed to give me Benji alive to avoid jail time despite their crimes durin’ the Cherrywood train massacre. I had a feelin’ they were framed judgin’ by their story and since Benji had a vendetta against them, but they still committed a robbery.”

He moves slightly to the left to his own wall of Wanted posters. Among them are Geto and Gojo’s posters, still as sexy as the day you met them. “As skilled outlaws, they all know how to hide and skip towns. Benji could be anywhere at this point, and how do you know the Gunslingers didn’t join him again?”

It’s a reasonable question and argument, but you know better. “Because they never break a promise,” you firmly respond. “If they say they’ll get Benji then they will, but I fear that they are in danger. They need my help.”

Black looks like a tired old man at this point. You know he doesn’t have the answers you seek, so Plan B it is. “Where’s Valentine?” You ask. “You have him in custody for his crimes in Cherrywood. I need to speak with him.”

Black looks even more physically exhausted when you mention Valentine. “Look, if you’re tryin’ to pull information out of him, you’ll be sadly mistaken. We haven’t been able to get much out of him for weeks now.”

“I can do it,” you reply. “Just let me try—I have my ways.” The sheriff raises a brow at this. “And I promise you’ll never see my face here again,” you add, crossing your heart.

Black narrows his eyes at you for a moment before sighing. “I have half a mind to arrest you too,” he grumbles, “but I’ve got enough trouble.” He snatches a ring of keys off of the door before opening the door for you. “Follow me.”

You do as he says and follow him out of his office and building. After picking up his brown Bronco from outside and Reneigh from the train station, he instructs you to follow him. You do so wordlessly and obediently, not wanting to ruin this chance.

Valentine is, in fact, in custody and being held in the Cherrywood County Jail just five miles from the sheriff’s office. The jail is large in size and surrounded with barbed wire, dogs, and police officers armed to the max with batons and guns. Black introduces you to a correctional officer and leaves you with him to do as you wish.

The officer guides you through the busy, noisy building of visitors, officers, and jail cells where inmates bang their hands against the bars and beg for release before you come to a locked door. The officer takes a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door. “Ya got ten minutes,” he states. “Make ‘em count.”

You nod and go to step in, but the officer stops you with a hand. He silently nods down at your belt where two pistols sit. Of course. Obediently, you slip the guns out of your belt and pass him the extra knife in your boot. Only then does he give you the go ahead to enter. “I’ll be right outside if ya need me.”

You specifically asked for him to leave you and Valentine alone. You know for a fact that he won’t talk if law enforcement is present. When you walk inside the small, dimly-lit room, Valentine is cuffed to the table sitting between himself and another chair. He stares at his hands, looking tired and older.

He looks so odd in his black-and-white striped jumpsuit and his bruises have healed somewhat, leaving shadows on his face. Seeing him again floods you with anger and you long for your pistol. “Valentine,” you practically snarl.

He looks up at the mention of his name and his eyes grow wide at the sight of you. A smirk slides onto his lips. “So… we meet again,” he wryly chuckles. “I must be dead.” He leans back in his chair, immediately becoming the cool, cocky outlaw you know. “You come to drag me to hell or put a bullet in my head?”

You walk to the chair and sit across from him, making him wince as its legs scratch across the floor. “Neither,” you coldly reply. “I’ve come to ask you some questions: where’s your boss?”

You lean forward in the chair, keeping your hands firmly on the table. Valentine stares at you in confusion. “Geto and Gojo left me weeks ago to go find him. I wanna know where he is.”

The outlaw scowls. “How the fuck should I know?” He scoffs. “That damn gorilla left me too once y’all assaulted me in Sage County.”

“After you tied me to some railroad tracks!” You snap, already struggling to keep your composure. “We would’ve done more than that, but the Gunslingers made a vow to not kill.”

“You should’ve,” he hisses, practically spitting at you. “As soon as Benji and his men come to bail me out of here again, I’m comin’ for you.” His eyes are sharp like daggers, nailing you to the spot. You would’ve been terrified before, but now? All you can do is laugh.

You laugh at his stupidity. At his sureness and trust in Benji and the idea of being rescued. At the fact that he wasted so much time in a “relationship” with this dumbass just to check him off of your checklist. You laugh so hard that you begin to tear up.

Valentine is furious watching you laugh, especially when you’re in his presence. Just who do you think you are? “Stop laughin’ at me, bitch!” He angrily shouts. “What’s so fuckin’ funny?” His face grows flushed with rage and he pulls at his cuffs, no doubt wanting to backhand you.

You finally calm yourself and wipe away your tears before cruelly smirking at him. It only angers him more. “You really think that Benji is comin’ for you?” You scoff, peering down at him in pity. “You’ve been arrested twice which proves your incompetence and lack of skill in dodgin’ the law.”

You lean in towards Valentine whose face grows more and more drained the closer you get. “You’re a liability to him.”

You practically spit the L-word at him and watch in satisfaction as the horrible realization dawns on him. His boss isn’t coming for him. No one is coming for him. “Just tell me where he is,” you say, your voice low because even the walls have ears. “What do you have to lose? You’re already goin’ to prison again anyway.”

Valentine’s eyes fall to the table and you watch him ponder this idea for a moment. You begin to break out into a nervous sweat, practically jumping out of your skin for an answer. How many minutes has it been? Finally, the poor, little outlaw looks up at you and looks absolutely beaten. “I—“

BANG!

You and Valentine both jump at the sudden, loud sound. You turn towards the door, going for your guns but then realizing that you don’t have any. “What was that?” You gasp. Valentine doesn’t answer. Suddenly, you hear commotion: shouting, handcuffs banging against cell doors, the blaring of an alarm.

You turn to Valentine and grab his shirt, yanking him across the table toward you. “What did you do?” You demand, tightening your grip on him.

“I-I don’t know!” He shouts. “I-I didn’t do anything!” You don’t believe him. You don’t believe a single thing this motherfucker says. You raise your fist, about to knock his teeth out. “You son of a—“

Your words are cut off by a sudden bang and something zipping past your ear. It feels like a bee sting with how much it burns. You think that it is when you cover your ear, hissing at the pain, but you realize that it’s something else when your palm comes back red. Blood.

You suddenly hear gurgling in your other good ear and turn to see Valentine spitting up blood from out of his mouth. Probably because of the bullet wound in his chest, right over his heart. With a gasp, you release his shirt now stained in his blood and he slumps to the ground, his wrists still cuffed to the table. “Turn around slowly,” a deep, raspy voice growls. It sends cool shivers of dread down your spine.

You understand why once you do. Benji the Bandit stands there in an inmate uniform which strangely suits him and his salt-n-pepper hair, not just because you’ve fantasized of seeing him in one. He is as big as the guard he holds to his chest with one beefy hand, a pistol at his temple. The door to the room shuts behind them and you notice you never even heard it open.

“I knew you’d be here,” the outlaw growls. “I came back to finish this motherfucker off”—he waves the gun at Valentine’s body—“and here you are. Ya couldn’t have just stayed in hidin’.” Despite your shaky hands and obvious terror, you don’t let that stop your mouth. “Because I’m not a fuckin’ coward,” you growl. “You kill the sheriff, I’m guessin’?”

Benji shakes his head. “None of ‘em know I’m here and I prefer to keep it that way. I’ve been hidin’ out on the outskirts of this town for days now and snuck in no problem. Even if you manage to kill me now, my men are crawlin’ all over this damn buildin’ and this town.” He presses the pistol harder into the guard’s temple, making him grunt. “I’ve had these pricks wrapped ‘round my fingers since the train incident.”

That explains why it was so quiet when you got here. People are terrified of this man. Swallowing, you think fast and raise your hands up. “Let him go and I’ll surrender.”

Benji’s face falls, shocked at your willingness to throw in the towel so quick. ”Why?” He scoffs. “So you can pull a gun outta your bra?”

You slowly shake your head. “I don’t have nothin’ else. I’m just lookin’ for Geto and Gojo.”

Benji throws his head back and laughs a loud, horrible laugh that sends shivers down your spine. “Oh, I bet you are,” he cackles. “I know them two idiots have been lookin’ for me too. Lucky for you, I know where they are.” He gives you a big smirk that reminds you of a storybook wolf—malicious and wicked.

You know he could very well be lying, but you also know you’ve got one chance.

Slowly, you bend down onto your knees like a praying woman desperate for forgiveness. “Then take me to them,” you beg. “Let the man go and just let me know that they’re safe. I promise that that’s all I want.”

Benji stares you down, sizing you up as he holds the scared man at gunpoint. You stand your ground on your knees, silent and unmoving. Finally, Benji tosses the man aside. “I’ll take you to ‘em,” he grunts. He raises his pistol at you to fire, but you’re quicker than him.

Quickly, you grab the leg of the chair beside you and use two hands to grip it. Misdirection.

With a grunt, you toss it at Benji who just barely misses it. It catapults through the air over the guard’s head and crashes into the wall, splintering into wooden pieces.

Benji stares at you like you’re the damn Devil and bares his teeth at you. “You bitch!” he bellows.

Before you can stop him, his pistol comes down hard against your head and everything goes black.

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