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milla-frenchy · 1 year ago

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The only fic where I wanted them to kiss, more than I wanted them to fuck (even if I wanted them to fuck, of course 😏 because it's raider, right? 🖤)

When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed.

I don't remember if I ever said I loved this dog, but I love him ❤️🐕

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black.

I love your writing 🖤

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

I felt bad for both of them, for different reasons. She wanted to please him, and he's hurt? about Tommy

You have Joel wrapped around your finger, and you don’t even know it. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never been like this before. You wouldn’t know Joel’s never made a girl his in the years Carter’s known him. Joel’s always been a man of focus. He’s always been a tough guy. He’s always had a temper, but at this point, he’d tear a man to shreds just for looking at you wrong. It’s scary, and it’s a lot of mess to clean up. Carter’s seen Joel do some crazy shit, but never as crazy as turning one of his own men into a scarecrow for an off-hand comment. Carter knows Joel better than anyone, and it’s clear to him that Joel is crazy about you.

I had to quote this entire paragraph because… it's incredible how much it says about Joel, via Carter. How much Joel loves sweet pea, would do anything for her. You have no idea how much it made me emotional to read this. So, thank you SO MUCH for writing this. I love him even more now (yes, it's possible, even if I didn't know I could). I would defend this man against the whole world if I had to.

the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.

I feel you, sweet pea 😁

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips.

No way, Jill you bitch 😮😦😤

his eyes sparkle [...] It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.

Good boy, baby, I love you raider 💕💕💕💕💕

“That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands.

Excuse me but wtf man? What makes you think you're in charge here?

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,”

I love you so much baby pea 💕💕

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself.

Yes and it's beautiful 😏🫠❤️😎 (loved how she didn't want Joel to touch her, the same way he didn't want Harold's blood on her 🖤)

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?” “Makin’ it. . .”

I could have fn cried when he repeats what she said, at this moment, Toxic 🥹

In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go. [...] the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

🫠🖤🖤🖤

You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him.

Fuck that's so hot (also, he let her ride him, holy shit!)

He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head.

Oh my fn god... 🫠🫠🫠

You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back. It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.

Fuuuuck I'm gonna cry it's so sweat and so hot, I can't 🥹

You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest. He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.

Fuck, fuck, fuck 🖤🫶 (omg can't believe I wrote all that...)

Bodies.

7.8k, raider!Joel x f!reader

reader has no physical description, pics are for mood

raider master | playlists: raider, sweet pea (smut) SUMMARY: Uninvited guests make a nice evening devolve into disaster, but it recovers, and Joel takes a big step. xoxo A/N: Ty to this ask about flirting; arm anon; @gracieispunk for the B/W pic; @xdaddysprincessxx, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, and others who've discussed his name, @javier-penas-wifexx420 for asks, @milla-frenchy for listening, everyone for your patience and support. This would be too long but I appreciate so many of you. @toxicfics for notifications, @toxicrecs for fic recs. WARNINGS: I8+ canon typical violence, tension, possessive/aggressive reader, self-harm scare, references to skin carving scars, hurt/comfort, Joel is a little grumpy, exhibitionism, grinding, dacryphilia, leather choker, bj with ball sucking, unsafe P in V, creampie, obsessive unhealthy toxic dynamic, Joel can hold reader, reader can hang onto Joel. LMK if I missed any.

The dog has stuck around for more than 24 hours now. He's a good dog. He’s working on a duck foot while you, Joel, and Carter eat by the fire. The evening air is cool but mild. The sky is clear.

Joel and his men spent most of the day working on the van and looking for parts. The dog sat with you while you read a book. You made a wildflower crown and put it around the dog’s neck. When one of the men walked in your direction on his way to the woods, the dog jumped in front of you and growled. Joel looked impressed.

Now the fire is keeping you toasty as the sky fades from blue to black.

“Tommy!” you call out to the dog to see if he reacts.

Carter chokes on his food, but quickly recovers. His eyes are wide.

“What’d you say?” Joel asks, ominously quiet. When you don’t respond, he reaches over to gently turn your head toward him. The look on his face makes your stomach turn.

“I thought you’d like that one since it’s a type of gun,” you explain.

“No.” He shakes his head, “I don't like it.” He lets go of your face. “Namin’ the goddamn dog,” he grumbles under his breath. He puts down his plate and stands up.

You’re afraid to ask, but when Joel silently walks off toward the woods, you look at Carter. He asks, “He tell ya anything about his family? His brother?”

Your face is hot and your tummy feels dizzy. “He said he didn’t have any family.”

Carter raises his eyebrows, then he's quiet for a moment and stares at the ground. His face becomes studious.

“What,” you ask.

“Ain't my place,” Carter looks down apologetically.

A few seconds later, watching your face, Carter adds the obvious: “I wouldn't go there.”

"Yeah," you whisper. Anything about his family. The question weighs on you. You really don't know Joel, do you?

Carter changes the subject. “He’ll come around on the dog.”

You perk up. “You think?”

Carter nods, then adds, “Sorry ‘bout Daisy,” squinting solemnly.

“Thanks,” you nod, then can’t resist asking, “Joel wasn’t. . .married, was he?”

Carter shakes his head and doesn’t elaborate. At least there’s that. But still. His family.

You're unsettled, and you try to distract yourself with other dog names, mentally going through a list. Bullet. Clover. Duck. Joel doesn’t have to know he has a name.

Apparently, Carter is thinking about the same thing. He tries to cheer you up. “Gun names, huh? Pistol, Rifle--”

“--Rifle??” You crack a smile.

“Hey, there's no bad ideas,” Carter laughs, and you giggle.

“What about Bullet–”

“--Shh,” Carter nods toward the tree line. Joel is on his way back.

As you finish eating, Carter tries to make small talk with Joel to break the tension. Joel doesn't say much. You ask Carter how he makes his jerky, and he walks you through it. It doesn't sound hard. You could probably do it yourself.

—--Carter—--

The three of you are sitting outside by the fire after dinner. You’re on Joel’s knee, and Joel slides his hand up your dress a little bit. Carter averts his eyes and watches the dog work on his duck foot, making happy little growls and wagging his tail. Hard to say whether you and Joel are about to go inside and fuck, or if Joel’s just copping a feel like he does twenty times a day.

The dog drops the duck foot, growls and barks, then takes off and runs toward the back of the trailer. You get off Joel’s knee to go after the dog, and Joel’s arm around your middle stops you. As Carter stands up and puts on his rifle, a high-pitched shriek comes from behind the trailer. Joel grabs his rifle off the log, and Carter says, “it’s cool,” holding his hand out. He won’t hesitate to yell if he needs Joel. “Go inside, sweet pea,” Joel tells you. You take your time going.

Carter goes around the back of the trailer and trains his rifle on two figures cresting the hill. The dog has stopped short of them and is keeping his distance, but he’s still barking and looks ready to pounce, like he’s holding himself back.

“DON’T MOVE,” Carter booms, then keeps his rifle fixed on the pair and slowly approaches them. When Carter reaches the dog, the dog’s barking fades into a low growl.

They drop their backpacks and put their hands up.

“What’re ya doin’ here?” Carter asks.

The woman clears her throat and follows it with a demure smile. “Went huntin’, came back ’n our house was taken.”

Carter nods and looks back and forth between the two of them. They’re both decent looking. Some resemblance, maybe siblings.

“What do y’all want,” Carter asks, then spits over his shoulder.

“Nothin’,” the man claims. “Just cuttin’ through on our way to the road.” His eyes pan down Carter’s shoulders and arms. Carter squares his shoulders and adjusts his grip on the gun.

Carter nods hesitantly. “Can ya hang tight for me? Don’t want ya walkin’ into gunfire.”

They nod in agreement with a hint of fear. They shouldn’t be trouble. They aren’t carrying much.

Carter walks backwards for a few slow steps, then nods and turns around toward the trailer. Carter sees you spying in the kitchen window and gives you a reassuring nod as he goes around the trailer to talk to Joel.

"They're alright, I think," Carter tells Joel.

"What do they want," Joel grumbles.

"Nothin'. . . Cuttin' through on their way to the road."

Joel nods.

“Lost their house, didn’t say who took it.”

Joel’s brow furrows and he nods. “Armed?”

“Not heavily,” Carter answers.

“Bring’em around. Let’s find out who took their house.”

“You got it,” Carter says.

—---- 🌸you 🌸 —---

You move to the window facing the yard and the fire pit with logs around it. As they walk around the trailer, you overhear that they’ve been traveling most of the day. When they stop by the fire, you wait a few minutes, thinking they’ll leave. Then they take a seat, and the woman sits on the log next to Joel’s, on the end of the log closest to him. Your chest tightens. When she smiles at him, you scoff out loud to yourself. You start to go out the front door, then stop and go to the bathroom. You look in the mirror and open the flannel. You run your finger over the faint, healed letters on your skin, and you leave your chest exposed. You adjust your thigh holster, then go outside.

When the door opens, Carter looks over his shoulder and announces, “There she is.”

Joel introduces you. “This is, uh. . .”

“Jill,” she pipes in.

“Ron,” the man nods at you.

A couple. They must be a couple. They look a little alike, but not enough to be siblings. Joel leans forward with his elbows braced on his knees, hands clasped, connecting with your eyes for a moment, sharing something near a smile before his eyes fade back to serious.

Joel doesn’t make room for you in his lap, but he doesn’t tell you to go back inside either. He looks alert and on guard. There are four logs and five of you. You sit on Joel’s log and feel satisfied when he doesn’t scoot toward Jill to make more room. He doesn’t mind you being right up against him. Carter’s on the log to your left. Jill talks about their house and what was going on when they got back from their hunting trip. Ron is quieter. He glances at Carter a few times. Jill keeps looking at Joel. She talks too much.

Jill says they saw Infected behind the trailer park. Joel and Carter look at each other. Your stomach twists, but you study her face, and you don’t trust her. Attention. She wants attention. She wants Joel’s attention. Joel is better than Ron – bigger, stronger, better looking. There were no Infected. She’s making it up for attention.

Everyone is quiet for what feels like a full minute. You look her dead in the eye and break the silence with a soft, matter-of-fact, “No you didn’t.” Joel gives you a cautionary look, and you add, “We would’ve seen'em. We were there yesterday.”

Jill raises her eyebrows, bemused. “Just one,” she admits with a little smile. “My brother took care of it.” She nods to Ron, and the fact that they’re siblings makes you hate her.

“Where,” Joel asks flatly. You wish he wouldn’t speak to her at all.

“Woods behind the junkyard,” she answers. “Thought ya’d wanna know,” she shrugs. It’s quiet again. Nothing but the fire crackling and the dog growling happily.

“Thanks,” Carter mumbles.

Jill’s gaze lingers on Joel. She seems pleased with herself. Joel looks away, sits back, and crosses his arms. Now she’s checking out his arms as they bulge out with his hands under them. Your heart races. Anger simmers under your ribs.

"Bet ya could handle anything that comes over that hill," she purrs at Joel. Your nostrils flare. Your eyes are glued to her. You don’t blink. She looks at Joel’s pants and wets her lips. Your heart skips a beat. It feels like a personal attack. You pop up from the log.

Joel makes room in his lap and looks at you as he replies, "Carter here could handle'em, too,” with a nod to his left.

Joel must have expected you to sit on his knee like you were before they showed up. He clears his throat as it becomes clear you’re going to fully straddle him. His nose twitches and his eyes sparkle. He puts his arms around you loosely. His hands rest on your back to help you balance. You scoot closer and he helps you settle in so your crotch rests on his. Your head is in the crook of his neck, facing toward Jill to keep an eye on her. It doesn’t take long for a familiar bulge to twitch under you.

Your arms are around Joel. Your hand runs over the handgun in the back of his pants, and he tenses.

Jill has the nerve to speak again. “That can’t be comfortable,” she laughs.

“You can’t be serious,” you snap back.

“Shhhh,” Joel whispers into your hair. “‘S’okay, baby.”

“I’m comfortable,” you tell Joel.

“I know, sweet pea.” He nuzzles his nose at the top of your ear. “‘s’okay, baby,” he whispers. You rock your hips into him, feeling him grow harder. He pulls you tight, adjusting your weight. He moves one hand to your thigh. You grind yourself into him and he lets out a little “mm.”

“Um, okay,” she mumbles in disgust.

You snarl and turn your head away from her, back toward Joel. Then you turn your head toward Carter. Carter is absentmindedly examining the bite on his hand. Ron is spaced out, watching Carter’s face. Then, his eyes fall down to Carter’s lap.

“You’re bit,” Jill announces. “Ron, he’s bit!”

Ron snaps out of his daze, sits up self-consciously, and when his eyes fall on Carter’s hand, his face hardens.

Carter protests, “It’s not–”

“--It was the dog,” your head snaps back toward Jill. “It doesn’t look anything like Infected.” She just wants attention. She wants drama.

“It was the dog,” Joel repeats, unamused. It sounds like a warning. Joel’s hand on your thigh nudges the gun loose from your holster. Your hand wraps around the handle of the gun in the back of Joel’s pants.

“Lemme see it,” Ron demands. He stands up and points his gun at Carter. He snarls with a look of disgust. His face has completely transformed since a moment ago.

“SIT DOWN,” Joel booms and grabs the gun out of your holster.

Carter starts to offer, “I’ll show-”

“No ya won’t,” Joel snaps as he stands up with you still wrapped around him. Joel points the gun at Ron. “Come into my yard, orderin’ us around?” Joel’s deep voice vibrates in your ear, then he whispers, “Go inside,” as he tries to let you down. You take the gun out of the back of his pants. “Inside, now.” You put your feet on the ground.

“Nobody owns this land,” Ron laughs.

“C’mon, man, y’all know how it works,” Carter seems to try to de-escalate. “Show some respect.”

You slowly, carefully recede into the shadows, but you don’t go inside.

Jill points her gun at Carter and demands, “Show us.” With everyone else’s eyes fixed tensely on each other, you can approach her from behind, undetected. Two guns are pointed at Carter and one at Ron. Carter reaches for his rifle, and Ron braces his own gun with both hands. Ron cocks the hammer, and you quietly approach Jill from behind.

Ron adjusts his finger on the trigger, and Joel shoots him in the head. Jill screams.

It all happens in an instant: You lunge forward, tackling her to the ground, making her drop her gun. You could shoot her in the head, but something makes you toss your gun aside. You can't stop yourself from putting your hands around her throat. She claws at your chest and breasts. She slaps you, and it stings. You elbow her in the face, keeping one hand on her neck. She keeps clawing at you. “Stupid whore,” she spits.

“I'm only his,” you snap back. She laughs. “And he’s mine,” you pant and put your palm over her face, covering as much of it as you can, putting all your weight on her. Before she can bite you, Joel’s massive hands are firm around your arms, pulling you off. You resist, and he wraps an arm around your middle.

“‘S’okay,” he repeats as he pulls you off, and lifts you into standing. “Go inside.”

You hesitate and he firmly adds, “Now. I'll handle this.” He gives you a look that says he means it. Then he turns his attention to Jill. She coughs as you walk away. She whimpers and plays up how injured she is. Pathetic.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice softens for her. “You’ll be alright,” he tells her. You glance back and he’s what? He’s straddling her. He has his hands on her face. Is he . . .stroking her hair? You can’t see well enough. Your chest burns, and you start to turn around completely, wanting to approach them.

But Carter whispers, “C’mon, let’s go,” and gently takes your elbow.

Maybe it’s for the best. You walk with Carter in a daze. Maybe you were seeing things. No, Joel is comforting her. Your Joel is straddling and comforting the woman who just slapped you and called you a whore.

“It's okay,” Joel reassures Jill again, then you hear the loud crack of her neck snapping.

You feel a lot of things. Joy, relief, guilt–not for being happy, but for doubting Joel.

Carter opens the trailer door and you go inside.

For a few minutes, you just sit at the table. Your relief at Jill’s demise quickly fades when you realize she died thinking Joel liked her. Joel acting sweet with her even for a few seconds was more than she deserved.

Now you can't calm down. All your muscles are tense. You start to cry, then you go to get a glass of water. Your hand is shaking and you can hardly hold the glass. You want to throw it, but you put it down, still empty, on the counter. You take a deep breath, bury your mouth in your shoulder, then scream as loud as you can, until you're out of air and your throat is sore. You cough and spit over the sink, nauseous from the effort. Then you slump down onto the kitchen floor in tears.

Almost as soon as you hit the floor, the front door opens. It's not Joel, it's Carter.

“What happened?” Carter rushes over to you.

“Where's Joel?”

“Haulin’ a body.”

“Which body? Don't let him touch her!”

He looks at you, stunned for a second, then says, “Not hers.”

“You promise?” you try to choke back tears.

“God damn, you're both losin’ it,” Carter mutters to himself. Then he hesitantly reaches for your shoulder. “Shhh, it's okay.”

You lunge toward him on your knees and let yourself fall onto his chest. He looks over his shoulder then hesitantly hugs you. “Okay,” he whispers with his hands very lightly touching your back but not resting their full weight. He gives you a moment, then clears his throat. “I've gotta. . . ” He lets go, stands up, and fills the glass of water. “Here.” He puts it on the table, then comes back to you.

“Been a long day, huh?” Carter asks. He squats down and takes your elbow in his hand. “C’mon.” You wipe your eyes on your flannel and stand up. He guides you to the table with his hand on your back and pulls out a chair for you. He leaves you at the table with your water.

—--

You sit there for a minute, sipping your water. Then go to the bathroom to splash your face. You stop crying. You fix your hair. But your eyes are still misty. You look at your chest in the mirror. She scratched you. You can see a couple of her scratch marks better than Joel’s name. Your chest heats up as you stare at it, and your heart beats faster. You take calming breaths. You want her to go away. You don’t want anyone on your skin but Joel. You dab your chest with a cold washcloth. The worst scratch is right over the ‘J’.

You open the medicine cabinet, don’t find anything useful, and close it. You go to the kitchen and find a pocket knife in one of the drawers. You bring it back to the bathroom and open the sharpest blade. What if you just. . .if you make the ‘J’ a little better, maybe. It’s like she goes away. How should you do it? You look down at yourself. You can’t really see. You look in the mirror and bring the knife to your chest. The hand-eye coordination is hard in the mirror.

You’re looking in the mirror, holding the pocket knife in your hand, when the front door opens and slams shut. Joel’s boots thud, then stop. He says your name. “You okay?”

You sniffle. He approaches the bathroom door. It's not shut. You move toward the door to shut it, but you're too late. Joel stops it from closing. He's so much stronger than you, he pushes it open with ease, then his arms wrap you in a hug and the force of it walks you backward toward the sink.

You still have the knife open in your hand. As his arms tighten, you whisper, “Careful,” and hold your hand away.

He pulls away, looks you over, and looks at your hand. “Hell are ya doin’,” he mutters.

You turn back toward the mirror and stroke the ‘J’. “Making it better?”

“Makin’ it. . .”

Your eyes water again as you face the mirror fully. Joel turns toward the mirror, too, standing behind you. You run your fingers over your chest with one hand and hold the knife with the other.

Joel's face changes when he realizes what you're doing. He grabs your wrist so hard you reflexively drop the knife and it clatters into the sink. “No.”

He picks it up, closes it, and puts it behind the faucet. He looks at your face in the mirror. “Can't let ya do that.”

“You said people can’t see it.”

“Told ya we’d figure somethin’ else out.”

“Like what?”

Joel runs his hand over your chest, and his thumb lingers on the scratch over the J. His nostrils flare, his head tilts down, and his eyes darken under his brow. “This from her?”

You nod.

Joel sighs and steps over to the bathtub. He starts a shower. He takes his shirt off over his back. You back away toward the door, and start to give him some space.

“Whoa, nuh-uh” Joel stops you. “Did I say leave?”

“Sorry.”

“Take your clothes off.” He sits on the toilet to untie his boots, then slips out of them and takes off his socks.

“Ya know, ya came out there. Got her all worked up,” he grumbles. What? That’s not fair.

“I just wanted you.”

“You were starin’ right at her, sweet pea.”

“I just wanted to be on you, wanted to touch you,” you insist.

“She wanted her grubby hands on you.”

“You think that's what she wanted?”

“And she got it, didn't she?” Joel asks rhetorically, eyes fixed on your chest again. He clenches his jaw at the sight of her touch. He nods toward the shower. “That’s yours.”

“Can I have a bath?” You know it’s a long shot. He’s not in the mood to wait for water to boil.

“Fire's out and we’re outta gas. Gonna be cold either way.”

You brace yourself for the water. Joel remains seated on the closed toilet and holds your hand to help you balance as you step into the tub. You're far enough back that the water only hits from your abdomen down. It's not quite as bad as you expect, but gives you a chill all over. He scans your body as it prickles in goosebumps and your nipples pebble. He reaches behind you for the soap, then lathers a washcloth. He starts with your chest. The scrape stings.

“She wanted you, not me,” you mutter, wincing at the echo of your own words under the light beating of the water. Joel slows down and you continue, “She was looking at you, not me.” He stops the washcloth on your clavicle. Lather pours between your breasts and trickles down your sternum.

Joel squints at you, looks from your mouth to your tits, swallows, and refocuses on the task, adjusting the washcloth in his hand.

“Don’t gotta worry ‘bout that, sweet pea,” he murmurs and begins to slide the cloth slowly across your skin.

It’s nice to hear, but it’s not enough. Your eyes feel weak. “Well, I do worry about it,” you croak and feel the tears coming back.

He adjusts himself, then sighs. “You always cry in the shower?”

The coldness stings.

“Are you mad at me,” you ask shakily.

Joel curses himself under his breath. His brow furrows at your breasts and he braces his wet hand on his knee. “No, baby.” His eyes rise to meet yours, and he cups your cheek. “No. . .Just tired. . .” He searches your face. “Too many bodies in those woods. Gettin’ old.” You sniffle. You start mentally going through the bodies, and your head hurts at the thought. Joel says, “and ya can’t get in my shot like that, sweet pea.” You relax a little more. Your tears wane at the thought that he was already planning to kill her.

Joel stands up, hands you the washcloth, and starts to undo his jeans. You watch his pants come down over his crotch, a sight that always makes your breath hitch. “Face the water,” he mumbles, and you obey, staying far enough back not to get your head wet. He braces his hand on the far wall of the shower and steps in, squeezing between you and the back of the tub. You inch forward to make room. His feet are spread around yours and his hands rest on your hips for a moment. He presses his lips into the crown of your head, then reaches around your front to take the washcloth from you.

Joel presses himself up against your back, then continues to wash your chest. He soaps up your breasts again, then cradles one with his bare hand as he washes your trunk. You look down and watch the suds slide down your body. He washes your hips, your thighs. You’re grateful for the warmth of his groin against you. He turns you to the side and washes your sides, under your arms, your back, your ass, your legs. Then he tells you to rinse off while he washes himself. He steps all the way under the cold water without so much as flinching. When he’s finished, he rinses off, turns off the water, and wraps you in a hug. The water rolls off your skin and the faucet drips as you stand there in his arms.

After a few minutes, Joel’s deep voice slices through the silence. “Carter's stayin’ tonight. Wait here.” This unsettles you because you imagine Joel must be worried about something to have Carter stay. Did he believe her about the Infected?

Joel wraps a towel around himself and leaves you in the bathroom with your own towel. You look in the mirror for a moment, then quickly avert your eyes from your reflection.

Joel returns with clothes for you. He’s in plaid pj pants and a white t-shirt. Both are too small on him. His pockets are puckered. You smile at the sliver of skin between his pants and shirt, and he asks, “What?”

You shrug. “You’re wearing pjs.”

“Yeah? Well I ain't wearin’em long,” he murmurs and you feel a twitch of need. “You're gonna finish what ya started out there.” He looks at you darkly. “Got it?”

You bite your lip and nod as desire throbs between your legs.

“That means I ain't doin’ it, you are.”

Your chest flutters with butterflies.

He rests a flannel on his shoulder, while he holds up your nightie for you. You lift your arms and he puts it over your head. He pulls it down and pats your butt. “Want it that bad. . .” He holds the flannel up for you and you stick your arms in. He brings his mouth to your ear. “Gonna show me how bad.”

The front door opens and shuts.

“All good?” Joel yells.

“All good,” Carter answers, then exaggerates a loud yawn.

“Blankets in the closet,” Joel yells.

Joel brushes his teeth and leaves you to get ready for bed.

Joel returns just as you're finishing up. He shoves his hand in the puckered pocket of the pj pants and pulls out something brown and strappy that looks small in his hands. It looks like a piece of your holster, but thinner, more delicate. His brow furrows at it and he swallows. He sits on the closed toilet seat again.

“What is it?” you ask.

“It's. . .” He looks at your chest. “C'mere.” You step forward. He holds the object against his thigh and with his other hand, he traces the letters on your chest. “It's better than tryin’ to . . .” he trails off. He looks at your face, then back to your chest and caresses it again. “Better than this.” Your heart swells. He doesn’t want to hurt you. He doesn’t want you to hurt you.

He looks at the object in his lap.

“It's for me?”

He nods. He takes a deep breath and fiddles with the belt-like closure. “Can wear a sweater or whatever, and still. . .”

“Lemme try it on.”

He searches your eyes. “Really want to?”

You nod.

He stands up and guides you to the sink. He stands behind you as you both look in the mirror. He wraps it around your throat. Your breath hitches when you see his name in careful, bold lettering, clear but imperfect. It’s an odd sensation, having something around your neck, but the back of it is soft against your skin. It’s smoother and more delicate than the holster is on your thigh.

“It's beautiful,” you tell him as he concentrates on putting it on you.

He's gentle and careful. He fastens it with enough room to breathe and swallow. You look at it in the mirror, and the fact that he made it makes you emotional. “You made it,” you whisper.

He nods. “Don't gotta wear it all the time, but-”

“I love it.”

“Yeah?” he turns you around with his hands on your hips, and his gaze devours your form from head to toe. “Well, God damn. . .Looks good on ya, too.”

You wrap your arms around him and he hugs you close. He leans back to see you wearing the choker. “Let's go to bed.”

—-—--

You take off the flannel and get in bed. You bury your head in your pillow. Joel wraps you in his legs and arms, muscles straining his pajamas as he holds you in the dim room. His big, warm hand strokes your back. His body is like a furnace. You take deep breaths. In his bed, in his arms, you finally feel like you can breathe. His arms feel like home in a way that nearly overwhelms you. These are the arms that took you. They hurt you and pushed you away. Would they still? These arms hold you and care for you. They comfort you and kill for you. You hope they never let go.

It doesn't feel like you were ever really home before him, and it's impossible to imagine an after. There is no after. You're his. In the cruel, awful world, he carved out this space just for you. He kisses your forehead. You pinch your eyes shut and a tear runs down your cheek. It's a tear of relief. You press your cheek into his white t-shirt and his warm package twitches against you. He pushes his hips into you only slightly, and keeps holding you. You focus on his breathing and the beat of his heart.

You wedge your hand between your bodies. Your knuckles slide down your abdomen, and your palm skims his tummy on its way to his pants. You cradle the warm bulge in his flannel. You press your palm into it and he grunts softly as he presses his hips forward. Then he wraps an arm over you. He rolls onto his back, taking you with him. You're on top of him, and your heart flutters as his words from the bathroom echo. That means you’re doin' it.

You come to your knees, and he watches you curiously as you straddle him. You lower yourself so your panties meet his flannel, and the warmth of his bulge sends a shock to your chest. You lightly grind against him and watch his chest rise and fall as his cock swells against your neediest place. His hips lift and his eyes gloss over as he watches you move on him. You must be a vision – swollen, misty eyes, scratched up chest – but the look on his face says you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

That means you're doin’ it.

You scoot back so you’re straddling his thighs. You bring your hand just above his waistband, and your thumb traces his happy trail up under his t-shirt to his belly button, bringing the shirt up with you. You use both hands to push it up and he asks, “Want this off?”

“It's okay,” you shake your head. “Just like to see this. You slide your hand down his stomach, once again running your thumb through the hair leading to his groin. You run your hand slowly up and down it a few times and feel his muscles tense under the light padding of his tummy. The bulge in his pants becomes more of a tent. His tummy flexes as he rises up enough to take the shirt off anyway.

“What else ya like?” He asks. By now, he knows. Oh God, does he know. But he must want to hear it. He must want to see it, feel it. He wets his bottom lip. You back up down his legs and take his flannel pants down. His cock bounces free, and for a moment, you dismount him entirely. Once the pjs are down below his knees, he kicks them off the rest of the way as you take off your underwear. He sucks in air through his nose as he watches you. He's still, and he’s quiet, but the look on his face is more pain than patience.

You straddle his legs, bend at the hips, and rest your elbows on either side of his hips. You take his cock in one hand, then bring your lips to the head. He's still not at full mast. Not for him. For another man, this might be as hard as it gets, but not Joel. You suck the tip into your mouth. A masochistic part of you imagines how many women might have sucked this cock. You have, too, of course. But you want to outdo them all. You suck as much of it into your mouth as you can, and he sucks in a shaky breath as you furrow your brows and close your eyes. You suck from the back of your mouth, and your throat gurgles obscenely as his tip nudges it, then you gag. His hand rests gently on the side of your head. “You’re okay.”

You lock eyes with him as you slowly let his shaft out of your mouth. A string connects your lips to his tip until you wipe your mouth with the back of your wrist. You hold his shaft in a loose fist, thumbing his dorsal vein as you turn your attention to his balls. You cup his balls, then lick a stripe up the seam of his sack, and his hand grips the fitted sheet. When you look up at him, he releases the sheet. Your tongue circles his left nut and he closes his eyes. You have your free hand braced on his upper thigh, near where it meets his torso, and you can practically feel the blood rushing to his cock. His eyes meet yours again, and his brows are furrowed.

“Can I have them in my mouth,” you ask and he nods encouragingly.

You take one into your mouth and circle your tongue around it. You let it rest on your tongue then give it a gentle suck and he breathes, “oh God damn.” It’s fuzzy and soft and feels nice in your mouth.

You pinch your eyes shut and sigh, “Mm,” with your mouth full. You move to the other one, careful and gentle. “Ohh,” he moans a little louder than you expect, and you pause.

You look toward the bedroom door nervously, and take your mouth off. You’re about to remind him about Carter, but he cuts you off, “Shhh,” before you can.

You lick all around his balls again, and his cock throbs angrily in your hand. You suck a ball into your mouth. You want both, but there’s no way you can do it without scraping him with your teeth, so you don’t.

Instead, you return your lips to his tip and feel yourself throbbing as you suck his shaft into your mouth. When you look up, he’s shaking his head no.

“This aint what ya wanted, baby.”

“Is it good?” you ask.

“Yeah. It's good, sweet pea. . .The best.” His thumb brushes your temple. He moves his fingers to tilt your chin up to look at him. “But this ain't what ya want *really* want.”

“Wanna make you feel good.”

“Yeah? You were bouncin’ on my cock out there, just to make me feel good?”

You twitch and swallow and your chest flutters with desire.

“What’d I tell ya in the bathroom?”

“I'm gonna finish what I started”

“That’s right,” he nods.

His cock is raging hard. You’re throbbing and gushing for it. You give the tip of it one last kiss, then get up on your knees and take your time positioning yourself over it. You press his tip against your most sensitive place for a moment and let out a whimper. The contact makes you ache for him.

—

Joel cradles the backs of your thighs as you hold his cock. You look down as you move forward just a little more, then nestle his cockhead at your dripping hole, the very tip of it prodding just barely inside. You’re more than wet enough. You brace your hands on his tummy, near the bottom of his ribs. Then, you begin to sink down with a whimper, letting his cock spread you open. He growls, “God damn.” You're biting your lip, with his big cock stretching you already.

He nods, “go on, you can do it.” You lift yourself up and bend slightly forward, tilting your hips. He sucks in air through his teeth. He grabs your hips, and you groan as he pulls you down. “Fuck,” he breathes heavily. He loosens his hands on your hips, then moves them to your thighs. You sit still on his cock with your body angled slightly forward, your clit pressing into his pubic hair. You savor the fullness and the way your body makes space for him.

You brace your hands on his chest and begin to move yourself. “Good girl,” he whispers with a gentle thrust of his hips. You whimper as his length nudges deep inside, and his hips lift you.

You lift your ass and let most of his length out, before swallowing it up again and moaning with the delicious stretch. You slowly move yourself, and when you whimper, you feel his nipples harden under your hands. You palm his pecs as you ride his cock. His chest rises with deep breaths as you fuck him. His eyes keep drifting to his name wrapped around your neck.

You try to be quiet, biting your lip, but you still let out little moans, you can't help it. So does he. “Ohhh, baby—ohh.” His sounds are desperate, from deep in his chest.

“Ya do it good,” he whispers. He cradles your ass in his massive hands and begins to move you on him, a little faster than you were going. He watches your breasts move under your nightie. He lifts up the hem of your nightie to watch your cunt swallow his length, and he groans softly. You pause and take it off, then start moving again.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, then his hands return to your ass, gently guiding your rhythm. He clenches his jaw, and you can tell he's trying not to take over entirely.

“C’mere a minute,” he murmurs.

His tummy pudges and wrinkles over his flexing abs, and his fingers dig into your ass cheeks as he sits up. He wraps his arms around you and turns to face the edge of the bed with his legs hanging off. “Hang on,” he murmurs. “Hang on, baby.” He holds your back with one arm, stands up slightly, and pulls at one of your thighs. You adjust your position so you’re seated instead of kneeling and your bent legs wrap loosely around him. Without the leverage of your knees on the bed, it’s up to him.

You have your arms around his neck and your face against his cheek. Your lips pull like a magnet to the skin just below the dark, curly hair on his head. You plant a kiss on his neck and suck lightly. He exhales vocally. He hugs you into him and moves you up and down. He’s doing it all now. You both sigh and moan as his cock fills you up.

Then, he loosens his arms and slides his hands to your shoulder blades. He hooks his thumbs under your arms and breathes, “Lemme see ya for a minute.”

You hesitantly let him pull you away from his body, missing the heat of his chest against yours.

“Ain't gonna drop ya, sweet pea.”

You relax some of your weight into his hands, and he brings you all the way down so you're lying face up with your lower back on his lap. His hands under your arms hold you steady as he thrusts into you, like your body is a warm, wet sleeve for him. You let your head fall back in pleasure. He grunts as he moves you, and you look again to see him snarl. He looks down and watches his cock disappear again and again.

“God damn you feel good,” he whispers. His eyes roam from your eyes to your lips, to your choker, to your tits. He watches where your bodies are joined as he keeps thrusting into you, making you feel like no one ever has. Then his eyes drift up your body again. He slows down. His hands tighten, and he grunts as he brings your body upright again. Your breasts meet his chest. Your arms wrap around his neck again as he hugs you. Your cheek rests against his jaw, and his scuff scratches you pleasantly. “Always so good,” he breathes, moving you on his cock. His breath is warm against your ear. “Ohh baby,“ he sighs.

He tilts his chin to look up at the ceiling, and you latch onto his neck. He braces a hand on the bed and his hips lift under yours as you grind your body into his. “Yeah,” he sighs. “Oh, God, baby. You're–you’re so good for me,” he pants, barely above a whisper. “Ohhh–so good, sweet pea.”

You release his neck with a whimper. He cradles your head with one hand, and his cheek returns to yours.

As you ride him, his head slowly drifts back, so his breath is on your cheek instead of your ear. Your lips are dangerously close, and Joel doesn't pull away. Your mouths get closer while your bodies move as one. Soon, the corners of your lips are touching. You breathe and moan against each other's mouths. Your lips tingle at the closeness, and all you want is his mouth on yours. It feels so close. The sides of your mouths move against each other. It’s enough, just feeling his lips. You want more, but it’s enough, for now. He pulls his head back, and your heart barely has time to sink before he leans his forehead against yours and cradles the back of your head. Your mouths loosely connect, with his lower lip hitching on your upper lip every time you slide down his cock. You breathe each other’s breath. Your noses touch. His bottom lip tenses, and his mouth follows yours, not letting your lips slip away. You moan softly against his mouth, pinching your eyes shut, resisting the urge, resisting it.

Then, Joel presses his open lips against yours. His lips drag lightly, clockwise, then they truly embrace you. As your mouths seal together, you half-moan, half-whine, “Mmm.” His lips are strong and desperate, pulling on yours like a hug. You can feel him taking your air and your spit. He sucks it right out of you, replacing it with an even more desperate need for him. You’re having him, you’re having all of him, but you can never have enough. Arousal floods your body. It gathers deep in your gut and bubbles up to your chest. You take a deep breath through your nose as his tongue slowly thrusts into your mouth and finds yours. His cock is in your tight, wet cunt, and his tongue is in your soft little mouth. You throb and twitch on his cock, and you're nearly overcome. Your whole body simmers. He wraps his arm tighter around you, and your tits smush against him as he kisses you hungrily, and you kiss back. It’s real, it’s really–it’s real. His hand slides down to grip the back of your neck as your mouths move together, drawing each other in, deeper and deeper, like you need it to live.

“Mmmm,” you whine at your imminent peak.

“Mm,” he grunts into your mouth as you twitch again on his cock. His tongue slides against yours, and the tension boils over violently, erupting from your core out to every inch of your body. Your walls clench, and you don't want to let go of his mouth, but your body jerks. Your lips begin to break away with a moan as you spasm on his cock. He holds you there by your neck. Your mouths stay half connected, and you breathe and moan against each other. Time freezes and waves of pleasure ripple through your core. Then, Joel’s thick cock twitches in the embrace of your spasming cunt. “Ugghh,” grunts, then his lips take yours again. “Mmmm.” He erupts, and you're still not finished. He holds you still, holds you tight. His hips lift slowly into you as his cock pulses. Massive bursts of warmth flood your core, and he kisses you slowly but needily as he comes. The kiss becomes sloppy. You both breathe through your noses, but your mouths still disconnect for split seconds, breathing each other’s humid breath.

When Joel finishes emptying his load into you, he gently pulls his lips from yours to take a deeper breath. He leans back and collapses on the bed. You sit there on his cock, still twitching, and your hand drifts to your tingling lips. His hands rest on your thighs. You watch his chest expand with air, and you watch his face. He opens his eyes, then silently motions c’mere with both hands. You fold at your hips and hug him. As you settle in, he strokes the nape of your neck. His chest rises and falls under your cheek. He unfastens the leather choker for you. You were planning to sleep in it, but now that he’s kissed you–and it was more than that, it felt like more–you don't feel quite as desperate for the tangible reminder that he wants you. You have it. Your lips are buzzing. Your whole body is. You can feel it in your bones.

After a few minutes of caressing you, Joel murmurs, “Let's get some sleep.”

You both get under the covers. He lies on his back. You’ve never seen his face so peaceful. You rest your head and half your body on him. You rest your hand on his chest. He strokes your back. Then, he lays his other hand on top of yours.

Soon, you drift off to the sound of him lightly snoring.

----

So, I was writing this one when I took the detour to let Carter jack off lmao: He's only human.

I hear you about notifs not working, i hear you about tags not working (i'm not getting a lot of my tags either). consider checking my fic notifs blog @toxicfics or the "latest fics" on my profile header once in a while to see what you might have missed.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging. I really appreciate your support and patience and love for these characters. Out of all my characters, it means so much to me when you engage with raider Joel because I pour a lot of myself into this one and have been writing it for >8 months.

Love you all so much! I can't respond to everything without spamming but I appreciate all of your commentary so much and often revisit it when I need inspo.

: @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @neobanguniverse@quietlyignoringyou @gab-thelamb-onthemoon

#raider!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#jmrecs

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spicysoftsweet · 4 years ago

Text

summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him

warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.

It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.

Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.

Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.

The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.

Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.

Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.

Why were you so anxious?

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.

It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.

Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.

You froze.

Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?

Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.

You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.

But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.

You were clearly still spooked.

But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.

He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.

“Ah! You’re back~”

Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.

He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.

“W-what are you doing here?” You choked out.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.

“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”

“Gojo, please get out of my house.”

His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.

“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”

Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.

“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.

“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.

“Don’t you like my attention?”

“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.

As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.

Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.

“Stop shaking.”

It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.

You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”

“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.

“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”

“Please...”

Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.

Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.

You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.

His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.

Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.

At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.

“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.

He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”

To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.

“Fuck you.”

“I will.”

With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.

The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.

The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.

Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.

You almost thanked him.

His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.

You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”

He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.

Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.

As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.

“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”

He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.

His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.

You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.

As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.

The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.

“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.

You didn’t answer.

You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.

“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #tw noncon #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo sm #not sfw #gojo smut #mae.drabble #mae.writing

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

Words Whispered in the Dark

Type: Modern-college-professor AU - part of Attached series or a standalone

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 6250🙈

Summary: There are things, intimate desires, which people simply don’t want to talk about out loud. Since you prefer writing those down, it applies twice as much.

Steve supports your writing – but what he’d think about your newest story… well, you’re not sure you wanted to know.

Warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, bondage, oral (M rec), consensual sensory deprivation, praise kink & body worship, ‘babygirl’, fingering, dom/sub undertones & implied age gap & professor-student dynamic & cumplay if you squint, language ---- (let me know if I missed any…why is the list so long wtf)

A/N: Can be read as a standalone. Part of the Attached ‘verse with professor!Steve.

A/N: For Siri’s 5K Soft Dark Challenge. Congratulations to the rightfully earned milestone ❤️ Thank you for hosting the challenge and kindly including even soft fics (even though I feel like my soft got lost in translation a bit).

Prompt: “Oh, honey, you weren’t supposed to see that.” - bold in the text, pls don’t @ me for the way I used it.

Stepping back into your and Steve’s shared bedroom and study room in one, you froze on spot, heart leaping to your throat.

You were lucky you didn’t drop your coffee and snack upon the sight of him, your fingers gripping the items tighter in surprise instead. But fuck, was it a close call.

Because few minutes ago, you moved to the kitchen to grab some refreshments for your brain. Relaxed air had settled over your tiny but loving household on a late Sunday morning; Steve was chilling on the bed, while you sat by your desk, laptop in your lap as your fingers danced over the keyboard, putting into words your latest… uhm, story. It was going great too and being able to steal glances at your gorgeous fiancé and muse in one person was a pleasant bonus.

Steve was, as sheepish as it sometimes made you, well-acquainted with your passion for writing, even rooting for you in his fully-supportive partner mode at all times. He read a few things of yours, both dirty and sweet ones, and he seemed to be genuinely enjoying himself. You weren’t hiding things from him, never had to; and damn, did it feel good for both of you.

So technically, you knew there was a chance you’d find him behind your desk, eyes skimming over your words since you left the computer opened, just like the document, but… well.

Nothing could prepare you for the sight on him actually doing it, shoulders tense, Adam’s apple bobbing, breathing shaky as his chest kept rising and falling irregularly.

Your own breath hitched at the sight, face feeling like set aflame, pulse hammering in your temples.

Oh no. Oh shit. This wasn’t happening--

Truth was, you really had no problem sharing your stories with Steve. But this one… well, fuck. You were so fucking screwed.

“Oh---oh honey,” you stuttered, the endearment you rarely used tasting foreign on your tongue. That was how out of it you were upon realizing what was happening here.

Steve was reading it. Steve was reading that thing. That shameless, entirely dubious thing that--- this was bad. Bad, bad, bad, really fucking bad—he hadn’t run for the hills before, no matter how filthy your stories got, but now he certainly would.

Steve’s head snapped to you at instant, cheeks flushed, eyes wide as he was caught red-handed.

“You- uh, you weren’t supposed to… see that,” you stuttered awkwardly, still unable to move an inch.

Maybe you should run for the hills just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the aftermath?

He didn’t react apart from spinning in the chair to face you, throat working again as his gaze trailed up and down your figure clad in a simple shirt and shorts, fluffy socks to keep your feet warm. Despite your plain outfit, his gaze burned with intensity and dare to say hunger, enough to stir heat in your belly.

Realizing this might be the last time you’d ever see him (okay, that was a bit of an exaggeration, maybe, but better safe than sorry), you let yourself to take him in as well, again, even if you knew every line of his body, every detail. The cut of his jaw, tendons in his throat tense as well as his shoulders, long fingers griping the armrests, legs slightly parted, accenting the unmistakable growing bulge between them.

Your heart skipped a startled and excited beat. Oh. Well. At least he liked what he read, you supposed, even if all bells in your head were ringing it alarm, because… that. That kind of story would be a little too much for him, you had thought.

Was it?

“Come here,” he whispered, voice hoarse as if he had just woken up, the same voice that caressed your ear as he rutted into you, in the lazy loving which so perfectly fit a morning like this.

Willing your feet to move, teeth sunk into your lower lip, your fluffy socks padded almost soundlessly against the floor as you obeyed his request.

He gestured for you to rid yourself of the items in your hands; once again, you obliged.

The second your hands were free, he grabbed your wrist, pulling you in for a dirty kiss, fingers sinking into your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you. Sighing in relief, you relaxed into his affection and he wasted no time licking into your mouth, his free hand gripping onto your shirt (his shirt) to drag you into his lap.

A hazardous position in an office chair, one might think. But you had a lot of practice with your favourite professor.

Sliding lower in the seat and pulling you up, Steve positioned you to his liking, drawing an appreciative hum from you as his erection rubbed deliciously against your core. You felt him smile into the kiss at the little sound you made, his fingers digging into your flesh in order to press you into him further, rutting against your quickly dampening centre.

Okay, who were you kidding. You had been writing down your filthy fantasy, you were already soaked, Steve’s movements and apparent enthusiasm just adding to the heat. A whine escaped your lips when he withdrew a fraction, giving you a chance to breathe, hand slipping under your shorts to fondle your lower cheek.

“Well, I did see it, sweetheart,” Steve said lowly, a little too short of breath for the teasing to work in his favour. Still, your stomach twisted in anticipation of what was to follow. “And I want it.”

Your eyes snapped open, your lips parting in awe, butterflies erupting in your stomach. You met his eyes, dark pupils having almost swallowed the blue of his irises, gaze intent to prove his point. Fuck. You could come right now if he kept you sitting exactly as you were and watching you like that.

It was one thing to see him react to your fantasy laid bare for him to see – voluntarily or not – but him admitting it out loud, well that was just a whole new fucking level.

Now the idea of that actually being doable was planted in our brain and your core clenched at the wistful image you had painted with your words.

It took you another minute of staring at each other to realize what exactly he was saying without explicitly voicing it.

“Wait, right now?” you blurted out breathlessly, a single nod and a kiss to the corner of your mouth your only answer.

Fuck. Shit. Okay.

“A-alright. Let’s do this then,” you stuttered, as thrilled as nervous.

You didn’t expect that – but you weren’t one to let the opportunity pass. You framed Steve’s face with your palms, his beard rough against your skin, and pressed your lips to his in a hurried kiss, eager to get him where you needed him before he changed his mind. Last grind of your hips, swallowing his content hum, you climbed from his lap to search for something that would hold.

“Bed. Now.”

Your fingers were shaking a bit under his intent gaze as they slipped under his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Steve was sitting on the bed now, legs parted enough for you to stand between them, watching our every move. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to the way he was looking at you – so tender, with longing and yet with such lust.

It lit your nerves on fire in the worst and best ways and that was alright with you, as long as you’d get to keep him.

He smiled at you softly, a little quirk to his eyebrow when he caught you staring and not springing into action just yet.

“What is it, babygirl?”

His hands trailing up your waist made it harder to answer.

You sighed, feeling your earlier confidence wavering. “You’re just so fucking pretty, it’s unreal.”

His lips curled up in a smirk, but the light in his eyes gave away just how much the compliment meant for him. He pulled you closer, a breathy kiss landing on your clothed stomach.

“That coming from you… could look at you all day, you must already know that,” he murmured to your shirt, sending a sparkle of courage up your chest.

You ruffled his hair and pushed him away with a chuckle, mirroring his previous smirk.

“Well, you won’t, not this time,” you sing-sang cheekily, stepping over his thigh to kneel on the bed behind him, hearing his breath catch, his hand brushing your thigh as you danced out of his reach.

Placing the scarf over his forehead first, you felt your insides twist in anticipation, fingertips tingling. God, you were really doing this.

“You ready, Professor Rogers?” you hummed to his ear, marvelling at the effect the title had on him, always, as his hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“When you say it like that, babygirl? Yes, I am,” he grumbled, causing you to bit down on your lip.

Making sure you didn’t tie the knot too tight nor too loose, you moved the fabric so it would cover his eyes.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh,” was his wordless answer as you let your hands slid to his bare shoulders.

Steve was undoubtedly a specimen. He was every male-attracted person’s wet dream and you were the one getting your hands on him. You thanked heaven and hell for it every day. The barely visible lines of his abs, toned chest… but Christ, it was his back that would be your downfall.

Allowing your hands to wander, your fingertips traced the hard lines of his deltoids, a featherlight touch making him shudder and your mouth to actually salivate. Dropping a kiss between his shoulder blades, you scooted closer so you were literally breathing down his neck, palms sprawled over his triceps, caressing his thick biceps, down his forearms and over his fists and all the way back up.

It was almost like a beginning of a massage, you supposed, but no one could blame you if you were enjoying the sensation on your palms a little too much. You didn’t get the opportunity to appreciate Steve’s physique like this often enough. So you indulged yourself a few more times, applying more pressure, dropping a kiss to the crook of his neck every once in a while. He winced at the accidental scrape of your nails up his forearm, causing you to halt in your movements.

“You still good?” you questioned quietly, genuinely worried for a second. You realized he had barely made a sound so far.

“You could say that, yeah,” he choked out you felt your lips curl up into a smile. Stealing a glance over his shoulder, you took notice of the unmistakable hard outline on his sweatpants and gleefully resumed your movements, nibbling on his shoulder before soothing the skin with a gentle lick. “Babygirl…”

“Yeah?”

“You know what. Don’t test me,” he warned, only making you smile wider.

“Or what?”

He turned his head to side despite not being able to see you, giving you a perfect view of how tense was his jaw. Oh, you could imagine the stern look he wanted to scold you with.

“Or you’re not gonna like what’s to come when I put my hands on you,” he threatened, sighing exasperatedly when you replied with a barely audible ‘promise?’.

“In all seriousness though… what if you… uhm, couldn’t?” you asked reluctantly, not keen on sharing what you wanted… but wanting it really badly. You were sensing a pattern within yourself, seriously.

“I don’t follow--- oh,” escaped him soundlessly as your fingers attempted to wrap around his wrists and squeezed to give him a hint. “I don’t know about that, I mean-“

You felt your hear sink in disappointment, but you tried not to let it show, wondering how to try to convince him one more time. Sure, if it was a no-no, then you wouldn’t force him, he never forced you into anything either and this was about your mutual pleasure, but… now, having him partially at your mercy, the idea nudged insistently on your mind and the image of him with his hands tied above his head while you could do anything you pleased… you might have been soaking the shorts and the sheets at that.

“We don’t have to, Steve,” you assured him kindly, hundred percent honest despite planning on playing dirty. Your hands moved to his abdomen, caressing their way up his chest, accidently brushing over his left nipple, your lips moving to his ear. “But I’d be so good to you…”

“Babygirl,” he whispered, out of breath as your hand wandered down his happy trail, slipping just under the hem of his sweats, the fingers of your other hand moving to the neglected nipple, this time shamelessly toying with it.

“I’d be such a good girl for you, Professor Rogers,” you promised, keeping the smile off your voice when you heard him gulp, his cock visibly twitching. “I’d be really, really nice. Don’t you want that, Professor?”

“Y-yeah, yeah, okay-“

“Good choice,” you said approvingly, dropping a kiss to his cheek, making him groan and probably regret his decision already. You stood up, quickly looking for something you could use. “Just so you know, I think this is where the same rule applies,” you noted matter-of-factly. “You don’t like something I do, you want me to stop at any point, you tell me. I really want this to be good for you, Steve. So. What’s the word?”

From the front, you could see the blush that spread over his chest, causing you to bite your lip and nearly stumble over your feet. Good lord, Steve blindfolded, all flushed and waiting for you on the bed so you could do your worst--- now that was a sight to behold.

“Uhm… Waterloo?”

You bit your cheek so you wouldn’t laugh at his choice. It was cute and ridiculous... but also kinda hot, because well, Steve’s brains were just another turn-on for you. Of course he would choose something like that. Professor Steven Grant Rogers, history buff, certified hot nerd, the sweetest man to ever walk the Earth.

You pressed your lips together to prevent yourself from smiling too wide. You didn’t even know why. It wasn’t like he could see you.

“Okay. Waterloo it is,” you said, swiftly moving to the closet when another idea popped in your head.

Slipping into a new outfit before heading back, you were rather satisfied with yourself as you grabbed the two ties you found prior. Not that it would actually hold him – it was about the idea.

“You’re taking a bit long, babygirl…”

“And? You mind?” you teased him, stopping to stand in front of him. “Have some… pressing issues?”

“Keep it up, babygirl, see what happens once this is over,” he bit back, only making you chuckle at the perfect pass.

“I think there’s something else that’s up--- sorry, sorry,“ you mumbled when his hand landed blindly on your thigh.

His brows furrowed when he felt the difference.

“You changed.”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand trailed up curiously, right under your miniskirt and you let him… just until air got stuck in his throat upon finding you with nothing but the generous amount of slick covering your core.

“Fuck-“

“Nope,” you replied cheekily, even if the flicker of his finger caused you to shudder, his touch like liquid fire at this point.

Fuck, you wanted him. You wanted him right now and you wanted him to take you in every way he wanted… but the idea of him at your mercy was appealing enough for you to control yourself.

You grasped his wrist and shoved it away; he allowed it, but not without whining pitifully.

“Lie down, Steve, please. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You better,” he grunted, unwillingly moving up the bed, obediently spreading out on the sheets and letting you guide his arms up as you climbed over him and tied his wrists together.

“Not too tight?”

He shook his head, a smirk crossing over his lips. You rolled your eyes at the double meaning, but you guessed it served you right.

Oh, but would you wipe that smirk off…

Securing the knot, you shifted to be face to face with him, lips hovering just above his mouth, breathing the same air and hoping to begin the sweet torture.

You had to admire his patience; despite definitely noticing your positions, Steve didn’t move an inch. It was up to you then – and the premise sent another thrill through your veins. Oh, you’d break him in the most delicious ways.

As soon as you erased the distance, his lips sunk into yours hungrily, wet and soft in the contrast to his beard, the sensation you adored, having you squirming above him until you remembered again that you were the one in control.

You kissed him with vigour, licking into his mouth, one hand still where his were joined, the other pressing against his chest. Your tongue met his, revelling at his taste and at another of his tries to dominate the kiss, to set things as they usually were. But as much as you loved it when he took charge… not today.

Parting abruptly, his lips following on instinct, you couldn’t but grin to yourself. Kissed his fingertips, you lingered at the one still glistening with your juices. You took it to your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and sucking lightly, feeling Steve’s heart speed up under your palm like crazy.

When you lightly grazed the skin with your teeth, his groan and the way his hips thrusted upward was the best reward you could get.

Kissing a trail down his arm – because goddammit you loved his arms – you hummed to yourself contentedly whenever you could feel the slightest shift of his body under yours and greedy for more contact, you allowed yourself to put most of your weight fully on him.

The choked sound it elicited from him startled you at first – until you realized that with your skirt hiked up, you weren’t the only one enjoying the skin-on-skin contact, your slick coating Steve’s lower stomach just above his sweats. Hopefully it was giving him ideas – it was certainly was to you.

Rustle of fabric, ragged breaths, occasional smacking noise when you moved up or left a small hickey on his shoulder and above his collarbone. Your fingers toyed gently with his nipples as you kissed his sternum before replacing your hands with your mouth once more, sucking, drawing a quiet whimper from him.

Fuck couldn’t get enough of the noises he was making. The pretty breathless moans of your name, the curses slipping from his lips… it was like music, but on a desperately low volume.

“What is it you always tell me?” you teased, lamely covering for the fact that your own arousal was nearly uncontainable. Shit, you loved how sensitive his nipples were… how much more sensitive he must have been now, no visual, laser focused on every touch instead? You wanted more… so much more. “Don’t hold these pretty sounds from me?”

Steve gritted his teeth at the remark, but as soon as you positioned your heat directly over his hard length and rolled your hips, he sang for you beautifully.

“Shit, sweetheart-“

The rush of confidence, the feeling of power was almost overwhelming – the image of him, lips parted in mute pleasure, certainly was. You were a little too close to climbing your own peak a little too quickly to your liking.

Sitting up straight, you undulated your hips few times, hands tracing patterns over Steve’s rapidly rising chest and abs. Much to his obvious dislike, you all too soon slid lower, your mouth making its way down his abdomen and then you finally, finally rid him of his sweatpants and boxers in one go.

His cock sprang free, hard and red at the tip, leaking just enough to cause your mouth to water and your thighs to rub together to give yourself some of the friction you craved so much.

Hands planted on his hips, you kissed along his hip bones and the apex of his thighs, taking your sweet time exploring everything you could – except for where you suspected he wanted you the most. You had to grin for yourself when you cupped his balls, causing him to hiss in relief, the muscles of his abdomen and legs clenching beautifully.

“Talk to me, Steve,” you hummed as you replaced your hand with your tongue, licking a stripe towards his base.

“Christ- don’t stop--“

“Eloquent as always, Professor,” you retreated, causing him to let out a growly sound you never heard before and had your core tingle, cunt feeling awfully empty.

Christ was right, alright. Seeing his chest heaving, fingers twitching as if he wanted nothing but to tug at your hair to keep you there and stuff your mouth full of his cock--- if you didn’t get some soon, you might actually combust.

So you put your mouth back to work on his sack again, fingers barely curling around the base of his cock, giving a first experimental stroke before you squeezed a bit tighter – and then swiftly moved away, his hips following on instinct in, craving more.

“For fuck’s --- how did I ever think you were sweet and nice?” he complained huskily, impatience lacing his voice.

You chuckled, but heard him out, leaving his balls in order to give more attention to his impressive and possibly painfully hard length.

“Beats me,” you retorted, hands busy with gentle strokes to his shaft. “I mean, we literally got together thanks to you finding out I wrote about sucking and riding your dick right in your office, Professor Rogers.”

“You little-“

His protests died in his throat, features twisting in wordless pleasure when you finally wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, delivering a few kitten licks to the tip. His taste exploded on your tongue, eliciting a content hum which he certainly felt too, because a jerk of his hips pushed him deeper to your mouth.

Slowly swallowing as much as you could without having him hit the back of your throat, you curled your hand tighter around the base and started bobbing your head.

A string of breathless profanities left his mouth whenever you squeezed, only getting filthier when you hollowed your cheeks. It was all encouragement you needed to take him deeper, giving him a taste of heaven as his tip brushed the back of your throat.

“Babygirl, fuck, fuck, yeah--- just like that…”

Your own arousal became unbearable, a surge of hot need squeezing your insides at Steve’s praise. Slipping a hand under your skirt, you sighed in relief when your fingers caressed your lower lips, hips bucking forward in desperate need of more.

Your predicament was impossible to solve – you wanted him inside you already, so badly, but fuck the picture Steve made, even if blurry as tears prickled your eyes whenever he hit the back of your throat, was just too divine.

Lips crimson with how he kept biting at them to keep at least a little quiet, hair sticking to his forehead, muscles drawn tight like strings as he kept clenching them both unwittingly and consciously in hope to get you where he wanted you and the fresh taste of him whenever you did something he particularly liked--- you simply had to feast your eyes on him. And he couldn’t do the same… or take charge for that matter.

So fucking pretty like this.

And you were the only one seeing him like that, tied up, helpless against the assault on his senses sans vision. He gave himself up to you like that, willingly. The thought warmed you up inside out, enough to drive you nearly as crazy as if you were in his place.

Wasting no time with preparation you didn’t need, you pushed two fingers into your core at once, whimpering around Steve’s cock when you did. Your whole body relaxed, the pent-up desire easing a little and yet burning hotter. You pumped your fingers slowly, the sensation so blissful you had to remind yourself to keep working on Steve too.

Still, your actions didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you—are you touching yourself, babygirl?” he whispered, tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

It took you a second to swallow the baseless embarrassment and literally swallow, causing Steve to let out a moan so wrecked and pretty you felt your pussy clamp around your fingers.

Hoping your words would come out less shy than you felt when saying them, you released Steve’s length with a wet pop to tease him some more.

“Yeah, I am…. Why? You want a taste?” you asked sweetly, clearing your throat that suddenly felt so empty.

The guttural moan that erupted in Steve’s chest was music to your ears, his cock twitching and glistening with fresh beads of precum a sight to behold.

“Yeah, babygirl… give it to me,” he choked out and the genuine desire in his voice was like a punch to your solar plexus. Your walls clenched around your fingers, the familiar coil in your abdomen tightening.

Swallowing a pitiful sigh at the loss, you stretched over the warm length of Steve’s body, gulping when his own parted in invitation.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Reluctantly, you let the fingers sticky with your juices brush over Steve’s lips, gasping when his tongue instantly slid out to lick at the essence eagerly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Fuck, always so sweet, babygirl…” he muttered, your breath stuck in your throat when his mouth blindly chased after your fingers before you could withdraw your hand.

“Oh my god-“ you choked out, mesmerized, your pussy clamping around nothing.

He sucked greedily, the image alone causing your hips to rut against his, your clit catching against his rock-hard shaft. Your eyes fluttered close in bliss, stars exploding behind your eyelids.

Unwittingly, you worked your hips faster, riding Steve’s thick cock even without having him inside. The friction, the soaked fabric of your skirt brushing against your clit, the sensation of Steve’s tongue lapping at your fingers as if he had his mouth on your pussy instead--- you felt the coil in your belly snap, the world turning white before you knew how.

You came with a broken cry, blissed out and shocked at the sudden release, but riding your pleasure out on instinct.

Grazing your fingers with his teeth as he let go, Steve spoke words so filthy our head spun.

“That’s it, babygirl. Fuck. Look how little my girl needed to come all over my cock. Using me so shamelessly. You must have really wanted it, didn’t you…” he said, voice hoarse with a tint of smugness as you came back from your high, the dirty talk only already riling you up again.

You had no idea what just happened, but you had a feeling Steve immensely enjoyed it as he somehow got the upper hand on you despite being the one tied up.

For someone who was supposed to have all blood out of his brain and have it in his dick instead, he was way too smug… but you’d reverse it again. He had no idea what was about to hit him.

Stealing a kiss to taste ourself on his tongue, your fingers went to remove the blindfold.

Your professor was, in certain aspects, still just a simple guy – he liked a good visual. It was silly of you to rid him of it in the first place, no matter how much fun you had with it.

Steve blinked in surprise, squinting against the sudden light, while you slipped out of your bralette, leaving you in nothing but your very schoolgirl-like mini skirt. You smiled at him sweetly, kissing his mouth once more, thumb softly brushing his lips as you towered over him, nearly giving him a view of what was under the fabric.

“I always want you,” you whispered with a smile, your hand cupping your breast, gently tweaking your nipple, his gaze following the movement as his fingers twitched. You bit the inside of your cheek, hand slowly trailing down. “Want you to touch me, everywhere. Always so wet and ready for you…”

Dark eyes watched you as you slipped your fingers under the waist of the skirt, a tiny mewl escaping you when the pad of your fingers bumped into your clit.

You would have felt stupid trying to give him a show after you came after almost nothing, but the warning growl of your name once again assured you that unsexy was the last thing that came to Steve’s mind when looking at you. It warmed both your belly and your heart. You almost felt regretful for a moment that you were still keeping him hanging, neglecting his no doubt aching cock, but he thought he had the upper hand here.

He was wrong.

“Always thinking of you… even when I’m alone, always thinking about your fingers, stretching me so good, about you fucking me, so hard till I’m screaming your name,” you continued in hushed voice, revelling at how tight his jaw set, eyes narrowed, breathing once again picking up.

“Babygirl—”

“Oops, sorry,” you chipped, pecking his lips as you withdrew your hand, quickly drawing a trail of kisses down his chest and abdomen, unable to resist a lick here and there where the line of his muscles looked particularly tasty. “Just thought you’d like to see my mouth on you. You like to watch, Professor Rogers, no?”

He never got a chance to answer as you guided him to your mouth again, holding his gaze as he indeed watched, eyebrows furrowing, each breath hitching, soon chanting your name. You caressed his balls as well, tongue tracing the vein on the underside of his length, your other hand firmly around his base.

You were the first to avert his gaze as your eyes fluttered close so you could fully focus on your task, relaxing your throat.

“Babygirl--- fuck me-- I’m gonna-“

You eased up a bit, earning a frustrated growl, the corners of your lips rising a bit as you imagined the ugly glare he must have shot you.

Thinking about it, closing your eyes was a mistake.

You never saw it coming as a hand suddenly sunk into your hair, yanking you up face to face with him, alarmed eyes staring into black ones as his pupils nearly swallowed all the blue or his irises.

He had slipped out of the poorly tied bonds, clearly fed up with your shenanigans.

Ah-oh, sounded in the back of your mind.

Another part of you didn’t fail to notice that despite the swift movement and calling an end to your games, Steve’s fingers were careful not to pull too harshly, making sure he was cradling your head safely. Same when he rolled you over, trapping you under the hard lines of muscle you had been tasting a moment ago, protective cage of his arms around your head.

If you weren’t so startled, you would have swooned.

You never got the chance, because any possible sound was muffled by his mouth crashing into yours, hand slipping from your nape to your throat to keep you in place with a wordless warning, hips pressed to yours just in case you would want to escape.

You would never. Even if you had a hunch Steve was about to ruin you in a way that would have you feel it for days.

Having enough of your mouth for the moment, giving you a chance to gasp for air, he stared at you smugly, one corner of his perfectly red lips raised in a smirk.

“Wicked little thing, aren’t you?” he grunted, thumb caressing the hollow of your throat softly, causing you to gulp.

You summoned your best innocent look, doe-like eyes that usually worked. “S-sorry?”

A flicker of a smile as he forced his knee between your thighs, instantly pressing against your still sensitive core.

“I don’t think you are, babygirl,” he huffed, nosing the crook of your neck, biting down sharper than you expected, a yelp erupting from your throat. He soothed in with the pad of his thumb, smiling wide, something soft in his eyes when he looked at you again. You were so fucking baffled at what that meant. ”That perfect filthy mind of yours… and you still get a bit shy, huh?”

“W-what?”

“You know what I think, babygirl?” he whispered intimately, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. “I think that you left the document opened on purpose.”

Your rapidly beating heart stopped in your chest, wind knocked out of you completely.

Fuck.

You were so busted.

Steve had read you like a book wide open--- because of course he did.

Yes, there had been a great part of you who wished for him to see it, hoping in this exact outcome; there had been an equally great part dreading what he would think about you. Writing the story down, you were thinking a bit more with your pussy than your brain though, so you decided to leave it for Steve to read. If he went for it, maybe you’d get something from it. If he didn’t, you’d move on. No harm no fool, right?

Right. No.

Now he did know and saw right through your little trick. And damn, did he look proud of himself for figuring it out. You were in so much trouble.

Somehow, you were as horrified as excited.

Steve chuckled as you swallowed against your suddenly dry throat, eyes no doubt wide as saucers.

“Oh, you did. Too shy to ask for it, leaving that to me instead. My sneaky, needy girl,” he muttered, fondness and humour with a dark lilt in his voice.

“I—I didn’t know how-“ you stuttered, feeling your face burning in embarrassment at his tone, just a smidge patronizing.

You averted his gaze, a vain attempt really, knowing he wouldn’t let you. Slipping two fingers under your chin, he guided you to face him again.

“Didn’t know how… hmm… so you thought you’d play me? That’s really naughty, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry… Professor Rogers,” you added quickly in hopes to mollify him, indeed earning a sweet kiss.

“Oh, it’s okay, babygirl. You know why?” he tested you and you could only shake your head lightly, guessing at best what kind of revenge awaited you. “Because you’re my good girl and you’ll let me settle the score. I’ll play with you now. It’s only fair, no?”

Oh fuck, here it came.

For a brief second, his lust-filled eyes appeared startingly clear and sober, boring into yours with a serious question.

It’s only fair, no? he had said.

It’s alright with you if the roles reverse, right? was what he was truly asking, checking, always checking if you were okay, just like you had been checking with him.

Because sex was fun, but only if all parties were on board.

Because Steve was sweet, considerate, soft and loving and he was everything you ever looked for in a man and more. You trusted him. You always did and you trusted him now – he would make you feel so so good. It was never really a question.

“Y—yes, it is.”

“Good girl,” he praised you, causing your core to weep. And he knew it, oh did he know and shamelessly used it against you... a little payback to all the professor you’d been throwing around. “Close your eyes.”

And you did. The blindfold came first, then hands, his fingers skimming over your forearms teasingly, feather-light touch on your sensitive skin, before he finally brought them up and tied them together.

“You ready, sweetheart?”

No, you were absolutely not ready, but your body was buzzing with desire again at that point, so you breathed a soft yes. And maybe, just maybe… no matter how you had enjoyed driving him crazy, cheeky and full of feeling of power, this felt like home. Because you trusted him – and so you gave yourself to him wholly.

He hummed in contentment as you confirmed, causing you shiver as he nosed the skin under your ear. “Good. Because I’m going to wreck you for that little stunt of yours.”

His words tickled the sensitive skin and shit, okay, your nerve endings were tingling, the sensation amplified tenfold with your eyes covered. Steve really was going to wreck you.

Mouth moving to your breast, he took the nipple in his mouth, shifting so the head of his cock nudged at your weeping opening, pushing just a bit with a promise of a delicious stretch, almost, almost there.

“Please,” was all you managed to breathe out, growing impatient, hissing when gave a playful bite to the underside of your breast, sending a surge of arousal through your veins. You back arched, a mewl escaping your when Steve moved his hips away completely, denying you.

“And you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?” he muttered to your skin, lips trailing lower and lower, warm and soft, beard leaving behind a delicious burn.

“Y- yes.”

“Good girl. And what else are you going to do? Tell me,” he encouraged you, large palms pushing your thighs apart so he could fit the insanely broad shoulders between them.

Mind foggy with need, senses overwhelmed, you still had enough wits to understand what he wanted to hear.

“Thank you,” you breathed out.

“Damn straight.” His words were a damp hot blow of air against your mound, causing your hips to jolt as if your body was begging to be taken apart by him already – blissfully aware of how he would put it back together again.

And with an inevitable scratch to your lower lips and a kitten lick to your swollen bud for starters, Steve did.

Attached masterlist

S.R. masterlist

I sincerely apologize for twisting the prompt and not even being able to write a soft enough fic the one time I’m supposed to.

But I hope you enjoyed anyway. I mean, if you made it to the end…

Thank you for reading :-*

Your Anika I’m-Not-a-Smut-Writer Ann

P.S. Fic loosely relates to one of the reblogs of this series: “You know one good thing about being an erotic writer is - you don’t have to talk about your embarrassing kinks. You want to tie your boyfriend up? You just email him a story about it 'subtly’ hinting at it.” Close enough?

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #professor steve rogers #LEMONS #mind the warnings #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america au #college au #modern au #wrong attachment au #captain america #captain america x you #captain america x reader #attached #words whispered in the dark #anika ann

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smidgen-of-hotboy · 8 months ago

Text

Reblogged the first time on accident bc i fat fingered teehee. anyway.

ZEPH I AM BITING YOU BITING YOU BITING YOU WTF I I I I I- NO WORDS HEAD EMPTY JUST YOUR VOICE I LOVE BONUS CONTENT!!!

Jay's Thoughts: Extended Cut

“Voices singing in harmonies, orbiting in perfect rhythm, chasing like the sun and moon across the sky, echoed in the deafening silence of Hadestown.” OHOHOHOHOHHOHOHHOHOHOHHOHOHOH- THE SUN AND MOON IMAGERY!!! THE ECHO OF DEAFENING SILENCE, THE ECHO OF VOICES SINGING IN HARMONIES!!! Eating this opening line up it is so good.

“And for the first time in a long, long time, the workers didn’t care” BARK BARK BARK BARK!!!!! My brain is drawing parallels between this and Our Angel og Brahma, Eevee and the other Dome Wardens going on their strike. Oh boy. Surly this can’t end badly!

I already gave my thoughts on this section when you posted the snippet a couple of days ago, but to recap: - “Took beatings from the executives…” this line reminds me again of Our Angel of Brahma - “creeping thyme” language of flowers meaning = courage, strength power, bravery. The Greek origin word “thumos” means “courage.” - i can’re read the word ceaseless without thinking of tma and i don’t even go there… but also smth smth- hermes “no hammer swinging… no pickaxe ringin… and they stood and listened” (i jumped ahead to persephone singing “how long” and ivfdsjgvnsjfibfnkrskjb AMBER GRAY LOVE OF MY LIFE I GOT TEARY EYED JUST READING THE LYRICS) - “Gilded cage” LIKE THE FUCKING TITLE!!!! Making ME think of Red Queen, “King’s Cage” now!!! (rip mare barrow)

Still thinking on King’s Cage and Slip is very Maven coded holy shit. He is obsessed with this boy like Maven was obsessed with Mare… OKAY YEAH HOLY SHIT WAIT- “doesn’t want him associating with those kinds of people anymore” THOSE KINDS OF PEOPLE???? REALLY SLIP! HOMELESS BOY GETS A TASTE OF POWER AND BECOMES A FUCKING TYRANT GRRRRR- SENTENCE HIM TO THE MEAT GRINDER!

“something he saw as clearly as if the sun were shining down through the rock overhead. Slip was afraid of Juno.” SLIP WAS AFRAID OF JUNO. 1) love the imagery 2) SLIP WAS AFRAID OF JUNO!!!!! Our lady failure makes this 3ft tall king shit his pants <3 /j

“a well of dread” oooh love this line

“it’s the scared animals that are the most dangerous” smth about eurydice who once stepped on a snake, smth about SMTH ABOUT THE SNAKE IN JUNO’S STOMACH-

I like the mental image of slip chewing his thumb staring out his glass office, his glass fortress, looking down on hadestown, and he glances up at Nureyev’s reflection to catch his sign and he gets fucked sassed. Get dunked on Slip Hackoff.

“He’d already lost so much to this man he could barely remember” TERRIBLE WASTE REFERENCE- STOLE HIS STORY REFERENCE-

HOW LONG, HOW LONG, HOW LONG!!! Again. AMBER GRAY MY BELOVED, ME SWEETHEART, MY DARLING, LOVE OF MY LIFE I FUCKIGN RFUIEGHBRF GGYHJDSFN- i love “how long” so so so so so much. And the way you’re working it in is chef’s kiss. The flip of persephone taking pity on orpheus trying to convince hades to feel the same, to nureyev taking pity on the workers trying to get slip to understand how fucked he is.

He thinks of this as BUSINESS???? BRO- i they don't even get health insurance out of this motherfucker for how much they work and how long their hours are. That should be like. A war crime. Slop Jackloss wtf. (terribly sorry about my name butchering, i love Sip Jakeson in equal parts i want him dead in canon)

“A small, scared kid.” FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK- he was just a boy in love! FUCK- THIS IS HOW 3FT KING AU/HC CAN STILL WIN!!! /heavily joking.

“Everything I ever built for you” parallel to “feel that fire, think of it as my desire for you!” Chant reference!!

OH BRIEF ANECDOTE TIME!! …”one could kill you and the other could dispose of your remains” love that they found this funny. Teenage children are morbid…

“No one is going to die!” Slip: proceeds to die first.

“Nureyev was left standing in the office, facing a man he had known so well decades ago, but didn’t know anymore.” ougggggg- this hurts. Hurts so good.

SLAP FUCKOFF YOU ARE DELUSIONAL BOY- WHTA THE EVERLOVING FUCK!!! MY MAN!!! OF COURSE HE MOVED ON!! OF COURSE HE DID!! HE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO!!! OF COURSE HE GOT MARRIED! OF COURSE HE FOUND HOPE IN SOMEONE ELSE!!! Smh juno steel is the problem for a lot of people but he is not to be blamed for your ex-bf moving on with his life, should’ve tried harder not to die so young Slappery smh.

FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK NOOOOOOO LEAVE THEM ALONE!!! LEAVE BEN AND VESPA AND M’TENDERE ALONE!!! Vespa died a meaninglyess death, you stole Ben once already, AND YOU ALREADY PUNISHED M’TENDERE ENOUGH JFC- what’re you gonna do to them anyways?? Have them be killed again??? Double death? Death times two????????

Oh i can perfectly see Nureyev signing that. Rigid, stiff, and big. When you want to yell in sign, you make your signs bigger. Sing language is a visual language. So even tho nureyev is flat, not exclaiming, he is stern. Giving that thousand yard stare down.

Nureyev wanting to grab juno by the shoulders and run, get him out of there, get him safe… Smth smth “why are you following me juno” and nureyev at the end of terrible waste still pulling on the net and being shocked and still trying to free juno…

How fucked tho would it be if this wasnt juno, it’s ben, old switcheroo or smth. How fucked would it be if slip was playing coy “do you know who he’s associated with?” and then dragging in ben anyways.

JUNO STEEL CAN YOU STOP BEING GAY FOR YOUR HUSBAND FOR 2 SECOND FJSKGCJF- at least peter has a braincell. A. as in singular.

“A wave of dread” first as small as a well. Now a wave as big as a tsunami. Before a tsunami makes landfall, the tide gets pulled out….

Slip blaming Juno for preaching fair work practices is actually kinda funny ngl

“Before we dispose of you?” WHAT??

“That look meant Juno had a plan” MAKING ME THINK OF WHAT LIES BEYOND!! When juno is talking with buddy and sasha and they’re all coordinating a plan together without actually being able to talk to one another, and buddy is the Captain but she puts her trust and faith in juno to pull this plan together and get at least one of them out of that ordeal.

“The smallest spark of hope ignited in Peter’s gut.” fuck-

“And then Juno opened his mouth, and began to sing the song of spring.” DOUBLE FUCK. it's orpheus singing epic iii the end of his song, his final plea to hades, melting his heart, reminding him of the woman he loves, reminding him of the world that could be! and Juno singing to Slip, reminding him of the boy he loved, reminding him of the world he used to live in, reminding him that he is allowed to grieve and ought to learn how to- FUCK THIS SHIT I CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE! I'M TIRED OF THIS GRANDPA!! (well that's too damn bad!!!)

SONG FOR A CAGED LOVEBIRD: PART 15

wow. wowie wow wow. this section got me up to a little over 19,500 K. that's fucking INSANE homie!!!

this section took me a while to work out bc i knew what points i wanted to hit but not the order I wanted to do them in, so I had to break some stuff apart and rearrange it. hopefully this makes sense? this sections got a weird energy to it and i'm not sure why. but we are in the home stretch of this fic guys!!!! maybe like 3 or 4 more chapters max and then it is FINISHED, which is so crazy to me

alsoooo enjoy some bonus content!! aka me singing a lil bit of epic iii in honor of this absolutely insane milestone

HEY GANG IT'S FRESH FOOD: @smidgen-of-hotboy @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @waters-and-the-wilde @gwenlena

@demonic-panini @the-private-eye @one-joe-spoopy

Voices singing in harmonies, orbiting in perfect rhythm, chasing like the sun and moon across the sky, echoed in the deafening silence of Hadestown.

The workers had stopped showing up a few days ago. Wouldn’t pick up their pickaxes or lay a hand on their wheelbarrows. Slowly, the factories ground to a halt. The furnaces died down. The wall stopped being built. And for the first time in a long, long time, the workers didn’t care.

They took beatings from the executives with a smile and a song on their lips, a song that spoke of unity in the face of loss with a melody that grew like creeping thyme through the town. It had been a while since Peter had heard Juno’s voice, but he knew. Even from this distance, he knew it was him. His strong, clear voice helixing through the air with another voice that he assumed must have been Ben’s. And the world stopped its ceaseless grind and listened.

And from his gilded cage in Slip’s office, Peter watched with no small amount of pride as his beloved husband brought the hell of Hadestown to a screeching halt.

Slip stormed back and forth in his office. Nureyev had been up here for…. Well, he wasn’t quite sure, but his best guess was a week. Slip had taken him up here after his executives had beaten Juno and left him for dead. Something about how he didn’t want him associating with those kinds of people anymore.

Nureyev knew that was bullshit. There was something else at play here, something he saw as clearly as if the sun were shining down through the rock overhead.

Slip was afraid of Juno.

He could see it with every furious step and angry huff. An undercurrent of fear laced his every move. Juno had crossed some sort of line, broken some sort of spell that Slip was afraid might never be put back into place. He was getting more erratic and scattered as the days went by. And for some reason that Nureyev couldn’t quite explain, a well of dread was beginning to bubble up in the pit of his stomach.

After all, it’s the scared animals that are the most dangerous.

“Godsdammit all, why won’t they work anymore?” Slip snarled, steps heavy but quick as he paced across the room.

Nureyev turned his gaze coolly away from the window. “Don’t know. Maybe they realized the lies and bullshit you’ve been feeding them!”

“Keep talking like that and I’ll leave you right where I left your precious husband.”

“Oh, I don’t know, he seems to be doing quite well for himself so far, considering he’s brought your whole town to a standstill.”

Slip stopped pacing like a frustrated predator and stared at Nureyev. Nureyev wasn’t scared. He’d already lost so much to this man he could barely remember. What was losing a little more? He stared right back, almost daring Slip to make a move.

“What else did you expect, Slip? You lie to these people for years, force them to work for nothing, keep them away from their homes and families, and expect they’ll be happy? That they’ll listen when you speak? That they’ll care about you and your opinions?” His motions were jerky with a deep set anger and hurt that was starting to burn hotter than the heart of the Hadestown furnaces.

Slip’s jaw was beginning to tremble, but in rage or fear or pain, Nureyev couldn’t tell.

Go on. Tell him. Tell him what he needs to hear.

“How long did you think they’d put up with this before they turned on you? How long do you think they’d wait for you to change?”

How long did he think you’d wait for him, little songbird?

“They’ll put up with it for as long as I am in charge of this town.”

Nureyev sighed deeply. “You don’t get it, do you?”

“What is there to get, Petya? That these people don’t comprehend the logic of a business?”

Slip threw his arms open wide. Even now, even with all his power and might and control, he still looked like what he had been the last time Peter had ever really known him: a small, scared kid.

“They’re going to destroy everything I’ve ever worked for. Everything I ever built for you. And all because of that husband of yours and his fucking music.”

“Everything you built….for me?”

Slip sighed, and his expression softened slightly. “Of course. I made this town for you. I was going to show you all of its wonders. But you never came to find me, like you said you would. Remember?”

Peter couldn’t. Not at first, anyway. But slowly and surely, a memory began to creep back into his consciousness.

He was young. Couldn’t have been more than 12 or 13. The last of summer was still in the air. Slip had just finished telling him the old Story of Hades and Persephone, a story the two of them shared like their stolen food and blankets. Peter had cracked some kind of joke, something about the two gods in the story being a perfect pair because one could kill you and the other could dispose of your remains, and he and Slip were howling with laughter.

When the laughing had died down, Slip turned to Peter, suddenly serious. “Petya, can you promise me something?”

“Of course, my love, anything.”

“If one of us dies before the other… can we send a message to them from Hades? So the one that’s still living knows to go get them?”

“Slip, don’t talk like that. No one is going to die!”

“I know, I know, but…. Just in case, you know? If I die, I’ll send you a sign. A huge sign. I’ll…. I’ll get rid of the spring altogether! I’ll keep Persephone locked up in the underworld until you come to find me!”

That sent them both into another peal of unstoppable laughter.

And then the memory faded away, and Nureyev was left standing in the office, facing a man he had known so well decades ago, but didn’t know anymore.

“I should have brought you down here sooner, you know,” Slip said, chewing on his lip. “I thought, if I can take Persephone’s reincarnation and keep him down here, and change the world above, he will notice and come for me. Surely, if I just hold out a little longer, if I just let the winter go a little longer, let him starve a little longer, he’ll remember the promise he made to me. He’ll come to find me. But no.

“Instead, you moved on. Grew up. Got a respectable job. Even got married! All while you left me to fester down here. But it’s okay, my love. I don’t blame you. No. It’s all that Juno Steel’s fault.”

Nureyev suddenly realized his mouth and throat had gone bone dry, and a slightly manic gleam had entered Slip’s eyes.

“He stole you away from me. He’s what’s keeping us apart. You know, I should have killed him when I had the chance. Maybe I can still kill him now. You wouldn’t happen to know which of my workers he’s associating with, would you, Petya, dear? Maybe I could hurt them too.”

Peter’s whole body went rigid with fear.

“Don’t you fucking dare.”

He could barely make his hands shape the words. The sudden adrenaline rush made him shiver. He could barely imagine the pain Juno felt when he woke up and discovered his lover was gone. He couldn’t imagine having to go through the same pain.

Slip just looked back at him, face calm and still and eyes shining as he slid into the chair behind his desk, and Nureyev knew. If he made one false move, Juno would suffer the consequences. He swallowed hard.

An executive rapped on the door. “The leader is here to discuss negotiations, my associate.”

Slip’s eyes never left Nureyev’s face. “Of course. Bring them in. You might want to stay for this, Petya. I’m sure you’ll find it interesting.”

Nureyev didn’t move a muscle.

A moment later, Juno stumbled through the door, an executive hot on his heels, and Peter couldn’t decide if he should let out the breath he was holding or grab his lover by the shoulders and sprint out of the room. Maybe both.

Once Juno regained his balance, he glanced around the room until his eye rested on Peter, and a soft, relieved smile inched onto his face.

“Hey, babe, what’s going on? Where have you been?” he said gently, taking a few steps in Peter’s direction.

Peter wanted so badly to run to him, to kiss him, to leave town and never look back. But Slip’s threat had been genuine. He knew that. He stayed where he was, silently willing Juno to read the room and get the hell out.

“Mr. Steel. I will kindly ask you to keep your conversation directed to me, seeing as I am your host here.”

The smile fell from Juno’s face, and a mix of determination, fear, and hope appeared in its place. Simultaneously, a wave of dread crashed over Peter like a tsunami. Gods above, he wanted to throw up.

Juno bowed his head slightly in a greeting. “Slip.”

Slip bowed his head in response. “Let’s skip the pleasantries, shall we?”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

“What the hell do you mean by shutting down my whole town, Mr. Steel? I knew you were a troublesome one, but I never knew you had the guts to take it this far.”

“Oh, this isn’t my doing. It’s theirs,” Juno said simply, pointing out the window to the gathered crowd of workers partying in the street. “They decided they’ve had enough of being treated this way, so they decided to stop showing up. I had almost nothing to do with it.”

Slip leaned forward over his desk. “But you are the one who taught them that song, right?”

“And what if I am?”

“That still makes you an accomplice. You gave them the song that they unified around, and that would be considered a crime down here. And now that I’ve got you in my office, right in front of me, well…. I suppose it only makes sense that I punish you. I suppose you’ve been told how we punish those who step out of line down here?”

Juno’s jaw was set. He nodded. Peter wanted to scream.

Slip stood. “Very well then. Do you have any last words before we dispose of you?”

And suddenly, Juno looked very calm. Calm and careful, but still living up to his last name, with features set like quenched metal.

It took a moment, but Peter realized knew that look. He knew it very well. He knew it from all the nights of playing cards with Buddy or figuring out how to stack a new shipment of crates or watching him discover a new piece of the never ending puzzle that was his song.

That look meant that Juno had a plan.

The smallest spark of hope ignited in Peter’s gut.

And then Juno opened his mouth, and began to sing the song of spring.

#slip..... he's an evil little boy here #HE IS SO FUCKING EVIL I WANNA PUNCH AND BITE HIM I LOVE HIM #kisses kisses kisses #fuck you for hurting my feelings thanks for making me feel things #gobbled this shit up so good and fast #talking about their writing #song for a caged lovebird #private eye's keys go jingle jangle

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fireworkreindeer · 2 years ago

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Zexal OC!

Name: Natsu Evergreen

Age: 19

Design:

She has long, pastel green hair that goes down hair back. She has red eyes, freckles that cover her tan skin. She's around 5'9, tends to wear a light grey turtleneck, black jeans and knee high boots.

Deck: Magical Scientist

About:

Many people get an odd feeling when meeting her like something isn't quite right with Natsu. She has a very bubbly personality and she's busty which makes many guys swoon for her, despite her telling them she's gay.

People are right to be skeptical when they meet her because she's actually an android. During the fire that comatose Rio and injured IV, Natsu was also in the area and got badly burnt. She was hospitalised, with no hope of her surviving, until Mr. Heartland found her. He took her to the Tower where he removed her burnt limbs and replaced them with plastic ones. The only human parts remain are her brain and torso. When she awoke and saw what had happened, she ran away. Nastu hid in an alleyway as helicopters from Heartland Tower, searched for her. Natsu was soon found by a young Ryoga Kamishiro. Ryoga saw a sad, broken girl, whom like him, needed a family. The two soon lived together, with Natsu being the older sister to Ryoga and later Rio.

Tada! My OC Natsu!!! I really had to redo my old OC and scrap EVERYTHING. My old one Lia, was the twin sister to III but she had a very broken backstory since she was the same OC I also used for other fandoms and poor lil old me, messed her up big time. I mean really? Why was she the daughter of Byron Arclight, adopted daughter of Natasha Romanoff, ex member of the Winx Club AND was also a Steven Universe style fusion between two other OCs, Marin and Yumi, WHO ALSO HAD BACKSTORY TOO?! WTF was this OC!?

(She was originally a Barbie: A Mermaid's Tale OC, Winx Club, followed by Zexal, Marvel and back to Zexal. I'm gonna keep Marin and Yumi because they're fine and will just remove the whole fusion into Lia part)

So yeah. Lia "VI" Arclight is forever gone and is replaced with the new Natsu Evergreen. And I would love to see fanart of her! I'd draw it myself but I had a breakdown last time trying to draw people so.... Its gonna be a while before there's one. Just tag me if you do fanart of Natsu.

(PLEASE don't ask why Lia was so broken cause I have no fucking clue)

#yugioh zexal #Zexal OC

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honey-milk-depresso · 4 years ago

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In my hand (Poetic y/n x Azul Ashengrotto)

“Tap , tap , tap...” The tapping of your pencil was the only thing that can be heard in the quiet bedroom of the Ramshackle Dorm. Grimm was sleeping soundly, while the ghosts were busy down in the kitchen whipping up another batch of cookies (because they were in the mood-).

The smell of baked cookies wafted out and up to your room, the light weight caused by the sleeping fire-breathing gremlin that was awfully calm, just felt...nostalgic to you.

That nostalgia inspired you to write a poem, as words in your head started drifting in your mind, coming up with sentences that would come in contrast with one another.

All thoughts were interrupted as you heard a gentle knock on your door.

“Who is it?”

“Azul.”

Ah, Azul. He was that dorm leader of Octavinelle. He was the one who offered a deal with you, to which you turn down. It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, but it was just the rumors surrounding him, especially from Ace and Deuce, that he actually can’t. And even when he did, fail to returning the price and you’ll face dire lmao- consequences.

But, you couldn’t deny the tranquility and aesthetics of Octavinelle as calming and rather charming. You would go to the Monstro Lounge everyday just to write a poem, enjoy the view, and enjoy a nice drink while you’re at it.

Azul had once took you as another student to manipulate. And besides, you were incapable and didn’t inherit any magic, so he thought you were an easy target. Of course, rejecting him surprised him, but it wasn’t that shell-shocking. A few smart students also turned him down before, so he took no interest in them and avoided them. But you...draw him. Like a moth attracted to light. Something about you made him not wanting to accept defeat.

He tried, and persuaded, until eventually, he gave up. But during those times, he actually had made real, personal conversations, to the point you two became casual with one another. By the time he had gave up, he thought of you as friends, and as time went on, that relationship bloomed into something else, where you both found each other as, well , both of you had a crush on each other. But it was never made known to the other party.

“Come in.”

There Azul was as he opened the door. It seems that he was not wearing that grey coat he always had on his shoulders and his black double breasted suit, only wearing the remaining white dress shirt which sleeves were rolled up and black pants. The looks of him alone made you hold back from swooning over how perfect he looked. Honestly he looks perfect in all attire wtf-

“How come you haven’t came to the Monstro Lounge?”

“How come you aren’t in Monstro Lounge?” you retorted playfully.

He simply chuckled.

“I didn’t have much work to do, so I thought I should come in to check on you,” he stated.

“Why? Were you worried?~” you teased.

Truthfully, he was. Really.

“Well, um-”

“Ahehehehe!~ It’s fine! Say, now that you’re here, would you like to help me write a poem together?”

He always loved moments like that. It’s where he could express and share ideas and opinions with you.

“Of course.”

He sat beside you as you shifted to give him space.

You spent hour and hours with him on it. You always kept glancing at him when he was too distracted by his own way of commenting and expressing his idea which you always found cute. He looks so proud of himself finding out how to make it creative.

He always glanced at you whenever you were deep in thought or sharing about how you feel the poem should be.

In my hand,

is an undiminishing warmth.

In my hand,

is a love unbreakable.

In my hand,

are memories filled with light.

In my hand,

are the tears that healed me.

In my hand,

is...

The poem paused there.

“Hmm. What should the last verse be?”

“I’m not quite sure.”

Azul and you pondered. What would be the last verse?

Eventually that thought drifted as you somehow came up to talk about random topics with each other.

“So, how’s flying class?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

You giggled, to which he did as well.

“Man, it’s getting pretty late, huh?”

“Hm? I guess you’re right. I should probably get going.”

He stood up and brushed whatever was on his shoulders, before you spoke up.

“Hey, Azul?”

“Yes?”

“Do you...like doing this sorta things with me?”

“And just what “sorta things” do you mean? Try to be more specific, y/n.” he teased.

You huffed and rolled you eyes, smiling.

“Writing poems with me.”

“Yes. It’s quite fun, no?”

“Yeah.”

There was a pause.

“Well...do you wanna come here tomorrow to write again?”

“Tomorrow is a weekend, so why not?”

“Good, because I really love being with you.”

Silence.

Oh shit.

Your face exploded in red upon realizing what you had just said. Azul face was doused in red as well.

“I-! Wait-!”

“I-I like being with you, too..” he muttered quietly. Loud enough for you to hear.

“T-thanks.”

Silence swept through again. Azul bowed his head low.

“Well...about that poem...I- When I said ‘In my hand’ should be the key point, with all the other words and stuff I- it was just a way of saying thank you to you, specifically.”

“To me?”

“Yes. When I was down, you comforted me. After seeing my hideous self, you still stood by me. When in my overblot, hurt you, you never gave up to help me. And I just- well- I’m really glad you didn’t leave me.”

“I’ll never leave you.”

He perked his head up.

“I- I never wanted to leave you for something as trivial as that. You were always someone I looked up to, and someone to make great memories with. I really love being with you as cheesy as it sounds.” you laughed awkwardly but said sincerely.

“Y/n.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I love you.”

Your breathing hitched. You longed for him to say that to you. You felt him walked closer to you.

“So, if you do love me as well,” he grabbed your hand.

He stared at you with his sky blue eyes.

“Would you allow me to..?”

“Yes.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips on you. Euphoria burst in your heart.

In my hand,

Is yours.

END

#twst #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul #twisted wonderland azul #twisted wonderland azul x reader #twst azul x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst x reader oneshot #twisted wonderland x reader oneshot #azul ashengrotto x reader oneshot #twst x azul oneshot #twisted wonderland azul x reader oneshot

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steve0discusses · 3 years ago

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Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Yugi’s Senshi Outfit

So I’ve been doing a lot of work, and I haven’t looked at the blog for a hot minute and when I finally checked back in to do these posts I noticed something on my tumblr was just blowing up. I got all excited thinking “oh shoot, Did I draw something right??” and instead, it was a random post I made about the bootspants from season 1. Three years later, resurrected from the grave and covered in...thousands of notes? I don’t understand how this website works.

Anyways, the comments are mostly good, but a little bit wild. A lot of people seem to think I would know what Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure is, when I’m an adult who is still watching the first 5 seasons of Yugioh. (I will never have time to watch Jojo,) and then some other people started talking about Actual Card Mechanics that went...completely beyond my comprehension. But then there was one person. One person who said one thing, and brought it all together.

Poots.

The boots that are pants.

Poots.

I can’t believe I looked at all the different combinations, but a Poots never crossed my brain.

It is so perfect, so cathartic, although it took 3 years to get there.

Poots.

Anyways, we’re in S5 and unfortunately not in poots anymore, Yugi is now dressed in a tupperware container from hell and they have wandered into a desert. On cue, Grandpa has an injury, but at least this time it’s not his ass.

You know how there’s artists who do hyper-realistic versions of pokemon monsters with detailed bone structure and muscle anatomy? I dare them to look at this orb and tell me how the hell it has wings. Like go ahead and try and pin a spine down on that thing. I’ll wait.

(read more under the cut)

So Joey decides to sprint down this endless desert with just boundless positivity.

Over the edge of this sand dune is a whole bunch of huts,just random civilization out in the middle of no where.

One girl walks over and it’s a look.

She’s really the only one here who can talk, and she just seems...so incredibly bored to be here. A whole lot of Wednesday Addams energy. She leads them into a hut where an old guy pulls a scroll out of blue fire. As you do.

Again, this arc should have been a video game, because while it’s something to get the player interested if there’s some riddle they have to solve to progress, when you’re watching a TV show, it’s not like I’m the one solving the riddle. The format is honestly one of the downers of this arc, tbh.

It has strong “I played a D+D sesh and made a webcomic out of it vibe” and I know I just called out like half of you, but listen, I will not take it back.

This episode, our gimmick is some asshole is going to be yelling at us from the other end of the map, just shouting in the background for the entirety of the episode like that tangible human skull meme.

Then Wednesday Addams hands over yet another MacGuffin because why not?

Tea can twin it up with Yugi now. Her necklace doesn’t seem haunted, but it’s only a matter of time. (also her necklace looks so freakin terrible, we’ll see it later and I’ll have a lot more to say because wtf it looks like some sort of polly pocket.)

I’m not 100% that the voice that shouts at us from the end of the hall this episode is Mokuba’s voice actress. But I’m 99% positive it is, or Mokuba’s voice is just really that type of vibe.

Stuff happens, and it felt like card duel stuff, so I’m gonna skip over the part where they pulled out their duel monsters one by one, since the fight was pointless anyway because the worms can turn you into stone. So Yugi and Pharaoh decide to have a chat about it because their plan is clearly not working.

This is when Pharaoh has a vivid lucid daydream, which seems like something that would have been more convenient before he ended up turning into stone on the floor of some desert. But, hallucinations never come when they’re convenient on this show. They usually come during card games, tbh.

Imagine with me that you’re dreaming of like...an old ass greek guy who is 99% Alexander the Great. Imagine he tells you to fuse with a sentient paper card that you already carry around in a weird capsule.

Please

For the love of all that is holy

Do not think about what it means to fuse with the Dark Magician.

Dark Magician is...he “exists” but he’s like not even a person. There seem to be whole fleets of dark Magicians, which are all the same guy, just cloned, right? Or maybe they’re a family? Or like...I don’t freakin know. Like they’re all hanging out together in some card dimension so it’d be more like fusing with the guy who dresses like Barney the dinosaur instead of actually Barney. Like he’s more of like a concept than a dude, but apparently you can just introduce him to your...whatever this armor is supposed to be, and Dark Magician turns into a Super Suit.

I want to express my thanks to the Yugioh team for not putting Yami in his underoos. Hell, they didn’t even take off his jacket. I do not know what art directer ok’d this for animation and said “yeah, this won’t kills us if we animate it.” but that is a hell ton of lines and design right there. Yeah they have 3d, and probably had to 3d that staff...but that doesn’t mean you don’t end up drawing it, in the end--you still have to draw over your 3d. You still have to draw literally everything.

Anyway, when we get to the eye of the storm. The secret to getting there was that you have to fly, which again--3/5 of these guys already have a monster that can fly. We can finally tell the voice at the end of the hall to stop yelling because it’s really bothering all the townspeople, and then move on with the quest.

Everyone else was stone during this. So when they un-petrified they kinda looked over at Yugi and were like “how freakin long was I out???”

But youknow, Yugi’s 2 people, so it’s fine. So long as you don’t get down to the third bastard still sitting around in there.

After this, our NPCs vanish, and the show pushes us directly forward. No time for them to piss off a land turtle or set a bunch of wolves on fire. Just get out of the desert and freakin go.

I’m just so bothered by this random ass huge chunky necklace.

It’s like the size of your freakin fist. And it’s just...a pentagon. Congrats Tea, you have a fake ass plastic necklace. I guess it’s so that when we’re far away we can still see it on her chest but like...This show loves huge ass necklaces, and they’re all basic ass shapes. We got a pyramid, the Kaiba’s wear squares, Bakura wears a circle with kind of phallic bits hanging off of it and this is just...it’s literally just a pentagon.

I guess Ishizu wore a wadjet and Duke has an indecipherable clown as his necklace. But man...the Yugioh necklace game is just a lot of shapes.

And so we continue on with this filler arc, which is also a pokemon arc, and even secretly has a Sailor Moon arc just stuffed in there for funsies. This arc is weird.

Also, I brought up the human skull so I legally have to post this.

youtube

Anyway, here’s a link to read these in chrono order, in case you just got here: https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

And I’m off to drink a bin of ice water because it is 5 billion degrees right now in this house.

#ygo #yugioh #yu gi oh #episode recap #photo recap #S5 #Ep 20 #yugi muto #yami #grandpa muto #tea gardner #and her new accessory #tristan taylor #joey wheeler #and that time that Yami fused with dark magician and we all acted like that wasn't extremely weird

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canary3d-obsessed · 4 years ago

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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 11 first part

(Masterpost) (Other Canary Goodness)

Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Okay! This episode is a real slice of healthy family dynamics, not triggering in any way. [Uh if this is your first Restless Rewatch: that is sarcasm, dear readers]

Goodbye to You, Goodbye to Everything We Knew

Nie Huaisang asks why Meng Yao has to leave and Meng Yao says "I killed a guy without permission, so your brother fired me."

Ha ha ha ha no he doesn't. But he does give Nie Huaisang a sweet, sad smile; he seems touched by NHS's distress.

Meng Yao carefully removes Nie Huaisang's hands from his shoulders and bows to him, wordlessly signaling the change in their relationship from intimate friends to formal strangers, while Nie Huaisang looks crushed.

They will return to intimate friendship in the future, but falsely. Meng Yao believes that truly loving a person can include destroying their family and using them as an instrument in your murder plots as long as you don't directly harm them. Nie Huaisang eventually learns to use people just as brutally, but he doesn't lie to himself about what he's doing. This farewell may be the last harmless moment between these friends.

Jiang Cheng is distressed by what's going on, while Wei Wuxian crosses his arms and watches, fully in Sherlock Holmes mode, instead of his more usual concerned-for-my-friend mode. This may signal mistrust of Meng Yao, who refused his initial attempt at friendship, and not in a sexy, slice-your-face-off way. Or it may mean that he's reserving judgement on a complicated family situation. He maintains his uncharacteristic reserve through the entire encounter.

(more behind the cut!)

Nie Huaisang runs in and asks his brother WTF happened. Nie Mingjue says "he killed my subordinate without permission, when he knows perfectly well power must flow from the ruler; it's like he didn't even read that Foucault book I gave him."

Ha ha ha actually he just yells at his brother, as if NHS doesn’t have his own relationship with Meng Yao after being wonder twink powers with him for probably a couple of years now. NHS has to sit and process his loss and confusion in silence.

As a younger sibling who would make friends with my older siblings' girlfriends and then lose those friends if they broke up, for reasons having nothing to do with why I liked their girlfriends, I super feel Nie Huaisang's pain here.

OTOH, older siblings are entitled to have break ups and not explain themselves to anyone besides their lover because that's the nature of intimacy. The moral is, uhh...don't have a family curse that makes you unreasonably angry.

Jiang Cheng steps up to advocate for Meng Yao, because Meng Yao is injured, and because Jiang Cheng is actually a born leader who knows better than to throw away a useful subordinate. For example, even when Wei Wuxian is at his drunkest and most defiant, Jiang Cheng tries to reform him, not kick him out, only drawing the line at having unpopular zombie friends.

Wei Wuxian continues to keep his mouth shut, waiting for Nie Mingjue to calm down, and speaking only about the tactical situation. He clearly knows there's more to this story but he's pretty good at keeping his head down in a family ruckus, and we're about to learn why.

Yunmeng Town

The Yunmeng bros go home to Lotus Pier, where they are greeted in town with bows, smiles, and free stuff.

We've mostly been seeing them in their roles within the cultivation community, where Jiang Cheng is grumpy and anxious, and Wei Wuxian is sassy and iconoclastic. Here among common people, they are both charming, friendly, and polite, like the imaginary good kind of gentry.

They hear the news from a local lotus seller that the small clans are coming to the Jiang Clan for shelter, but that otherwise everything's ok, which doesn't sound like everything is ok at all. He gives Wei Wuxian a giant bag of lotuses for his sister to make soup from.

Home to Lotus Pier

All the disciples practicing in the courtyard at Lotus Pier are excited to see them, and one girl goes running to tell Jiang Yanli. Thanks to the admittedly beautiful design of Lotus Pier, she is running for a long time.

A long, long time. Getting around on all these insane walkways must be a real drag if you're not the flying sort of cultivator.

Discipline and Punish

Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian immediately go and kneel while they wait for their official punishment. Jiang Cheng is kinda worried about the punishment and Wei Wuxian is like, I'm good at being punished, just let me do it.

Much later, and for a really long fucking time

He also tries to get Jiang Cheng to stop being mad, even giving him skritches while he says they should be brothers after they die.

Which they will, as it happens, although Jiang Cheng after the Wen torture is only mostly golden-core dead, while WWX dies for real.

When Jiang Fengmian shows up Jiang Cheng starts to explain that they were with Lan Wangji, but Wei Wuxian hushes him; he is still keeping the secret of the Yin Iron. Although he's keeping it in exactly the manner that a teenager keeps their weed stash secret: immediately tell literally every teen friend about it, but keep it extra secret from everybody's parents.

Happy Families Are All Alike

Now we get to meet Yu Ziyuan, who is generally styled Madame Yu but who I'm going to call by her name just as if she was a male character. More on that concept in a minute. She rolls up looking, smelling, feeling like a million yuan, with her two murder bitches in tow.

Her marriage is an unhappy one, and her husband does his best to avoid her and avoid conflict, lying to the kids that she's tired and then sending her away later with the same line about being tired, which is a particularly gendered kind of gaslighting. She is obviously not tired, other than being tired of Jiang Fengmian's shit.

I'm not going to say she's the worst mother ever, because parenthood in a feudal society entails a wide range of skills, many of which she has in abundance. She starts off with a relatively tender greeting to Jiang Cheng, tuning up his always-amazing sartorial style, which is exactly like her own. They are all ready for the mommy & me fashion show.

That said, she dishes out hellacious verbal abuse to everyone in her family. She targets each one in turn, making Wei Wuxian the focus of most of her ire, but without ever directly speaking to him. He is not, in her view, part of her family.

The Stages of Family Dinner

1. Try to fix it and defuse the situation

2. Yeah no

3. Just keep your head down and be glad it’s not your turn in the hot seat

This family meal hammers home how much Wei Wuxian is not, actually, part of the family. Jiang Fengmian adopted him into the clan, and told A-Cheng and A-Yi to treat him as a sibling, but he didn't give him the Jiang name, and he didn't get his wife's approval. He also doesn’t expect him to dress like any other clan member, apparently.

Compare this to how Lan Wangji, actual good parent, fully integrates his own adopted son into his clan and family, starting with giving him the Lan surname.

The hits just keep coming as she goes after Jiang Cheng for being less gifted than Wei Wuxian, Yanli for performing labor for Wei Wuxian, and Jiang Fengmian for possibly begetting Wei Wuxian.

On first watching this scene I took her question "Is this how you raise someone else's son?" to mean that she thought Jiang Fengmian was being too nice to a kid who was actually an outsider, taking resources away from the real kids. But on rewatching, it's pretty clear that she's saying his favoring Wei Wuxian is evidence that Wei Wuxian is NOT someone else's son; that he's Jiang Fengmian's bastard.

Jiang Fengmian doesn't say a thing to this, or to her mentioning WWX’s mother. This shit is why WWX is running around in the world desperate for any crumb of info he can get about his Mom; he hears about her all the goddamn time at home, but only as insults to her character.

A Bitch is Not Wrong

Here's the thing, though; a lot of what Yu Ziyuan says is correct.

Jiang Fengmian should be a lot more concerned about the danger to the children, and should not leave it up to the kids to decide who's going to bear that danger.

Yanli does a lot of food=love, which is ok in the right doses, but causes her to pretty extremely lose face during the whole "soup for Jin Zixuan" debacle. And her doting on Wei Wuxian is...kinda excessive. I mean, yeah, she’s more like a mom than a sister to him, but still. Running out onto an active battlefield to look for him, frex, will be a skosh too much.

I have a dictionary too, mom

Jiang Cheng, as the future clan leader, shouldn't let his attachments affect his decision making, and should let Wei Wuxian, who's the superior cultivator, fend for himself more often. We love Jiang Cheng for those moments where he puts himself in harm's way to protect his loved ones, but it's not a good strategy. He constantly yells at Wei Wuxian for the exact same thing he does all the time himself; he just limits who he does it for.

After she roasts the shit out of everyone for these failings, she leaves, and everyone sits around being miserable and not talking about what just happened.

Not to be gender studies-y on main but: the awful things she says to her children are really not very different from the things that Jiang Cheng says to Jin Ling, although her targeting is more adept. JC also says a lot of mean things to WWX when he’s angry. When a man says cruel or insulting things, it's often presented as real love hidden under a rough exterior. When a woman does it, she's a monster.

If you enjoy this sort of interaction you should definitely have a look at Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and the plays of Eugene O'Neill.

Road Runner

Oh thank god, moving on

Lan Wangji is headed back to Cloud Recesses, and gets ambushed by the roadside with the most ridiculous trap this side of Wile E. Coyote.

Wen Chao thinks the "rug over a hole" trap is a good idea for someone who can literally fly.

Lan Wangji doesn't faff about with sword riding, he just fucking goes up in the air and stays there until he is good goddamn ready to come down. A hole in the sidewalk is really not going to be a problem for him.

Wen Zhuliu does get in one kick before Lan Wanji yeets backwards away from him, in a moment that's scarier on rewatching, now that I know what Wen Zhuliu is capable of.

Wen Chao talks some smack to Lan Wangji, hilariously complaining about "your patronizing tone" to a man who has literally never spoken a word to him, IIRC, and certainly isn't speaking now. Maybe it's a mistranslation and should be "attitude," or maybe Wen Chao is just that dumb.

Apparently Wei Wuxian made a stack of talismans for Lan Wangji to take on the road with him. This talisman is a twin to the one Lan Wangji brings out way, way later in Yunping, when Wei Wuxian says "you even have kept it until now." Missing scene alert! What else did he make for him?

In Yunping this talisman is used to distract some random harmless street bullies. Here it is used against a seven-man murder squad.

This works.

Assault on Cloud Recesses

Forgettable disciple #1, Su She, comes rushing in to tell Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen that Cloud Recesses is under attack.

I'm pretty sure these dudes already know it, because they are meditating extra hard with a buttload of incense, and Lan Qiren is about to cough up some blood. So I think they're trying to hold the ward, rather than just, like, chilling while their disciples get stabbed.

Cloud Recesses is super on fire, you guys; it's going to totally burn to the ground; look at that conflagration, oh the humanity, etc.

Lan Qiren Rises to the Occasion

Ok, I like to rag on Failmaster Qiren and he is definitely an authoritarian dick a whole lot of the time, but in this scene he is fucking amazing.

He starts off worrying about Lan Wangji, not just out of affection but out of strategic planning, probably in equal parts. All three of these Lans take their clan responsibilities extremely seriously.

Then he calmly assesses the situation while imperturbable Lan Xichen freaks the fuck out.

Lan Xichen is right to be alarmed, because he knows his uncle, he knows one of them is likely to die, and he knows that Lan Qiren will choose to take the hit.

I love, love, love Lan Qiren's physicality here; how centered and assured he is, as he holds his nephew steady and explains what is required of both of them.

Lan Xichen knows Lan Qiren is right. He is utterly fucking devastated, and all he can do to show his love...

...is to obey.

This whole scene just. kills me.

Su She and forgettable disciple #2 are in the room for this whole conversation, and they join Lan Xichen in this deep bow. Note: I will be reminding everyone of this fact in Part 2.

Whew. This episode is a LOT. Part 2 Coming Soon!

Writing Prompt: What other goodies did Wei Wuxian put in Lan Wangji's care package before Lan Wangji hit the road without saying goodbye?

Soundtrack: 1. Michelle Branch, Goodbye to You 2. Ludacris, Stand Up

#fytheuntamed #the untamed #the untamed gifs #wei wuxian #yu ziyuan #lan qiren #restless rewatch the untamed #the untamed spoilers #lan xichen #canary3d-original #my gifs #the untamed meta

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feelingofcontent · 3 years ago

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DNP Rewatch: I'M IN A MOVIE!

Date video was published: 01/10/2015 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 255

DNP were both back in London for the New Year (as usual). They had a party with some friends (1, 2, 3) and Phil made everyone play home-made Weakest Link, apparently. Then they took a bit of time to relax (or do taxes - this is one of my favorite candid photos of Phil) in early January before starting up videos again.

The first video of 2015!

0:00 - the Furby he got from Duncan and Mimei in I SMASHED 3 MIRRORS is now a part of his background! He hasn’t replaced the broken mirror yet though. Though there was a new full-length mirror in the house... Also, love that he’s wearing the shirt that will be on the cover of TABINOF for this first video of the year. It really is the start of that era.

0:02 - just listing off tons of regular names...and Thor. 😂

0:13 - Phil’s never ready to leave the festive season

0:23 - he tweeted about the socks and Guardians, but not the sunglasses (also Phil dropping things as usual)

0:31 - this is such a random gift from Dan, lol. Also, this is the “something made of metal” Dan says he got Phil for Christmas 2014 in The Making Of 'The Amazing Book is Not on Fire'

0:34 - he tweeted about watching this in January after he got it

0:51 - Phil looks so pleased with this cactus

1:00 - wtf Phil. You can see the regret in his eyes immediately after “daddy”

1:08 - insert clips with Dan filming assistance

1:11 - the cereal thing is very much a thing

1:15 - “a psychic war dolphin” ...what would that even be, lol. I would like to see a Phil drawing interpretation of this.

1:21 - absolutely love that Dan is the one who said he wanted to take up running in A Festive Day in the Life of Dan and Phil! but Phil is doing it with him (1, 2). 🥺

1:28 - those are very bright, very Phil shoes. Dan got custom shoes as well (and trolled Phil by putting them on the table).

1:32 - Phil saying “cool shoes” just makes me think of this tweet 😂

1:51 - oh Phil. He is not enjoying this experience clearly, but he’s still doing it.

2:04 - bad Phil paint drawings! One of my favorite things!

2:08 - what.

2:17 - they had so many projects bottled-up at this point. You can tell Phil’s excited to share at least one! They both actually announced it on Twitter a few days ahead of this (1, 2).

2:26 - this was so random! but sounds like they had lots of fun with it.

2:49 - the behind the scenes video is still available

3:02 - amazing. I love that that is the character Phil came up with and they actually made it for the game.

3:06 - it takes them so long, but eventually they do play on DAPG and use the emo goose in-game. It was available in-game later in January.

3:12 - I love messy-hair Phil and encouraging Dan during this. And Phil just smiling as he listens.

3:43 - they seem to be having so much fun doing just this little thing 🥺

4:18 - the Phil goose death noise is fantastic. And Dan calling this Phil’s legacy, lol.

This is how Phil usually starts a new year of videos - casual, with an update on Christmas presents and the New Year. I do very much love the emo goose recording clips.

#dan and phil #dnp #dnpRewatch #amazingphil #phil lester #amazingphil videos #I'M IN A MOVIE!

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ricaffeine · 4 years ago

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𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞

an: i'm sad because of hyunji drought and this is helping me cope :( but fr if tvn decides to make hotel blue moon then yeaji needs to be in it!!

also very annoying, i can't reply to comments bc this is a side blog (bruh wtf tumblr, i'm so sad should i make a new one?) reblog if you feel like it and my asks are open if you wanna chat 🖤✨

CHAPTER TWO

Weekdays at Seoul's National art gallery were usually the same. Buzzing curators dealing with hot-tempered clients. One thing or another was typically going not right and art directors cried about their wrong coffee order.

Although today was not the usual as to the crowds of bubbly news reporters and dazzled art critiques swarming up the wide place. As to Munyeong on the other hand, she was not pleased to the slightest.

"Just smile at the cameras, don't forget about the paycheck you're getting today." Sangin repeated himself for the fifth time. "Don't cause a scene, just think about the money."

Ah right. The paycheck.

As to The Nightmare Garden was bid off for over ten-million dollars, all of today's fanciness was dedicated to her, nation's celebrated female illustrator. However in all honesty, Munyeong barely liked her so-called masterpiece, but considering the amount of cash it will make her, she could be appreciative for the sake of it.

Behind her oversized sunglasses, Munyeong glared at her pesky manager– if looks could kill, he'd already be eleven feet under his grave. Sangin shut his mouth.

"Let's just get this over with," she simply responded, hooking off her eyewear then strutted into the hall with her long legs. Eyes whipped at her and cameras started to flash intensely, almost blinding her and Munyeong wondered how much those little pests could afford her if they got her blind.

And so the event played on. More pictures were taken– as if they hadn't blind her enough cheerful compliments flowed along with the spring breeze. The insincere joker smile she mastered whilst she met her million-dollar client– according to Sangin a hotel owner, though the woman did not have the looks for it– and the glass of filthy wine she almost had a chance to taste if Sangin's sixth sense was not so creepily fast.

Another dreadful two hours later as the dusk had set, hitting the edges with its golden flare, everyone had left. They got their articles and Munyeong will certainly be getting her pools of cash.

To her displease Sangin had informed her to wait as he had to take care of some paperworks she doubted he went to bribe the press into censoring her quoted inappropriate words.

Nevertheless it was not her bother. She gave his plead a second before storming off to the complimentary section of the building.

Luck on her side, for nobody was there and she was able to grab one of the wine bottles with her– as for a fact it definitely was not stealing.

"Don't be shy, I know you want it."

Munyeong stopped within her steps as soon as an obnoxiously familiar voice echoed from the gallery she previously was in. Curiosity taking the lead, she peaked through the corner and had to muffle her own snort. Stood there, nation's art historian with the sharpest tongue– Choi Seojin.

She finds it hard to believe that his articles are highly known around, or even relevant, when his mouth is full of complete shit. However not disregarding the nastiest tea yet– a frightened girl seized under him. Her hands were locked, frightened eyes grew larger as the man spewed out nasty things.

Instantly, she took out her phone to film the disgraceful scene. Munyeong grinned to herself, reminiscing the rage she felt last time when he mentioned about her mother, and how her irritating manager had interrupted her before she could've sent him down the stairs to Satan.

The man reared into the poor girl's cheek when she attempted to fight him off, and Munyeong's smile dropped.

That piece of shit.

Munyeong entered the room, arms crossed, head high. Her wedge heels clicked against the hardwood as she let out an unamused wow.

Mad dog– what she personally thinks he should be called– 's head whipped at her with wide eyes. Like a child getting caught of lying.

"Oh my. Your hobbies are quite interesting Mr. Choi. Talking shit and sexual harassment?" Munyeong spat. "The girl looks like she'd rather kill herself, why are you even trying?"

As if he thought he could get away with what he just did, mad dog released his foul grip on the girl. Munyeong clicked her tongue and tauntingly held out her phone.

"Oh no, don't bother pretending. Judging by the looks, that won't even favor you at this point." She spared a glance at the quivering girl. "Why are you waiting? Go."

Shakingly and with thankful eyes she nodded and left, her footsteps filling void of silence before it coated the air again.

Mad dog snickered, as if there was something to laugh about. "Don't mess with me Ms. Ko. You know me, I won't die alone."

"Certainly I'll drag you and Mr. Lee down with me. Why do you think they call me the suicide bomb?"

Munyeong walked towards him and spreaded a smile, though even dogs could tell you shouldn't push her further. "You mean the bastard you can't fall down without dragging everyone else with him? Why?"

"I can destroy your career with the tip of my pen, I'm sure you know." He gave her a look, panning out his hand. "Now if you hand me your phone, I think we can compromise something."

Munyeong unraveled her arms, eyes hardening at his next sentence. "You think so?"

"Nation's beloved artist turned out to have antisocial personality disorder. What do you think will happen when people find out?" Mad dog sneered. "Her mother who mysteriously commited suicide–"

"Shut up." She warned. His words lit up the flame from their last encounter, adding fuel to her burning fire. Her head pounded, hard. For a moment she had hoped that if he proceeded as she said, then things would not have to get ugly.

"And her father? Spending his last days in the psychiatric hospital."

But men never listen, do they?

Munyeong tightened the hand around her bottle and striked it at him with full force. The bottom part crashed the wall behind him– just above the hung painting- glass shattered as rich burgundy stained its way down, smearing all over. Its taste fused with the air and Munyeong glowered at the creature who dodged her flawless aim.

"You crazy bitch!" He yelled, scrambled on the floor. But Mad dog was quick to lunge at her, they both hit the ground, stumbling as her open purse had been knocked away– and Munyeong's eyes landed on something very specific.

She was quicker, getting on her feet and spared the bastard a strong kick in the groin, leaving him groaning as she reached for her pen.

Her favorite calligraphy pen– its lining was stunning, coated in shiny teal with hints of gold, but most importantly, the dangerously sharp tip. The way it writes like reaping out blood from your hand– hence why it is a favorite.

She hawled back over and he screamed at her, though she didn't hear him. Her head was light as she felt blood rushed through her veins. Munyeong raised her arm and struck it back down.

Die.

Both of them froze. No, not her and mad dog, but him.

Deafening silence had lied between the walls and there they stood, eyes pierced into another's souls. Hers burned like fire, but his were dignified like the deep ocean.

Droplets of blood trickled down his forearm and splattered the floor, staining the rolled up sleeves of his crisp white shirt. What a waste.

"Let go. You can't kill him." The man– still with a bloody pen graved in his palm said.

Munyeong couldn't help but scoff, especially after that fucking bastard had just strangled her. "Don't be dramatic. I was just going to give him a few scratches."

Well maybe that's not entirely true.

Rough scrambling erupted underneath them, but when Munyeong turned to look, the mad dog had just ran off, like a lost puppy. Angrily she bit her lip, close to drawing blood until she felt the man draw his own hand back.

She watched as he did. The way he carefully slid her pen into his jacket and brought out a black silk handkerchief. Very rarely, she'd be astonished by something, and now it's him. Though she found it quite difficult to understand him– since when do you interrupt another's stabbing session by screwing up your own hand instead, and also the audacity to tell her she could not stab somebody?

So lost in her thoughts it took her a few seconds to realize her pulse was not pounding anymore.

"Did anyone not tell you that it is basic etiquette to not pry into someone else's business?" Munyeong said– seized the napkin from him, and began to tie a knot. She shot him a glance.

No reply. The man simply stared at her.

"Hmm?" She raised a brow, amused at his slight flinch when she tugged a little harder.

"Don't stress it too much, my manager will take care of our little incident." Munyeong chuckled as he proceeded to ignore her. "Do you know what? There are a lot of people in this world who deserve to die. And some very thoughtful freaks secretly take care of that, so clueless humans can sleep peacefully at night, completely unaware. Which one do you think I am?"

She dropped his hand, anticipating for his answer. Flares of light shined through the blinds, sharpening at his strong features and she noted his small– yet devilish smile.

"A clueless freak."

He finally responded, leaning towards her. His eyes traced her face, gazing down at her lips for a second too long, before their eyes were locked once again. "And of course you will have to pay, but at what price?"

taglist -> i could not tag some of ya'll :( @anotherdush @callmeashipper @ourcoffeeaddictme @nothingcreativeyet @pancat @hotstuff-benswolo @lookingatthesunset @evielovesfood @waywarm @gloster @hello-79 @ailander

#it's okay to not be okay #psycho but it's okay #iotnbo #pbio fic #kdrama #kim soo hyun #seo yea ji #ko mun yeong #ko moon young #moon kang tae #hotel blue moon #hotel moon light

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shimmershae · 3 years ago

Text

Just watched the episode and I’m going to have a lot of thoughts for you, most of them probably bordering on incoherence (LOL) so this is your last chance to nope on out of this post because I’m going to go ahead and put everything else behind a cut to save the eyes that do not want to see any spoilers at all. Unlike mine, that very much wanted to see but in a lot of cases? Could not see shit, but I digress.

Shae’s stream of consciousness coming at you in 3-2-1.

First of all, can I saw how good it is to have my show back again? Like, no. I don’t quite have Season 5 levels of excitement about the new/last season, but it is definitely nice to have all these characters back.

So all these thoughts of mine. Okay. Bear with me because there be a whole lot of them, lol.

My immediate impression as the episode opened was WHOA. Such a cool shot of Daryl with one light wing, one dark wing (representing the two sides to Daryl maybe--the man of honor versus the man he was raised to be, hmm?) looking out over some dark vista of something. Seriously. It’s dark. My room is also dark at the moment and still I was squinting to see. To make out what I’m “looking” at. I really, really hope the rest of this season isn’t this hard to make out.

Is that a tank? Kinda sorta a callback to Rick’s first episode? If so, cool. If not, well. Us fans have always put way more thought into things. For real. Change my mind.

Holy intense eye contact, Batman! Daryl Dixon has literally never looked at anyone--not BethusConLeah--in quite the same smoldering way as he looks at Carol. It’s next level. I don’t know why people be fooling themselves into thinking different.

Let’s see. I can make out--besides Daryl, Maggie, and that face mask dude I already forgot the name of--Kelly, Magna, Jerry (who’s that with him?), and Carol. Sorry. My world, like Daryl’s, inevitably narrows to Carol. She’s loking fierce and fine AF per usual.

Was that Rosita I noticed rewinding to relive Daryl eye-fucking Carol?

I’m guessing this is the army base they talked about in 10C.

That Walker perking up like “I smell food--pancakes and bacon and oohhhh” has me giggling inappropriately right off the bat. WTF.

Look at all my fabulous ladies tiptoeing through that Walker minefield. And Carol spotting that gun that might be useful right away. Listen, if you don’t think her mind ain’t always ten steps ahead of everybody else’s, you’d be wrong.

So. Are these Walkers just so old and feeble not even the call of fresh meat attracts them? Because just tiptoeing through their midst without the knockoff Lady Gaga meatsuits or skin masks has never really worked before that I can remember.

I just want to see most of this season. Is that really too much to ask? Don’t X-Files and Game of Thrones us, Angela. Please and thank you very fucking much.

Okay. Is the one drop of blood thing making anybody else have 28 Days Later vibes? Kinda? Sorta? No? Just me? Okay then. Carry on.

Wait a minute, though. How they be explaining how Daryl keeeps acquiring all these new tats all the time? Hmm? It’s like they just quit giving a shit about continuity in these latter seasons.

I mean. Do Walkers sleep now? LMAO. What is this? I guess they’re constantly evolving?

There’s my baby Lydia. Love my smol bean.

Alright though. I love to see the ladies of TWD kick some ass. It’s very gratifying. Gimps would never. Thank you, Angela.

Clever, resourceful, calm and collected, quick thinking Carol to the rescue! Seriously. Her haters must be withering away inside with absolute envy.

Hey, ya’ll. Remember when Carol was still mastering her sharpshooting skills at the Prison yard and shot at Rick’s feet? Her little “sorry, sorry”? LOL. If Rick could only see her now. Wait. He already knew what so many of his stans refuse to acknowledge--Carol=ultimate survivor and true savior to the group many times over.

Maggie’s got herself a gun, too. Go my badass girls.

Of course, Carol’s got everybody’s back. Of fucking course, Daryl’s got hers even when everybody else seem frozen in some kind of awe or stupification or something. Microcosm of the whole damn show right there.

Carol’s like “here’s your knives, love of my life.”

Eh. Maybe that’s just me.

Nah. She’s totally thinking it, too.

YAS! YAS! Norman Reedus and Melissa McBride with the top billing. How very far my babies have come.

Listen. I miss all the characters we’ve lost. Absolutely. But I love the ones that are still with us, that have been with us for so very long so hard. Whether I love their stories or decisions or not.

Is that THE Alexandria sign? That sign’s been through some shit.

DOG! Daryl kneeling to embrace our Grimes babies has me all up in my feels. And how cute is Dog getting all excited and making sure he’s the first one there to welcome back, Daddy?

Hershel is literally just as puppy dog cute as Glenn ever was. Really some Grade A casting.

What did Maggie call Mr. T? Ducky? Dougie? Sometimes with Maggie? I really cannot tell. Anyway. He’s Mr. T. for me until I find out differently, probably through rewatching with close captioning, lol.

Maggie’s got more people. So. Some new redshirts to sacrifice for plot purposes. I don’t know if I should bother learning their names or not.

I seem to remember Meridian being mentioned in one of the episode synopses.

Sophia’s hair tie around Carol’s neck will never fail to be an emotional throat punch. My heart.

“They come at night and by the time you see them, you’re already dead.” Welp. Guess that means we ain’t seeing shit for at least this first third of the season, lol. Very horror-eque though.

“You’re leaving to fight ghosts.” Aaron, to Maggie. So I see Aaron’s the type to get the hell outta Dodge when the Boogeyman comes calling, hahaha. Least he was. In the old world.

Rosita’s pissed off expression at Gabe’s decision to volunteer for the so-called suicide mission gives me life.

My baby Carol is tired AF of suicide missions. You can tell. Also? Methinks she has something to prove to Daryl here. Or at least feels like she does.

Dog with his little tactical vest. I love it.

I guess I get why they had Carol and Rosita stay behind. They had to more evenly split up the badassery to make things more fair and balanced, lol.

Okay. So Negan’s definitely earned everybody’s disdain. But they’re being woefully short-sighted by not at least hearing the dude out. Isn’t he at least native to the area?

“That is God telling us to turn around.” I’m actually on Negan’s side with this one, but Gabe answering him with “I’m pretty sure he would have run that past me first” has me howling with laughter. Father Gabe has gone straight up savage in these last couple of seasons. Rosita’s influence, perhaps?

I see what Angela is doing. Trying to make Negan the voice of reason. In this particular case? It’s kind of working. I’m still ultimately on Maggie’s side with this though BECAUSE GLENN.

Imagine showing up to work and unironically dressing like a storm trooper every day. Excuse me while I LOL.

Even in the ZA, there’s bullshit paperwork.

“Pumpkin colored spacesuit.” Good one, Ezekiel.

LOL forever. I love Princess.

“Michonne. Our Michonne shut people out of Alexandria for years.” Timely reminder that choices aren’t always perfect. Neither are people.

WTF is reprocessing? Sounds ominous. LMAO at Eugene’s “Okay. We gotta go.”

What in the actual hell with all those bagged, squirming undead? Creepy AF in that subway tunnel.

Should I just go ahead and call that the Easter bunny? We’ve had some version of it pop up since Season 1.

Is it stubborn pride with Maggie or what? Why go through with something when all signs point toward the wisdom of stopping? You can argue that she’s acting similarly to Carol last season, but there’s a huge difference here folks. Carol did her damndest to Lone Wolf that shit and minimize the danger to those she loved. Maggie’s straight up enlisting those she “cares about” to carry out her mission of revenge or vengeance, what have you. Let’s see if she gets near the amount of hate for it. Personally, I don’t blame her for her feelings one bit. They are valid. But her knowingly drawing the others into the game? That’s my sticking point. That’s how she and Carol differ, even if some people refuse to see or accept it. Anyway. Hopping right on off my soapbox.

“Why don’t you get up on your little tippy toes and try?” Omigosh, I’d dying. When I tell you I about passed out with laughter, I do not exaggerate. I should hate Negan forever and I do. Really. But I adore JDM and he frequently makes me LOL. He’s made Negan entertaining if not completely redeemable since Angela took over and more layered so I say kudos.

He has a point about Maggie playing dictator. Damn you, show, for slanting the writing just that smidgen that makes Negan make sense over his victim. I guess, though, it’s better this way. Gives both characters more shades of gray.

“He’s a dick but he makes sense.” I feel like this is Angela calling us all out when we dare to harbor any lasting resentment toward Negan for what he did to Glenn.

Speaking of--Negan. You deserved Daryl’s punch to the mouth. You just went a bridge too damn far.

“Keep pushing me, Negan. Please.” Warning shots fired, Asshole. You better watch yourself around the Widow Rhee.

Have I mentioned how much I love Princess? Her shipping the Commonwealth guards is killing me, lol. I can’t wait ‘til she meets Carol and Daryl. She’s going to have their number in two seconds flat.

I like Ezekiel and Princess as a duo. I’m not saying romantically necessarily. I just like them in scenes together because they’re fun. There’s sort of a protective indulgence Ezekiel seems to telegraph whenever they’re in scenes together. Like he’s like don’t hurt this one. I don’t know. For all these words I’ve written, I can’t quite find the ones to adequately describe what I mean.

The wall of the lost gives me such Battlestar Galactica feels. What sad thoughts it inspires.

Eugene in that Commonwealth gear. Omigosh, lol. So did they just sneak up and take Princess’s little Commonwealth ship’s gear when they were sneaking off on their own to have a quickie?

Princess finding that note for Yumiko on the wall actually gave me chills. Yeah. I’m easy. Just the suggestion of someone getting reunited with lost family gets me all up in my feels. Yumiko saying “I have to stay”? I felt that.

Oh no. Dog ran off! Somebody protect my favorite fictional puppy. Of course, Daryl goes after him. He’s always been the sweet one. Merle said it.

Eh. Negan taking Maggie’s hand at the end there would have smacked too much of Negan Sue and Maggie’s biggest plot of the season would have been prematurely dealt with so I get why they did what they did. But c’mon. It’s not really that big of a cliffhanger, is it?

Okay, so Angela calls those sleeping beauty Walkers “Lurkers” and I get it. Apparently they’re a bigger deal in the comics, but I really don’t remember seeing them all that much on the actual show. Somebody jog my memory.

Of fucking course, you can actually see what’s happening in the inside the episode clips. I wish we could choose to view the episode with that lighting because some of us be blind. And this time I mean in the more literal sense. Not the figurative one.

Anyway. I’m going to stop trying to write a novel for ya’ll and move on to better things. Like maybe a nap. Maybe some early dinner. I don’t know. I’m tired AF and need a little recharge.

Before I go, though? Overall impression of the episode? I liked it. There were parts that I loved (all the ladies being badass, every second of Carol, Daryl reuniting with the Grimes babies and Dog, all things Princess, some of Negan’s one-liners about had me busting a gut, Rosita serving looks, Kelly and Lydia getting to be badass too) and parts I didn’t love (not being able to see a damn thing, Angela trying to tip the scales in Negan’s favor, not enough Carol or Aaron or Rosita, no reunion between Aunt Carol and the Grimes babies even though that picture floating around suggests it was at least shot, not being able to see a damn thing, all the Alexandria people playing follow the leader for Maggie when she’s been gone 6 years and Daryl’s right there--hell, even Father G deserves the honor over her because it’s obvious they’re not exactly on the same wavelength anymore).

I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m just glad to have our show back.

Later, lovelies.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #spoilers #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #and giggle and giggle

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