#so no italics lol but it’s FINE

[cerealmonster15]

🚨typo in the cayjay fic oh god🚨

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

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Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[darsynia]

How it started | How it's going

@thebastardprincenikolai shared a really neat tag game that I thought would be cool to participate in! Your first (published; my very first was on a long-destroyed notebook at age 8 self inserting onto Columbus’s ship as a girl faking being a Cabin Boy! I got to see land first 😂) fanfic and your most recent one.

My first fandom fanfics were all posted on a site for crime shows on a message board under the name Scheherezade, and they're probably best left there. Here's the first that's still accessible! I was 24. The Shipping and Handling chapter was posted 4/26/23, I believe.

No pressure tags! @starryeyes2000, @asirensrage, @sobeautifullyobsessed, @ronearoundblindly, @caplanbuckybarnes, @chickensarentcheap, @deepbatched, and @cevans-is-classic

[corpocyborg]

5 Songs, 3 Outfits

Saw this tag game floating around and wanted to participate.

Tagging @merge-conflict, @fereldanwench, @bnbc, @another-corpo-rat, & @just-a-cybercroissant!

Rules: Post 5 songs associated with your OC, followed by 3 outfits they would wear.

I'm going to do one for both "variants" of my OC, but I'm going to post them separately and tag different people in each.

Valerie "V" Locke - Director of Arasaka Counter Intel, as in "Secure Your Soul" on AO3.

Songs - Trip hop, alt rock, retrofuturism, Bond song vibes, sleazy & ambitious. Low Five - Sneaker Pimps Give me a low five 'Cause I can't help myself I'm a low five downsize no-one else Do you love yourself?

The Riches - Jane's Addiction I'm laughing that is rich It puts my stomach into stitches Early bird from a perch Lookin' down, can see all the world's riches

Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Future Royalty Welcome to your life There's no turning back Even while we sleep We will find you

I'm Impressed - They Might Be Giants I'm impressed, I'm impressed When that gorilla pounds his desk I fall to bits, I confess, I admit, I'm impressed Through generalissimo's request, I can't help but feel impressed

Sympathy for the Devil - Jenny Owen Youngs Please allow me to introduce myself I'm a man of wealth and taste I've been around for a long, long year Stole many a man's soul and faith

Outfits - Business formal but make it sci fi, alternating elements of femininity & masculinity, black & burgundy, leather & silk, metal accents, corporate goth.

Going to post a version of this for post-Mikoshi V as Arasaka's android, as in "Beyond the Event Horizon" on AO3 soon.

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

well, well, well, if it isn't my old nemesis: Dialogue Between Three (3) People

[drpepperisthedarlingofmysoul]

Ok

so i just started reading Fairytale and flipped through the chapter as you do and apparently they give Radar a different medicine that'll shorten but improve her life and i was like ?? if she dies i will just dissapear into the shadow and darkness of my despair but i flipped through some more pages and then looked it up and she doesn't so it's all good

[arecaceae175]

Hello! I noticed that some of your fics on Ao3 are tagged "Screen Reader Friendly," and I wondered what makes a fic screen reader friendly. Is it just about formatting, or does content matter too?

Hi, thank you so much for asking this question!!! Disclaimer I am not visually impaired so all of this information I have learned by seeing blind or visually impaired people talk about this issue.

It’s primarily formatting! I’ll list everything I do to try to make my fics accessible here.

Line breaks!!! Use the ao3 line break code instead of adding a bunch of symbols. This is the biggest thing I had to change once I realized my fics were not screen reader friendly.

HOWEVER some screen readers won’t pick up on the horizontal line, either. Another good option is to use a short series of symbols, for example: “~~” or “- - -“

Basically, just don’t use more than three symbols in a row. I used to use “~~~/\~~~” with a delta symbol in the middle to look like the triforce, but a screen reader would see that and say “asterisk asterisk asterisk delta asterisk asterisk asterisk” which is pretty annoying lol

Most screen readers don’t differentiate between regular text and bold/italics. It’s fine to have those in your story, but if the bold/italics significantly changes the plot or the implications of a sentence then it is not screen reader friendly

Screen readers can’t describe a line break that is just an empty space. For example, in one of my fics I have a character reading a note, and I have an extra ‘return button’ space before and after the note to make the note distinct from the rest of the text. To make that fic more screen reader friendly, instead of just an empty space, I wrote “[Line Break]”. That way, a screen reader can say “line break”, and readers still recognize it as a line break

If you have any sort of chat fic (AND this goes for hashtags on tumblr too!) with screen names, be sure to distinguish the separate words in the screen name. You can do this with by capitalizing the first letter of each word like this “ScreenNameHere” or with dashes in between each word “screen-name-here”. That helps screen readers and also people with things like dyslexia who have trouble distinguishing words if they aren’t capitalized or separated in some way.

Screen readers can read image emojis like this smiley face 😁 because they have embedded alt text, but they can’t read text emojis as an emoji, like this one “:D”. If you use any of those in your fic, add a description like this: “ :D [Image description: text emoji of a smiley face with a big, open mouthed smile. End description].”

Also, this one doesn’t have to do with a screen reader, but if you have an image embedded in your story, keep these things in mind:

Be sure to describe the image so anyone who is blind or visually impaired can still experience the image. I don’t think it’s possible to add alt text to the actual image, so I usually put this below the image: “[Image ID: description of the image. Note the important details, but be as concise as you can. /End ID]”. Including the image description instead of some sort of alt text is good for DeafBlind people who can’t see the image well enough but don’t use a screen reader.

Some blind or visually impaired people don’t use a screen reader and instead zoom in on the text. If an image is embedded in the story, be sure it is sized correctly. If it isn���t, it can make scrolling sideways to read zoomed in text more difficult because it makes the webpage much wider than the text itself.

Not all my fics have the screen reader friendly tag because 1. There might be a few I haven’t updated yet, and 2. I didn’t include the tag on fics that have weird formatting or are accent heavy. For example, in Kinship I wrote Twilight’s dialogue to represent his strong accent, and those kinds of things with apostrophes and half-words don’t come through well with a screen reader.

I personally don’t think it’s good practice to include a ton of apostrophes or shortened words to distinguish an accent. Even for people not using screen readers, it’s hard to read. For me, if I see a fic with things like that, I won’t read it. Maybe try having a few words that the character’s accent comes through on, or write something about their heavy accent outside of the dialogue.

The “Screen Reader Friendly” tag isn’t an officially recognized AO3 tag yet, but the more people who use it, the sooner it will be!

Those are all the things I can think of right now. If anyone has any other tips to add, please do so!!

[selineram3421]

👁️

You're Off-key

Part 1

Prologue

Reader X Gravity Falls

Warnings ⚠

⚠ italics=thoughts, swear words, some or many book of bill spoils, blood, mentions of a concussion, minor panic attack, we pacing now lol, ugh Disney mention ⚠

Ow..

You woke up in pain and the sunlight hitting your eyes.

Everything hurt.

Like a lot.

Geez.. You thought with a groan. Why is everything so bright? What is this vividness? Disney?

Sitting up, you notice that you're still in the woods and it's around noon or at least in the afternoon. Rubbing the back of your head, you try to remember what happened.

I was in the woods..with spaghetti and..my best friend was going to take my picture. Ow-!

You hiss and you pull your hand away from your head, finding blood once getting a look at it.

"Oof ok, time to go get help.", you said to yourself and stood up.

Like any gamer out there, you checked your surroundings before checking your inventory. So far you were deep in the woods that looked oddly..cartoonish? And you had a backpack nearby with a water bottle, phone, and wallet inside.

Where's my flashlight? Wait, I had a flashlight? Also, where's by bestie?

Every time you thought about it your head would start hurting.

"Never mind that, I have to get moving before it gets dark out.", you sighed and began walking.

In all honesty, you did not know where you were going. Just picked a direction and decided that was good enough. Maybe you'll find civilization or maybe you're walking deeper into the woods. Who knows!

My brain is a little optimistic right now. You thought. Or maybe it's due to lack of sleep.. I was driving the whole time.

Then you started getting a little clumsy.

Tripping, swaying, falling flat on your face a few times, and overall just feeling drained. Also, you kept hearing maracas? Was that some kind of bird or something?

Ah, wait. Wasn't that the Hide Behind? You remembered about reading it in Journal 3 and that scene when Mabel says maraca owl. Maybe it is a maraca owl or maybe it's the tall thing that follows people.

Currently, you were laying on the ground because you fell..haha. AGAIN.

Thank Glob you landed on grass this time.

Ok. Do I or do I not take a nap? Probably not the best choice because I might have a concussion. Hm..the choices.

Deciding on one last try, you push yourself off the ground, take a quick sip of water, and continue on your journey! Nothing was gonna stop you now-!

Oh, a bird!

Then you ran into something, fell back and hit your head on the ground.

It was silly because it was kinda like a light switch.

You were awake and then you passed out,

Ha!

⯅

OW! How many times am I going to wake up in pain!?

"Great job Dipper! You killed someone!", a feminine voice said.

"They aren't dead! They just hit their head and passed oUt after they fell!", another voice says with a slight voice crack.

"Haha ha!", the girl laughs. "Your voice cracked."

Slowly waking up, you feel a type of rocking motion, like you're in a car or something.

A car!?

You sit up quickly. Too quickly and almost fall out of the golf cart but someone manages to pull you back to the seat.

"Whoa! Careful, you do not want to fall out of this thing when going almost full speed.", the female voice says next to you.

Looking over, you find a brown haired girl wearing a keyboard sweater.

"Hi! I'm Mabel! I have a pet pig named Waddles!!", she introduces herself loudly.

You feel your head hurt at her polite screeching.

"Ow. Hold on, give me a sec.", you say and rub your forehead.

"Uh.. Mabel? It's not a good idea to be loud around someone who just woke up after hitting their head.", the guy says, who you are assuming is driving the golf cart.

"Oops.", the girl, Mabel, smiles at you sheepishly. "My bad."

You wave her off.

"It's fine, I've dealt with worse.", you reassure.

"Let me start again.", she says and extends a hand for you to shake. "I'm Mabel and the one driving the golf cart is my twin brother, Dipper."

"STOP THE CART!"

The golf cart screeches to a stop and you hobbled your way out, beginning to pace back and forth.

Holyshitthisexplainsalot!That'swhyeverythingwassobrightandcartoonybecasuethisisfuckingDisneyshit!AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH-!

"Uh..you ok there?", Mabel asks.

"Um? Maybe? I-", you begin but then panic about what to say next.

Shitshitshitshit! Think of something! Anything!

"I don't remember how I got into the woods..", you say and cringe.

Yeah! Nice job! Now you're suspicious! YA DOINKUS!

"O..k, so you hit your head harder than we thought.", Dipper speaks up. "Let's get you patched up and see what we can do from there, ok?"

Pros: Going with two of your favorite characters will lead to adventures. Cons: They might try to read your mind to see if you're a threat and might threaten you with some random weapons..

.....

"I guess I can go with you guys until I can go to the hospital or something.", you say and finally stop imprinting foot prints into the dirt.

"Cool!", Mabel cheers. "Let's go! I've got Mabel juice in the fridge and I wanna see if the new dinosaurs inside taste different!"

"That's not how that works.", her brother mumbles and puts the golf cart in drive.

Hopping back on, you notice your backpack was opened.

"Uh? Who raccooned into my pack?", you asked.

"Racooned?", the Pines driving asks.

"Dug through your stuff? That was Dip.", Mabel says, completely understanding what you meant.

"Oh, sorry.", Dipper pipes up. "That was to see your ID, nothing else. I mean, wouldn't you try to identify someone after they passed out randomly?"

He is kinda right.

"Understandable racooning.", you say and start to brain storm ideas for a plan on how to stay under the radar.

Ok, so I might have/most likely freed Bill and now I have to do something about it before he's running wild around Gravity Falls again...fun.

You sigh and just decide to sit back and enjoy the ride for now.

Jerk didn't let me keep the pictures.

The sun was starting to set, within a few minutes you saw the Mystery Shack in the distance.

23 1 12 11 9 14 20 15 20 8 5 16 9 14 5 19

~Seline, the person.

Part 2

Taglist@

@diffidentphantom @sleep-7372 @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mspurpl3 @+?

GF List🏞️ | YO-🎹

[little-wicked10]

You’re Worse than Me 🥃(Billy Butcher Smut)

Summary: The Boys get dragged out by their girls to go dancing. Ain’t nothing like wrangling a bunch of drunk women to keep them from fighting or fucking in the middle of a club.

Warnings: Smut 18+ (duh), cursing, drinking, fighting, breeding kink, subspace, daddy kink, possessive behavior, Butcher being Butcher, Annie, Kimiko, and oc being drunk party girls lol

Notes: This is basically inspired by a scene in Yellowstone where a woman at a bar tries to hit on Rip and she goes up to Beth to be like “I’m taking your husband home” and Beth beats her ass. Alcohol makes people do dumb shit so that’s also the thought behind this smut.

“Bold Italics” - characters are speaking in Kimiko’s sign language

//

“We’re going out dancing, and you’re coming with us. All of you,” Annie said defiantly.

“Oi! Don’t be bargin’ in ‘ere makin’ demands without so much as a ‘ello,” Butcher shot back as he stared at the three women looking over the rest of them, “What do you birds wanna go dancin’ for?”

“And why do you want us to go?” Hughie added.

“We all need to let off some steam. It’ll be fun and we’re going. You can come with us or we can get hit on by drunk assholes. Your choice,” she stared down her surly boyfriend.

The three women knew that it wouldn’t take Frenchie and Hughie much convincing, MM would come to get his party on, but Butcher was fucking stubborn. He hated clubs. The only thing he hated more was some drunk cunt trying to touch her. His girl.

The room was eerily tense as the two had a silent battle of wills, wondering who would cave first under the other’s glare. Butcher thought he’d win until he saw that terrifying look in her eyes. Last time he saw that look, he slept on the couch for four days with his tail tucked between his legs.

Butcher groaned, throwing his head back as he spun his chair, “Fine!”

He rolled his eyes as he heard her and the other women in the room nearly squeal with delight. Butcher sat up in his chair as she pranced over and sat her pretty self on his lap, kissing his cheek then the corner of his mouth before pressing her lips to his ear, “Thank you, daddy.”

His chuckle was dark. She was such a fucking troublemaker.

//

They were like a bunch of giddy teenage girls as they all crowded in the bathroom doing their hair and makeup. Butcher and MM had taken the liberty of raiding Hughie’s liquor cabinet to pour themselves a whiskey. Hughie noticed while the ladies were on cloud nine to finally be going out, the men seemed more apprehensive.

“Am I uh missing something? Why don’t you wanna go out with them?” Hughie asks as he leans against the kitchen island.

“You kidding? You not know what happens when women go out together?” MM asked.

“If you think we’re bad, kid, wait till those birds get a lil nip of tequila on their tongues,” Butcher finished his glass to punctuate his sentence.

Hughie scoffed a little, “Okay. I’ve been out with Annie like a hundred times. She doesn’t go crazy.”

“That’s when it’s just you and her. It’s when you get a group of ’em together,” MM explained, “They just start feedin’ off each other’s energy.”

“Oh sure, it’s all right as rain and fuckin’ roses until they start drinkin’. Then someone’s favorite song comes on which leads to dancin’ and more drinkin’,” Butcher almost rolled his eyes at the thought.

Frenchie piped in from his seat on the couch, “Wrangling drunk women is like wrangling cats.”

Hughie was skeptical of everything they had said. They were grown women, and Butcher and MM were acting like they were feral animals.

Glancing down the hall, all four of them watched as the three ladies made their appearance. Hughie found himself drooling when he finally saw Annie. He couldn’t take his eyes away from the black dress that hugged her body or how she shined with so much sexual confidence. Not sexy confidence. There was a difference.

“But that right there, my son, is why we men do what we do,” Butcher mumbled to Hughie as he shook the young man’s shoulder, “Because who’s gonna help the lil’ lady out of that tight dress with the tricky zipper later? Ay?”

Butcher’s face did little to mask his dirty thoughts as she stood before him wearing a tight dark red little dress, “Fuckin’ beautiful, pet.”

Her smile was sweet as she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a loving kiss on his lips, squealing when he roughly grabbed her ass, “Be good, you nasty dog.”

Butcher growled playfully before kissing her again, “Yer one to talk.”

Frenchie saw how unsure Kimiko felt in the light blue dress. While the silent supe tended to wear mainly black, the girls convinced her to try a softer color. Maybe something to match her nails.

“Do you like it? They helped me pick it out,” she gestured towards her dress, “Look! It matches my nails!”

“I love it, mon coeur. You look so gorgeous. So beautiful,” Frenchie sounded a little out of breath as he watched her excitedly showed off her matching dress and nails.

Kimiko smiled brightly as she suddenly took Frenchie’s hand and quickly led the group out the door.

//

Thanks to Frenchie’s connection, they managed to get a private booth for their large party. A mischievous glint passed the girls’ faces when they all saw the stripper pole in the middle of the private area. They were on tequila shot number three when the first signs of the party girls started coming out to play. “Hughie! Take this shot,” Annie giggled excitedly.

Hughie’s eyes glanced around for the glass until he realize Annie was holding the shot between her pushed up tits. Instantly, he turned red and started to sputter a bit, “A-are you sure? Like…um.”

“Don’t be a twat! Get in there, my boy!” Butcher boomed.

“Do it, Petit Hughie!” Frenchie encouraged.

“How do I um…,” Hughie asks flustered.

“Are you seriously asking me how to take this shot?” Annie asked.

“Watch out. Let Daddy show you how it’s done. Grab that shot there, love,” Butcher gestured to the tequila shot sitting out on the table.

She was quick to pick up the glass and nestle it between her cleavage after sitting down on the man’s lap. Butcher instantly buried his face between her tits before resurfacing with his mouth wrapped around the glass, throwing his head back and draining the liquor down his open throat.

“See it’s easy. You got this, baby,” Annie encouraged.

Hughie just shrugged, giving in to peer pressure and taking the shot. They all laughed as Hughie coughed and nearly choked at the feeling of tequila sliding down his throat like a dick.

Butcher greedily groped her bare thigh that sat across his lap when he felt her hips begin to move as her body swayed to the club’s music.

“You gonna dance with me tonight, old man?” her voice was sweet and syrupy.

Butcher chuckled darkly at her attempts to rile him up, “I know this lil’ game, love. You act like you ain’t got the brains you’s was born wit’ til I gotta come round and fuck the sense back in to ya.”

She laughed playfully, “You’re allowed to be a big ass chaos monster on missions. It’s my turn to be a little crazy.”

//

Tequila shot number five was when her and Kimiko took advantage of the stripper pole. Annie and Frenchie threw crumpled dollar bills at them and cheered them on. Butcher and MM simply watched in amusement. The two older men had been around this block before. They’d been young once, and there was nothing better or worse than a sloppy drunk party girl.

“I don’t know how you do it, asshole. But that girl…she’s gonna kill you. Like, actually,” MM admitted to Butcher, “She matches your freak.”

“Better her than the alternative. Rather die chasing that lovely ass than pissin’ in a fuckin’ bedpan waitin’ for the reaper to come and swing me around by me cock,” Butcher scoffed with a little smile.

The two men jerked their heads towards the sound of Frenchie and Annie freaking out. Kimiko had thrown her arms around her friend’s shoulders and planted a kiss to her lips. Her initial reaction was surprise, but the tequila making her brain fuzzy made her kiss back. Goddamnit.

Butcher’s piercing whistle surprised them, “Oi! Behave ya selves!” She pulled away from her friend and rolled her eyes before going back to dancing.

As grown ass women working with a bunch of dick swinging men, it was nice to drink and not give two fucks about anything else. They’d been talking for ages about going out, but there was always too much to do. After passing around a joint at the office one night, the girls conjured up their plan to go let loose and torture their boyfriends.

“He’s such a buzz kill sometimes,” she giggled as she signed to Kimiko, “Good thing he fucks like a beast!”

“More shots! Also you’re a good kisser,” Kimiko giggled.

“What is she saying?” Annie asked.

“She said I’m a good kisser,” she giggled, “And we need more shots!”

Her, Annie, and Kimiko cheered and rushed off to the bar for more drinks before any of the guys could protest. Frenchie moved over to sit closer to Hughie and Butcher who were watching their girlfriends at the bar. They talked and laughed as they waited on their drinks. Hughie noticed how his girlfriend and Butcher’s girlfriend were being flirty with one another, the gap between them getting smaller and smaller.

“Should I be worried?” Hughie suddenly asked.

Butcher barked out a laugh that shook his shoulders, “Not enjoying the show, Hughie? Don’t get a lil’ tickle in ya pickle seein’ your bird tongued down my mine?”

“They are just having fun, Mon Petit Hughie,” Frenchie added, “Women express themselves more through sexuality.

“So we’re just supposed to watch our girlfriends all make out together and not do anything about it?” Hughie asked.

Frenchie, Butcher, and MM laughed hysterically as the young man realized how weird women were when they drank. Out of the corner of his eye, Hughie saw Annie get closer to the other woman’s face. He felt himself choke on his own spit when the blond pressed her lips to the other woman’s. The other men glanced over at what had Hughie so flustered and gave an amused chuckle.

“Fuck that’s a pretty sight, ain’t it?” Butcher smirked as he lit a cigarette.

When the other woman ran her fingers through Annie’s hair, Hughie went to stand up to break up whatever was happening with his girlfriend and her friend. He was stopped by Butcher and Frenchie clapping a hand on his shoulders and forcing him to sit back down, “Just let it play out, son.”

As the experienced, older men expected, the two girls parted with a giggle before taking the shots that been set on the bar. Those girls put on quite a show, driven by alcohol, curiosity, and the need to tease.

“Tequila, my boy. Tequila is a man’s greatest ally and enemy,” Butcher took a drag.

//

He couldn’t remember what number shot she was on, but the way she danced told him it was probably close to, if not over, ten. Her eyes were glazed over and staring into his as she danced with Kimiko under the colorful strobe lights. The way she guided Kimiko’s hips to move with hers to the rhythm of pounding music made him think about how that lovely little minx would be riding him when this was all said and done. Just let her take out the rest of that clear liquor coursing through her body on his.

His sinful thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a wobbly presence sitting down and leaning against him. The smell of vodka and shitty perfume filled his nose when a drunk girl sat next to him.

“Hey. Got a light?” she held out an unlit cigarette.

Butcher reached into his pocket to pull out his lighter. He flipped it open and flicked the flame to life, lighting the girls cigarette before shutting it. He never broke eye contact with his dancing vixen out on the dance floor, but her expression had changed from one of wanting to devour him to an annoyed grimace at the other sloppy party girl treading into her territory.

“What’s a handsome guy like you doing by yourself?” the girl exhaled before turning her body to fully face his, tits almost brushing against his arm.

“Night out with my girl,” Butcher jerked his head towards the dance floor.

“I don’t see her,” he felt her eyes still staring at his profile, her hand coming to rest on his thigh, “Besides, with an accent like, I can be your girl. I can be whatever you want me to be.”

Butcher chuckled before leaning over and pointing, “See that lass over there? The one that looks like she wants to tear yer bloody throat out wit’ her teef? Tha’s mine.”

The overly bleached blonde looked out to the dancing crowd and saw who he’d been talking about. She had stopped dancing and was glaring in their direction, whispering something to Kimiko.

The girl turned back with a smirk, “I’m not scared of her. Let me go talk to her. Woman to woman.”

Butcher raised his thick eyebrows in surprise before picking up his drink, “Your fuckin’ funeral, doll.”

He watched in amusement as the drunk girl strutted her way over to the lioness glaring her down. Frenchie and Hughie sat down on either side of him having returned from the bar. They had clearly noticed the interaction, and Hughie was the first to ask, “What was that?”

“Nuffin’. Just some cunt,” Butcher replied picking up his smoking cigarette from the ashtray.

“Oh shit,” Frenchie suddenly piped in.

They looked up just in time to see Butcher’s girlfriend deck out the blonde girl that had been flirting with him just moments ago. All three men were up on their feet the second the girl hit the floor and proceeded to be kicked by the woman she’d tried to “talk” to.

“Motherfucker!” Butcher growled as he rushed to stop her from ripping a chunk of bleach blonde hair from the poor girl’s head.

The crowd parted as they watched the fight, a couple people pulling out their phones to record. Hughie and Frenchie were quick to push Annie and Kimiko out of the way as Butcher swooped in. Prying her off the poor beaten and bloody girl, Butcher threw her struggling ass over his shoulder and booked it out of the club.

“FUCK YOU, YOU FUCKING SKANK! PUT ME DOWN, BUTCHER!”

“OI, OI! LET’S FUCKIN’ GO!” Butcher hollered.

She still yelled profanities and threats as the others led the way out of the club. By the time they reached the outside, Butcher couldn’t help but laugh at the little woman fighting like a badger and cussing like a sailor. He kept laughing as they all ran down the sidewalk towards the van. When they finally slowed down, Annie had fallen onto the side walk giggling with heavy limbs, and Kimiko was being carried in Frenchie’s arms with a satisfied drunk smile.

“This the downside of tequila?” Hughie huffed out trying to pull Annie up off the ground with no success, “This what you were trying to warn me about?”

Butcher panted out a laugh before readjusting the woman on his shoulder, “Aye, it is.”

Hughie suddenly struggled with Annie as the girl was up and grabbing at his clothes and kissing on his neck. “Annie, babe. Babe, we are in public!” Hughie complained as he fought off the small woman’s advances.

“C’mon, Hughie! Let’s be naughty. Take me over to an alley or something,” Annie giggled like crazy as her hands slipped under Hughie’s shirt.

Butcher turned back to see the young lad fighting to keep his lady out of his pants, “Ya alright, lad! Keep ‘er movin’! Soon’a ya get her home, the soon’a she can jump ya cock.”

Butcher heard MM honk the horn from down the street, flashing the headlights as he leaned out the driver’s side window. Butcher began to walk in the van’s direction when he felt her reach down and smack his ass hard.

“Ay!” he popped her ass making her squeal, “MM might be right. You plannin’ on killin’ me, love?”

“Only way to guarantee no one comes after me,” she slurred dreamily, “Is daddy gonna punish me later for being bad?”

Butcher smiled and crinkled his nose, jostling her on his shoulder, “Fuckin’ mess you are.”

//

A grunt left Butcher’s throat as her small hands frantically and expertly unbuckled his belt to start pushing them down. As soon as his jeans and boxers were around his ankles, she shoved him to sit on the edge of the bed as she bunched up the skirt of her tight dress over her ass. She was quick to straddle him and take his hard cock in her hand. Butcher moaned into her mouth as he dug his fingers into her hips, urging her to have a seat. She notched his tip at her entrance before slowly sitting down into his lap. One hand kept his dick steady while the other threaded into the hair at the back of his head for balance.

Both moaned and panted into each other’s mouths when her ass was flush with his thighs, his cock stretching and filling her deliciously.

“F-fuck, pet!” Butcher’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head.

A shiver trickled down her spine making her hips roll. His hands left her hips to trail up her body and pull down the top of her dress, tits spilling out for his hungry mouth and hands to attack. Both hands dug into his hair as his mouth enveloped one of her nipples and her hips began to roll frantically.

“Your cock feels so good, daddy!” she whimpered.

“Couldn’t wait to get me paws on ya after watchin’ ya pretty ass dance all night,” Butcher smirked against her chest, one of his hands releasing her breast to snake up her spine and hold the back of her neck, “You just take what ya want, don’t ya, love?”

She ground down harder making him slam fully against that spongey spot inside her. A whine tore from her throat as she bounced and ground frantically in his lap. Butcher reached up and wrapped his teeth around her earlobe, nibbling and sucking to encourage her on, “Keep usin’ me, pet. Get ya self off on daddy’s cock. There’s a good girl.”

Her needy whines and moans encouraged him to thrust his hips up into hers and help her chase that high. His hands changed their position to grab her hips again and shove his dick as deep inside her as he could. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her mouth fell open as Butcher’s callused hands kept her positioned so the tip of his dick stayed against her g-spot.

“Only cunt tha’s allowed to cum on this cock, this ugly mug, these fingers,” Butcher slurred, “Only cunt I wanna cum in.”

Her nails scratched his scalp, “F-fuck I’d let you live inside me!”

“I know ya would, love. Can feel how much this cunt loves my cock in her. If I had it my way, you’d stay tied to me bed, naked, and full,” Butcher sucked a deep hickey into her neck.

She rested her forehead against his, “You’re mine! This cock is mine! This mouth is mine! Fuck that fucking bitch that asked if I wanted to watch her fuck you!”

“Yer so fuckin’ sexy when yer jealous,” Butcher growled and reached down to rub his rough thumb against her clit, “Cum on me cock, my good girl, then I’ll fuck this cunt so full of me there’s no way it doesn’t take.”

Her body began to poise as her lips frantically met his, wrapping her arms around his neck and desperately chasing her high. As the coil snapped in her abdomen, she cried out into his mouth as she gushed around his large girth. Her body shook as if she’d been electrocuted, and Butcher groaned at the feeling of her cunt squeezing and squirting all over his cock.

“Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl. Squirtin’ and gushin’ all over daddy,” he cooed.

“I love you! I love you! Fuck, I fucking love you, Billy!” she cried as her orgasm still rippled through her.

He chuckled darkly as he kept fucking her like a mad man, “Love you too, my little troublemaker.“

“Cum inside me, please!” the desperation was evident in her voice, “Please, baby! Please!”

“My desperate lil’ whore,” Butcher smirked as her cries drove him closer and closer to the edge.

Her hips weakly met this thrusts, letting him use her body like she had used his. She kept gushing around him the more he pounded. Her lips were next to his ear begging and crying for him. Butcher’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he groaned and grabbed her ass roughly.

“Put a baby in me, Billy. I want your baby.”

Good Lord.

He came so hard he saw stars. A sinful moan vibrated out of his chest as she sobbed out something along the lines of ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’. Butcher kept thrusting up into her, whispering praises in his gravely voice. She didn’t know how long they sat there breathing each other’s air, but her post orgasm buzz put her in the syrupy sweet headspace that made her more desperate and pliant

“I want more, please,” she whispered against his lips.

Butcher nipped her bottom lip, “Ain’t stoppin’ till the bed is soaked, pet.”

//

Thank you to @shirley-girly for proof reading this😂💕

[sorcerersseestars]

LIMERENCE (II)

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

part i here

summary: Gojo is uncharacteristically insecure and unsure to the point of double guessing himself—something practically unheard of for the self-proclaimed Honored One. Meanwhile, the ever-feared blood-laden flowers make an unwelcome appearance.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: mentions of sickness and blood, descriptions of vomiting (caution to fellow ppl with emetophobia), characters are anxious and stressed!, cussing (obvs), use of (Y/N), kidnapping!

genre: hanahaki disease au, hurt/comfort, DRAMA

a/n: Here is part 2 (finally lol)! It is a whole 6.7k words (😫) to make up for not updating until now haha. This chapter features serious!Gojo and worried!Gojo 😳. It seems out of character but it’s intentional (or so I claim). Also, I kinda make a pun out of Utahime’s name—hime (姫) means princess in Japanese! Two last notes: for clarification—I use italics to emphasize things, but also for characters’ thoughts. Geto is still alive (still excommunicated tho) in this timeline. More notes at the end of the chapter!

“Hey, ‘Hime, when’s your lunch break today?”

He hears a scoff that hardly conceals the crackly laugh that follows through his speakers. Her laugh is delicate and bright, even over the phone.

“Don’t call me that, Gojo. Never been into the princess thing.”

“We’ve been over this, it’s Satoru. And what should I call you then? Hime is perfect, it’s literally in your name.”

“I’ll call you Satoru if you call me by my real name: Utahime.”

“You’re so boringgg! Come on!” He whines, pretending to pout.

Utahime breathes in sharply at his words, “Satoru…you shouldn’t say things like that.”

Gojo stops walking. His brow creases in confusion: this is how he has always behaved, with obviously facetious and playful words. Even the people that claim they can’t stand him the most, like Shoko and Nanami, recognize when his words are intentionally over the top or ridiculous. Utahime also knows this: he has not concealed this aspect of his personality from her.

He can’t stop his next words from being spoken with a twinge of annoyance. “I was kidding, you know. Is something wrong?”

Utahime sighs, “No, no. Sorry, I’m just a bit stressed since the higher-ups asked for a meeting with me. Have no idea what it’s about…”

“They did? So, you’re not free for lunch? Please say you are…”

His words feel unnatural and stilted, but he brushes the feeling aside. He’s probably just nervous since it’s her, right?

“Yeah, I’m going to my meeting in a few, but I should be able to make it. Could you get the reservation for us?” Utahime asks, tone leaning on snippy.

“Mm, maybe. What’s the magic word?” He teases with a playful tone, trying to lighten her mood. This should work, it should make her feel better. He has experience with this.

“C’mon Gojo, not now,” She groans, apparently disgruntled. “But, fine, could you please make the reservation?”

He frowns. Not exactly the reaction he anticipated.

“Okay, but next time you gotta call me Satoru,” He says with a small awkward chuckle, this time easing up a bit on his teasing tone. “I’ll let you off the hook this time, though.”

“Sure,” She snorts, but not in the way that she would if she thought it was funny. It’s a sardonic snort, rather, and he would bet money that her eyes are rolling.

A loud click signals the end of conversation, but his phone remains pressed to his ear. He lowers it slowly, a strange feeling swirling in his chest. It’s an uneasy, heavy feeling from deep down, but he can’t discern what exactly it means.

“Why would I expect that to work?” He mutters to himself. “That’s so annoying, who would tolerate that?”

Suddenly, an image flashes under his eyelids, almost making him flinch at how intensely it conjures itself. A vivid apparition of you doubled over in laughter appears in his mind. It’s a memory, he realizes: you’re leaning on him as tears part from your eyes, unable to catch your breath due to how hard you’re laughing at one of his horrible, stupid jokes.

He remembers this moment well. You had been crying for real before—quietly sniffling, trying to hide it from him. He knew that you hated crying in front of others—trying to always appear strong, he knew this feeling well—so he started direct attention away from it with the corniest jokes he could make. That’s when your tears, first full of the hurt that he could clearly see in your crumpled expression, turned into ones of relief and joy. Your eyes had sparkled with some other emotion he couldn’t identify—something familiar, something that made him feel warm in the chest, but also made him feel so, so scared.

He never did figure out what it was. Or, rather, he has tried not to dwell on it. Every time it pops into his head, he pushes it down, the fear rising in him each time he comes closer to the answer.

Utahime never made him feel like that. That must be better. He never feels scared like that when he thinks of his feelings for her. That must be better, it has to be.

He enjoys talking to Utahime. He likes that he can get under her skin with little effort, likes how easily he can get a rise out of her: and most of the time, she’s amused by it, giggling and slapping his arm. He’s never scared with Utahime, but…why does something feel wrong?

His fingers, typing in his name for the reservation, pause and begin to tremble when he sees what he typed. He typed your name. His eyes widen beneath his blindfold—he’s grateful it helps to conceal his expression, even if nobody he knows is around. In truth, this is partly why he seldom removes it; he masks his true emotions more often than not. Not that anyone suspects it, though, too convinced by his saccharine smiles and forever jocular personality.

The blue horizontal line blinks in and out of existence as his fingers hover over his keyboard. Your name, though written in normal text, appears bolded to him: it sucks his attention away from anything else on his screen. He begins to break out in a sweat.

Sweating just from their name? How pathetic…

He shakes his head, frantically backspacing, trying to erase all traces of you from his mind. He’s been trying to do this for months, ever since he began to distance himself from you. There is a legitimate reason he has been giving you the cold shoulder, but it feels like an excuse to drive away this fear that grips him when he thinks of that warmth, that sparkle in your eyes.

Fuck. Now he can’t get that image of you out of his mind—his chest aches, his breathing comes quicker, but he does not know why.

He walks almost endlessly in the town he booked the restaurant in, in a pace-like fashion. His large stature and height make the brisk pace he walks at look absurdly hurried to passerbys: they stare at him unabashedly and he barely notices.

It’s only when he checks his phone that he realizes how much time has passed since he called Utahime. His reservation is soon: he will be late if he doesn’t start walking there now. Shit.

His breath comes heavy when he finally reaches the restaurant. It’s a casual yet nice ramen place—something familiar yet suitable for a lunch date. He’s wearing a baby blue button down shirt, nice slacks, and trades in his blindfold for heavily shaded sunglasses: also suitable for a lunch date.

A date. Yes, that’s what he’s on. A nice lunch date with a girl whom he kissed before the first date. A bit untraditional, not that he would be one to mind.

He approaches the hostess, about to ask for a table for two, but then he spots a familiar red ribbon perfectly adorning the dark strands of hair she always pulls back. She’s already here, sitting alone in the corner.

Gojo sighs. Fuck, ‘messed up again.

He hurriedly stumbles over to Utahime, probably looking a bit disheveled. She gives him a questioning glance at his appearance—Gojo laughs and immediately plasters on an easy smile.

“Hey,” He says nonchalantly, slowly lowering himself into the chair opposite her.

“Hey. You’re late,” She notes, but she doesn’t sound as bothered as he thought she would. “Did something happen? You look…like something happened.”

He goes along with it, sighing dramatically, “How’d you know? Yeah, Yaga was bothering me about some mission stuff. Dumb paperwork I’m supposed to do and whatever.”

She smiles, but it’s tight lipped, “Of course. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all sweaty.”

“I am?” He questions, feigning confusion, but his next words are partly true. “Ah, well, I realized I was gonna be late since he was pestering me so much. Guess I walked too fast.”

“Hmm,” Is all she says. She stirs the tea in front of her with a small spoon, expression blank as she does so.

Once he realizes she isn’t going to initiate talking further, he takes it upon himself, “How did the meeting go?”

She stops stirring. She sets down the spoon more harshly than she means to: it clangs loudly on the tea tray.

“I have some questions,” She says seriously.

“Questions? About what?” He asks.

Her dark, stormy eyes meet his. “…About you.”

He gulps, “Sure! What type of questions? You know, people ask me a lot of stuff. I’m sure I can handle anything.”

He winks at her, his usual smirk spreading across his face. Maybe if he jokes he can diffuse this god-awful tension. Not that it worked before, but he can try.

Utahime blinks slowly, exhaling deeply, as if attempting to calm herself down. He can see the fire in her eyes between blinks.

“How about that the higher-ups were asking me about my relation to you, when they believed you to only show interest in someone else?”

No. They can’t still believe that.

Terror strikes Gojo’s heart, electrifying his nerves, but he tries to play it off. He breathes out a chuckle and a few weak words, “That wasn’t a question.”

“For once in your life, be serious! We’ve only been dating for 3 weeks and I–” She inhales deeply. “I don’t think it’s a good sign that you’re intentionally avoiding answering me about this.”

“I’m not, I just don’t know what you’re talking about. Who did they even ask about? I can’t think of anyone they could say that about.” He’s lying through his teeth. Alarm bells are ringing through his head, and he dreads her answer.

She narrows her eyes, but seems convinced enough at his alleged cluelessness.

“They were asking about (Y/N). Asking about…your relationship with them. About how close you are. Asking if it’s changed.”

Gojo takes a sip from his glass, avoiding her eyes.“Well, did they say why? Seems awfully strange to ask you about it.”

She’s silent for a few seconds, mulling over her next words. They end up making Gojo bristle. “Satoru, you know I couldn’t tell you even if they did.”

His tone is abruptly serious. “The hell does that mean?”

She blinks at him slowly, with anger flashing in her dark eyes. “Gakuganji is very involved with them. If I told you, it would definitely get back to him. Who knows how he would punish me.”

"So you'd rather possibly endanger (Y/N)?" Gojo scoffs.

“Who said anything about danger?” Utahime says lowly, suspicion clear in her voice.

“Well, when the higher ups ask questions about my life, it usually isn’t just for fun,” Gojo says with a shrewd smile. “I don’t know what the hell they’re thinking so I can only assume the worst.”

“Does this really matter right now? (Y/N) is capable enough if it does turn out like that, and besides, I sorted it all out. Told them that your ‘relationship’ is fine and dandy and yada yada.”

Gojo sucks in a breath, nerves beginning to turn in his stomach. No. No! That’s not what I wanted…

Utahime doesn’t seem to notice his discomfort and continues, “You two have always been close…didn’t you have a thing for each other in high school? They have always had these eyes for you.”

Her tone is strange, gushing and gossipy yet also jealous.

“What?” Gojo says more loudly than intended as he takes in all of the information Utahime just casually dropped.

“You know, I even told them that you two were meant to be together,” She chuckles. “Funny how things work out—or, rather, don’t work out.”

Gojo’s stomach twists painfully at her insinuation—even though it shouldn’t. He likes Utahime, he’s with Utahime. Not with you. He’s not with you, he has never been with you.

“Gojo,” Utahime says suddenly. He blinks rapidly in surprise, eyes finally landing on hers. “Can we agree to be honest with each other?”

“Of course. What do you mean?” He says easily, nervously.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” She shakes her head. “You’re deflecting at every question I ask. You’re not as slick as you think you are.”

Gojo lets himself sigh this time.

He studies her expression. She’s beautiful, he has to admit. She’s beautiful, but she’s not you.

“Utahime…what is this all about?” He asks slowly.

“I should be asking you that,” She counters. “Why did you ask me out if you won’t actively participate in our relationship?”

“What do you mean? I’m here, aren’t I?” Gojo responds carefully.

“But you mind isn’t,” Utahime sighs. “You’re miles away, Satoru. You always are. When you’re with me, you’re not thinking of me, are you?”

The question is so accurate that it seems rhetorical to Gojo, to the point of him not responding for many moments before he realizes she is genuinely asking him.

It’s so true and yet he physically cannot bring himself to admit to it. “I mean, I think about the higher-ups and work related stuff a lot. I’m sorry I haven’t been that present on dates and stuff, but–”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Gojo!” Utahime hisses out, tone bordering on venomous. “You’re always thinking about them. You make decisions thinking of them. I bet even when you kiss me, you think about them. Are you going to deny that?”

“Utahime…” He says softly, guilt constricting his vocal chords.

“I don’t understand you, Gojo. You asked me out and have taken me on fancy dates as if you want a committed relationship, but then your mind is always wandering away. I know that you still care for them, but then I heard from Shoko that you’ve been ignoring them for months. And then the fucking higher-ups ask me your relationship with them. Why would they ask me that and why would they even care? Something isn’t adding up. What’s really going on here?”

Gojo blinks in surprise at the depth of concern in her voice. It’s like she has already moved on from her jealousy towards you, and now is worried for you.

He must look surprised, because she adds on, “Just so you know, I’m not that sad. You’re kind of a shithead for doing this to me, but this wasn’t that serious for me. Obviously not for you, either.”

Gojo winces. Everything she has said so far has been true, but he wishes it wasn’t.

“Iori, I’m sorry. For everything. I didn’t even realize that…that I was doing that,” Gojo sighs. “And to answer your question—I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I think I owe it to you. I don’t know what’s going on either, and that’s what scares me. I have no idea what they want or what they’re plotting, but it can’t be anything good.”

Utahime sits there with a small smirk on her face. When he raises an eyebrow at her expression, she just chuckles and shakes her head. “You can’t even say their name. Just how much denial are you in?”

He can’t even answer. He just sits there, a hand brushing his cheeks in order the cover the warmth the rises at the mention of the depth of his denial concerning his feelings for you.

When she realizes he isn’t going to answer, Utahime rises out of her seat. “Well, I guess I can say I’m officially breaking up with you, not that you or I really care. Just…if you need help with this, just know I’m in your corner, yeah? Unless it’s something to do with Gakuganji, and in that case my hands would be tied. Otherwise, just ask. You know, I wasn’t joking when I said I rooted for you guys in high school. That’s a fact and I can’t deny it.

You should really figure this out—for their sake. It sounds like they’re not having the best time with it. And besides, as much as it pains me to say it, you owe it to yourself after fighting against whatever feelings you have had for them for so many years.”

He doesn’t interrupt her even once, instead quietly absorbing her advice. He fidgets at the mention of his feelings for you, still uncomfortable even at the thought of them. Still scared.

“Goodbye for now, Satoru. I hope you figure all this shit out. Have a nice lunch,” She says coldly as she readies her things. Her coldness stings a bit, but what else could he expect?

“Oh, one last thing,” Utahime pauses. “I’m surprised you didn’t ask me this, but I guess you’re too in over to head right now to think straight. I think I might know partly why they have taken an interest in (Y/N).”

Gojo’s gaze turns to her sharply, blue eyes bright with curiosity behind his shades. “Why? How do you know?”

“I think the higher-ups must have asked Yaga about them. I forgot until now, but they were asking me if I knew anything about (Y/N)‘s identity. And who would know better than anyone? Your nosey principal who digs deep on everyone,” She rolls her eyes, huffing out a small but humorless laugh. “Well, that should be it then. Bye, ex-boyfriend.”

She gives him one last look, then struts away with her head held high. He sincerely hopes she isn’t hurting too much, despite her very “okay with it” façade.

So it has to do with your identity? In Satoru’s view, you have somewhat of an average identity for a sorcerer. A grade one sorcerer who comes from a sorcerer family. You had not inherited your clan’s special innate technique, but you are still pretty strong regardless. There’s nothing unusual about your background, or at least to the best of his knowledge.

And yet this sickening feeling has begun to creep into his stomach, that feeling that something is horribly wrong. What he does not know is what he cannot control, and each heartbeat and breath of his feels tortured with the knowledge that you may not be safe.

Shoko won’t stop texting you, almost on the hour, despite your radio silence. It’s strange when you think about it—she has always hated texting, always grumbling that it’s going to give her carpal tunnel someday. And yet here she is, blowing up your phone with notifications.

You haven’t been to school in weeks, taking mission after mission instead. It’s very obvious that you’ve been avoiding Shoko and Gojo, but you won’t admit that.

The missions have been grueling and gruesome—your stomach turns when the curses you exorcised spring to mind. They were ghastly and frankly were some of the most mentally scarring curses you’ve encountered. So, you’ve decided to take a break.

You feel your skin crawl when you’re sitting at home doing nothing—the curses come to mind much more easily, and also thoughts of him—so you abandon being cozy for the sake of your mind. It’s cold outside, so cold that your breath greets you in a cloud with every puff of air you release. Winter has arrived, and it nips at your cheeks and numbs your extremities just to remind you.

You haven’t been coping well, and you know it. Avoiding thoughts of Gojo has not been working very well, even after physically avoiding him. You try to forget what you heard that day, but it won’t escape your mind no matter how much you distract yourself. You think of Utahime: her beauty, her quiet strength, of how she always seems so calm and collected and yet somehow always makes her voice heard. She has everything that you lack.

The skin of your face burns with envy when you think about her. And when you picture her with Gojo—her dark eyes looking into his pooling blue depths, her leaning forward and up to kiss him—your chest crumbles in on itself.

It hurts. Right now, everything surrounding Gojo Satoru hurts.

But today, you will change that. This will definitely help. You’ve taken yourself out of your apartment and straight into a place that has always lifted your spirits—the local florist.

You scour the aisles, wincing at the very romantic red roses and the bright yellow daffodils. But then something catches your eye: an array of festive bouquets.

You end up picking out a bouquet fit for the season: it features a string of cranberries, enveloped by branches of pine and pinecones, with a striped garland draped around it all. Despite all of your poisonous feelings inside, you crack a small smile at the sight.

You take it home, putting care into the beautiful and yet flowerless bouquet. You carefully mix the plant food into a vase full of cool water, cut the ends of the stems under running water, then submerge the bouquet.

It brings a sense of homeliness that you’ve been desperately missing ever since you’ve starting living on your own. It almost soothes the ache in your chest.

But, as always, reality swoops in to remind you that you cannot run from your feelings within. Within only minutes of arranging the new bouquet, you accidentally swipe at the vase. It crashes to the floor, the glass shattering everywhere, glinting beautifully as it spins through the air. The cranberries begin to bleed into the water, the impact too much for them to tolerate.

You bend down, slowly processing the collision. When you stare into the expanding pool of water, you see wild eyes brimming with pain. Brimming with heartache. It is then that you are painfully reminded what cranberries represent: a cure for heartache.

The irony is not lost on you. You begin to howl in laughter, and the voice that reverberates back to you sounds crazed.

Then, it begins. You abruptly stop breathing; you are choked, silenced, almost as if something is blocking your airway. And then your throat begins to convulse, an instinctual reaction to choking, and you have no choice but to obey your body. You stumble through the shards of glass and collapse at the foot of your toilet. You heave and heave—whatever is lodged in your throat is large, making it difficult and painful to retch up.

When you finally use enough force to hack up the offending object, you freeze at the sight in front of you. Vibrant hydrangeas the same color as his eyes float in a murky red cloud. Blue hydrangeas: a symbol of rejection and regret.

Your chest bursts in pain at the realization. You are in love with Gojo Satoru, and he doesn’t love you back.

You feel another bloom emerging from within. You shudder in fear, knowing that you have little time left. Once the flowers present themselves, death is almost always imminent.

You spend the next few hours by the toilet, conjuring a newer, more painful bouquet than the one that lays in shattered remains in your living room.

“You told them what?” Gojo exhales deeply, a sigh following his exasperated words. He pinches the bridge of his nose—a gesture uncharacteristic for someone as self-assured as him.

“That (Y/N) is important to you,” Yaga Masamichi states calmly. “Satoru, there is no reason to fret. Their intentions concerning this matter are pure.”

“Do you even hear yourself right now? The higher-ups intentions are anything but pure.”

“I can sense that you are agitated,” He observes, eyebrows beginning to furrow. “But you are blinded by your bias. They first and foremost protect our community. (Y/N) is of no threat to Jujutsu society, thus they should be in no danger.”

“You don’t understand,” Gojo shakes his head. He is clearly angry, but now his nerves are showing through more: his voice is uneven and his tone has an air of desperation. “The higher-ups are out to get them. I don’t have any answers for that, even though I’ve been searching for months. I’ve had to show indifference towards (Y/N) to convince them that there is nothing between us, and it was starting to work. Why did you tell them this without consulting me first?”

A frown etches Masamichi’s stony features. Behind his shaded glasses, his eyes rake over his former student, taking in his state. Gojo isn’t one to openly show fear or anxiety, yet his breathing is audibly shaky and his fingers twitch by his side.

“I see I have made a mistake,” Masamichi concedes. “But why are you so convinced the higher-ups have ill intentions toward them?”

Gojo begins to pace back and forth in front of Yaga’s desk—also very unlike him.

“They called me to meet them a few months ago, asking what my relationship with (Y/N) is. I brushed it off at first and basically told them to stop sticking their nose into my business, but then I started to notice something.”

Gojo pauses by a window. The light streams down onto his face, illuminating his rather uncommonly stoic portrait.

“They started assigning (Y/N) missions that were labeled as second or first grade, but actually turned out to be special grade. And it can’t be coincidental—the incident rate of this happening is much higher for (Y/N)’s assignments than any other person.”

“That does seem to be true,” Masamichi comments, thinking back to reports he’s reviewed.

“No, not seem,” Gojo snaps. “That is the reality of this situation. Ever since I realized that, I’ve acted coldly towards (Y/N), distancing myself as much as possible. And guess what? No more special grade missions. Less injuries. And—”

“Satoru!” Masamichi raises his voice, pulling Gojo out of his frantic spiel. He blinks in surprise; he didn’t even realize how much or how fast he has been speaking.

“I don’t know what they are thinking or planning, but stressing like this will not help the situation. This is our world; this is how they operate,” Masamichi says, leaning forward and resting his chin on steepled fingers. “We will find a way around this.”

“It shouldn’t be like this,” Gojo says, voice rumbling deep and low, dangerously quiet.

“They are resistant to change,” Masamichi counters. “We can’t directly influence their decisions.”

“Not if they can’t make them anymore,” Satoru snorts, a dark and bitter smirk curling his lips.

“That is completely out of the question,” Yaga says firmly in a warning tone.

“Their thinking is antiquated,” Gojo argues. “I think we need a complete refresh.”

“And yours is too radical and rash. No, Gojo. I will not even entertain your idea.” Yaga says with a note of finality.

“Won’t you let me have my fun?” Gojo sighs, exaggerating his disappointment. “You’re such a drag, old man.”

Yaga almost smiles. He’s back to his normal antics.

“So, there is nothing that you can think of that would cause the higher-ups to go after them like this? I know you looked into all of your students closely even before you became principal. You must know something.”

Yaga frowns. You were his student and, as Gojo claims, he did thoroughly look into your background. But—how can you truly be thorough when the information presented is so little?

“There was little to nothing on them,” Yaga says. “Even when I tried digging further, I didn’t find much. However…there are rumors that they have made a Binding Vow.”

“A Binding Vow?” Gojo echoes back. “That’s very vague. That can mean practically anything.”

“But it’s still interesting, is it not?” Yaga says with a wry smile. “If the higher-ups have heard, we can only assume that the Binding Vow is with another entity, not with themselves. Otherwise, why would they be interested? That is assuming this is true, of course.”

“Who did you hear this from?” Gojo asks. “Someone credible?”

“I’m not sure about their credibility. And you can’t really go out and interrogate them, even if you wanted to. If you did, there would be another expectation for your visit.”

Gojo grows suspicious from his obvious attempt at a non-answer, “Yaga, who?”

He sighs, “Geto Suguru.”

There’s silence. Then, Gojo cackles—it’s a bitter and sardonic laugh, slightly crazed as well—and shakes his head.

“Of course. Of course it was from him,” Gojo continues laughing, a hand covering his face this time. “Guess you’re right—there’s no avenue for conversation there. In that case, I’ve gotta go. See ya, old man.”

Yaga bristles at the nickname, but does not attempt chastise Gojo as he walks away without waiting for Yaga’s response. It simply doesn’t work, so why waste his breath?

Gojo walks out, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. He opens his text conversation with you, fingers twitching over the keyboard. But what would he even say? The last texts are all from you, scattered over a few weeks from literal months ago. He didn’t respond to any of them. He feels the need to contact you, but how would he even start that? ‘Hey, I know I’ve been ignoring you for months, but I heard that you might have told Geto that you made a Binding Vow and I think the higher-ups know about it.’

Nope. That’s not gonna work. He swipes the texting app out of existence, then locks his phone and puts it back in his pocket.

He leans back on the pillar, resting his head while he closes his eyes. Why does everything surrounding you have to be so complicated? Then, a series of hurried footsteps meets his ears, and he doesn’t need to open his eyes to know who it is. Gojo is ambushed by someone he hasn’t seen for a few days—your mutual friend, Shoko.

“I heard what happened from Utahime,” She says immediately.

Gojo exhales loudly, not even trying to conceal his annoyance, “Shoko, I really don’t have time for this right now.”

“No. Tell me what’s going on.” She says firmly, her tone hard.

“What? We broke up. What’s more to say?” Gojo says dismissively.

“No, Gojo. That’s not all there is. Things have been going on. She told me that she’s concerned for (Y/N) but wouldn’t tell me more. And it just so happens that I have been texting them just about every day for weeks and have heard nothing back. Tell me there’s ‘nothing more to say’ again! Because obviously something is going on.”

Gojo inhales sharply, his breath suspended at her words. He shifts his weight forward, finally leaning away from the pillar. Shoko takes notice of his surprise.

She sighs, deciding to clarify one detail, “They’ve still been taking missions so I assume that they’re fine…but they’ve never ghosted me like this. Even back then, when Geto…they didn’t…agh. Well, you know what I’m saying. I don’t know what they’re thinking.”

He only really gathered one thing from that. So you’re safe for now. Gojo recovers, his expression evening out into something more normal.

“Shoko, I don’t want to complicate things further,” Gojo sighs. “Too many people are already involved in this, ones I had no intention of involving. I’m sorry, but I don’t know if I should say anything.”

“You ass!” She shouts at him, making his eyes widen under his blindfold. Shoko never blows up like this—she’s always indifferent and sort of passive. “They’re my friend too, and I want to know what’s going on!”

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Gojo blurts out. Shoko blinks rapidly, shocked by the volume of his voice. He hates getting emotional like this, but he can’t help it when he’s so fucking worried. “I don’t know, Shoko. The higher-ups have been probing into my life, but this time– this time it’s about them, and I don’t know why they want to know. I don’t know what they’re looking for. I’m just praying every day that they stop, but then somebody else in our circle tells me that the higher-ups keep mentioning them. I don’t know what’s going on, but it can’t be good.”

She looks at him, finally noticing how…un-Gojo-like he looks and sounds. Worrying about others isn’t something that Gojo does, or at least not something he ever speaks about. He never has his brow creased like he does right now. He doesn’t bite his lip in worry, either, so why is he biting down so hard he’s almost pulling blood?

“Okay,” Shoko yields. “Okay. I believe you. I didn’t realize…I didn’t believe that you still cared so much.”

“You don’t even know,” He mutters under his breath, but Shoko still hears it. She acts like she doesn’t.

“Well, if you hear anything, tell me, okay?” Shoko asks him with a low exhale. “They’re really stressing me out.”

She pulls out a lighter and a cigarette, prepared to light up. The blinks, and the cigarette now lays on the ground, mysteriously absent from her grip.

“Fuck you,” She grumbles. “You know, that’s littering.”

She hates to say it, but her chest, heavy with worry, lightens a bit as his regular smirk spreads across his face. She feels a bit more hopeful as Gojo disappears in front of her, the wind from the teleportation blowing her hair and lab coat around furiously.

“If only you two weren’t idiots, this mess might have solved itself ages ago,” She chuckles to herself. “The densest people I know.”

Your lungs ache. You wheeze with each breath. You blink blearily, rubbing your eyes with one hand. You’ve been drifting in and out of sleep while you’ve been laying on the cold tile in your bathroom. The air is tinged with iron—the smell of your own blood curdles your stomach.

“What time is it?” You mutter to yourself, and jolt at the sound of your own voice. It’s raspy and weak; you almost don’t recognize it as being your own.

Your hands skate across the smooth tile as you try to locate your phone. When you finally do, you grab it and bring it close to your face. Your eyes, barely cracked open, ache at the bright light of your screen.

The time reads as 3:31 AM. You’ve really been here for that long? Under the time, a plethora of texts from Shoko appear. You groan and slam your phone back down on the ground, ignoring the guilt that rises from how long you’ve been flat out ignoring your friend.

I’m being just like Gojo. Your lips curl down at the realization.

You feel a wave of weakness wash over you, and you are forced to lay back down on the ground. You are half conscious, vision swimming half through dream and half through reality. You can barely think, barely process your own actions.

You feel cold metal in your hands, smooth glass under your fingers. You are tapping randomly, the light blinding you so much that you can’t open your eyes to see what exactly you’re doing.

All you hear is your own horrible breath. And then you hear a voice.

“(Y/N)? You called me?”

You blink blankly in confusion. Did you? You can only assume that you did.

“‘Guess so,” You try to say, but you can barely get it out with how sore your throat is. “Who…who is it?”

“What do you mean? You called me, silly.” They say with a small chuckle. “It’s like 3 am. Are you drunk or something?”

Why can’t you recognize their voice? Their voice sounds underwater to you. Your head is spinning so much and your ears begin to ring. Your feel yourself slipping from reality.

You hear yourself saying words, but you don’t remember thinking them.

“No…gonna pass out. Or die. Can’t tell.”

“What? (Y/N), what’s going on? Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you right now.”

You swear you know that voice. It’s deep and smooth, but filled with so much worry that you barely recognize it. He’s never sounded this scared before.

“Oh, you’re…you’re Satoru,” You wheeze out. “Why? Why you?”

You’re not making much sense, you don’t think. But you can’t, not with how far from reality you are right now.

You called him? It’s just too painful, too cruel a fate, that you accidentally called the man you’re in love with and who doesn’t love you back while you’re knocking on death’s door. You cough violently and choke on the bloody petals that rise to your throat. You wince in pain and struggle to breathe.

He is bordering on panic now, but he fights to keep it out of his voice. “It’s okay, (Y/N), just tell me where you are. You’re on a mission, r-right? I’ll come get you. Just hold on.”

Confusion floods your brain. A mission? Are you on a mission? Is that why the scent of blood is clogging your nose?

Your heart beat pounds in your head, faster and faster. It’s scary just how confused you are—how do you not know where you are?

“I don’t know,” You choke out. You didn’t even realize you were crying. “I don’t know where I am.”

“It’s okay, c-can you check your phone for me? It’ll tell you your location. Just open it and–” His breathing is fast. “And check in your maps. Please. Please (Y/N), I need you to do this for me. Then–then everything will be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” You answer softly. “How do–”

You startle at the sound of a loud bang, your own gasp cutting off your words.

The door to your bathroom—that’s where you are—is knocked down, nearly missing your form where you lay on the tile.

Satoru is calling your name desperately, his voice louder with each repetition of your name. You can’t decipher any other words, but you know he’s shouting things, trying to get you to say something, to say anything so that he knows you’re okay.

A dark shape towers over you. You can’t make out who it is with your blurry vision and with how dark it is—but you are immediately intimidated by their large, broad frame.

“There you are,” They snarl. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this to happen. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

You scramble to get up, grabbing your phone while you unsteadily rise on your shaky legs. You are an inch away from passing out and you fight the feeling with every ounce of your strength.

“Not looking too good, are we?” He says, tutting mockingly. “That’s perfect. Remember what we agreed on, my dear (Y/N)?”

You stare at him blankly, no recognition in your eyes.

“Silly me! Of course you don’t remember. That was intentional, you know. A good move on my part,” He chuckles, and it’s a soft sound that juxtaposes his words. “While you’re the one who has to suffer. Don’t blame me too much, though…this is all situational. It’s not like I ever disliked you or anything. It just has to be like this.”

You hear Satoru’s voice again, and this time it sounds dangerous, “Who the fuck is that?”

Anger runs through the man’s features, and he strikes the hand that carries your phone harshly. You yelp loudly both in surprise and in pain. Your phone clatters to the ground, instantly silenced. Probably broken beyond repair.

His words are chastising and almost playful, but he is furious. “You shouldn’t talk to him anymore, (Y/N). That’s not part of our agreement.”

Then he grabs hold of you and begins dragging you out of the room. You scream loudly, kicking and punching him as much as you can as you’re moved against your will. You are a strong sorcerer, but all of your cursed energy and strength has been sapped away by this horrible disease that afflicts you. You are powerless to stop this man.

There’s one thing you were mistaken about. With the crunch your phone made as it shattered against the ground, you assumed it was completely broken. That’s only partly true: the speakers were damaged, no sound coming out, but your phone actually survived. Your microphone continued to pick up every scream and cry you made as you were dragged against your will—kidnapped. He heard every whimper of pain and every plea of yours for the man to stop! and to let you go!

Even in this state, your heart would ache if you had heard the unadulterated fear that gripped his voice as he shouted and screamed for you through his phone.

Even if you didn’t recognize the man who manhandled you out of your apartment, Gojo Satoru has no doubts about who it was. It makes his blood boil thinking about it—he’s never going to forgive him for this, even if they used to be best friends.

next part

a/n 2: Thank you so much for reading, it means a lot!! This got a bit out of my hands, I will admit…I ended up writing some details I hadn’t planned on (and a lot more lol) 😅 But I think it actually makes it more interesting!

TAGLIST: @certainduckanchor @kawaiivillainess98 @arehzhera @starrylibras @mandysfanfics @rain-and-a-nice-nap @csillana @sup-hoes-its-me @llliissuu @hawkdaddy1111 @unoriginalidea

@dcvilxswish @angel-kyo @eliz-lovesgojo @5268r @wooasecret @timetobegone @ceronnica @torusblindfold @mo0nforme @crookedlyaddictedone-blog @dasztasha

@soapysofi @qualitygiantshoepsychic

Some of these tags didn’t work, but I hope it still tags you…Lmk if I typed anything in wrong haha. 😌

[seredelgi]

Sweet Punishment

fandom: Attack On Titan/ Shingeki No Kyojin

pairing: Dom!Levi Ackerman x Sub!Fem!Reader, Levi Ackerman x You

summary: Reader's relationship with Levi is everything she could've asked for, he's very sweet and never gets mad at her. There's only one little rule she needs to follow, and when she fails to, then he'll have to punish her.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: dom!levi, sub!reader, smut, like a lot, fingering, sex, vaginal sex, dubious consent (she enjoys it tho, believe me), spanking, blood (just a little cut on the lip, but still), unprotected sex (don't try it at home lol), penetration, manhandling (just a tiny bit, she's totally fine) vulgar language?, oh yeah, choking (no passing out), orgasm denial, slight degradation?, idk, this man has me feral, NO SPOILERS

word count: 4.6k

a/n: alright alright, last episode is out, and I'm just in love with Levi so I went down a rabbit hole of smut before deciding to write something down. It's just a scrap, I haven't put much thought in it so keep it in mind. Also, English is not my mother tongue, so go easy on me. Thoughts are in italic

tags: @imlevisoneandonlywife

Part 2

Your boyfriend is just so very good to you that it often makes you question how in the world have you gotten so lucky.

He’s known to be a man of few words, a true soldier, the best in what he does. You’ve never seen him in action, of course, but you’ve heard the stories and the way they’re being told. His subordinates tell them with a glimpse of ecstatic excitement in their eyes, his colleagues with a blatant silent respect. It’s honestly mesmerizing to see the effect he has on people.

But it is nothing compared to the effect he has on you.

You don’t need to see him slaying Titans to know he’s the best. He carries it wherever he goes, whatever he does, he has an aura to him that just draws you in.

And even though he’s perceived by everyone to be just a grumpy man, you get to see his sweetest side. Once Levi gets someone close to his heart, he becomes so severely attached to them that it’s almost suffocating. He showers you with his love and attention, compliments, gifts, simple little signs of his undying devotion towards you. And even though infamously ruthless on the battlefield, you’ve never seen him upset in your regards. Not that you’ve ever given him any reason to be, it’s pretty simple to please him. He’s not even the jealous type, maybe ‘cause he’s way too confident for his own good.

There’s only one little thing that he won’t compromise on.

Since the first time you two have had sex, he’s firmly stated that he wanted to be the only one to pleasure you, that not even you were permitted to relieve the tension on your own. It took you aback a little, but since he’d just managed to make you see stars you agreed.

Honestly, that decision has never truly bothered you that much, he was definitely worth the wait.

But now, as you're home alone waiting for him to get back home, you can’t stop thinking about him, about how good it feels to have him slide inside of you, and pump in and out with that effortlessly relentless pace he usually reserves you so kindly.

You try to focus on each chore you’re on at the moment, but anytime you try your mind seems to wander on its own, and you find yourself aching for him, catching glimpses of the clock hanging in the kitchen, counting down the hours that separate you from seeing him again.

You must be ovulating, ‘cause you feel so damn empty just thinking about him, needing to be filled so desperately it’s almost funny.

“ Just hormones” you huff quietly as you finish washing the dishes “ breathe, y/n”

You’ve never actually considered breaking Levi’s rules, you wouldn’t like lying to him about it. But right now his request just seems so unreasonable.

You eye the door of your bedroom from afar.

He doesn’t have to know.

It’s just one little slip, one little sin to remove a bit of the tension and be able to ease your mind.

For some reason your heart’s racing as you tiptoe silently towards the bedroom, sitting on your bed and sighing as you remember what happened in it the other night. Thinking about it makes you feel incredibly hot between your legs. You can feel your juices stain the white cotton of your panties.

You bite your bottom lip, considering if maybe you should just get up and get back to your chores, maybe put something up in the oven for dinner.

But it’s impossible when all it takes is for you to close your eyes and you can see him, holding you in his arms, leaving humid kisses down your neck, whispering huskily in your ear all the things he wants to do to you.

“ Fuck it” you click your tongue in surrender and place yourself laying back on the center of the mattress.

It’s his fault honestly, for being so ridiculously hot and impossible to wait for. And anyway, he’ll never know. You’ll make it quick. It’s still an hour before he comes back. Plenty of time for you to get off even more than once.

So you lean back and relax.

You close your eyes and he’s there again, looking down at you with hungry eyes, touching you all over your naked body. And as you imagine his touch upon you it’s easy, almost like following his orders, scanning your hands upon the warm skin of your breasts, your fluttering stomach, all the way down between your thighs.

You get rid of your panties, breaths quickening as you can feel his tongue sucking on your hardened nipples. Your whole body is aching so bad just thinking about it, yearning for his hands on you so bad it’s almost bruising.

As you part your legs and gently slip your middle finger between your folds a sudden cry of arousal breaks free from your throat. You just wish it were him touching you, his fingers sliding silently inside of you as you're doing now, gathering your juices before slipping out of your entrance again to bring them toward your clit.

You’re so incredibly wet. He’d surely comment on it if he were here, mocking you for how desperate you look for him. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t turn you on even more. And now that your fingertips are finally massaging your bundle of nerves, that agonizing tension you’ve been feeling all day just gathers in your lower abdomen, ready to let loose.

You’ve been horny all day, so it figures that you’re already so close.

It’s shameful, but it’s true.

Your free hand grips your sheets so hard you think you’ll have to iron them again if you don’t want Levi to notice. But that’s not your concern now. You’re lost in your lust, eyes shut picturing your man sliding inside of you with his cock, whispering all kinds of dirty prayers into your ear. It’s almost as if he’s there.

“ What do you think you’re doing?”

You take a few instants to realize that it’s really him asking you that, flesh and blood in your room, standing by the door and looking at you with the kind of gaze that you’re sure would send any reasonable man a shiver running down their spine.

“ Fuck- Levi” you pant, your hand coming off of you in a spurt, hoping in vain that he won’t comment on it, that he’ll let it slide “ I didn’t hear you come in”

His silver-grey eyes don’t come off of you as you sit at attention, closing your legs and trying to gain some composure. Your mind spins so fast it takes your breath away, your heart stammering loudly in your chest as he clenches his jaw.

He’s standing there, mere meters away from you, his uniform still on, a severe expression darkening his beautiful features.

That’s impossible not to find hot.

“ Yeah, that much was clear” he hums, and by the tone of his voice it’s difficult to determine how actually mad he is, being it the first time you ever break that rule “ So this is what you do when you’re home alone, huh?”

“No it’s not like that, I was just-” you don’t know why you’re so fast at trying to justify yourself when you know full well you haven’t done anything wrong.

You should tell it to him straight. That he doesn’t own you. He might be the best fighter in the known world, a Captain of the Scouts Corp, but that doesn’t give him the right to exert control over your God damn body.

But the words die in your throat. It’s suddenly really hot in there, and you’re still very fucking horny. You’re ashamed to admit that you find yourself quite attracted to this side of him, one you’ve never had the pleasure to fully unravel.

“ Just what? Trying to have fun without me?” he’s finally moving, walking towards the chair in front of your bed, getting rid of his jacket and placing it tiredly upon it.

“ Just warming up for when you came home, honey” you sound so out of breath, and you’re trembling.

You don’t actually think he would do you any harm, and yet his eyes suggest otherwise, his demeanor exudes danger from every pore. If that’s just a hint of the coldness he carries himself into battle with, then it’s no wonder fucking Titans fall at his feet.

“ You know that’s not how it works” his voice is low, steady “ But maybe you need a little reminding”

A hint of mischief lightens up the tension, and he starts walking towards you, slow and lethal like the man you know he is.

“ I didn’t even finish, I swe-”

But you’re cut off by his sudden movement, a quick dash to get a hold of your face, squishing your cheeks together with a hand, he gives you the kind of look that shuts you the hell up and gets that familiar tickle go wild between your legs. You subtly squeeze your thighs together to give your pussy some kind of attention, disobeying right in front of him kind of getting you off now.

“ I’m the only one that can give you pleasure” he almost growls at you, and his hold is so strong it’s bruising you now “ Understood?”

“ Yes, Sir” it’s all you’re able to reply, mind too foggy to gather anything else.

But it looks like he likes it, ‘cause he lets you go, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Levi Ackerman doesn’t smile easily. So you guess you’ll call him that in the bedroom more often.

He sits on the edge of the bed, and you’re almost disappointed, thinking he’s already done with you.

“ Over my lap” he instructs instead “ Now”

You’re kind of confused about what exactly he’s got in mind. But it doesn’t look like a great idea to ask out loud, so you find yourself complying, crawling towards him, legs a bit shaky from the missed orgasm you almost managed to give yourself.

You get within reach of him, not sure how he wants you to position yourself.

“ How do I-”

But you’re cut off again by his hand reaching for your wrist, tugging you forward, and having you stumble upon him, ending up stomach flat against his thighs. You resist the urge to whine in protest, sensing he’s not keen on you speaking up right about now.

You feel the light fabric of your sundress being roughly lifted up your ass, revealing to him your nakedness.

He sits in appreciation of the view in front of him for a few instants, and you’re feeling every nerve-ending on your body standing at attention for what he’s gonna do next.

The first slap makes your heart skip a beat, you hold your breath and close your eyes shut, and somehow you still manage to hold in your cry of pain. It’s sudden and disconcerting, and it kind of feels wrong to stay silent while he takes such liberties with your body, and yet it makes you squirm in your place to feel more.

The stinging that comes from the second one is even better, ‘cause you’ve expected it, and the high that comes next is kind of inebriating to your drunken senses.

Oh God, you’re so down bad for this man you’ll let him treat you like a disobedient child.

With the third one you can’t help yourself, you cry out in pain as the burning sensation gets your insides in a twirl, while the aching between your legs won’t stop growing desperate by the second.

“ I told you couldn’t do it” his voice is hoarse now, the sound of lust tainting it so clearly it only makes you hornier “ Don’t I give you enough pleasure? Enough attention?” he slaps you hard, and yet it’s not hard enough for you to feel the vibrations of your thighs giving you some kind of relief from the tension you’re holding up between your legs “Are you really that needy?”

You muffle a protest, almost crying from how much you feel desperate for him to touch you, but you don’t dare ask.

Luckily it’s like he’s in your mind, ‘cause you feel his hand suddenly stopping from imparting you that sweet punishment, only to make its way between your reddened thighs, finding your liquids covering their insides, and it’s so good to hear a falter of genuine stupor in his voice as he appraises how wet you are from what he’s doing to you “ Fuck, you really are, aren’t you?” he murmurs, and you can almost feel him licking his lips as he comes to touch your hole now, finding it drenched with your juices “ You’re a fucking mess���

You really are. Your liquids are audibly enveloping his fingers as he sinks them deep into you without much effort, your walls sucking him in. You let go of a sigh of pure ecstasy as you finally feel him fill you up as you’ve longed for all day long. It’s not enough, you want his cock balls deep into you, but you don’t think you’re in the position to make any requests right now.

His desire is undeniable at this point, you can feel it poking at your stomach as he starts pumping his fingers into you, so slowly you’re sure he wants to kill you with this fake kindness. Having his erection pressing into you like that is torture too. He must know that’s what you want. Heck, he seems horny enough to give it to you now, and yet he refrains. What is he up to?

“ You’re so fucking spoiled” he comments as his fingers start pumping at a much higher pace, getting to that spot inside of you that he knows how much you like “ Can’t even wait an hour for me to get home, huh?”

You’re so undeniably turned on, and yet some kind of rebellious part of you hates to let him know so blatantly, and has you trying to refrain from making too much noise. But it’s almost impossible. It would be so much easier to say you’re sorry and have him shift back into his normal tender self, but you’re high on this, and it feels like a waste to have it stop right now.

“ What’s this?” he asks, his tone slightly irritated by your sudden attitude, and you have to put all your efforts into stopping yourself from whimpering when his hand slips out of you so suddenly it makes your whole body shiver “ The silent treatment?”

He reaches for your lips with his other hand, the one that’s not covered in your liquids, and he parts them slowly. You’re too slow to realize what he wants to do, and before you know it you’ve got his thumb inside your mouth and the rest of his fingers holding your neck, lifting you from where you lay on top of him, making you look into his dark grey eyes.

“ Apologize now, and I’ll be gentle”

You don’t want gentle. Not anymore. And neither does he. You can see it in his eyes, he’s hungry for more, he just keeps it together better than you ever could.

“ You fon’t- owm’e” your muffled words were meant to sound challenging, but your eyes, you’re sure, they’re begging for him to fuck you, and this facade of yours is practically ridiculous.

You know ‘cause his smirk is chilling, amused by your pathetic attempts at making this interesting, when really, all he wants is for you to beg him to give it to you.

“ We’ll see about that”

He shoves you back down on the mattress, slipping his thumb out of your warm mouth before getting up with his knees pressing down on the bed and going for his belt, and you can’t help your eyes from lingering on his hurried movements as he lowers his pants and boxers just enough that you can see his cock finally popping out, and it’s so hard it’s almost threatening.

You knew he was just as impatient as you were, finding you getting off on your bed with his name probably escaping your lips must’ve been a treat he wasn’t expecting to stumble upon. But seeing it made you even more eager to feel it inside.

He crawls on top of you so that he’s all you can see, but he’s all you can ever see when you’re this horny.

You lunge up towards his lips. He still hasn’t kissed you, and by now it feels natural to want to, but he dodges you, making you almost pout in response.

“ There are no kisses for bad girls”

That’s so unfair you almost give in on the spot, the apology nearly rolling off your tongue so that you can be able to taste his inside of you.

Instead, you start kissing his neck, but he takes you harshly by the throat and presses you hard into the mattress.

Fuck him, he’s playing dirty.

He presses a knee down between yours and has you part your legs so easily it’s freaking frightening. If it weren’t for the fact that he lowered himself upon the skin of your neck, pressing his cock on the center of your cunt you would be complaining to yourself about how much control he has over you. But you like it too much to really care.

He starts kissing your neck slowly, so slowly it feels like torture, and his hips start rutting against your dripping core at the same dangerous pace. He can kill you with all of this, gentle when you want hard fucking and bites and marks to last for days. And yet it’s enough pressure, enough contact to leave you on the edge, enough to feel like crying with frustration. He’s already brought you so close with his hand before, and you almost came on your own before that, you’re practically holding on for dear life at this point.

“ Levi-” you can’t help but sob in his ear, feeling his breath grazing upon your warm skin as he answers you, his voice a delicate purr:

“ Yes?”

“ Please- fuck” you beg, dignity be damned. You’re a whore for this man, who are you even kidding?

“ Please what?” his tip is slowly pushing inside of you, only to slip out again as he teases you, and you think he’s never been so damn cruel to you in bed. It’s intoxicating how much you’re liking it.

“ Please, please, Levi, fuck me” your voice is so distorted by need that it’s practically unrecognizable, and the kind of chuckle that he ghosts upon your skin when he finally decides to stop playing with you would have your blood run cold, wouldn’t it be for the hotness of being surrounded by him with so much desire.

“ As you wish” he only says, before finally sliding his whole length inside of you, one deep thrust and you’re fucking screaming into the void of the room, clinging to his back and begging to the Gods above for it to never stop.

He’s finally fucking you as you wanted, deep thrusts crashing against your aching clit, your juices dripping down on the freshly clean sheets of your bed to create a pool of delicious wetness beneath you two.

He raises, towering over you, and he’s just so damn beautiful that he looks unreal.

“ Apologize” he orders again, this time you can hear the slightest little falter in his voice as he pumps in and out of you without mercy, still holding you down against the mattress by the neck.

Heck no.

You can’t risk this stopping now that you’re finally filled with him, now that you’re so close to getting what you’ve wanted all day.

You find the strength to shake your head no.

You catch a glimpse of indignation glinting in his eyes, something so fleeting it’s gone in an instant, but it’s impossible to feel scared when every single movement of his is sending shivers down your spine, and each thrust against your clit brings you one step closer to fucking paradise.

You’re already so close, and you’re so drunk on pleasure that you’re way past feeling shameful for it. You’re a babbling mess and you just love it.

“ Don’t you dare come” he threatens. His voice rasp, his breaths quicker and you feel something twist inside of you. He can’t do this to you. He can’t play with you like this. It’s simply evil.

“ Please” you whine, your voice a whisper, your eyes teary, his hold on your neck starting to limit the amount of air being able to reach your lungs. You feel like passing out like this would be heaven on earth. But you want to cum first.

He can’t rob you of it, not after all that you’ve let him do to you today. So you’ll come and hope for dear life to be able to refrain yourself from making it obvious.

You can feel your walls clenching around his cock, any thrust of his could be the last one, before-

Fuck. He can’t be serious.

He slipped out while you were almost there.

He’s nuzzling his nose against your neck, leaving little bites on your impatient skin as you cry, only able to complain.

“ I know you too well by now, love” he murmurs silently on your skin, his hand on your throat finally coming off, making you able to breathe in properly “ I can feel when you’re close, you can’t fool me”

He raises his silver-grey eyes upon you, and they’re filled with dark intents, so dangerous that your heart skips a beat.

“ Now apologize” his voice is firm, and his tone is so low it almost feels like a threat. This time, you know, if you don’t he’ll walk away on you. And you can’t have it.

“ I’m sorry” you finally give in, tears running down your cheeks, a pathetic mess, desperate to feel your man filling you up with his cum “ I’m sorry, Levi, please”

He sighs as if annoyed by all of this.

“ Will you ever disobey me again?”

“ Never, fuck- I swear” you’re too fast to shake your head no to that, giving him up any control he wanted over you and your body “ I will never touch myself again, I promise, Captain”

Much like the ‘Sir’ you had uttered before, this too sends a proud little sparkle flying in his irises, and at that he falls apart too, kissing your neck violently and sinking inside of you again, revealing himself just as lost in his desire as you are.

“ You’re so hot when you beg me” he chants upon your skin and you shiver as he bites your neck and sucks onto your tender skin, making you moan his name so loud you’re glad you don’t have any neighbors “ I love it, fuck- I love you”

It’s not often that Levi throws those words at you, and any time he does it feels like you’re golden in his hands, like you’re the last meal for a starved man.

His pace has become relentless, and it’s breaking you apart.

You meet his eyes, and this time around there’s no more coldness in them, no more anger or attitude of any kind, his features have softened underneath the burden of pleasure, and his eyes are so full of love it makes you hold your breath and cross your legs around his waist, keeping him so close you can feel his heart beating underneath his chest.

At times like this you can’t believe he’s yours, can’t believe you get to be fucked by the best soldier humanity has ever seen. You’re blessed. So what if you can’t touch yourself? All of this is just so worth it.

“ Can I kiss you now?” you ask, breathless.

He looks down on you with a hint of stupor, as if he were surprised that right now, a step away from your orgasm, you still look for his lips. And then he crashes down upon you, kissing you as if he hadn’t in years, as if there is no one else in the world.

You’re washed over by a sense of ecstasy, it runs throughout your whole body as you chase your relief, and when you finally break apart, you start shuddering against him, crying his name in his mouth, thanking him for everything he’s making you feel.

“ That’s it” you hear him in the background of your pleasure, praising you upon your feverish skin “ my good girl”

And then he kisses you again, this time violent, ravenous.

As you slowly come down from your high a sudden pain makes you realize he’s bit your lip, and by the drops of red staining his mouth when he parts from you you think he’s cut it, his hand clasping around your neck again, his brows furrowed, his eyes upon you.

“ You’re mine, yeah?”

He asks it with a verge of doubt, a vulnerability he rarely grants himself, usually when it concerns you.

It makes your heart ache and you kiss him again, the ferrous taste of your own blood corrupting the delicious one of his lips. You find it astounding that he even feels the need to ask you this, especially after all that has just occurred, the way you’ve let him dispose of you. Whose else would you ever be?

“ Only yours, Levi Ackerman, always”

“ Fuck- I’m so close” he pants.

“ Cum inside of me” you beg him quietly, and he sets you free of the hold on your neck and crashes down on you, slipping his arms under your shoulders and keeping you so close to him he could probably break you.

“ You want it in your pretty pussy, huh?” he asks, his voice croaking with pleasure, it almost breaks from how close he is.

“ Yes, Sir”

That seems to do it, ‘cause he lets out the kind of groan you’ve learned to recognize as he holds you to him, his movements erratic, his breaths hot and heavy against your neck, through your hair. He slams a hand on the headboard to keep himself steady, and you see his face twist deliciously as he’s overcome with pleasure.

“ Fuck” he swears as you feel his hot seed springing into you, filling you up as you’ve longed for, and it’s just perfect. You love feeling him emptying inside of you, it makes you feel fulfilled. It drives you.

He towers above you for a few more instants, his heavy breaths crashing down on you, lips still red from your blood. Then he comes collapsing beside you, still dressed in his uniform, even though some of his buttons have accidentally been undone in the heat of the moment.

You lay silently for a while, the high of passion slowly taming as you both wrap your heads around whatever has just happened. You’re kind of shocked. You honestly did not think you would be into any of what’s just occurred, but he’s just too hot to be denied.

“ Maybe I should try to masturbate more often” you casually throw the words in the silence of the room, hoping to elicit a laugh from him.

Long shot.

“ Don’t you dare” he threatens instead.

[back2bluesidex]

Cold War - JHS (PWP)

Pairing: Idol!Hoseok X Fem!reader

Theme: SMUT, PWP, NSFW (MDNI), some angst, established relationship au.

Summary: In which Hoseok fucks you for all the time he has lost due to his own mistakes.

Word count: 2196 (pure smut lol)

Warnings: explicit sex, rough sex, domish Hoseok, orgasm denial, cream pie, Hoseok ties her hands down y'all.

A/N: based on a request from the prompt list. The prompts are written in italics.

****************

There's a cold war that has been going on between you and Hoseok.

It was last week when he nonchalantly forgot that he promised you a piece of quality time and went out to meet his celebrity friends. When you tried to talk to him, he snapped. He shouted at you saying that you give him absolutely no space and privacy, that he has been feeling trapped with you in this house. It stung you hard when he said those words.

It was the first time in your two years of relationship when you saw Hoseok this much furious. And a person as lively as him, wouldn't say anything out of anger only. It made you wonder for how long he must have been feeling "trapped" to finally call you out like this.

It did hurt you like no other. You love him so much that you are ready to leave him for his good. And if he's really not happy with you then it's better for you to stay away.

So, you decided to give him all the space he deserves and wants. As a result, you barely show him your face, you've shifted to the guest bedroom leaving the shared bedroom all to him, you eat before he comes home, and leave for work early before he manages to wake up from sleep. He made no advances to talk to you even if you two live in the same house, so you concluded that he is fine and he finds it better and much less burdening without your presence in his life.

Nevertheless, you miss him and you want him to miss you too, to finally come to you. And if it doesn't go as you want then you will take the cue and leave him, even if it kills you inside and sucks the soul out of your body. It's better to get hurt than being an unwanted presence in someone's life.

However, what you don't know is that Hoseok is going crazy. Waking up to an empty bed without you beside him, coming back to home without you jumping on his arms, eating dinner alone, not being able to hold you close, inhaling your natural pheromones, venting out to you about his day, having a heart-to-heart conversation, melting his tiredness in your embrace, kissing you, groping you and fucking you till night cracks into dawn, everything has been taking a toll on him. He hasn't even seen your face properly since the night of the fight. He knows you are angry but at the same time it's the first time you have stayed angry with him for so long. And he simply doesn't know what to do about it.

But he knows what is the first step to take, which is apologizing to you for his behaviour. He promises he will melt your heart tonight. He will make sure at least you start to converse with him even if you stay cold towards him.

When Hoseok reaches home, he finds you in the kitchen. You have your earphones on. So, you don't notice him coming towards you.

You have been eating out since the fight in order to avoid your boyfriend. But your stomach started acting up against you. So you decided to cook at home instead. You are pouring chopped veggies into the boiling stew when you feel a hand on your right shoulder. You are not surprised, neither are you jumpy enough to hurt yourself. You know it's your boyfriend, his touch is tattooed in the back of your brain. You turn your face to meet his eyes. Giving him a small smile, you return to what you were doing.

"Hey," says Hoseok. But you don't hear him due to the high volume of your earphones.

Hoseok plucks an earphone out of your right ear and you turn your face to look at him again.

"You wanna say something?" You ask him flatly. Your tone is so flat, so devoid of emotions that it breaks Hoseok's heart. The lack of usual 'hey baby' or 'hey hobi' drops his heart to his stomach. But he knows it's his fault. So, he gives you his biggest possible smile as he backhugs you, burying his face on the crook of your neck.

He catches you off guard with his behaviour. It's not what you expected even though deep down this is exactly what you wanted all along. Your heart flutters at his cuteness but you are determined to make him play hard this time around.

"Baby, I'm so sorry for the way I behaved that night. I- I really didn't mean to say that stuff. I was just- frustrated." Hoseok mutters in your neck.

"It's okay. You don't have to apologize, rather thanks for being honest and showing me my place in your life." You reply immediately. You have practiced what to say in a time like this.

Hoseok detaches his face from your neck within an instant and turns you around all while making sure both of you are away from the stove.

"No, Y/N. I know I am the wrong one here but - trust me. You really are important. I can't imagine my life without you in it, baby. Only I know how I have been living these days, since you totally stopped talking to me." His eyes are glassy, you notice but stay reluctant.

"It's what you wanted, Hoseok. You wanted space, I am giving you so. There's absolutely no reason for you to suffer. You should be happy instead. And also, if you want me out of your life, tell me now and you'll see me gone before you wake up in the morning." You reply as calmly as possible.

"Y/N! How many times did I tell you not to talk about breaking up?" He shouts at you, yet again. But this time for a completely different reason. You see vulnerability in his eyes, the fear of losing you is there as well.

You know talking about break ups triggers Hoseok, and you are evil enough to use that now but there's no better way to give him a taste of his own medicine.

"But I feel like you want it. It feels like you want me gone." You reply, voice cracking a bit. No matter how much you tried to keep this hard exterior, the thought of losing Hoseok breaks you into half.

"No! Fucking no! Y/N"

"Show me that you mean it, Hoseok."

And within a heartbeat, you feel his lips crashing into yours. The kiss is urgent, passionate but harsh at the same time. Hoseok grabs the back of your head to push you towards himself even more. You don't kiss him back until grabs your ass and smacks it harsh enough to make you yelp.

You then kiss him back as your hands reach to play with his dark and silky hair. Hoseok leaves your neck and places both of his hands right behind your ass and pulls you up on him. You wrap your legs around his torso as he carries you towards your shared bedroom.

He drops you not-so-gently on the bed and starts looking for sometime in the drawer. Upon finding a piece of silk, what you recognise as your scarf, he marches towards you. His hands work fast as he strips you off and leaves you bare for his eyes. You don't utter a single word, you stay there as if none of it is mattering to you.

He then takes the scarf, pins both of your hands above your head and ties those with the scarf. That's when you open your mouth.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Trying to ruin you for every other guy. So that you can't even think of ending things with me." Hoseok says as he finishes tying you up. He then strips himself off. His cock stands half erected, you eye him shamelessly.

"I’m not letting you go until you’ve either drenched the sheets, or passed out.” Hoseok says briefly before he almost pounds on you and attacks your lips vigorously.

His hands run down through your sides and find your cunt. One of his hands grabs one of your tits as the other one runs up and down your slit. You start leaking right away.

His mouth leaves your lips as he places small kisses on your jawbone, your chin and then he bites down on your neck. You moan out loud.

His teeth worry the skin of your neck all while his fingers draw small circles on your clit. You suck in a deep breath, you know it's gonna be a long time tonight.

Hoseok's kisses trail down to your collarbone as two of his digits probs on your entrance. You hate to admit it but you are already getting weak. His mouth takes one of your nipples in as he bites down on it. You muffle a moan.

"Let me hear you, baby. Let me know how good I am making you feel." Hoseok says. His words slurs as his tongue plays with one of your hardened buds.

Without a warning he puts two of his digits inside your cunt. He doesn't waste time as he puts his fingers knuckle deep.

His muscle memory takes his fingers to that one place that gets you all weak. He presses down on your g-spot and you arch your back as a response. Your moans know no bound at this moment. You feel yourself getting close but you don't say anything, you don't wanna give him the privilege of denying your orgasm.

But Hoseok being Hoseok, knows your body too well, as a result he removes his fingers right when your walls starts to clench the fuck out of his fingers.

"You are cumming only once today and we are going to cum together." He grits through his teeth as he pumps his rock-hard cock. Ready to bottom you out.

He teases your slit by rubbing the tip of his cock on your clit. You hiss. This man really has the audacity of teasing you after denying your orgasm once already.

"Don't tease, Hoseok!" You warn him.

He smiles, as if it's no big deal but he complies with your warning.

He uses both of his hands to spread you open. Placing both of his hands on both of your thighs, he takes a look at your leaking core.

"You have deprived me of this pretty pussy for an entire week. All the week-worth fucking will be done today." Hoseok grunts as he takes his cock and puts that in, in one go.

"Ah! Hoseok!" You moan out loud. Your moans seem to encourage him to go fast from the very start so he starts rutting into you like an animal. You weren't ready for the pace. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out other than some gibberish. The bed starts to squeak violently, so much so that you think it might break.

His pace was too much already and now he started stimulating your clit with rough eight figures drawn by his thumb. You start to see stars. You are gonna cum within seconds if he keeps doing what he is doing.

"H- Hoseok, plea- please.. I can't take it! Go sl-slow" you manage to say somehow although you are drooling, crying and making a mess of yourself. Your tied hands takes your pain mixed pleasure to a different level as you can't even grab the sheets or scratch Hoseok to divert your mind.

Hoseok doesn't budge. Either he doesn't hear to you or he doesn't pay you any mind willingly. So you open your mouth again.

“I-I can’t take anymore, please.”

“You can take it, and you’ll do it graciously, one more complaint and I’ll edge you all month.” Your boyfriend growls. You open your mouth to say something but Hoseok shuts you up by placing his fingers on your tongue.

"Suck" he orders, you obey.

However, you feel yourself getting close once again and Hoseok too probably feels it. His thrusts lose rhythm and become rigid. You, too, start to clench around his shaft.

"Cum, baby. Cum on my cock." Hoseok breathes out. You cum immediately as he follows closely behind. He fills you up with his white, hot seed as you almost lose your consciousness.

His body falls on top of yours. You feel his cum all over your mound, thigh, and slit as his softening dick rubs against your body.

His chest presses onto yours as you both try to catch your breath. He unties your hand, throws the scraf away. He cups your cheek with one hand and stare into your eyes intently.

"I know having sex is not the right way to prove myself but… I promise, Y/N, I'll make it up for you. Just- just don't leave me. Please." Hoseok mutters right beside your ear. You know he is vulnerable right now and he isn't lying, not in a time like this. This intimacy isn't something you could lie beneath.

You smile at him and reply, "I won't."

His smile finally reaches to his ears for the first time in a week as he kisses your forehead as if to seal the deal.

****************

Taglist:

@phenomenalgirl9 @soraviie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @sukunabitch

[pedroscurls]

Guys Night Out

Character(s): Joel Miller (pre-apocalypse) and Reader (female, second person POV)  Summary: Tommy takes Joel to a strip club. Word Count: 7,160 (lol i got carried away) Author's Note: This is just pure filth lol, no context, no backstory, just Joel finally getting some much deserved release😉 Warning: smut!!! (lapdance, p in v, oral m receiving, woman on top, doggy style, brief daddy kink, dirty talk) Songs: Pony by Ginuwine // Untitled (How Does it Feel) by D'Angelo (bold+italics = song lyrics)

“Come on, Joel,” Tommy said. “It’s just one night out and I know Sarah’s sleeping over at a friend’s. What are you gonna be doin’ all night?”

“I don’t know, Tommy, maybe actually get some rest?” Joel said, lugging his tools into the bed of his truck. He knew that Tommy was right; he definitely needed to let loose and have some fun, especially since he had been working nonstop for the past few weeks. 

“Sounds boring.” 

“It ain’t boring.”

“Ah, so you’re just an old man then,” Tommy smirked.

Joel narrowed his eyes and gently slapped his younger brother at the back of his head. “I ain’t old and you know it.”

“Sure beats me,” Tommy replied, rubbing the back of his head as he quietly chuckled. 

Joel sighed and looked over at Tommy. “Where y’all going anyway?” 

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean you’ll come out tonight?”

“I’ll think about it.” 

“How about this,” Tommy began, climbing into the passenger side of the truck while Joel climbed into the driver’s side. “I buy your first round.” 

Joel scoffed, starting the car. “Will I be able to choose what I wanna drink or are you gonna be doin’ that for me?” 

“Whatever you want, brother,” Tommy grinned. “First round’s on me.” 

Joel shrugged. “Alright, maybe. We’ll see.” 

“You won’t regret it.” 

“I’m thinkin’ I might,” he replied. 

“You’ve been working your ass off, Joel.” Tommy said, glancing over at his older brother as he began to drive. “You deserve a night out for yourself.” 

“As long as you promise we ain’t gettin’ in any trouble tonight,” Joel responded. 

“Me? Trouble?” Tommy feigned a gasp, followed by another laugh. “Fine, no trouble.”

“Alright, I’ll see ya tonight.” 

—

“Tommy, what in the hell?” Joel said, climbing out of his truck to see that Tommy had given him directions to a strip club. This wasn’t what he was expecting and it certainly wasn’t something he was used to. He knew that Tommy was the more outgoing, more friendly, more charming of the two, but he just didn’t know that this was the place Tommy wanted to be at when he said it was going to be a guys night out. 

“What?” Tommy chuckled. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“We’re at a goddamn strip club.”

“I know,” he replied. “I’m the one who gave you the directions.” 

“What are we doing at a strip club, Tommy?” 

He grinned, clasped a hand on Joel’s shoulder and led him inside. “Lettin’ loose.”

Joel immediately felt out of place once he walked into the strip club. It was definitely a sight that he wasn’t used to: plenty of men surrounding the stage with stripper poles, countless women (some even topless) dancing and roaming the floor to men who wanted their attention. Joel would be lying if he said that he regularly had sex; in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he did have sex. 

Sarah and work were his main priorities and anything that didn’t involve either of the two didn’t seem important to him. 

But now, as he followed Tommy to the bar, he found himself yearning for contact, for a woman to give him attention, for release of all the pent-up emotions he didn’t realize he was bottling in. 

“Alright, what you wanna drink?” Tommy asked.

Joel cleared his throat, shrugging a shoulder. “I’ll just get a beer.” 

Tommy looked over at Joel and let out a laugh, watching how uncomfortable his older brother looked. “Relax,” he said. “You look like you’re about to keel over.”

Joel narrowed his eyes and tightened his jaw. “I was expecting a bar, not a goddamn strip club.” 

“What’s the difference?”

Joel shook his head. “You know damn well what the difference is, Tommy. Is this where you usually go whenever you go out?” 

“Not always,” Tommy chuckled. “But I wanted to bring you here because I feel like it’d help you let loose. You’re always so uptight, so focused on everyone else but you.” 

“I got a kid to look after. If I’m uptight, it’s because I need to make sure she’s taken care of.” 

“Right,” Tommy said, nodding. “Makes sense. I know Sarah’s your world, Joel. I ain’t sayin’ that’s a bad thing. I’m just sayin’ you gotta do some things for yourself once in a while.” 

Joel sighed, taking the beer from the bartender. Again, he knew Tommy was right. He was probably working himself to an early grave with the amount of hours he had put into work; even Sarah noticed how busy he had seemed. 

“Fine,” Joel said. “So, what do we do here? Take a seat and just hand out dollar bills?”

Tommy laughed. “That’s the premise of it, yeah.” 

Joel’s attention moved from his brother to someone who had come out from behind the stage. You were (obviously) wearing a skimpy bikini, almost too thin and revealing to even be considered clothes. Your hair was down and wavy, but as you walked towards the bar, there had been something different Joel noticed. Your eyes lit up and your smile managed to capture and hold his attention longer than the other women who were dancing or walking from table to table. 

You seemed genuine, more real compared to the other women and Joel found himself captivated. His eyes ran along your frame, watching as your hips swung with each step and when you met his eyes, Joel immediately looked away, almost like he was embarrassed to have been caught that he was obviously ogling you.

Tommy saw Joel’s eyes intently focused on you and he couldn’t help but laugh. When you had come closer to the bar and leaned against it, Tommy was the one to strike up a conversation. 

“Hi there,” Tommy said, taking a sip of drink. 

“Hello,” you smiled, looking up at Tommy. “How are y’alls night going?” 

“Going great now,” he winked. “Right, Joel?” 

Joel cleared his throat. He nodded and raised his glass in your direction. “We’re doing fine, ma’am.”

Ma’am? Joel was kicking himself with all the polite pleasantries, but the way you were staring intently at him had him fumbling over his words. 

Tommy snickered and shook his head. “Excuse my brother. He’s not– This ain’t usually his scene.”

“Oh? First time?” You asked, tilting your head with a smile. 

“Somethin’ like that,” Tommy chuckled. 

“I just ain’t used to–”

“Beautiful, naked women?” You interrupted with a grin. “That’s okay. It ain’t for everyone.”

Tommy let out a laugh and Joel felt even more embarrassed, but as you continued to look at him, he somehow felt himself relax. The fact that you weren’t throwing yourself at them like the other women who were probably instructed to do so provided a sense of comfort. 

“Well, I’m Sunshine,” you smiled. “If y’all need anythin’, just let me know. I’ll be happy to help.” 

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. When you walked away, Joel’s eyes fell to your backside. He bit the inside of his cheek and watched as you looked over your shoulder, meeting his eyes with a smile. 

“Sunshine ain’t her real name, right?” Joel asked. 

“Of course not,” Tommy chuckled. “By the way, ma’am?” 

“Oh, shut up.”

—

Throughout the night, Joel followed Tommy’s lead, but all he could think about was you. He had only seen you that one time at the beginning of the night, but hadn’t seen you since. That was until Tommy had excused himself to the bathroom and came back out with you walking alongside him. Joel straightened up in his seat and glanced over in your direction before Tommy took his seat back next to him. 

“I got you a little somethin’,” Tommy whispered, nudging Joel’s arm. 

“Tommy–”

“Joel, right?” You smiled, looking down at him. He was definitely one of the better looking patrons that came in and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t attracted to him. 

“That’s right,” Joel nodded. 

“Wanna come with me?” you asked, biting your lower lip. 

“Oh,” Joel furrowed a brow and glanced over at Tommy who gave him a smirk. “Where to?” 

“Let’s find out.” You gently took his hand, feeling the rough calluses. You had to wonder what he did for a living, but you assumed he worked a lot with his hands. They were even much larger than yours too and you wondered what else about him was big. 

“Tommy…” 

“I won’t bite,” you teased. “Unless you like that.” 

Joel cleared his throat and looked over at Tommy.

“It’s just one private dance, Joel. Relax,” Tommy said.

Joel stood up and looked down at you. This time, he caught you looking at him from top to bottom and it gave him a surge of confidence. He wondered if you found him attracted too, but maybe this was all part of the job: feign interest to get more tips. Eagerly though, Joel followed you towards the back of the room and watched as you entered another smaller room, much more private and distant from the front of the strip club. It was also much quieter, darker, but he can still visibly make you out. 

“So, Joel,” you said, shutting the door behind you both. “Is this okay?” 

“I– Uh,” he bit his lower lip. “I don’t see why not, darlin’. Is this okay with you?” 

You smiled at that. Not many men would be so polite and thoughtful as Joel and you found it endearing, charming actually. So, you walked towards him, entering his personal space until you were just a few inches away from him. He towered over you, but there was an aura about him that you found to be comforting, safe even. 

“More than okay with me.” Then, you moved your hands to his chest and gently pushed him until he was sitting on the sofa. Joel looked up at you, biting his lower lip in anticipation. He tried to remind himself that it would be absolutely embarrassing if he were to get an erection especially since it wasn’t going to lead to anything. It was just a dance. One dance and that was it. 

Or so he thought. 

Joel watched you turn the music on. It filtered the entire room, shutting out the rest of the people from the outside as he remained completely focused on you and the way your hips moved expertly to the beat of the song. 

It really had been such a long time since he had any connection with the opposite sex. Joel found himself craving more and more of you specifically, especially with the way your eyes locked onto his. It made him feel special, like no one else in this strip club was significant enough to have your attention. 

But here he was, eyes locked with yours as you moved your body to the beat of the song. 

Each step you took, you found yourself in a heated gaze with him. His eyes were piercing through your soul, looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and it gave you the confidence to continue, to prolong this dance as long as you could. 

If you're horny let's do it

Ride it, my pony

Slowly, you straddled his lap and moved your hands to rest on the back of the couch. You heard him let out a quiet grunt once you were on his lap and you tried your hardest not to falter when you felt his bulge press firmly against your heat. 

Still, your eyes remained locked with his and Joel kept his hands on his sides, not sure what was appropriate or what was allowed. He certainly didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. Joel felt your hips roll against him, applying just the right amount of pressure against the center of his jeans.

My saddle's waiting

Come and jump on it

Your hips lifted from his own, but your body continued to move. You accentuated each move and gently reached down to grab his hands, allowing him to place them on your hips. Your hands moved from the back of the couch to his chest, running them slowly up and down and feeling the muscle from beneath your fingertips. 

Joel gripped your hips, fingertips digging gently into your skin as he allowed your body to move firmly against his. The feeling of your hands running along him made him even more excited and when you finally broke eye contact, Joel took this opportunity to watch your body move expertly to the song. 

You leaned forward, lips hovering near his ear as your hips rolled against him, planting yourself back against his lap. “You enjoyin’ yourself?” you whispered.

Joel groaned quietly in response and held you in place for a moment, pulling back to look up at you. “Oh, Sunshine, you have no idea.”

The way your name left his lips suddenly got you aroused and you felt a wetness settle between your legs. This was highly unprofessional, but there was just something about him that made you want more. 

You stood from his lap and bit your lower lip. You teased the string of your bikini, watching as his eyes raked over your frame. When he saw you reach for the string, watching you teasingly pull it undone, Joel had to compose himself. In just a few seconds, your chest would be exposed and part of him wanted to stop this, wanted to take you back home so that he could finish the only way he knew how, but he had to remind himself that to you, this was just a job. 

But as he was anticipating your top to fall from your body, it never came. Instead, Joel watched as you moved your hands to his knees and up his thighs before you turned around and gave him a good view of your backside. Joel grunted lowly, which the music managed to hide, as he continued to watch your hips move, your butt moving to firmly plant itself against his lap again. Joel felt his lower half throb and stir awake every time you met his eyes, every time your hips moved against his. 

And as you looked over your shoulder at him with your lower lip between your teeth, flashing him an innocent look, Joel felt himself almost lose his composure. 

He wanted you bad. 

Just once if I have the chance

The things I would do to you

You and your body

Your hands remained on his knees as your hips rolled against his. It was obvious that you could feel his throbbing erection against you and while normally that would be a sign for you to end the dance, you found it hard to stop yourself. 

You wanted more of him. 

Joel felt comfortable enough to allow his hands to roam your body, so he ran his hands up and down your sides as your hips moved against his own. He had to wonder if you were getting excited too, if you were getting wet at the feel of him and part of him was hoping that you would make the first move and tell him to meet you after work. 

That maybe he wasn’t as crazy as he thought to think that only he was feeling some sort of connection with you. 

If you’re horny let's do it

Ride it my pony

As the song came to an end, Joel found himself dreading the moment you had to get up and tell him that this was over. Instead, he was surprised when you stood from his lap only to straddle him again, except this time, your face mere inches from his and your chest pressing against his own.

God, Joel wanted you so badly. 

“So,” you whispered, lips hovering against his own. “What’s the verdict?”

Joel licked his lower lip. “I think you ruined me, darlin’.”

You let out a quiet giggle as your hands moved to his shoulders. “That so?”

Joel nodded. “I don’t think anyone can top that, Sunshine.” Then, he realized that the feeling was mutual. Once your name left his lips, he felt you squeeze your legs together while you remained on his lap and a quiet whimper escaped your lips. This gave Joel another inch of confidence as his hands moved to your hips. 

“If this ain’t professional, let me know, but…” Joel began. “I wanna take you home.” 

You bit your lower lip. “This never happens. I usually have a rule and–”

“I understand,” Joel interrupted, feeling embarrassed that he even suggested something so crazy. “This is your job and–”

“But I want you,” you said, interrupting him. 

“You do?” Joel asked, surprised. 

You leaned forward, whispering quietly into his ears. “I’m practically soaked, Joel.”

Joel growled at that and pulled back to look at you. “Can I take you home?” 

You smiled. There it was again. So polite and gentleman-like. You were sure that if it was any other man, they would have taken you right then and there, but Joel… Joel was different. 

“I’m off in a couple of hours.” 

Joel nodded. “I can wait.”

—

Two hours later Joel was outside in the parking lot, waiting for you. He had told Tommy exactly what happened and his younger brother was all too eager to let this happen, to leave him here without a ride. Joel wondered if you would change your mind, but when he saw you come out of the building dressed in leggings and an oversized hoodie, he found himself even more attracted to you now than when you were wearing that skimpy bikini. 

“Wow,” he called out. 

You smiled and walked over to him. You were sure that once he saw you dressed in an outfit that wasn’t revealing or without any makeup that he was going to change his mind. Besides, it helped that the only thing you were wearing earlier was a very tiny bikini that didn’t leave much to the imagination. So, you expected him to change his mind, that he didn’t want to take you home after realizing that you weren’t what he wanted anymore. 

But the way he was looking at you told you otherwise. Even now as your entire body was covered up, your hair in a messy bun, and bare faced, he was still looking at you like you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“Stop,” you blushed. 

“What?” Joel smiled. 

“You’re looking at me.”

He chuckled. “You’re nice to look at.”

“Even without the makeup and tiny bikini?”

“You know,” Joel smiled. “I think I like you better this way.” 

You blushed and set your bag into the backseat of your car. Joel gently took your hand and turned you around to face him. He bit his lower lip as he looked deeply into your eyes. 

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he began. “We can just go our separate ways and–”

You interrupted him with a kiss, lips pressing against his as you stood on your toes. Joel melted into you as one hand moved to your hip and the other to cup your cheek. But before it could go any further, you pulled away.

“I want this. I want you.” 

Joel nodded and leaned down to peck your lips. “Good because I want you too, darlin’.”

The drive was short to Joel’s house and you found it hard to focus when you felt his eyes on you as you drove. You spared him a few glances and while there was a look of hunger in his eyes, there was also a sense of appreciation; Joel looked at you like you mattered, like you were special, like you were the only woman who deserved his attention. 

You pulled into his driveway and glanced over at him. When he climbed out of your car, you saw him rush around to meet you by opening your door. He looked at you with a small smile as he extended a hand out for you. You felt butterflies swarming within you and part of you hoped that whatever was going to happen next would happen again. Sure, you hadn’t had sex with him (yet), but you were absolutely sure that you were going to want more of him. 

“You always this polite?” You asked, climbing out of your car with his help. 

Joel chuckled and led you inside. “Only to the pretty ones.” 

You bit your lower lip and felt a blush creep up along your cheeks. Once inside, you glanced around and immediately felt how warm and cozy it was. You saw a few photographs with Joel and Tommy, but when you saw a younger girl, you glanced over at him. You weren’t sure if this was only going to be a one time thing, so you didn’t bother to ask, didn’t bother to pry out personal information from him.

“You want anythin’ to drink, darlin’?” 

You nodded. “Sure. Water’s fine.” 

Joel gave you a quick kiss and walked down the hall to the kitchen. You followed him eagerly as your eyes still took in your surroundings. This was so much different than your small apartment. 

“My daughter’s at a sleepover,” Joel said, handing you a glass of water. 

Well, that answered your question. You took the glass from him and took a sip, looking up at him. “So, you’re a dad.” 

“I am.”

“Daddy,” you teased. “It fits you.”

Joel narrowed his eyes and let his eyes rake over your frame. Despite the clothes that you were wearing, all he could imagine was that skimpy bikini you were wearing and how you had almost removed your top for him earlier that night. He gently moved his hands to your hips, backing you into the counter, trapping you between his body and the kitchen counter. 

“You’re trouble, ain’t ya?” he whispered. 

“You want me to be?” You took another sip of your water before setting it aside. Slowly, you moved your hands to wrap around his shoulders, looking up at him. “I can be whatever you want me to be, Joel.”

Joel let out a quiet growl and leaned down to brush his lips against yours. “So, if I ask you to bend over for me, you’d do it?”

“Happily,” you replied, biting your lower lip. 

“And if I ask you to get down on your knees, you’d do that too?” 

You nodded, feeling the wetness pool between your legs almost immediately. “Oh yeah… And if you asked me to beg, I’d do that without question also.”

Joel groaned and moved his lips to your jawline, gently nipping along the way as he moved to the side of your neck. You whimpered, feeling his beard scratch against you. Your eyes fell shut and you tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck for him. His lips moved along your skin, dragging teeth and tongue across plenty of hot spots that you didn’t realize you even had. 

You would be lying if you said your sex life was exciting, but the majority of the time, the men you had been with always seemed to only care about themselves. Though, it seemed like Joel was the type of man to cater to you and that brought an intense excitement that settled in the pit of your stomach. 

Joel moved his lips to your earlobe, gently nipping as he brought you flush against him. You could feel his bulge from beneath his jeans as you rolled your hips impatiently against him, needing contact and friction. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, darlin’,” Joel whispered huskily. “I’ll have you beggin’ for more.” 

You moaned quietly and gently pushed him away. He looked down at you with darkened eyes as you watched him reach down to squeeze himself. Clearing your throat, you grabbed his hand and led him back down towards the hall.

“Where’s your room?”

“Upstairs.” 

Nodding, you led him upstairs and once at the top, allowed Joel to lead the way. Once inside his room, you shut the door behind the both of you. Glancing around, you noticed how spacious it was and how big his bed was too. Everything in his room was neat, but his bed was messy. You had to wonder if he had done this often; you didn’t see any pictures of any women and he didn’t wear a wedding ring, so you assumed he was single. 

Joel must have caught on to what you were thinking because he stepped up behind you and rested his hands on your hips. 

“I haven’t been with anyone in a while,” he whispered. 

“What’s a while?”

“Years,” Joel replied. 

“And you’re choosin’ me?” you asked, turning around to face him. 

Joel chuckled and nodded. “You did a number on me, Sunshine. That dance earlier tonight did a number on me. I haven’t wanted anyone more than I want you right now.” 

You smiled and leaned up to peck his lips lightly. “Condom?” 

Joel nodded and pulled away to walk towards his drawer. You could hear him rummaging through it before he pulled one out and held it up in your direction with a grin. 

“You want another dance, Joel?” you asked, biting your lower lip.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He simply nodded and sat at the edge of his bed, looking up at you in anticipation. You let out a quiet chuckle and looked around him, taking note of the radio on top of his dresser. Turning it on, you smiled immediately at the song that came on. 

Girl, it's only you

Have it your way

And if you want you can decide

And if you'll have me

I can provide everything that you desire

Slowly, you grabbed the end of your hoodie and pulled it over your head, revealing that you weren’t wearing a bra. So, when Joel finally took notice of your exposed chest, he sucked in a breath and moved a hand to the center of his pants, palming it slowly. 

“Fuck,” he whispered. 

You smiled and tucked your thumbs into the waistband of your leggings, slowly pulling them down your legs. He watched you kick the fabric aside as you stood in front of him with only a white, lacey thong on. 

Joel watched your hips slowly move from side to side, but he felt a bit overwhelmed. He didn’t know where to look; you were so beautiful and he found himself looking at you from top to bottom repeatedly. 

Though, when he saw you drop to your knees and slowly crawl towards him, he let out a quiet grunt in anticipation. He shifted at the edge of the bed, keeping his eyes locked onto yours as you sat up on your knees between his legs. He felt your hands run up his shins to his knees and thighs before your fingers quickly worked to undo his belt and button of his jeans. 

Joel unzipped his pants and pulled it down his legs, kicking them to the side as his member pressed against the fabric of his loose boxers. He reached the end of his shirt and pulled it over his head, tossing it over his shoulder as his eyes remained focused on you. 

You bit your lower lip as you watched him undress. The wetness between your legs were becoming increasingly noticeable as your eyes raked over his frame. He was certainly built, muscles flexed in his arms and chest and as your eyes deviated to his manhood, you just knew that he was big. Probably bigger than you ever had. 

Say, if you get a feeling

Feeling that I am feeling

Won't you come closer to me, baby?

You've already got me right where you want me, baby

Your hands moved along his thighs as your fingertips pushed the fabric of his boxers further up his thighs. From this angle, you could see a glimpse of his member and you bit your lower lip in anticipation. 

“I’m on my knees,” you whispered, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss on his bulge. “At your mercy, Joel…”

Joel groaned and moved a hand to cup your cheek, his fingers curling to grasp your hair. He pulled you back gently and used his other hand to gently bring you to your feet. 

“I want that dance first,” he smiled. As you stood between his legs, Joel ran his lips along your abdomen, placing gentle kisses as he looked up at you. He was at eye level with your exposed breasts and he leaned forward to wrap his lips around a nipple, watching as your hands immediately moved to rest on his shoulders. Joel groaned against you, flicking his tongue repeatedly against your as it erected within his lips. 

“Joel…” you whimpered, fingernails digging into his skin. “I– I can’t dance if you keep doin’ that.” 

Joel smiled and pulled away. “Okay, okay. I couldn’t resist. You’re goddamn beautiful.”

You blushed and allowed yourself to listen to the music, your body immediately swaying slowly to the slow tempo beat. You straddled his hips, arms wrapping around his shoulders as you firmly pressed yourself against the center of his boxers. The thin fabric of your thong and his boxers separated the both of you, but it gave you a glimpse of how aroused he was. 

Slowly, you rolled your hips, feeling him pulsate from beneath the fabric. You groaned quietly, keeping your eyes focused on him as you leaned forward to press your forehead against his. Joel’s hands moved to your hips, lowering them until he was grasping each butt cheek in his large hands. He gave your backside a hard squeeze, bringing you firmly against him with each roll of your hips.

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

Say, I wanna know how does it feel

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

Joel would be lying if he said that he couldn’t feel the heat coming from between your legs. With each roll of your hips, he could feel your wetness stain his boxers and it only excited him even further. He knew that it would be tough to let you go after tonight; Joel wasn’t the type of person to sleep with multiple people, which is probably why he didn’t do this often. 

He hadn’t even gotten a taste of you yet and already, Joel was planning the next time he was going to have you over. You piqued his interest in a way he never felt before and while he wasn’t sure what that really meant, Joel was leaning into this entire experience. He knew for sure that he would never hear the end of it from Tommy. 

“Joel,” you whispered, letting out a quiet moan. “Tell me what to do.” 

Joel smiled to himself and gently moved his lips to your neck, watching as you arched into him. Your hips rolled against him, slowing it down enough to feel the outline of his length pressing against your clothed sex. 

“Get on your knees,” Joel said, looking up at you. 

Your eyes lit up in excitement and stood up from his lap, slowly lowering yourself on your knees in front of him. You watched him reach for his boxers and once he lowered them down his legs to reveal his erected manhood, you immediately squeezed your legs together. Clearing your throat, you ran your hands up his legs, inching closer and closer to his member. 

Joel groaned in anticipation. He felt his member twitch as your hands moved closer to him and once he felt your hand wrap around his length, he let out a quiet moan. Joel bit his lower lip as he watched your hand stroke his base eagerly and once he saw you lean forward to wrap your lips around him, Joel was sure that he would have exploded right there. 

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

Say, I wanna know how does it feel

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

Your hand could barely wrap around Joel’s girth and when your lips finally wrapped around him, you had to remind yourself to remain calm, to take it slow despite your urge to see how much you could take him before your gag reflex kicked in. 

You saw how his head tilted back and his eyes fell shut at the sensations you were giving him. He was naked before you and while you had his member in your mouth, you felt so much more aroused and excited. He obviously took care of his body, but he wasn’t overly ripped either. He was…

Perfect. 

Your saliva was coating his member as you began to bob your head up and down, finding the right rhythm with the strokes your hand was doing at the base of his member. You gasped when you felt him reach down to grab a fistful of your hair, pulling you away from his length with a quiet pop. 

He was looking down at you with dark, hooded eyes and chest heaving up and down rapidly as his member stood erect between his legs. You licked your lips and looked up at him, flashing him a small smile. 

“Now that I don’t mind begging to do.” you smiled. 

Joel growled and helped you to your feet. He stood with you and he looked at you from top to bottom before his hands grabbed the fabric of your thong before ripping it in half. You squeaked in surprise and stood in front of him, completely exposed and bare for his lingering eyes. 

“You’re wet for me, ain’t you, darlin’?” he asked. His hand remained in your hair and he gently squeezed to make you tilt your head back for him. Joel grunted, using his free hand to move between your legs, running his finger along the length of your sex. He leaned down and whispered huskily, “Oh, you’re soaked.”

“Told you,” you whimpered. “Joel, please…” 

Joel grinned against you and gently placed you on his bed, watching as you immediately spread your legs for him. He growled at the sight of you and settled himself between you, running his fingertips along the inside of your legs.

I'd love to make you wet

In between your thighs 'cause

I love when it comes inside you

I get so excited when I'm around you, baby

Joel was leaning back against his knees as your legs remained parted for him. His body did a great job with keeping your legs apart, especially when he ran his thumb along the length of your sex, seeing you squirm against his touch. He found your clit and slowly rubbed it in circles, watching as your back arched at the sudden sensation.

The tip of his member brushed against you, causing you both to let out a quiet groan. Joel didn’t falter for a second as his thumb continued to rub your clit in circles, applying pressure as he continued. With his other hand, he reached down and ran it along your abdomen and up to your breasts, massaging one into the pit of his palm. Slowly, he moved his thumb from your clit and slowly inserted one finger past your depths. Immediately, he felt your wetness and the tightness of your walls surrounding his single digit. 

“Joel!” You moaned aloud, moving your hands to grip at his sheets. Your eyes squeezed shut as your back arched, trying to squirm away from him. 

He grinned and moved his hand from your breast to drape over your waist, keeping you pinned against the bed as he began to move his finger in and out of you at a rapid pace. The sound of your wetness was heard, even over the quiet background noise of the radio. Joel licked his lips and slowly pulled away from you, bringing his finger to his lips. He sucked your wetness from his finger and grabbed the condom, tearing the wrapper open before he slid it over his throbbing length.

You slowly pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist once more. Joel was looking up at you with anticipation and you reached between your bodies to grasp his member, lining it up with your sex. You lifted your hips and kept your eyes focused on him before slowly lowering yourself onto his manhood, feeling a slight tinge of pain of his girth stretching you from the inside. 

Joel groaned at your tightness, his hands moving to your hips and giving it a tight squeeze.

“You are tight,” he growled.

“Maybe you’re just big,” you teased, feeling so full of him as you remained still on his lap once he filled you to the hilt. 

“Mmm,” he replied. “I’d say it’s both, baby.” 

Slowly, you rolled your hips against his own and allowed yourself to feel every inch of his length. Your hands moved to rest on his chest as you felt your walls slowly begin to give way to the size of him. 

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

Say, I wanna know how does it feel

How does it feel?

How does it feel?

“Joel,” you moaned, eyes falling shut as you began to lift your hips up and down his member. Your walls remained tight around him, milking him with each movement. 

Joel groaned quietly, fingertips digging into your hips as he helped you move along his length. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you; he knew how good of a dance you were, how well your hips moved, but as he remained buried deep within your depths, it gave him a different experience altogether. 

He held your hips still, giving himself enough space to begin thrusting upwards. Joel focused solely on you, how your eyes remained shut, mouth agape with moans continuously escaping your lips, and how your hands had squeezed his shoulders to hold onto him. With each upward thrust, Joel watched your breasts bounce, especially as his thrusts began to become a bit more erratic, a bit more rough. 

“Fuck,” you moaned aloud, slamming yourself down onto him as you felt yourself suddenly reach your climax. You collapsed down onto him, body trembling as your walls tightened even further around him. “Joel… Oh my god…”

He groaned at the feel of your walls tightening around him, wrapping around him in such a tight vice that Joel knew he was close too. It had been such a long time since he had sex that even he was surprised he was lasting as long as he was. 

Suddenly, Joel pulled out of you and scrambled to his feet. You watched him carefully, body feeling limp and your legs feeling shaky. Joel turned you so that you were on all fours which gave you the much needed rest as you pressed your cheek against the mattress. Your backside remained in the air and when Joel grabbed your hips to pull back against him, you were sure that another orgasm was fast approaching. 

Joel grasped his member and slid himself past your folds and into your tight depths. He let out a groan once he felt your warmth and wetness encompass his length, taking his time to slowly push himself further into you. He watched as your hands immediately moved to reach back, gently pushing at his lower abdomen as a sign that you probably couldn’t handle another. Joel took this as a challenge and grabbed your hands, holding your wrists and placing them firmly against your lower back. 

Now, you were definitely at his mercy. 

As Joel continued his slow thrusts, he heard your moans filter throughout his room, bouncing off the walls and mixing in with the sound of the radio and the sound of skin slapping against each other. His hips slowly rolled against yours, pulling out to his tip before he slammed himself back into you. Joel did this for a few more thrusts before he began to quicken his pace. He couldn’t hold it in any longer; he was about ready to burst. 

Joel’s thrusts were erratic, his hips pounding into yours from behind as he kept a tight hold on your wrists. His pace was frantic, brutal, merciless as he used your tight walls to bring him closer and closer to his own release. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” he groaned, releasing your hands to hold onto your hips. “I’m gonna come, baby…”

You looked over your shoulder at him and bit your lower lip, meeting his thrusts with a push back of your own hips. He kept his eyes focused on you and slammed into you roughly, causing you to flatten onto the bed as he finally came. Joel’s body shuddered at his climax, panting against you. 

He pressed soft and lazy kisses along the back of your shoulder before pulling out with a groan. Joel removed the condom and tied a knot before tossing it in the trash. He then moved to lie next to you, his eyes raking over your backside before you turned to lie on your back, giving him another great view of your exposed front.

“You’re perfect,” Joel blurted, looking over at you. 

Smiling, you leaned over to press a gentle kiss on his lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever–”

“Been fucked like that before?” he grinned. 

You licked your lower lip and nodded. “You definitely know what you’re doin’.” 

“Could say the same to you, Sunshine.” Joel winked. 

You looked up at him and quietly asked, “Should I go?” 

“What?” Joel asked, surprised. 

“I mean, do you want me to go?”

Immediately, he shook his head and wrapped his arms around your frame. “Hell no. I’m thinkin’ I should keep you.” 

You blushed and looked into his eyes. “So, this isn’t just a one time thing?” 

“Do you want it to be?” 

You shook your head. “No… I’d like to do this more often.”

Joel smiled and leaned down to capture your lips. Slowly, you found yourself leaning into him, his lips moving expertly with yours that it caused a sudden surge of excitement through your veins. 

“Then, it’s settled,” Joel began. “I’m keepin’ you, darlin’.” He leaned down and moved his lips from your own to your jawline and the side of your neck. Slowly, Joel settled himself between your legs as his lips moved further down your body. 

“Joel…” you whimpered. 

“I’m keepin’ you all to myself,” he murmured against you, nipping at your skin. “And I’ve been wantin’ to taste you all night long.” Joel was at eye level with your sex, running the length of his tongue along you which caused a loud moan to escape your lips. 

He pulled away briefly to look up at you, smiling to himself. While he hadn’t expected this night to go this way, he certainly wasn’t complaining. Joel was hooked and there was no way he was ever letting you go now. 

[joels-shitty-puns]

The Key To Your Heart - Track 9

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Musician!Reader

Series Summary: After writing your feelings for Pedro into a song, it gains a lot more popularity than expected. Ultimately it brings both criticism and support, with new possibilities around the corner.

Series Warnings: 18+ only (MDNI). Panic/Anxiety attack. Alluding to sexual scenarios. Kissing. Fat shaming, name calling. Mentions of food, weight loss, weight gain, dieting, weighing, potential eating disorder, food guilt. Potential for puns/dad jokes (name of my blog, and the fic) should give that away. This is my first fic which should be its own warning, lol. Also some cursing. Mentions of masturbation (f) maybe more smut later idk. Sadness, reader is pretty depressed. Poor body image. Rude people. Bullying-ish and just lack of support? Anxiety. Age gap! Reader is in her mid 20's, Pedro is current age (48).

Other stuff: Reader is plus sized. AFAB. Inexperienced. Also has a dog, but you can pretend it is another creature probably. Further, in case it isn't clear, italics almost always are the reader's inner thoughts!

Word Count: 2.7K

Series List: Here!

Miss Chapter 8? Here!

Hi everyone!! I really don't feel great about this chapter, I'm sorry if it sucks. I kinda just want to get it out there though because I don't see my brain thinking up anything better. A lot of writer's block surrounding this scene. Anywho, hopefully next chapter will be better, but I still hope you like it. Although we allude to a little bit of sexual situations now that they are together, I likely will avoid explicit smut being that Pedro is a real human and I am a guilty, guilty human for writing any smut at all. I don't want to offend Pedro (not that he'd ever see it anyway, I am delusional), but I also know people find real person fiction uncomfy as a whole. That being said, I think this story may be coming to a close pretty soon. I plan to have maybe one more full storyline chapter, and at least one little side bonus chapter :) Please let me know what you think in the comments, or DM me if you wanna chat! I love hearing all your thoughts. Thank you for reading and hanging in here with me.

Before the screen even had a chance to load, you canceled the request. Nervously looking at Pedro, he held your hand under the table. “What is it?” he asked gently.

“I just realized,” you replied. “What if they ask about us? About those pictures? What should I say?”

Pedro answered with a gentle stroke of his thumb on your cheek. “Whatever you feel comfortable with. I'm sure I'll be fine with whatever you say, baby. I know your privacy is important to you, and I trust you. I'm all in with you.”

“Okay.” You took a deep breath and once again began the stream.

“Live in 3…”

“2…”

“1…”

The fans began to file in, and before you knew it, you had thousands of viewers. Opting to start with your screen covered, you wanted to give an intro first before the big reveal. 

It wasn't long before the comments flowed across the screen. 

You took a deep breath, squeezing Pedro’s hand, and jumping in. “Hi everyone! It's me… a lot has been happening lately and I decided it might be time to show a little more of myself.”

-“First!”

-“Did she mean to start a live video ??"

-"Hiii! I'm a big fan"

-“Is she there??”

-“Do you guys see anything?”

“So… Here's me.” You turned on your camera, waving at the screen, your stomach twisting in deeper knots.

-“No fucking way.”

-“!?!!!!!”

-“SCREAMING”

“Hi… Some of you might know me, some might be surprised. But this is me. This is the girl behind the music.”

The comments flooded in, entirely too fast for you to read.

“I want to thank all of you for being fans and listening to my songs. It really means a lot and I hope you liked the album. Your support blows me away, especially with what little information about myself I've given.”

More comments.

“Well, I uh… guess I should read some of these comments and answer some questions. I'm sure there’s a lot you all are wondering about,” you stated nervously, starting to read.

-“Why did you hide your identity?”

“Why did I hide my identity… I hid my identity mostly based on poor self image. I never expected my music to gain popularity, never expected celebrities to know it. Never expected any of it, and it certainly brought its share of criticism. I was scared to be in the spotlight and I didn't feel like I looked good enough to be someone famous. You know? I'm not skinny, I have flaws, and that doesn't always sit well with the Internet. I guess I was mainly scared of how I would be perceived. I'm just a normal girl who had her whole life flipped upside down when I wrote my feelings down,” you laughed anxiously.

Choosing to ignore the storm brewing in the comments below, you addressed the earlier comment. “Thank you for your kind words. I'm glad I can make you feel more accepted by seeing more plus-sized people in the entertainment business. Everyone should feel seen and have a place at the table, no matter what you look like, or who you are.”

-“I think it's nice to have more celebrities that look kinda like me.”

-“You're so humble!!”

-“You should've stayed hidden lmao”

-“Shut up, asshole. Why are you here if you're going to be rude?”

-“I'm sure you're a real supermodel behind that keyboard bravery.. smh”

You weren't expecting someone to actually feel like you were representing them and making them feel seen. You didn't think you had enough of an impact for that. You certainly weren't treated that way when you weren't famous. Nobody really even noticed you before.

You could feel Pedro’s eyes on your face, his thumb swirling circles and hearts over the space of skin on the top of your hand, below your thumb. The place where his bullseye resides on his own. Does he trace that tattoo when he's nervous, the same way he is with me? Perhaps his tracing of your hand is calming himself as much as it is for you.

Desperately, you wanted to look over at him and be comforted by his deep brown eyes, but doing so would cause people to wonder who you made eye contact with and smiled at. So instead, you gave a gentle squeeze and a smile towards the screen, hoping he would understand. 

-“Hi, I'm a big fan of yours. Can I ask… is what you said on your album true? You've never been kissed before? I haven't either and I was starting to feel like I'm just a freak.”

“Oh, honey, you aren't a freak. Everyone has things happen at different times in their life. But yes, everything I wrote in my album at the time I wrote it was true. And don't worry, I have felt the same way. Seeing others be kissed, falling in love… having the things I wasn't, it really hurts. But it'll be okay.. nothing is wrong with you. You're deserving of love.”

You hoped they wouldn't pick up on your usage of past-tense wording. Pedro, still holding your hand, rubbed his other hand over your arm gently.

-“Wait… at the time you wrote it? What about now?”

The comments were going wild.

Welp…

Your hands shook, and you used your opposite hand to place on top of Pedro’s that gripped yours. He squeezed gently, feeling the nervous tremors pass through your body, continuing to rub gentle strokes over your arm with his opposite hand.

“Uhm…” your cheeks heated and your stomach sank.

“I've changed a lot since this album was first written. Experienced new things. But I'm still the same person.”

Shit.

-“Who did you kiss?! Is it the guy in your song?”

-“Will you tell us who the song is about?”

-“Wait a second… you're that girl aren't you!?!!!! The one in the pictures with Pedro Pascal!!!!”

-“OMG IT IS”

-“!!!!!!!”

-“IS HE THE GUY!?!”

-“ARE YOU DATING!?!”

The nervous tremors continued, now threatening to cause your teeth to chatter. A full panic attack was brewing. Pedro squeezed your hand again, touching your knee and trying to do his best to ground you without speaking up on your live video. Skipper could feel the waves of anxiousness pooling off of you as well and crawled forward to settle his body across your feet. You took a few calming breaths, but when you went to speak, your voice still betrayed you.

“I..” your voice cracked, shakiness evident as you could feel tears starting to edge their way towards your vision.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I need to shut it off.

You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to ease your nausea and stress. 

Keeping your eyes closed, you spoke. “Yes.”

You took another deep breath. “Yes it was me, yes the song was about him. Yes.”

You opened your eyes to read the comments, tears pooling down your cheeks as you couldn't hold back your emotion anymore.

This is so embarrassing. The first time I show my face I'm crying and having an anxiety attack in front of the whole world.

You swallowed, choking back the full sobs that your body wanted to let loose. Wiping your face with the back of your hand, you began to read the comments, expecting laughter, criticism, and bullying. Instead, you were met with kindness.

Coming back to your senses, you gave a shaky smile. “Thank you guys. I'm sorry for my emotions.” You sniffled. Pedro was still rubbing your hands and arms, comforting you, having never stopped. His eyes still bore into the side of your head, and you knew he was struggling to not speak up or grab you fully. 

-“Oh my God, are you okay?”

-“I didn't mean to make you cry I'm so sorry”

-“You and Pedro make a cute couple”

-“Oh no, please don't cry”

-“Idk if you guys are dating but you seem cute”

-“I'm so glad you guys are spending time together when he's the guy in your song”

-“It'll be okay, please don't be upset”

-“You're amazing, we love you”

“Yes, Pedro and I have been spending a lot of time talking after he publicly commented on my song a few months ago. The party was the first time we met in person and we're still figuring things out,” you let go of your worries and broke eye contact with the camera, looking to your side to meet Pedro’s gaze. “But… we're happy.” You smiled at him. He smiled back gently, squeezing your hand, worry and sadness plaguing his face over your well-being. Breaking eye contact, you looked back at the screen.

You giggled before answering “well, I think that's all we have time for today. Thank you all for joining me!” You silently clicked off the stream, closing the browser, turning off the computer, and turning to Pedro. He grabbed your other hand in his, now holding both. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern etched in his face.

-“AAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!”

-“IS HE THERE WITH YOU!?!”

-“whaaaaat”

-“SCREAMING”

-“Shut. Up. This is insane.”

-“YOU GUYS ARE SO CUTE I CAN'T TAKE IT”

“I think so,” you nodded.

“Seeing you panic and not being able to do anything without potentially making it worse… It killed me. I'm so sorry. I just wanted to pull you into my arms and end that video myself. I hated seeing you so upset.” He stared down at your intertwined hands, rubbing his thumb over them again. 

“I appreciate you being here for me,” you let go of his hand to stroke his cheek. “I couldn't have done that without you.” You met his eyes, leaning forward to rest against his forehead. He let out a shaky breath. “I love you. I'm so proud of you.”

“I love you too,” you replied with a smile. “Let's move to the couch, huh?” You asked, pulling him up from the chair. He stood, just as your phone rang, a call from Rose. You quickly answered.

“I saw the live stream. You did wonderful! Don't worry about any of the negative comments you saw or any stories that come out of this. I'll handle it all.”

“Thanks, Rose.”

“Anytime. Take care.” She hung up.

You updated Pedro as the two of you walked towards the couch. “Do you want breakfast?” He asked.

“Maybe in a minute. Can I just hold onto you for a few minutes?”

“I would love nothing more.”

He sat on the couch, you sitting next to him, before he gave you a look. “What?” you laughed. He patted his leg.

“Let me hold you.”

“I'm too heavy for that Pedro, don't be ridiculous,” you shook your head.

“You're the one being ridiculous.” He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I'm too heavy! You're going to hurt yourself,” you whined.

“You're not too heavy. You're the perfect size, baby. Come here,” he pulled you forward, your body sliding down his thighs as he wrapped his arms around you. You straddled his lap, knees on either side of his hips while he rubbed your back gently. You placed your arms around him, nuzzling into his neck and closing your eyes. You both sighed, and he grabbed a blanket next to him to pull over your bodies. “I could stay like this for hours, wrapped in your arms” you sighed comfortably. 

“Why don't you?” He turned his head to kiss your lips. You lifted your face up, taking your head off his shoulder to kiss him deeper. The kisses were lazy and comfortable, holding each other and enjoying the warmth of being in each other's arms.

Finally the two of you broke the kiss, settling back on his shoulder, him tilting his head to lean against yours. His hands sprawled over your back, pulling you forward a bit to adjust in his lap. You let out a soft whimper at the contact, fully aware of the location your bodies connected at the moment. “Feel how much you mean to me?” He asked, his breath ghosting your ear as he pulled your hips forward again. You whined. “Yes..” you answered breathlessly. The temptation to keep doing that was overwhelming. But he once again wrapped his arms around you, rubbing your back as the two of you comfortably dozed off, finally relaxed after so much stress of the morning.

Hours later, you stirred, feeling Pedro still underneath you. At the feel of you moving, he stretched a bit before settling with his arms around you again. “Morning, baby” he hummed. “Guess we fell asleep,” you smiled.

“Some of the best sleep I've had in a while, here with you.”

“Same here.” You blinked your eyes open, kissing him on the lips with a peck. “What time is it?”

He turned his head to look at the clock on your TV. “5 o’clock” he laughed. “Guess we both needed some rest.” 

“Mmmm, I guess so,” you hummed, settling into him more.

“Good thing I brought nonperishables. Are you hungry?”

You pondered. “Yeah, I am,” you looked into his deep brown eyes. “Breakfast for dinner?” You smiled at him.

“Sounds perfect.” He pecked your lips before you slid off his lap, the two of you standing to stretch. It wasn't long that you two stood apart before you leapt forward again to give him a hug. He laughed, hugging you back. “I'll never get tired of being in your arms,” you smiled into his chest, breathing in his scent.

“I'll never get tired of holding you in mine,” he pulled his face back to look at you.

“Now let's eat! I'm starved,” you scampered towards the kitchen, him giving a gentle pat to your butt before hugging you from behind as you grabbed the breakfast foods. You giggled, setting food on plates as he kissed your neck, still wrapped around you from behind. “I'm starving too,” he replied back to your earlier statement with a growl, biting your ear.

“Pedro!” You giggled, smacking his arm gently. He chuckled, pulling away and grabbing his plate as you both headed to the table.

The two of you ate, filling the space with light conversation, both of you occasionally sneaking Skipper some bites under the table. He could get used to having two humans spoiling him.

The chatter came to a natural pause, eating in silence and smiling at each other across the table. Pedro stopped eating, wiping his hands and continuing to stare at you. You laughed, asking him what was up. Suddenly, he looked nervous.

“I, uh…” he rubbed his neck. “I was going to wait until after we had at least a first date to say this, but…” he trailed off, and your mind spiraled. Is he breaking up with me? Is he not interested anymore? What's wrong?

“I was wondering if… you'd be my girlfriend? Exclusively?” His cheeks flushed.

You stammered, dropping your fork on the plate. “You… you want… me to be your girlfriend?” You smiled.

He nodded. “If… you'll have me.”

“You want to be my boyfriend?” He nodded again, looking down at the table.

“Yes. Yes, are you kidding? Please! I'd love nothing more.” You grinned, jumping out of your chair to move to him.

He stood, pulling you into a hug. “Really?” He smiled at you.

“Really,” you nodded. “Now kiss me,” you held his face.

“Gladly,” he pulled you closer, kissing you deeply, his tongue asking for entrance to your mouth. You squealed, surprised, but letting him in. You'd never experienced this sensation before. But it was… incredible.

He licked your lips, the two of you exploring the inside of each other's mouths, tongues dancing together. The kiss was heated and deeper than ever before, both of you finally pulling away for air, him coming back in to peck your lips a few times, sucking your lip between his own. You sighed shakily. “Wow.”

“I love kissing you,” he smiled against your lips.

“I love kissing you. You're a good kisser,” you smiled back.

“So are you,” he smirked. “My beautiful girlfriend.” He gave a kiss. “How about that date tomorrow?” He pulled away to look at you, letting his hand rub across your lower back, just above your butt.

“I'd love to,” you stroked his face. “My handsome boyfriend.” You wrapped your arms around him again, blissfully.

“Tomorrow,” you two sighed in unison.

@pedrotonin @starcrossed02 @lightupsketchersperson @cartoon-garbage04 @tyferbebe @maryfanson @gwendibley84 @faithfullyyours2000 @brilliantopposite187 @hc-geralt-23 @jenniferpendragon @winchestergypsy90 @red-red-rogue @theendwhereibegin @lottieellz101 @oliversaurus @kyga01 @milly-louise @titabel @taz-97 @stefanibear003 @marantha @fandomoniumflurry @ilovemybrown-eyedbabygirl @leiadjarin @hmneighbors

Thank you for reading!!! Let me know what you think ❤️

Taglist: (Want in? Let me know!)

[waywardcrow]

Timeless.

Chapter IV.

Summary: 1943. 1975. 2024. Three different decades, three different lives, three different times your life and Bucky's interwined; he lost you twice, will he do it again?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader.

TW: It can change each chapter but themes of Bucky as soldier and as the Winter Soldier in general, flashbacks and dreams in italics like this, lots of feels, reader's being a little anxious, some stalking lol, a brief sex scene (p in v), very bad written smut, implied domestic violence (not from Bucky), murder mentioned, past lives, past 40'sreader is mentioned to be named Beth but that changes for 2024 version of her so I nicknamed her little bird for Bucky, Ace for everybody else, this will be a +18 story so minors dni.

Disclaimer: Please remember english is not my first language so if I make a mistake or forget something let me know.

Pictures from pinterest and graphic and dividers by the amazing @ firefly-graphics so all credits to the creators.

Previous chapter <;<<

You were fired, that wasn’t a surprise.

Mia Alexander didn’t sue you for every penny you had, that was shocking.

But getting a call from Pepper Potts herself, that was the real main event of your whole life.

She asked you to go and pay her a visit at her office in the Avengers tower, like if that didn’t send you in a spiral of bliss and terror, what will you wear? What could a woman like her want to talk with someone like you? Even if Sergeant Barnes –Bucky, you reminded yourself- told her what had happened in the gala, she might be mad at you.

Your head begun to think in the possibilities all the way there, considering that this was the reason why Mia didn’t sued you, maybe Pepper Potts would do it.

When you finally arrived to the tower your stomach was in knots, not even your lucky outfit made you feel better but like every other day in your life you sucked it up and walked to the front desk.

“Hi, I’m here to see Miss Potts?” you said, making it sound more like a question and the receptionist stared at your vintage midi skirt and blouse like he understood your hesitation. You offered him a smile before telling him your name so he looked for it in the screen in front of him and gave you a visitant pass.

“Third floor, follow the hall, last door in your right” he said and then went back to his screen.

“Oh, ok, thanks” your neck was hot with embarrassment when you reached the elevators and just became more evident when you got in and someone else did too.

“Good morning, third floor too?” Scott Lang, THE Scott Lang, asked you and you could only nod like an idiot. He did a double take on your face and smiled “hey, I know you; you are the girl who throws champagne at evil bosses.”

You were turning purple, it was a sure thing.

“What?” it was all you said.

“Yeah, the other night you did an incredible stunt, Sam told us everything” so Captain America knew too, great. Scott must saw something in your expression because his changed “is ok, seriously, when we hear what she did no one blamed you for it, I was sure Hope was about to kick her ass and don’t let me start with Yelena” your head was spinning “I think it was brave and more subtle than ruining your boss company and driving a car to his pool”

That earned a strangled laugh from you.

“Are you going to see Miss Potts too, Mr. Lang?” you asked when the elevator doors opened again and you walked with him.

“Actually I’m going to see Maria Hill but I’ll see you later” he smiled at you with such honesty that you relaxed for the first time in all day, making your way to your destiny you noticed the front desk for Miss Potts assistant was empty and you were just on time which was as good as being late.

Without not knowing what to do, you knocked at her door.

“Come in”.

Taking a deep breath, you did it squaring your shoulders and trying to tell yourself everything would be fine.

“Good morning, Miss Potts, I hope is ok I called, there was no one and-“

“It’s completely fine” she said gesturing for you to sit in front of her and went to address your formally even if contradicted her next words “Please call me Pepper, everyone does.

There was something about her, a professionalism that was inspiring but also made her approachable and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Only if you call me by my first name too”

“It’s what you like to be called? Because Sam told me about your friend calling you Ace when he went with Sergeant Barnes to the hospital, I think it fits you” at her words it was impossible not to blush again; first of all because of the mention of Bucky, the recurrent thought of your head the last days and then because of the nickname Harper gave you.

“I mean, yeah, my friends call me that” it was an exaggeration, you only had one friend.

“Maybe we should stick to it, between me and you Pepper is not even my name but I think is perfect for me” there was something like nostalgia in her eyes but she didn’t let you think too much about it “and I like that my employees feel comfortable when we talk.”

“Excuse me, what?” it was really embarrassing how you couldn’t form a decent sentence in front of her.

“I would like you to be my assistant, Ace” she said and then your life really changed.

Bucky still could tasted you, the other you, the one who reincarnated and was born in a rich Italian family in 1950, the one that somehow found him when he was The Winter Soldier.

He wasn’t supposed to fuck you in your fiancée’s car, well ex fiancée, you couldn’t marry a dead asshole. His mind couldn’t know why he needed you that bad but his body did, Bucky was sure it was the conditioning what made him be such a caveman with you but the truth was, you were his mirror back then.

You wanted him since Lucas bragged about his connections to Hydra and how they lend him their best asset to protect the arsenal his father’s company will provided for them. Your whole attention was in the silent assassin who looked at you like you were everything he could ever want.

Lucas wasn’t great with you, his little bird, that’s why he snapped his neck and took you away, sometimes his nightmares will let him breath and remember you surrounding him, riding his cock, high in pleasure, telling him that you loved him before you both were found and he was dragged back to Hell.

As a small blessing, he didn’t remembered that while dreaming, Bucky was too lost on you, in the salty taste of your skin against his tongue when he traced the valley of your naked breasts with it.

“Give me one more, little bird” he ordered, thrusting in and out of you with an incredible skill considering the small space “drench my cock again.”

His english was perfect with you, no sign of hesitation, not remembering he wasn’t supposed to speak it so naturally when it wasn’t necessary; the Brooklyn accent showing up without effort.

“I- I can’t” you sobbed, drunk on him, your body asking for more.

“You will” his metal hand let go your neck to play with your clit, the cold metal sending you to your climax once again, taking him with you.

The softness of your skin against his was the last thing he remembered before waking up.

Harper called you when you got back home and screamed when you tell her the news; she made a joke about coming to work with you so she could see Sam Wilson every day, making you feel better. Since you convinced your parents go and have the retirement they deserved, Harper was the only one you had and she was more than what you deserved but sometimes you wished for more, for someone to go home to.

Like a fool, your mind went to Sergeant Barnes; you needed to thank him for what he did for you.

If not for him, you would have be ruined but how could someone put that in a thank you card?

Maybe you could bake something for him.

Bucky likes apple pie.

The thought came out of nowhere with an intense hint of pain between your eyebrows, what was that?

Maybe a nap would help, your new job waited for you and this was the chance you dreamed of, ruining it wasn’t an option.

When Bucky went to check on you that night, you were already sleeping in your couch, making very difficult for him to let you there. Of course he could break in and carry you to your room without waking you up but it would make you feel unsafe.

It was hard for him to go back to a civilian life, or the closest he could have, his actions needed to be careful, especially around you. It was also torture he remembered almost everything and you nothing at all, that he couldn’t tell you about that night on your porch in 1943 or your breakfast with him, Steve and the Howlies when your unit was sent to Europe and destiny brought you both together again, he couldn't tell you about that time in Italy.

Bucky wanted you to know everything but you will never believe him, in the best case you'd believe it was a joke or a proof of him losing his mind but you could also believe him dangerous –which he was- and get away from him where Bucky would not be able protect you.

Sited there in your fire escape, he started to memorize every part of you he could see through the darkness, if that was all he could have from you, he would make it be enough.

Tag list: @cjand10 @bunnyforhim @cookingdancingchick

Next chapter >>>

Hello lovelies! Sorry for bringing this short chapter, I tried to start going through their past lives but witout giving so much details so this don't gets very confusing, if it still is please tell me so I can work on it, what de you think? I'll love to read about it in the comments!

Love, Lily.

[railingsofsorrow]

Hiii i saw ur tortured poets department requests and these two came to mind instantly!!

idk if u still write for TVD but I feel like “who’s afraid of little old me” for Klaus mikaelson would fit, (it’s could be him 1000 years ago before & after he was a vampire) x reader

As well as Kol mikaelson w ‘guilty as sin’ x reader (it could be human reader watching him from a distance before he notices and makes a move??)

Even if u don’t write for these characters anymore/atm I appreciate u reading this :)

Guilty As Sin

[kol mikaelson x reader]

A/N: your idea was amazing (need more kol mikaelson requests tbh!) and I immediately thought about turning it into a slight darker plot... I hope you don't mind. since you didn't specify, reader will be gender neutral, though they will have some characteristics regarding hair and eye color and style, but that's it, gender isn't specified. and the klaus mikaelson request is in the process of being made.

A/N²: you will see "month signs" at some point but that means zodiac signs, this error is on purpose to depict that kol has no idea what astrology means. (he would probably hate it lol)

summary: and so the lion fell in love with the lamb. . . but what if the lamb also became the lion? pairing: kol mikaelson x gn!reader w.c: 2.9K warnings/content: blood and gore; descriptions of child abuse; sexual activities (my attempt on trying to write smut); moral values are twisted; good vs. evil; graphic descriptions of violence; language; morally grey characters!!; there’s fluff; paragraphs in italics mean it’s a memory.

navi

masterpost

the originals masterlist

the vampire diaries masterlist

[requested]

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝ my boredom's bone deep 

this cage was once just fine 

am I allowed to cry?❞ 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The Devil, for him, had short hair with dyed ends, dressed in ripped jeans, and carried the darkest pools in their eyes he had the pleasure of letting himself drown over and over again. He fell in love with the blood dripping from your lips and the taunting before proceeding for the final kill. You liked games when he created them. He thought he enjoyed the hunting, but you were born for this much more than he ever would. 

Kol Mikaelson met Evil when he was only a child. He watched as he beat his brother until he passed out from the pain and he turned a blind eye to it so he wouldn't be caught in his bad temper of every evening. Evil had a name and a last name, but he hadn't spoken these or acknowledged it existed from the moment he felt blood on his lips and life draining from a human body. Because now, he had power. Now, he had strength. Now he didn't need to corner and lower his head for a man whose only language was cruelty. He had defeated Evil.  

Kol was never a believer in God. He believed in the grey area between good and bad because he constantly leaned towards both once in a while — mostly the bad. Depending on his mood on the occasion. He didn't believe in a higher power, in month signs – because apparently, that's a thing in the modern world? People just have to seek something to feel less ordinary – or say something countless times for it to become true.  

He did, however, believe in magic. Not only believed, but he trusted magic. Kol was skilled enough to use it with pride and knowledge even after he lost his powers due to having become undead.  

Magic. 

It was exhilarating. The world was in his hands and he could burn an entire forest or make a flower grow.  

Some days, he missed magic like he missed breathing. So he would dig out his grimoire from an old box he kept his stuff and read it all over again like he hadn't memorized every single chanting and spell throughout his entire life. 

They called him Devil after seeing the wreckage he could cause in five villages in a week. The carnage that was left for the Earth to claim back as its own. But, one thing that nobody knew was that Kol met the Devil when he was casually strolling through a college party on Whitmore College's campus.  

Actually, the Devil was staring at him. And, surprisingly, it had blood pumping strongly to their heart. Life coursing through their veins. The Devil was human. And Kol was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. Like a man starved for months without food or water.  

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝he's a paradox, 

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?❞ 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He thought he had found his prey that night when, in reality, he had been the one falling into their trap.  

"I think you look too bored to be here." You observed, a normal tone of voice for someone who wanted the other person to hear in a loud party full of drunk people speaking loudly and fast. Kol heard it well, of course. Your voice was smooth like honey if he were to compare it to the awful music they had playing.  

"And you look like you're enjoying this." 

You lifted a brow, a teasing smile spreading across your mouth. "I'm not. My friends dragged me, I couldn't say no." 

"You've got a problem saying no?" He glared at a drunk kid who bumped into him and turned to look at you, who still had that look of satisfaction on your face. He didn't know why, not back then.  

"Not really, but I lost a bet so..." You shrugged. "It was my dare. Part of it, actually." 

Kol nodded. Why had he been so interested? Don't ask him. He won't know the answer. Maybe because the Devil had their ways of playing their little games, to turn saints into sinners. And what was Kol Mikaelson if not a sinner? 

"What was the other part?" Kol found himself asking. He was about to take off at any second. He was only in town because of Klaus's stupidity and his family needed him again. Until they didn't. He could be halfway out of town by now. Why wasn't he? 

You approached him slowly, head tilting as you surveyed Kol up and down. He noticed the ink in your neck, right where your pulse laid. A strong and inviting pulse.  

"Well, the first part was that I had to come to this stupid party..." You said, tongue moving between your teeth and forming a teasing grin. “the second part,” You drawled out, lifting a hand to his shoulder, fingers rising to the back of his neck. Kol didn't move away as he was pulled closer. He didn't move away when your breaths mixed. “they dared me to take a handsome stranger home so I could have some fun.”  

It was Kol's turn to smirk. And just like that, it took one night, a few minutes, for him to be whisked away into your world with no turning back. 

A human.  

How could he let himself get carried away because of a human? 

Perhaps because it had been so long since he was a mortal and you reminded him what that felt like. A tad nostalgic and a lot euphoric. This is how Kol felt every time he was in your presence. The strangest thing was that there was no magic.  

“I'm starting to think that paranoia may run in the family.” 

He offered you an eye roll, perching against your windowsill as he watched the street. It was fairly empty. Quiet. Two of the five vampires he compelled to keep an eye on you were by the parked Black SUV. 

“Kol.” You closed the book with a thud. He glanced at you, schooling an unimpressed look. “I do not need protection. I can handle myself.” 

“Alright.” 

You scoffed, annoyed at his ability to turn down a conversation because that would end in his favor.  

“Alright doesn't mean shit if you're going to be a controlling prick.” 

He raised a brow, “I'm being controlling? Do you know who my family is? How many times has my brother threatened y— Try to walk out of here without losing a limb, will you? That's what he's capable of.” 

“I don't care.” 

And maybe that had been the whole problem. You truly did not care.  

There were few things you cared for, fewer were those you considered worth your time. Kol should have felt flattered to even be worth a minute of your time, but he took a lot of things for granted, including your safety. 

Immortality was not something he asked for. It had been imposed on him like the heavy burden of life previously had. 

He felt guilty for learning to enjoy it over time. He felt guilty for finding someone to keep him alive when he had been dead for decades.  

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝why does it feel like a vow  

we'll both uphold somehow?❞ 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Then, he lost you. 

Because of retaliation. Because of his family. Which was always the reason for his undoing.  

He lost the human and met the Devil. Except that those were the same person in one and he only found out when he saw the glint of joy and the absolute exhilaration as you sucked someone dry and then tossed the body with a sigh.  

“I was sad when you stopped looking for me.” You whispered into his ear like his nightmares would on particularly bad nights. This was real, he just couldn't believe it yet. “Thought I was important for a minute.” 

“What happened?” 

You leaned back against the wall, leather jacket scrunching as you crossed your arms over your chest.   

“You sound disappointed.” 

Kol forced himself to move and you watched as he took a cautious step towards you. That was the first time you saw Kol Mikaelson hesitate about anything. When you reappeared in his life. 

Tilting your head a bit, you said in a casual tone, “I'm no longer fragile and broken, so your interest has vanished, is that it? The idea you had of me, that I needed your protection, it's completely shattered now. You're disappointed.” 

The Devil, for him, had slightly longer hair than the last time he saw them, still dressed in ripped jeans and the ink in their body had grown in numbers. The eyes didn't change. They were still the darkest he had ever seen, the night sky was jealous of them.  

Kol wasn't disappointed in you. He was disappointed in himself for not being able to protect too. Maybe he had grown a hero complex, Elijah had rubbed off on him, after all. 

To grasp the fact that he didn't lose you — because you were still here — wasn't easy. There was the fact that you were always on a different wavelength. Two extremes. Mortal and immortal. Human and vampire. Protected and protector. Destroyed and destroyer.  

There was no such a thing anymore. 

But he never saw you as fragile or broken. 

“Bonnie asked to turn my humanity back on.” You told him during a dinner in the Mikaelson compound. Kol placed the wine glasses on top of the counter, glancing up at you with careful eyes.  

“Did you? Turn it off?” 

He remembered thinking how cute it was when you scrunched your nose whenever confusion drowned your line of thought. He had never thought someone was cute. The person in front of him, nursing a glass of red wine as they pouted over something someone said to them a few days back, had killed around fifty wolves for threatening his family and somehow managed to acquire animosity with the Strix as well.  

He found you cute. What was going on with him? 

“How does one even do that?” You cracked a laugh, shaking your head at the idea. “What, you turn off your conscience to do unspeakable things to not remember them later? Is that a thing?” You placed the now empty glass of wine in front of the bottle so he could pour your another glass. “Then that means I'd have to grow a conscience first, wouldn't I?” 

Kol blinked, his lips stretching slowly into a soft smile that he couldn't hold back.  

He knew what was going on. You know, it's been known that Kol Mikaelson was an exceptional sinner and all the gods loathed him. So it made sense that he fell in love with the Devil, didn't it? 

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

❝crashing over my grave, 

without ever touching his skin, 

how can I be guilty as sin?❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Do you remember your human years?” 

You questioned him late in the evening. You were both in bed, you reading a book as he answered a text from Hope with one of the only memes he owned in his phone.  

“Yes.” Kol replied, turning his phone off and putting it in the nightstand. It wasn't until a few months ago that he stopped complaining after texting people. Big technophobe. You said he sounded like an old man whenever he complained about modernity. “Vaguely.” 

“Do you like remembering it?” 

“It depends.” A pause, the bed shifted. His hand wandered through your body, ending up on your hip, the shirt raising a little as he drew circles with his thumb. “Those weren't my favourite times.” 

You turned a page, avoiding his curious eyes on you. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm. I like it better now.” 

You stayed silent.  

He gently pulled the book away to be able to take a look at your face. 

“What's on your mind?”  

A lot.  

“Nothing.” 

Kol pecked your lips once. “Really?” He did it twice. “You don't know how to lie to me.” The corner of your lips lifted in amusement, which was always his intended goal. 

“Do I need to remind you what an awful liar you are?” 

He shrugged unapologetically, “That's why we're a good match. We're terrible liars.” 

You snorted, pursing your lips.  

“Is that what you think?” You said. “That we're a good match?” 

His forehead creased in confusion. He knew you were a bit odd during the day but he didn't push it when you didn't want to talk, figuring you would, eventually. But that? What did that mean?  

“What's going on?” He asked, thumb traveling across the back of your hand.  

“I don't know.” You bit your lip. “Sometimes I just feel like your life could be different. Without me.” 

He withdrew his hand to sit down on the bed, one leg under the other. The blanket falling on his lap, exposing his naked chest.  

“Yes, it would,” he said as if it was obvious. “It would be different in a way that I would never like to find out.” 

Your face twitched into a grimace. “Are you sure? Because people have a lot of opinions. About you and me. They say I make you worse.” 

“I was worse before you,” Kol interjected. “I didn't know you cared about people's opinions.”  

“I don't.” And that wasn't a lie. Oftentimes you had to stop Kol from shutting you out because of other people, mostly his family, interfering in your relationship. “But I'm a vampire now. And you... you're a Mikaelson. You're destructive and selfish and a lone wolf, except when you're with me. Do you really need someone who's the same?”  

“We're not the same.” He promptly disagreed. 

“Kol, we're both destructive.” 

“We were destructive before, what difference does it make now?” 

You sighed. 

“It doesn't bother you? That I'd kill and rip limbs out for you or my own benefit and not feel guilty about it?” 

With an arm beneath your legs, he brought you closer to him with a pull.  

“No. And neither should you.” He cupped your face, thump grazing your cheeks lovingly. “You didn't make me who I am—” 

“I'm aware, Kol. Your body count was above average way before I met you.”  

His forehead fell on yours as he chuckled in disbelief. “Fair enough.” 

You managed to smile a little.  

“If people tell you you make me worse, what do they say I make you?” 

Shrugging, you replied, “Satan, probably.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━  

❝oh, what a way to die 

my bedsheets are ablaze  

I've screamed his name 

building up like waves  

crashing over my grave  

without ever touching his skin  

how can I be guilty as sin?❞

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

He hummed into your skin, kissing down your collarbones and your chest and your stomach, until you exhaled with your eyes falling shut.  

“It's funny.” Kol mumbled against your lower stomach, his chestnut eyes boring into yours. “I thought you'd bored me out when I first met you, but it was the other way around, wasn't it?”  

You were about to respond maybe when there was a slight tug in your shorts and your body just worked on automatically lifting your hips so he could get rid of it. 

“You had a grip on me the first moment I heard your voice, darling.” He pressed soft kisses down the inner skin of your thighs with his raspy voice due to his position. “You don't make me worse, you make me better. Infinitely better.” 

The mattress beneath your head crumpled under your hold.  

“That's why I pledged my spot in Hell the first moment you laid eyes on me. I was yours. I am yours. And I will always be yours.” Your back arched as his mouth reached its final destination. “Proudly,” he whispered but you could hear it perfectly through the sounds that echoed throughout your bedroom. “Undoubtedly. . .”  

The Devil, for you, had the most beautiful chestnut brown eyes you've ever seen, a rather basic sense of style and carried an uncontrollable thirst for blood like you. He knew how to dance but he hid that ability out of embarrassment. He knew how to love and was too scared to lose that capacity of feeling after centuries of working through it.  

If people claimed that he was responsible for Hell on Earth, 

“. . . Unrepentantly.” 

Then you would gladly fall into the clutches of his undoing.  

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