#there are tender mercies everywhere

[yumeboshi]

𝜗𝜚。．．❛ #03. CORPSE BRIDE

𐙚 topic。．when you turn down yandere hsr men’s proposals.

．。𝜗𝜚 cw。general yandere themes, suggestive content, MINORS DNI

．。𝜗𝜚 a/n。aven, sunday, and boothill. sunday and aven are regular additions to my posts lol, wrote boothills less intense bc he’s too silly to imagine

#AྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིVENTURINE ⇢ ‘convinces’ you

。he will actually try to coax you into it. he doesn’t want to just force things onto you, that isn’t really what he wants 。“ill make you the happiest pretty bride, doll, just believe in me, hm?” 。continues to sweet talk you, telling you what he can do- buy you pretty dresses, give you anything you want, and he lists luxury after luxury. 。and he follows through his promises. even if you are being really disobedient, he’d still buy you more luxury than you could ever ask for. you will start questioning if you really don’t want this marriage- which is exactly what he wants you to do, to make you doubt yourself. 。his list goes on and on- a vip ticket to the Reverie, first row tickets to robin’s concerts, only the finest things that only his class of people could ever get their hands on. 。but in that list, he conveniently puts out ‘freedom.’ 。if you disagree, he’d pout, asking you why- and when you tell him you want to be free from him, he’d laugh, calling you a silly girl. 。“i already gave you a choice when we met. it was your choice to pick a card from an unknown pile.” 。he’d have the wedding commence in some really luxurious property of the ipc, and he will, invite your family over- he’s merciful. but is it mercy when you know you won’t see them ever again? 。“it would be a shame if they don’t see the happiest moment of your life.”

STANDING there with the most beautiful dress you could humanly ask for, your expression is nothing but a shell as Aventurine smiles at you through those shades. Your eyes are everywhere but on his eyes, when you stare at them, you feel like you’re losing yourself.

you are glad your gown came with a veil over your head, nobody can see your dead eyes, except him.

As the officiant goes on with the questions, you grip your bouquet a little harder to the point you feel their stems crumple, just like your shriveling heart.

You snap out of it after hearing silence- you see his expecting eyes on you and you nod blankly. “I do.”

And your husband smiles even wider, and he steps closer and slowly, while staring at you with uncomfortable adoration through those tantalizing purple eyes, he kisses you. You are expecting a tender kiss in a ceremony; but his gloved hand sneaks onto the back of your head, pulling you in hastily.

“I love you so fucking much, princess—” he breathes into you, brushing aside the saliva that trickles down your chin after his intrusion. “It took quite a while, but you’re finally all mine.” He pulls up your hand that has your forced vow on it, he chuckles and softly kisses your fingers.

“‘m gonna make you so happy, so ecstatic, that you’re gonna thank me for it, love. you will thank me that I restrained you from everything else.” he whispers, and the people clap, cheering; your family too, who smiles, knowing nothing that it would be your last reunion.

#SྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིUNDAY ⇢ breaks you

。he just takes it on another level (and does not find your struggles entertaining unlike the former) 。he will be, really heartbroken at first. the head of the oak family asking you to be his lifelong sweetheart is almost like him giving you his life. you are his entire world- and the world has rejected him. 。“…I see. was I not good enough for you, angel?” 。although his emotions will be very hard to control, he’s very used to commencing plans. he’d tell you that he could ‘talk this out’ with you. unfortunately, it’s not a choice, but rather, an order. 。sunday is a ‘the end justifies the means’ kind of person. he will do any means to make you eventually accept your fate. that will include imprisoning you in some faraway place and leaving you abandoned for so long, you will be broken, wishing for any interaction. food is only given to you through a remote device, with no human interaction. 。sunday itches to be with you- he is compassionate for you, his heart will ache to see you sob into an endless cacophony. a part of him will be tempted to go to you and be with you physically, not watching you from a screen. 。he will repeat it- he will visit once a blue moon, comforting you, asking you if you changed your mind. when you ask him when he’d release you, his expression will harden. 。“it seems you haven’t learned anything, sweetheart.” 。if you are still stubborn, he will be a little impatient. he will speed up the process by adding new things in- maybe making you dream of a lovely, free life and when you wake up, you’re just alone. he will not resort to anything violent, he cares too much about you to hurt you. although, ‘hurt’ in his dictionary doesn’t apply to mentally hurting you. 。you will sob and show your most dramatic, fragile sides to a descent of madness, thinking you are truly alone until sunday comes to visit. you are wrong, though- sunday has always been with you, just not physically. 。he has always been watching you cry into the void through a screen. always.

MAYBE you have finally lost your mind, because when Sunday comes to visit you and your dull prison, you collapse to your knees and immediately plead him.

“Please,” you sob, clutching his legs desperately- he doesn’t crouch, but looks down- almost like a god addressing its follower. Sunday is no god for you, but you beg like he is.

“Please what?” He looks at you, fingers brushing over your hands, tilting his head just the slightest. His golden eyes glitter in the dim light. He is waiting for only one answer, there is only one correct answer to his question.

But you do not give him the right one. “Please just let me go,” you break down. Your heart is throbbing from all the crying, vision blurry and your head is light with no energy to talk anymore.

His gentle, serene smile immediately warps into that of a cold one. “Try again?” His fingers grip your hands hard, warning you that his patience is running thin.

When you remain silent except for your sobs, he crouches down to stare at you on eye-level, boring holes into your fearful expression. Unlike his deadly gaze, his words are soft and flow out quickly like a river- albeit with a sigh of exasperation. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to stop this just because you beg.” His hand pushes yours against the floor to knock you down, figure towering over you as he leans in to whisper- “—although, they’re very pleasant to listen to.”

“Honestly, I don’t get why you are struggling right now. It’s so easier to accept your eventual fate. Unless, you do like to seek pain.”

His other hand goes over your stomach, then slides tantalizingly slow up your body- you shiver and tremble at each touch that is too foreign to you. Cold fingers cage your neck and you choke on your breath.

“I’m not planning on hurting you, angel.” His voice is still gentle, but his eyes are telling another story, they seem keen to hurt you again and again. “But I did say I’ll resort to other… methods. Since none of them seem to work, I suppose the only solution would be caging you with a baby.” When your eyes widen, he laughs dryly. “The look on your face tells me that you didn’t expect it. But you will be my loving wife, dear. You will not be able to run or reject me, not when your own child is at stake. It makes only more sense to… make you bear children. My children.”

As he watches you struggle under him, trying to breathe, he feels like he has entered ascension. Soon, one of your pretty fingers will have his ring, and very very soon, he will have his first child- the very thought of him makes him lose his mind. He so wishes to make you his, claim you inside, watch your pretty pussy gush out his cum while he’s pressing deep into your womb- but he also wishes to see a mini version of him, or you. He finds it too adorable to withstand. He will vow that his children will grow up pure and innocent.

“We will be the happiest family in the world,” he purrs. “And I’ll make sure of it.”

#BྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིྀིOOTHILL ⇢ will try to prove himself

。maybe a little similar to aven. but while the latter will materialistically give you things and spoil you around to convince you, boothill will more likely show himself off instead. 。“i can fudgin’ shoot an ipc lackey in the head from miles away, sugar- ya can’t see that ‘n any other guy.” 。he’ll try to show you his capability to protect you- which will likely end up in multiple people dying but as a galaxy ranger, he has morals, so he will probably use the ipc as his shooting dummies 。overall he’s sweet even if you reject his proposal- he will likely be furious, just not at you. 。oh lord but during the day you rejected him, be prepared for multiple news flashes of dead people across the street. the amount of emotion will be too much for his consciousness to restrain 。when you confront him, he’d apologize, albeit a little too nonchalant. 。“‘m sorry sweetie, got a lil outta hand last night.” 。per your wish, he won’t kill anyone who’s unrelated and innocent- but he’d still go on a killing spree in the ipc headquarters to the point you are blacklisted on their list because he would shout your name and rant why you didn’t accept him while he shoots his gun all around the place.

“BOOTHILL, what the hell are you doing?” You frown when he returns- even after rejecting his proposal, he drifts around you like a lost stray dog. And he is always covered in blood, looking furious- but when you talk, his expression simply melts away like butter to a grin that shows his sharp teeth.

“What do ya mean what I’m doin’? Makin’ sure nobody hurts you.” He snickers. He smells like metal, like he always does, but this time it’s overpowering, which lets you know what he’s been doing.

“I don’t need protection, Boothill. You can just leave me alone.”

You’re beyond annoyed at his clinginess. No matter how many times you reject him, he’d always come back, showing something new off to you, and half the time it wasn’t anything pleasant, but rather his list of crimes.

“Aww, don’t be so uptight, sugar.” He chuckles and flashes a grin and his other metal hand spontaneously pulls you into his embrace— you jump. When did his hand get there? “All I wanna do is to make sure my future wife is safe and sound. Nothin’ wrong with that, hm?”

“I told you, I’m not going to accept-“

“Ah ah! Wait and see, you will be, I promise. But don’t drag the chase a lil too long. Even I get impatient.” Something cold pressed against your forehead and you realize it’s his gun. When your expression turns aghast with fear, he barks an amused laugh.

“You scared of this? Nah, I’d never hurt ya. Won’t wanna turn your body into metal like mine.” Although he says this with a dark smirk, he doesn’t remove the gun. “The sooner you agree to it, the merciful I become. Ya don’t wanna see innocent guys die because of your stupidity, hm?”

[yandere-writer-momo]

Part 2 🖤I made the demon king a black man. I don’t see many Yandere POC OCs 🖤

Yandere Head Canons:

Defying Destiny

Yandere Demon King x Isekai Saintess Reader x Yandere Hero (mentioned)

TW: imprisonment, kidnapping, stalking, uncomfortable themes, sexual themes, Somniaphilia, Dacryphilia, etc.

Part 1

You woke up wrapped in the silk sheets of snow unfamiliar bed. Your eyes wild and your heart raced in your chest like a startled animal. Where were you and where was Reinhardt?! Why were there candles everywhere in this dark bedroom? Was Reinhardt planning to… oh god you were terrified.

You felt a sob rack through you when reality set in. Had Reinhardt stolen you away to live out some sort of sick fantasy instead of going through with his quest to slay the demon king? No… Reinhardt wouldn’t bring you to such a luxurious home. But who on earth brought you here?

“I see you’re awake, my delicate flower.” Your head snapped to the doorway to see the silhouette of a large man. You felt your blood run cold and a shiver run down your spine by his presence. That raspy baritone voice belonged to a stranger.

You flinched when the man suddenly slapped his clawed hands on the end of the king sized bed. Your eyes met gold for the first time and you seeped your heart stopped in your chest from pure terror. There was no mistaking who your captor was… he was the demon king.

“What’s the matter, saintess?” He chuckled as he reached a taloned finger out to hook around a strand of your hair. “Cat got your tongue?”

You felt tears stream down your cheeks when he flashed his long fangs at you. He was bewitchingly beautiful with his burnt umber skin and golden eyes. There was no doubt he was a demon and that fact terrified you. What did he want from you? Was he… was he going to kill you?

The demon king sighed at your shivering form before he moved himself to sit beside you. His hand moved to hold yours. “It’s alright, darling. I’m not going to hurt you.”

You sniffled when he began to wipe away your tears. “W… what?”

“I’d never hurt my saintess.” The demon king gave you a toothy smile. “My beautiful, merciful saintess… my salvation.”

You gasped when he brought your right hand up to his lips to press a tender kiss to the back of it. “It’s so wonderful to finally have you here with me… you’ll be safe here.”

“I’m just a bit confused about all of this…” You felt so small under his intense gaze, like he was about to pounce on you at any second. “Who are you and why have you taken me?”

The demon lord chuckled as he rose up from the bed to stand at his full, intimidating height. His curved black horns nearly added another foot to his height which made he give you a smirk. “Why I am the Demon King but you can call me Amon.”

The demon king- no, Amon, bowed his head to you. “And I took you to save you.”

You were surprised to see a tray of freshly made food in front of you when Amon snapped his fingers. Your stomach growled at the delicious sight, but you were hesitant to accept… Amon quickly caught onto your hesitance and took a bite of the food for you. “Don’t worry, it’s real and completely edible. Only the best for my saintess.”

You shyly took a bite and smiled at the taste. It was lovely…

Amon smiled warmly at you, his golden eyes studied your satisfied smile in pure joy. He was so happy to please you!

Amon ran his talons through his long black hair with a smile. “I’ll take care of you from now on. You’re safe here.”

As the weeks melted into months, Amon kept his word. None of his demon nor monster henchmen were mean towards you, unlike the hero’s party. Sure Amon was never far from you, but his company was much preferred over Reinhardt’s. Amon would bring you meals and made sure you had fresh clothes. He pampered you like a beloved pet.

Though it was never officially stated, you were Amon’s lover. And thus, you treated as such by his subjects. They’d wait for you on hand and foot. You received various expensive clothing and jewelry, they were eager to make you smile. It was such a stark contrast compared to your treatment prior…

You often gazed out your window at the volcanic city below. It was fascinating just how different monsters and demons lived from humans… so why did the humans want to destroy them so much?

You jumped when Amon entered the room to wrap his muscular arms around your waist, his nose pressed onto your shoulder. A few of his box braids tickled your skin. “I missed you so much… I just wish the humans would leave us alone. I grow tired of the hero and his party. They’re so much weaker without your barriers and healing. To think they never treated you well. What a bunch of losers.”

You turned to gaze at Amon in interest. “What is it that they’re after? Why do the humans hate your people so much?”

Amon gave you the softest of smiles, a bit of his fangs peaked out from under his lip. “Our magic stones. Monsters and demons produce enough magic stones to fuel humanity for eons… they’re worth a lot of money to humans.”

Amon pressed a tender kiss to your shoulder, his gold eyes stared expectantly up at you. “You’re the only human to ever question their greed and motives. You don’t wish to be bound to a destiny thrust upon you by the world.”

Amon bent down on one knee and pressed his lips over your palms and fingers. “Join me. Together we can defy our destiny. You don’t have to be a Saintess forced to marry the hero and I won’t have to be a page in the history books.”

You felt a blush on your cheeks when he tilted his handsome face at you. “Let’s watch the world burn together.”

And now you had a choice to make. To fulfill the destiny predetermined for you or to defy your destiny.

[loonylupinblack3]

Aftermath

Pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: the aftermath of Lando's race win

Warning: SMUT! breast play, oral (f!receiving) unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it silly)

Word Count: 1.6k

Lando was fucking horny.

You could tell from the way he stared at you across the room, eyes darkening with every sway of your hips to the music. It was his night, the party after his first ever win, yet that couldn’t stop you from teasing him slightly. His hands clenched into fists, stopping himself from stalking over to you and dragging you into the club’s bathroom where he’d finally have his way with you.

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, so you continued dancing, begging your fantasy to become a reality. Lando, unfortunately, had more self control than you bargained for, or he didn’t want to fuck you in the dirty bathroom, because he spent the rest of the night away from you, as far as humanly possible, though his eyes never left you for a second.

As soon as you entered the cab his mouth was on yours, lips pressing unforgivingly against you, moving with a fevered rush only a night of built up tension could create. You had to stop yourself from moaning into his mouth, sending a nervous glance at the cab driver. Lando, noticing your hesitance, sent the driver the dirtiest glare known to man, like it was his fault he was there.

So he pulled away from you again, sitting stiffly as possible, hands once again fisted, jaw clenched and eyes fixed ahead. He stayed like that for the rest of the ride, refusing to even acknowledge you until the cab stopped. At his apartment, you noted, but didn’t say anything as Lando grabbed your arm and practically dragged you into the building and in the elevator.

The doors hadn't even finished closing before he was upon you again, hands on your hips, your neck, your ass, anywhere and everywhere he could as he kissed you. He didn’t even break the kiss as the elevators opened, just took you, stumbling to his door and scavenging his pockets for his keys, his kisses becoming sloppy and distracted.

When he managed to open the door he removed his lips from yours, taking your hand and leading you to his room. Neither of you spoke, the tension between you too palpable. Entering the room, Lando let go of your hand and looked at you.

“Get on the bed.”

You swallowed thickly in anticipation, doing as he said. You sat with your back facing the wall, staring at Lando in all his glory as he took his shirt off, showing off those abs he worked so hard for. Your mouth watered slightly, and Lando picked up on your awed state.

“See something you like?”

You couldn't help but smirk slightly, the playful demeanour Lando always seems to bring with him falling over the two of you.

Lando returned your grin, crawling onto the bed until he was hovering over you, his curls drooping forward. You lifted your hands and cupped his face, bringing him down to your own, kissing him softly.

This kiss was calmer, gentler, Lando’s fever seeming to have lessened now that he had you on his bed, at his mercy. He was still insatiable, his tongue exploring your mouth with a keenness akin to a starving man who just found a feast, but he was softer. More tender, like he was desperate for this, but he also wanted it to last.

With one hand supporting his weight his other hand started tugging your dress off, and you broke the kiss to pull it all the way off before returning to Lando’s lips. His hands trailed your body eagerly, groaning when he realised you weren’t wearing a bra. His lips left your mouth to pay attention to your tits instead, pressing open mouthed kisses to your breasts before taking your nipple into his mouth.

You let out a breathy moan as he sucked and nibbled on it, squirming beneath him. He laid on top of you, putting his full weight on you so you couldn’t escape and so he could use his other hand to play with your other breast, twisting your nipple between his fingers, walking the thin line between pain and pleasure with expertise.

“Lando,” you whined, clenching your thighs together.

At the sound of your whine his impatience was activated again and he left your breasts, travelling to your stomach, leaving kisses down there as he trailed all the way to your panties, eyes flicking up to you with a devious grin.

You let out a gasp as he pulled your panties down by his teeth, dragging them along your legs and only using his hands when they were at your ankles to get them fully off and discard them somewhere in the room.

He crawled back up, pressing kisses to your legs, your thighs, your inner thighs, before hovering over your core, his warm breath on your cunt sending pleasing shivers up your spine.

You squirmed and he put one of his hands on your lower stomach, keeping you there. He took his time with you, giving a long, languid stroke of his tongue over your cunt making you gasp out in surprise. 

He kept his hand firmly on your stomach as he started lapping your cunt, your wetness spreading across his face, on his chin. You moaned, hands gripping the sheets as his tongue played with your pussy, flicking your clit every now and then and making your eyes roll back.

When you felt one of his fingers enter your cunt you moaned, hands moving to grip his curls instead of the sheets. He started an abusing rhythm, pumping his finger in and out fast and hard. The pleasure made your thighs clench, closing around Lando’s head. He groaned at the feeling and added a second finger, stretching you out as he sucked your pussy.

“Fuck, Lando!” You cried, writhing underneath his hand. He kept a heavy palm on you, keeping you where you were regardless of your floundering.

He ate you out with more vigour, his fingers constantly thrusting, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. It was when he curled his fingers, hitting that spot inside you that you fell, letting out a string of moans and curses as you did so.

You pulled Lando’s hair, pushing your cunt further onto his face and grinding against it as you rode out your high, Lando still pumping his fingers into you. It was only when your thighs stopped shaking, loosening around his head, that he took his fingers out of your pussy, making eye contact with you as he placed them in his mouth and sucked.

Your gaze clouded with lust at the sight and you bit your lip subconsciously. Lando’s gaze darkened and he moved forward till he was the one biting your lip, catching you in a bruising kiss. You could taste yourself on him and let out a breathy sigh, letting his lips abuse yours as his hands roamed your body.

He started unbuckling his belt, still kissing you albeit a little more sloppily. He only pulled away to take his pants and boxers off completely, then he was back on you, kissing your neck with fevor as he aligned his tip with your entrance.

He pushed in, a sharp gasp leaving your lips at the feeling. Lando groaned at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him, pressing his head into the crook of your neck. He went in slowly, not stopping until he was fully in, pausing for a moment to let you get used to him inside you.

You draped your arms around his neck and gave him a little squeeze, signalling you were ready. He started out slow, moving in and out of you at a languid pace, feeling the tightness of your walls.

“Fuck,” Lando cursed, panting slightly. “You’re so fucking tight for me Love.”

You let out a moan, tightening your arms around his neck, tangling your hands into his curls. Lando started going faster, unable to help himself, even knowing you were already sensitive after one orgasm. He was thrusting in and out of you, voicing his pleasure, cursing and praying your name over and over again.

Everything was so much. The pleasure was wracking through your body, you felt like you were flying, Lando slamming into you. You whined, squirming away from Lando, only for him to grab your hips and pull you back down.

“Oh Y/n, sorry baby, you’re not leaving just yet,” he murmured in your ear, pounding into you. He groaned as you whined, clenching around him, pulling on his hair. 

You arched your back, eyes rolling back as he started slamming into that one spot over and over again, hitting the spongy spot with lethal precision. You were screaming his name, sobbing into the skin of his neck, hands clawing at his back as you were overwhelmed with the orgasm rolling over you.

The feeling of your walls clenching around him pushed Lando over the edge, and with a groan he came in you, pumping you full of his white cum. He continued to fuck you as he came, his thrusts turning sloppy and uneven, his pants and groans filling the room.

He stayed in that position, hovering over you, the both of you catching your breath. When he finally pulled out you frowned at the emptiness that filled you, only for the frown to melt into a content smile as Lando laid down beside you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back to his chest.

He peppered lazy kisses along the side of your neck, marking you with purple hickeys, sucking and biting at his leisure.

You fell asleep with the feeling of Lando’s lips on your skin.

[obitos-whore]

https://www.tumblr.com/obitos-whore/748760592303718400/how-the-naruto-men-react-to-their-crush-kissing?source=share

This is awesome, can we have more? Not only more, but I mean *much more*

Hey there nonnie. I assume with *much more* you mean some spicy stuff, right? If not, just send another request and I'll see what I can do.

Anyway, enjoy some Naruto men going down on you.

(Kakashi, Obito, Itachi, Shisui, Gaara, Kankuro, Madara, Sasuke)

18+, Minors do NOT interact

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Kakashi

When it comes to going down on you, Kakashi is a downright menace and will do absolutely everything in his power to make sure you'll think of him for days to come

To ensure he has the element of surprise on his side and you don't see what's coming your way, Kakashi will blindfold you and tie your wrists to the headrest of your bed. He can't risk you peeking after all. Besides, there's something so incredibly hot and beautiful about seeing you so helpless and having you at his mercy

Will absolutely take advantage of your vulnerability and take his sweet time bringing you close to the edge, only to deny you the sweet release that's boiling inside just as you are about to burst

Chuckles at the myriad of curses you throw at him for being a dickhead and not letting you fucking cum

But when he does, boy oh boy, does make 'up' for his cruel teasing and make you cum several times in a row, each orgasm more intense than the previous one, ending with you as an overly sensitive mess unable to form a coherent thought, and a very happy and satisfied Kakashi

Obito

Obito is downright addicted to the taste of you. If he could, he'd spend hours between your legs and pleasure you. And sometimes he even does.

He's very vocal during it, showering you in praises and letting out satisfied moans as he pleases you with his mouth

Depending on his mood, he'll either be incredibly sweet and tender, or downright cruel and edge you for hours on end. He'd make you beg and squirm desperately, even going as far as to restrain you with some nice ropes and let his possessive side come through and mark you everywhere, before he even considers giving you what you've been begging for since the beginning

Tends to get carried away rather quickly and becomes quite sloppy during it with saliva coating his chin after being away on a mission for quite some time. Must be the withdrawal symptoms

Would definitely not mind waking you up with his mouth on you every morning

Itachi

Itachi likes to take his time with you and slowly get you worked up by kissing along the insides of your thighs and making his way up to your center inch by inch

Once he gets to it, his ministrations are gentle and sensual, flattening his tongue to give you slow strokes and suckling on the very sensitive parts of your sex

If you squirm too much, he will hold you in place and 'punish' you by going even slower, enjoying the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your hands gripping the sheets or his hair as you let out squeals and moans of pure ecstasy

Praise. Praise. Praise. This man has studied the book of praises and will stop at absolutely nothing to make you feel like royalty, both physical and verbal, while looking up at you with the most pussy dripping and dick hardening gaze that's humanly possible

Once Itachi is done with you, your legs will be shaking for hours. And the mere thought of having him between your legs again will be enough to make you all hot and bothered

Shisui

Just like Obito, Shisui is completely and utterly addicted to you. He just can't keep his hands off of you, much less his mouth

Aside from your incredible taste and the delightful sounds that escape your pretty lips, it's also a way for him to relieve his pent up stress. Being a shinobi of his calibre does come with a huge amount of it after all

Shisui, being the playful little tease he is, will have you beg for him to finally let you cum, while the tip of his tongue playfully dances around your most sensitive spots. Always bringing you so close to the edge before withdrawing just in time to deny you that sweet release and leave you whining in frustration and need

He's also rather shameless and would love for everyone to hear you scream his name, so that they know who's making you see stars at the training grounds during the day. It's like a badge of honour for him

Sometimes he gets so into it, that he subconsciously activates his sharingan and stares at you with a look of pure hunger. Like a predator ready to strike its prey

Gaara

Gaara is the definition of attentive and gentle. He loves hearing you moan his name as he uses his mouth and hands to bring you to heaven.

He's completely devoting himself to your pleasure and will always hold one of your hands, because he's a sweetheart and just craves the physical touch on top of the shared sexual intimacy

Will shower you with compliments and gently coo your name as he watches your face contort in pleasure and feel your body squirm underneath him

Gaara could never deny you anything, you're like his personal deity. However, he's more than willing to comply with your wishes and play a bit more dirty if that's what you're into

To Gaara, giving oral isn't just a way to pleasure one's needs and desires. To him, it's a way to show his deep love and devotion for his partner. It's like an art that demands the finest of skills. And your responses and reactions are the highest of praises one can receive

Kankuro

Kankuro is not only a cocky and smug bastard with a witty tongue and a master of puppeteering. He also knows how to use that mouth and fingers expertly in the bedroom and make you scream his name for the entire village to hear

Knowing that he can make you feel so good only boosts his already big ego and will make him even more eager to have his way with you

He will use his chakra strings to keep your hands tied and your legs nicely spread and open for him to feast upon you to his heart's content. And may Jashin have mercy on you when he's been deprived of it for too long

Of course, given that he can be quite the prick, he won't give you what you want so easily and make you beg for it, relishing in the frustration and neediness that resonates in your tone

"You good, sugar?" He would ask you with feigned innocence between harsh sucks and light bites, plastering your inner thighs with his marks while you are teetering on the edge of heaven and hell

Madara

Madara isn't a man who takes orders from anyone. Not even his little darling. However, if you ask him very, very nicely, he might relent and give you what you desire. But it comes with a price of course

Once he starts giving you what you asked for, there's no turning back. His mouth and hands are constantly on you, possessively touching every inch of skin while enjoying the way your vocal cords sing his name, your squirming body firmly pinned to whatever surface you're on

Madara takes great pleasure in taunting you when you ask for a break because you've come three times already and are overstimulated beyond comprehension

"What's wrong, darling? Tired already? Here, let me help you."

On top of stimulating you until your knees are practically jello, he'll also fuck you senseless afterwards. To remind you that you either play by his rules or not at all

Sasuke

Sasuke is incredibly mean about you wanting him down there, teasing and taunting you about being so needy and will only give in so you stop whining like a 'bitch in heat'. He acts like he's annoyed, but in reality he's totally down for it

He's more on the rougher side of things and will make you whimper and writhe in total ecstasy and desperation as he selfishly takes what you so generously offer

During it, he'll possessively cover your body in bite marks and hickeys and tell you how pathetic you are and how he is the only one who can and will pleasure you

And since he's so nice, he'll go all out on you until he says he's done you're completely satisfied

Of course his 'services' don't come for free and so he will demand some sort of repayment. Whether it's him fucking you, or you giving him a blow job doesn't really matter to him in that moment

[hwajin]

★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝖜𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 004. — 𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 | 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut, hints of angst

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: siren!hyunjin x fem!reader

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: initially, he played with you. manipulated you into his trance because it was his calling, hypnotizing you to fall under his mercy — he never expected you to do the same to him, to be intoxicating, to be utterly addicting.

𝖜𝖈: 2.9k

𝖈𝖜: oral (f receiving), fingering, edging, piv, unprotected sex, cumming inside, slight dacryphilia, hints of unrequited love, hints of manipulation (since hyunjin's a siren-)

— series masterlist

His fingers on your skin cold, wet, enticing. His pale lips made their journey against your body, kissing and leaving moist patches on moister skin, giving a bite or two, simply to hear you whine, to feel you squirm beneath his touch. You never wanted to miss it, his touch, always urged for more when he was on the brink to pull away.

You met Hyunjin by the lake, as always from the very moment you had first encountered him – a picknick by yourself, a book on your legs and the sun in your face, and he had stood before you. Had sung a melody so pretty you’d been under his mercy momentarily; and ever since you’d been addicted. Hyunjin needn’t to sing to lure you in anymore, needn’t to use his voice on you to make you want him; you started coming to the lake voluntarily, always waiting for him to show up again, always eager. Maybe his voice had put on a permanent effect on you, a long-term spell. Maybe your longing for the man was illusionary, created by him simply to toy with you – to have his fun before he vanished again, because he never stayed. The very moment he left you and him satisfied he was gone in the blink of an eye, before you’ve had the chance to come to your senses. He slipped away from under your touch as quickly as he emerged, as though not real at all, as though a produce of your imagination.

Hyunjin’s teeth grazed your skin, not leaving a spot of yours untouched, not tended to. You were laying on wettened grass, green and fresh beneath you, paying little mind to the way it soaked you, the way it made you shiver in your place. You’d started to care far less about your clothes or hair soaking whenever with him, started to be reminded of him when in contact with water, in its simplest form – drinking a glass you imagined his wet lips on your own, taking a shower you felt his body all over yours, his hands on your hips and his chest atop yours. It was pathetic almost, reeked of hopeless desperation; and then you kept coming to the lake, kept coming and looking for him, kept stilling desperation only for it to flame within you again, not seconds after your ways parted.

The sky above you made Hyunjin’s figure hovering over your own seem vibrant, glistening almost against grey heavens and fog, beaming in shining droplets of water against cold autumn which lay everything in gloom darkness. His body was everywhere, indulging into you, fully submerging you into the spell of his, into the illusion of his love. You lay under his mercy, hopeless with every touch he granted you, needy for ever more when he as much as shifted in his place. His lips continued their journey on your body – giving a kiss to your temple, to your forehead, far too tender, far too loving; moving on to lips and jaw, more urgent now, more vigorous, mouth having missed yours, inhaling your every sound, making your breath his own, bitten lips caressing chin, biting at sharpened jaw; kissing down delicate neck, teeth breaking softness of thin skin, painting dark flowers onto body, nearly drawing blood; moving down to nibble at shoulders, at collarbones and chest, to soothe with kisses momentarily; doting on waist and hips, leaving matching bruises, painting images of love. You doubted it was any more than that, an image simply – yet you let yourself get lost in it, letting yourself lull into prettiest colours and promises, if only for the moment, if only for the few hours spent with him.

Hyunjin looked up at you from beneath his lashes, long and dripping water, seducing you with not more than a gaze. His eyes dark, deep, bearing oceans. He had the powers to drown you, and you were foolish enough in trying to swim.

His hands accompanied his lips on their path across your body, though it was a far messier one. His palms everywhere at once, halting on cheeks or breasts or hips for only mere moments before they were gone again, eager to touch more of you, to explore your every inch, your every hill and vale, the very flaws upon your skin. He was everywhere and nowhere, leaving you hungry for his hold, his grip on you yet granting you more than you were capable of taking. He marked you entirely as his, going as far as marking your soul, carving his name into its’ pages for you to never forget, to always remember. He was intoxicating, manipulating, impossible to refuse.

His kisses tickled your thighs. You lay exposed before him and he latched onto your inner plush, softly, giving kitten licks to pubic bone, only to kiss, just to see you squirm. He was taking his time with you, testing his own patience – you were long hot and bothered, and Hyunjin – seemingly composed – wasn’t any better. Every of your whimper, your every spasm and plea drove him further to senselessness, to overbearing thirst. He didn’t know quite when his touches on your body started to linger, when his heart started aching whenever he submerged into the lake again, whenever he left you laying on the grass only to come back the next day to find you in the same spot, waiting for him. He didn’t know when looking at you started to pang at his heart, because suddenly aware of the impossibility of it – such feelings weren’t in his nature. You shouldn’t be the one luring him in, you shouldn’t be the one taking up every last bit of his mind, you the only thought playing on a loop. You shouldn’t have the same effect he had on you; it was his power to have, a mere human like you wasn’t supposed to confuse everything he’s thought to know about himself.

He kept teasing, didn’t let your whines of desperation get the better of him. He liked taking his time with you – it allowed him to stay with you longer under the pretence of simply looking for pleasure. He watched you, your every move – your body was covered in purple and blue, in blemishes and marks he’d created, his love blossoming on your skin. Your face was contorted, seemingly struggling, longing simply for relief, for more than Hyunjin was giving you now. His lips grazing your skin, moving closer and some more to your core only to pull away, to let his hands wander upon your body and lay his kisses onto tummy or thighs. You chased after every touch, body moving wherever his hands met, arching and pleading. Your hands helpless – you didn’t dare touch him, because you deemed it too intimate. He would turn real if your hands caressed him the same way his ones did, and you felt far too weak to contain yourself from falling under his spell fully, if he only felt attainable. You let a conscious distance, to save yourself, to save your heart – you wondered if it was all too late entirely.

It felt like salvation. You had almost lost hope, had almost started begging and pleading for relief when suddenly you felt it, Hyunjin’s lips on your core, testing waters. Giving kitten licks only to sensitive clit, soft tongue against wetness. It was far too little to what you needed, what you had begged off him for the past half hour you had lay before him, yet the little pleasure he granted, teasing and edging and mean, was enough already after all to send you through insanity. It made you want more while fighting oversensitivity, it had you pleading for his body while the tip of his tongue alone was far too much to bear. You wanted him entirely while having him excessively.

And Hyunjin wanted you to have him, wanted to be yours. Near impossible to resist your wishes he gave in, after all, despite wanting to drag this affair out, to lay with you until late morning hours, side by side throughout hours of dark. He dove in, mouth now lapping onto you, barely capable to contain his own urges – your smell was enticing, your taste more so, the way you felt beneath his touch made Hyunjin forget all about his very being, the bare purpose he walked this planet for; to lure in helpless humans, to sing prettiest melodies and eat them alive. He forgot all about it when his tongue licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, his groan vibrating through you, the tune of his voice intoxicating you. He forgot all about it when his fingers dug deeper into your thighs, drawing blue bruises, when his mouth sucked onto your sensitivity, when he kissed around your core, when he returned to your entrance, tip of his tongue prodding against. When your fingers found his wettened hair, entangling into it, fiddling with strands, pulling at his scalp and his head closer, drawing pain he moaned at. He forgot all about himself in you, and it scared him. Hopelessness like this, not less about a human like you was foreign to his kind, his species, and he wondered if he was twisted. If maybe not true to his nature at all, too weak and foolish to be a creature of seduction, the very embodiment of lust.

Though he couldn’t mind, not with you beneath him, not now. You were writhing underneath his touch, muttering his name in whines and whimpers. His mouth’s ministrations never halted, never stopped on your cunt – he made you soak in arousal, his tongue back on your clit and two of his digits teasing at your hole. Your hips rutted against him, careless of the way you shoved him deeper into you. He enjoyed it, you were aware – Hyunjin was neither scared nor incapable of holding down your hips to keep you still, to have his way with you, yet you learned he enjoyed feeling you fuck yourself against him on occasion, rutting and grinding your pussy against him to your liking, using him as nothing more than a tool for your pleasure. He enjoyed your desperation, your visible frustration – it was teasing malice under pretence of permitted control.

His fingers entered you with no resistance, wetness gushing out of you, your back arching into him, feeling a portion of possible pleasure with the curve of his hand, the pressure of his palm against your pubis. He kept a steady pace while rising to your chest, lips kissing wherever they lay, nibbling on skin, teeth grazing hardened nipples. The pads of his fingers caressing the cushion within you, prodding against it, eliciting sounds of you he dreamed of in his sleeps. Your voice whiny, breathy, hushed.

“Please… Hyunjin.”

He wasn’t one to deny you – had once been though learned the pleasures of giving into you. He understood without much more, with two of your words, not more but a plea, a hopeless attempt at asking for more, asking for something, anything; asking for him. You would never say the words – I want you; I need more of you; I want this to last forever; Stay – and yet Hyunjin liked to pretend it was the meaning behind your begging, the very core of your longing, your craving for him. Liked to pretend for feeling naïve himself to wish upon you, upon a life with you. If he pretended you wanted him as much as he wanted you it eased his aching heart, his yearning soul. If he pretended, he could bear himself a little more, the pain that final reality brought upon.

You were close, Hyunjin could feel it. Your walls were clenching around him in spasms, your voice a higher pitch, your legs on verge of giving out – you pleaded, further and further, his thrusting continued, increased in speed, his palm coming in contact with your clit with every movement – and he pulled away. Watched and watched you intently, and denying you the bliss of orgasm right when you’d swear to be tasting it on your tongue, right when it was within fingers reach. You whined out, long and drawn out, frustrated. Hyunjin has taken what you needed most when you needed it most – an irony within itself, seemingly his entire persona; disappearing when you most wished for him, after giving you a mere taste of it.

His fingers left you, frantic suddenly, remaining patience of his vanished. One would not blame him – the way you stared him down, desperation laced beneath your eyes, your lips caught between your teeth, your hands clinging onto him, pulling him closer, legs caging him in; anyone in love would have fallen far deeper, and he was no exception. His heart swelling at a sheer look at you, your touch igniting fires within him, so very untypical, so very strange. Though he didn’t have enough time to overthink it – you pulled him in for a kiss, deep and passionate, breathless. He melted into you, your mouth a shore his waters collided with, pulling him deeper into you, turning him to an addict.

His erection – painful and abandoned – lay hard between your bodies, cold against your thigh, tip against your core when Hyunjin shifted. He grew impatient, his very own tedious ministrations on you having weakened him just as much, more so, you’d argue. He was leaking, pearly white cum dripping down the length of his shaft, painting his blue veins in white, making you salivate at the sight alone. You arched into him, back lifting from the grass beneath you slightly, enough for Hyunjin to hook his hand beneath it, to draw you closer. The other hand guiding his tip against your entrance, spreading his precum against your slit before nudging in, finally, entering you slowly, inch by inch. You were sensitive, spent after simply teasing, Hyunjin pent up, denied – both of you would last laughable seconds if you only lost an ounce of control, of carefully tended composure. Overwhelming pleasure flooding your bodies, two whimpers of desperation merging into one at sheer contact – none of you moved yet and both of you reduced to a hopeless mess, embarrassing if the circumstances were different. Right this moment, with Hyunjin’s body atop yours, with his tip teasing at your cervix and his hands holding a tight grip on your flesh neither of you was clear minded enough to care. Lost in the other, indulging in the sight, in the scent and feel of skin against skin, wettened, laced in water and sweat, dripping pearls grazing shoulders and tummies and plush thighs, cold water everywhere.

And Hyunjin started moving. Fluid motions against you typical for him, body moving in soft waves always, whether he was walking or fucking into you. His hips gave you no chance of catching your breath – you felt losing control of your body as his own swam against you, pulling out of you until the tip to enter you entirely again, deeply, deeper with every thrust. Dignity, control, coherence left you bit by bit, with every kiss Hyunjin granted against your temple, onto your neck, littering you with wettened paths of his lips on your skin. With every further second you drowned into him, deeper and with no return, sinking meters of depth he presented you. Your hips desperate, chasing his own, your hands homeless, searching for a leverage, for a steady place to stabilize.

And tears rolled down your cheeks, wet and thick, droplets of water against your skin. More tears with every of Hyunjin’s thrusts, with every additional kiss, with every time his palm pressed onto your body harsher, as though scared you’d slip away from underneath his touch. His hips stuttered at the sight of you – entirely water, him having made you, wetness on your body; behind your lids, on your lips, wetness on your cunt. He had lay you in waters entirely, having lulled you into his world, having made you his, and his mind reeled off any sense. He was obsessed with you, addicted hopelessly. His body spasming, two of his digits toying at your clit desperately – he wouldn’t be able to hold his orgasm out much longer so hoping you would reach yours.

Your legs tightening against his torso, your nails clawing into him, daring to draw blood, painting desperation onto his body, your face contorting into pleasure, brows furrowed and mouth agape, head fallen into your neck – and you came in gushing wetness around him, coating him in your release, fluttering around his length enough to pull release out of him in spurts of white, coating your walls, wetting you further. You were messes, both of you, panting, chests heaving up and down – and he stayed. Calming down from your orgasm and Hyunjin hadn’t disappeared. His lingering touch on your body, his lips remaining on your skin, your jaw and neck and shoulders, licking over the bruises he'd drawn onto you. He stayed to lick your mixed release off you, lapping up your essence, basking in your scent, the taste of you. And his heart clenched when it was time to leave, after all – though not with a last longing kiss against your lips, slow and drawn out; maybe you should keep hoping, maybe you shouldn’t quit seeing him by the lake day by day, after all.

@reianagarcia @mixtape-racha @bbyboychanyeol @artisticbirb @fire-08 @lxverss @unlikelysublimekryptonite @aiko0invalid @salfetkablog @saintriots @boi-bi-ahaha @summer3sworld @bangchans-angel @jenos-eye-smiles @alnex05 @imwithurmother @yangjeonginswifee @hydroyaksha @starlit-rin @channiesgoodgirl @lizzetmv @poody1608 @fandems @stanskzsstuff @cypher-girlx @kayleigh-28 @jetblackbelle @agnes-king @seoseoya @lipstickandloveletters @viviixlyy @hanjisungsgirl @having-an-internal-crisis-rn @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky

@katsukis1wife

[sleeplessdreamer14]

𝔅𝔢 𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔄𝔣𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔡

fandom: my hero academia

relationship: class 1a x gn! reader (platonic)

summary: you don’t typically use your quirk as to not frighten people, but you wind up using it when Mineta is bothering your girl friends.

contains: mineta being a perv, y/n being terrifying yet beautiful, maybe a little rushed at the end sorry

Upon first getting your quirk at age four, you and your parents initially thought they were merely angel wings. By junior high however, you came to realize there was more to it than that, and after a few small incidents that included you inadvertently making a classmate nearly pass out, you opted to keep your power on the down low most of the time. But your quirk still needed to breathe, so to speak, so you let your first pair of wings out.

Once you reached high school and enrolled in UA, you were still hesitant to use your power to its full extent, and not just for the sake of not frightening anyone, but also because you were fairly certain that if you did, Bakugou would see it as a challenge and become bent on one-upping you. And you didn’t have the time for that.

Either way, it actually didn’t take too long for the truth to come out. From day one, your shortest classmate made a pretty solid impression as a little pervert, and it had you on your toes a lot, not just for yourself, but for your friends. You had gotten used to using your wings to create distance between Mineta and the girls, but you were getting real fed up with it real fast.

There were only a handful of scenarios wherein you deemed it necessary to go the whole nine yards, and when you spotted him trying to sneak up on Momo, Ochako, and Mina, you didn’t even think twice as you speed walked towards them, sliding your jacket off of your shoulders and tying it smoothly around your waist.

You put yourself between him and the girls, activating your quirk so quickly that a gust of wind blew through the room, making the girls jump in surprise a bit and causing Mineta to stumble and fall back and several other heads to turn in your direction.

There they saw you hovering a couple feet off the ground, all three sets of wings out and a soft halo of light surrounding your head. You had opened a few extra eyes, all glowing like the sun. But there wasn’t a trace of mercy in your gaze as you stared Mineta down. You almost didn’t hear the soft gasps of your other classmates as they stared at you in awe.

“Be afraid. Be. Very. Afraid.”

It took a moment for Mineta to snap out of his horrified state, before he quickly scrambled to his feet and booked it away from you, stuttering apologies as he scurried off. And with that, you lowered yourself to the ground and sighed, your halo fading and your extra eyes closing back up. Looking over your shoulder, you looked at your girl friends and offered them a tender smile, in complete contrast to the death stare you were wearing just seconds prior.

“Be not afraid.” you said sweetly before Mina gave you a big hug which you returned.

“(L/n), you’re the best!” she exclaimed joyously. “Thank you so much.” Momo said.

“No worries. I’ve been wanting to do that for quite a while now.” you said, mumbling at the last part. Ururaka went on about how she was sure that you would be an awesome hero some day, beloved by girls everywhere.

Midoriya was already flipping through his journal to add on to the entry he made about you and Jirou had a proud smile on her face, glad that someone was able to scare Mineta off like that. Iida was stunned, but honestly amazed by how gracefully you handled the situation, and Kaminari was simultaneously terrified and impressed as he made a mental note to never mess with you or your friends, even if he was one of them.

Kirishima’s look of shock turned into a beaming smile as he went over to compliment your quirk and how strong you were. Bakugou… wasn’t sure what to think. He was impressed, though he probably wouldn’t tell you that to your face, and maybe slightly intimidated by you upon realizing how much you must have been holding back during training and sparring. Aizawa on the other hand, made a mental note to try and explore this side of your quirk in future training.

[georgiapeach30513]

Your Mark On Me, Part 5

Summary: Bucky and Shy Violet

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Shy!Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, depictions of anxiety/panic attack, depictions of social anxiety, mentions of child abuse, mentions of death of a parent, arson, unprotected sex, PIV sex, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*Bucky Barnes edits by Nix Akimbo

*Dividers by @firefly-graphics

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You inhale deeply. Exhaling as you take another step forward. This was a bad idea. It hadn’t been long enough.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Blinking away the tears as much as you can, you look at the aisle in front of you. Grocery shopping shouldn’t be so difficult. And it shouldn’t hurt so much. You drank coffee. You needed things to make the perfect coffee, and it made you think of your father all over again.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

You’re not a particularly claustrophobic person, but the aisles are closing in on you. It is becoming difficult to breathe. Just reach out and grab the milk. It was right there, and you needed it. You were told getting out would help you. It wasn’t.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

There are eyes all on you. They are judging you. Whispering about you. They hadn’t seen you out since before your father passed. They were talking about his death. You hear someone even whisper something about a mercy kill.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Your lip trembles as you reach into the cooler. Grabbing onto the milk. You did it. Now to put it into the cart. Inhale. Exhale. One movement at a time. This would have to be all you got for for today, you are already exhausted thinking about checking out. A cart crashes into another, and you flinch, dropping the milk loudly onto the floor. Exploding the carton everywhere.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Dropping onto the floor, you hug your knees to your chest, counting to six way too many times. You messed up again. You failed again. You were being laughed at again. You were hated again. You were a joke again.

“Hey,” his voice is soft as he places your hand over his mouth. “Feel my breath,” you look up at him confused as he deliberately breathes onto your fingers. His silver eyes look at you with the utmost tenderness.

“There ya go. Just like that,” your breathing starts to regulate, and you feel your ass soaked in spilled milk. “Uh uh, keep feeling my breath,” his voice is soothing. Caring. You hadn’t heard a voice like that in years, if ever.

Your body slowly stops rocking as your breathing finally gets back normal, “There she is. Do you need help standing?” You give him a nod, and he pulls you up right along with him. “You want me to get you some more milk?”

“No,” you answer suddenly. He doesn’t question you. Just nods gently. “I’ll just make a grocery order, and pick it up later.

“Okay,” he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you walk towards the exit. You didn’t even thank him. You just walked away. You couldn’t turn back now. So you tell him thank you in your mind, and hope that with enough conviction, he will be able to feel it.

Bucky’s mouth turns up into a smirk as he follows you. Not close enough that you will notice him though. He had to make sure you were okay. Had to know that you would make it home safely. He’d even provide you with milk if that’s what you needed. But something tells him that approaching you would be too much.

He’d find out where you lived, and then find out more about you. It wasn’t weird, it was his duty to make sure you survived making it home. A panic attack could be dangerous. And he wouldn’t be able to sleep knowing that you weren’t okay.

Close enough to watch you, but far enough away that you couldn’t see him. That is his goal.

Bucky leans his body up against his motorcycle. His eyes are focusing in through your window. He worried about you. You had left in such a hurry, and your driving had much to be desired. Dusty old truck. No way it was yours.

You pace around in your living room before sitting on the couch. Bringing your knees up to your chest, you start rocking back and forth. Whatever had caused your panic earlier still was causing havoc on your mind. He knows there’s nothing he could do without making you even more uneasy, but he can’t leave you unattended.

What if something were to happen, and you needed him? It’s a risk he wasn’t willing to take. So instead, he watches you out of the corner of his eyes, while he searches around for your story. So much was put out on the internet for people to find with very little research.

A few clicks and he discovers your veteran father had just passed away recently. Survived only by his daughter. You. Judging by the state of the house, you were the sole caregiver. A few more clicks, and he sees you are quite the prolific writer. You had taken a sabbatical, to care for your father, and you wrote under the pen name Violet Anne Bailey.

It wasn’t your real name, but there is something about Violet that suited you. A shy Violet whose power was in her words. He goes ahead and buys all your books, just to understand your mind a bit more. You are celebrated. Loved. And no one knew or cared that you had a tornado of emotions being worked out in your head.

It’s a shame to see someone who is able to weave and create worlds have her own world in shambles. He needs to know about your father. What was your relationship like? Was he a good man to you? Bucky would kill him again if he wasn’t.

His eyes scan over his phone, determining he was definitely going to have to kill him again. How many domestic violence charges were made and dropped against this man? How many CPS visits were made to this very house. No wonder you were inside of your head, you were still living in your own personal hell.

There were no convictions. Bastard. No one in your life ever put you first. Once upon a time you even had an apartment on your own, but it was short lived. Your dumb ass father had you crawling back here to care for him. He hates him. You had spent his dying days caring for him, but no one cared for you.

Bucky would. Bucky would stay right here just to make sure you were okay. Bucky would do whatever he could to ensure you made it out of here. And could finally relax. Could quit living in turmoil. You deserved better. You deserved freedom.

You slam your computer shut, and rub the back of your neck. Three words. Three insignificant measly words. This place ruined your creativity. You lost your apartment. And nothing was available to rent, and now you sit on a stinky couch with cigarette burns all over the cheap fake leather.

This house smelled musty. Holes in the wall, light fixtures broken, the useless house phone was pulled out of the wall, leaving creepy wires hanging out of the sheet rock. Who even knew where it was. His bedroom was locked on the outside. It was your first act of defiance. Removing the latch from your own bedroom, and placing it on his. Even his stupid padlock was placed there. It stayed locked. His mean self would probably haunt you in your sleep if it wasn’t.

Sleep you hadn’t been getting. You catch your face in the broken mirror, and turn away. Haggard. You had never looked so rough. He was dead, and still you knew no peace. His final abuse of his power was to make sure you never forgot him. In death he still controlled your thoughts. You still tapped on doors three times before opening them. You still could only leave the sink faucet running for ten seconds at a time.

And the worst part is no matter how neurotic he made you, it didn’t matter how many times he shouted at you, or threw things beside you, you didn’t hate him. You made excuses for him. He didn’t throw things at you. He always missed. His words of anger were more directed to your mother who left him. And you. She couldn’t handle his PTSD. Or apparently you.

You wanted more than this crappy house. It received the brunt of the abuse. He never even bothered to fix the damages. How it didn’t burn down with him passed out on the couch, you’ll never understand. His liver. Of course it was his fucking liver. You got to see an alcoholic choose his death of withering away from his addiction.

You didn’t ask for this. And neither did he. War is not kind to anyone. Especially survivors or their families.

You slap your own hand out of your mouth, and stare down at the gnarled skin. Just how long had you been chewing on your finger? The cuticles were dry and ripped to shreds. You needed a manicure, but the thought of another human touching you, while everyone else giggled about their lives makes you sick to your stomach.

He was always going to control your life. You hated him, and pitied him, and still you are the one that suffers. This house wasn’t even worth selling. Perhaps the land would be. But this place was trash. It was begging to be burnt to the ground.

You wondered how many times your father’s cigarette fell on this couch that the walls of the house smiled in glee. Fire would cleanse this place. Fire would cleanse you.

Placing your hands on your knees, you push yourself up to a standing position, and look down the hallway. His bedroom door still had the padlock on it. The key was on a chain around your neck. You didn’t even trust your father’s ghost. He’d be pissed if he knew you locked his spirit up where he slept. You did care.

Taking a deep breath, your shaky hands lift up to place the key in the lock. Twisting it slowly before you push it open. Nothing had changed. And you didn’t try to work on improving anything here. You wanted a cleanse. Your wobbly legs carry you to his bedside table, and you pull out the matches. Your body locks in place as your father’s ghost screams inside your mind.

He is pissed. He knows what you’re doing, and you just didn’t care.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Taking a deep breath, you strike a match, and lay in gently on the bed. Lighting a few more, and repeating the process. His liquor. Cheap Canadian Mist whiskey was still hidden in the closet. Grabbing it out, you pour the remains onto the bed, watching a burst of flames that darken the ceiling. It is beautiful.

Some people describe fire as biting and evil. These tickled the air. Rejoicing right along with you as it eats up vile memories that your father left behind. You go back into the closet, and pull out the other bottles of whiskey. Pouring them onto the floor, and creating trails to other parts of the house.

You needed it all gone. Every bit of it. You didn’t want any more ties to this damn house. Finishing up in the living room you pick up your laptop, and hold it tight to your chest. The crackles from the fire feel almost cozy. Leaving you with a beautiful memory before you say goodbye.

You watch it as your fiery friend starts to travel to where you are. Greeting you with a big smile as it engulfs your surroundings. You whisper a silent thank you as sleep starts to cloud your vision. It will be a divine ending for this house. One it didn’t deserve.

Bucky bursts through the door, and you’re too enraptured by the cleansing of your childhood, you don’t take notice. “What the fuck!” He grunts, stomping over towards you. Grabbing onto you as he pulls you out of the house.

The further he takes you the more you start to focus again, “No! I wanna watch it,” you sob, trying to wipe the tears away from your face. You need to see this. It would heal you. “I gotta see, please!”

The figure behind you never removes his hold, but he stands still, allowing you to watch the house be swallowed up by hell. Just like it deserved. A sad smile creeps up onto your face when you finally hear the sirens. It was too far gone. They couldn’t save it.

An old high school boyfriend turned firefighter gives you a nod before rushing with his colleagues. There is nothing left but the bones of the house, and even those were slowly turning to ash. He was never going to be able to haunt you again. You gave him away to his demons. Right along with his favorite thing. Canadian Mist.

“You got somewhere to go?” Your ex says your name, but you’re too busy watching everything start to crumble. “You her boyfriend?”

“Not exactly,” Bucky extends a hand out to the man, “Bucky.”

“Jake. She uh…she started this didn’t she?” Bucky shrugs his shoulders. He assumed you started it. It happened so fast. He barely even finished pissing when he heard the blazing death trap. “I’m the one that investigates this. She talked about it being her dream for a while. I don’t want charges brought against her. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I understand, and if you need some monetary compensation for making sure she doesn't get charged, I can make that happen.”

Jake shakes his head. He looks down at you, but you are in a complete zone? Shock? None of the words seemed to fit. He supposes it's all the above. “She needed this. She’s cleansing. It’ll be wiring or something. That house has had its fair shares of small fires that the old man put out with an extinguisher anyways. No one will question it. I’m also pretending to be taking her, well your, statement. Just trust me. Can you tell me where you're taking her?”

“Are you her boyfriend?” Bucky’s eyes narrow at the younger man, but he shakes his head no.

“I’m just a friend. She’s a good one. Didn’t deserve these past few months. It’s…it’s changed her even more. Uhh…you’ll make sure she’s safe tonight? That she’ll be okay?”

“I’m the one that got her out of that house. She was standing in shock in the living room.”

“She’ll need her medication. Last I talked to her the psychiatrist prescribed some things. She told me therapy was helping. But she needed this. Just give me the address, and I’ll come by in the morning,” Bucky nods to the boy, and Jake jogs to his truck. It was a lost cause for the house, but they had to put the flames out. This would have been a decent place to live, but it seemed like a bad omen to build here.

“Violet?”

“That’s not my real name,” you respond, finally turning to look at who is holding you. “Y-y-your the guy that…from the grocery store.”

“I was coming to bring you milk. You never got it,” that was a bit of a lie, and you knew it. There wasn’t a car. Only a bike. And there was definitely no milk. “Do you have somewhere you can stay?”

Shit. This wasn’t thought through. You had nowhere, and nothing. Just the clothes on your back, and the laptop in your arms. A different kind of tears wells up in your eyes as you look between the house and Bucky.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

“Hey, hey, I gotta place. There’s two bedrooms, and a couch. I’ve got some clothes that don’t smell like smoke, a warm shower, and even Wi-Fi.”

“Do you have milk?” Bucky chuckles a bit, and nods his head. “You don’t want to kill me?”

“If I wanted you dead, I’d have left you in that house.”

“I don’t like people.”

“Good. Neither do I. It’s a small little house outside of town. No neighbors,” what other choice did you have? If Jake didn’t have a girlfriend, he might have been an option. Even though you would have felt obligated to sex. You didn’t want sex. You wanted to sleep.

“Do you have anything besides cheap whiskey to drink? I haven’t been sleeping a lot lately.”

“I have melatonin,” you scrunch up your nose, annoyed at his words. “I also have something that might be of comfort. Come on. Let’s get you somewhere out of the cold, and get a shower. I’ll make you some soup.”

“I like pizza rolls better.”

“I don’t have those, but I have pepperoni, cheese, marinara, and I can make it happen,” who was this man? When things are too good to be true they often are. “I’m Bucky.”

The longer you’re on the back of his motorcycle the more you worry about yourself. Why are you here? Why are you with him? What if he wants to murder you? What could possibly be worse?

He smelled nice. He had kind eyes despite the piercings and tattoos he had. He never touches you more than necessary. His hand never drops to your thigh to make you uncomfortable, but who was he? Was he bad news? Was he your worst mistake? And you just left with him. This wasn’t good.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

“We’re almost there,” his head turns to the side, hoping that you hear him. You did. It’s tunnel hearing. It’s the only thing you heard. His voice is nice.

His bike pulls into a garage, and you take in your surroundings. Maybe he meant good, but maybe he was pure evil. Would he have saved you just to murder you? Maybe. It’s what they did to prisoners.

“Come on,” he holds his hand up for you, and you take it nervously. I’ll grab some clothes, and show you to the bathroom. Take as much time as you need. I think Jake wants you to send him your address. It’s 42 Cherry Tree Lane,” nodding your head, you sit your computer down on the nearest surface, and pull your phone out of your pocket. Thankfully it had been there.

“I’ve got a charger you can use.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

Fluff takes you out of your mind space, and you look down to see the most beautiful fluffy cat staring up into your soul with beautiful blue eyes. It weaves its body in and out of your legs, and you look up at your savior with glossy eyes.

“I’m impressed,” he squats down to hold out his hand, but the kitty doesn’t move towards him. “Alpine, are you ignoring me? She’s normally a hater of new people. Baby, come see me,” his voice is still so soft, but she doesn’t attempt to leave your legs.

“She's a good companion. Alpine, baby girl, you watch our guest, I’m going to get her some clothes. You want to show her the bathroom, she smells like smoke,” Alpine purrs again, and sets off at a trot. Stopping to look back at you when you don’t follow.

“She’s showing you where to go, and it looks like my bathroom.”

“Oh, I don’t have to…”

“Alpine is the boss here. If she wants you in the big bathroom, that’s where you should go,” you chase after the kitty with Bucky right behind you. She jumps up on the counter, and sits up proudly looking at the bathtub.

“Here,” Bucky hands you a few clothes, and you mouth thank you, but no sound comes out. “You can take my bed,” he shrugs his head back into the bedroom, and then points to under the counter. “Just keep the bathroom door open. This is her bathroom, too.”

“Bucky?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know how to make grilled cheese?”

Bucky stands at the edge of the woods watching you walk around the house. Nothing on but your silk robe. He could see your nipples pushing against the fine fabric. Alpine was meowing up at you while you pace. She always worried about you when you got like this. He wondered how many nights you had been like this. You missed him. This was like your waiting game. Every night pacing the living room floor. Picking up your baby kitty to kiss over her fur.

And every night Bucky saw you on the cameras, he missed you even more. He shouldn’t make you wait, but there is something sweet in your routine. Your mouth moves as you count to six. Biting at your lip and looking out into the woods. You wouldn’t see him, until he was ready for you to.

He steps out of the shadows, and your face immediately lights up. Smiling so big as you pull the phone up to your ear, “Bucky, what are you doing?”

“Watching you,” he answers softly. Taking only one step closer to you.

“How long have you been watching me?”

“A while,” taking another step, he laughs when you puff out a bit of air in annoyances.

“Yeah, well, you could go ahead and come home. Seeing how you’ve left me here for weeks by myself,” there you had to go and put your fingers on the window. You are adorable, and he just wants to hold you. Rubbing up and down on the glass, like you are touching him.

“Yeah?” He whispers, taking one single step forward. “And just how do you think you’re going to get me in the house?” You hang up the phone, and pull apart your robe. Nothing else was on. There is only one person you feel comfortable with, and it was Bucky. You smooth your hands down the curves of your body, starting to laugh when Bucky sprints towards you.

Slinging open the door, you jump into his arms the second he crosses the threshold. Smiling up at him in your so sweet way, “Hey, James,” you giggle, kissing the tip of his nose. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, my Shy Violet,” he bites at his lip just once, but his eyes never stray from your angelic face. He makes no comment about your cunt pressing up against his stomach, or your tits just below his eye sight. “What have you been doing without me?”

“I finished my book,” god, you were the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. “Want me to read you the last chapter?”

“Of course, Shy,” leaning towards you, he gives you the softest chaste kiss. Ghosting his lips down to your chin where he kisses up your jaw. Ending right behind your ear, “you want me to make us some hot chocolate?”

“Oh,” you give him a little pout, trying to wiggle out of his arms. “James, put me down.”

“I can multitask. I don’t have to put you down,” his nose nuzzles into your neck, and all the anxiety of him being gone melts completely away. You learned a long time ago to not worry about what goes on with the business, to just be happy he was with you. “Shy, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Tell me what she’s like,” Bucky gives you a bit of an eye roll as he sits you on the counter. You start to close your robe, but he shakes his head no.

“No, you…you keep that how it was. I need something pretty to help decompress.”

“Do you like her?”

“She’s a troublemaker, and also oddly perfect for Steve,” Bucky isn’t the most forthcoming with information. You had to prod him a bit. “You know how Steve is.”

“Just from what you tell me. He’s intense, he’s a brute, he’s passionate, and he’s quick to anger. He sounds like a terrible person for me to be around. Does he actually like her though?” Bucky waits until he pours out the milk before looking back at you, nodding his head. “How do you know?”

“He hasn’t killed her,” your mouth drops open in surprise. Surely Bucky was joking. “She has this bratty side that fulfills this need to control that Steve has. She’s a virgin, and it’s made him blind. So blind he didn’t realize what a target she’s become. People are beginning to realize Steve has a weakness. It’s wrapped up in this cute little packaging.”

“Would…you’ll die trying to save her life, won’t you?” He walks over to you, placing his hands on either side of your body. Pulling his arms in closer until he’s squeezing you. His head lays down on your chest, and you wrap your arms around him tightly. “Who’s going to protect me then?”

“You don’t need protection anymore. You’re more of a fighter than you realize,” that’s not what you wanted to hear. “Shy, baby, what is it?”

“I don’t want to fight anymore. I fought my whole life, and when I’m with you I get to relax, and breathe, and I don’t have to count. You’re my safe space,” moving his hands on both your cheeks, he presses his lips against yours, and holds you. “I don’t like her.”

“You’re not going to meet her.”

“Can’t Steve just…he can ask anyone to guard her. Why not Scott or someone else? James, I need you. She doesn’t need you. I…do,” his cool blue eyes stare so deeply into yours. Such a bittersweet homecoming this was turning into. “You don’t want to burn the milk, Jamey.”

Exhaling slowly, he turns to tend to the milk, but holds a hand behind him for you to touch. You hated a woman you never even met. And hated that even more. “Is she nice to you?”

“She invited me in for coffee, and got her ass spanked.”

“What does her pussy look like?”

“You sound jealous,” you weren’t jealous. You just didn’t get Steve’s kink of needing to show his women off. “Shy, you know the only puss I want to look at is Alpine. And the only pussy I want to taste is you.”

“Don’t call our daughter a puss,” you scrunch up your nose, ready to call Alpine, just so you could hug her. “She’s beautiful. And perfect.”

“Just like her mama,” he smiles, turning back with two mugs of hot cocoa. “Here, my sweet little Shy girl. You want to read your chapter for me?” You shake your head no, pushing aside his shirt. “Are you jealous that you can’t see my titties, too?”

“Yep. You have nice titties, so let me see them,” setting his mug down just to remove his shirt, and you pull him right up to your chest. “I love you, bubba.”

“I love you, baby. Have you thought more about what we talked about?”

“Remind me,” you giggle, giving him quick little kisses to his chest, but he pulls you up to look at him. Holding you by the chin.

Bucky sighs, running his thumb over your lips. His voice is so soft, “I don’t want just Alpine to be our daughter.”

“We can get another cat.”

“I meant a baby. I want a baby with you.”

“Do you promise not to die?” With his crooked smile, he nods his head one time, “I’m ovulating, Jamey.”

With one twinkle of an eye to let the words set in, he scoops you up in his arms, carrying the two of you to the bedroom. His eyes still never stray. Ever the gentleman. Always. Laying you down on the bed, he spreads your legs wide, staring down at your glistening folds. Spitting down, his fingers gently massage your bundle of nerves.

“You didn’t need my spit.”

‘You have this ability to always turn me on. Mmm,” you sigh as your body starts to heat up. Relaxing at his ministrations. His free hand starts undoing his pants before he shakes himself out of them. Stopping his touch on you only to crawl on the bed, and uses your legs to pull him where he needs you.

“Remember what the doctor said,” you remind him, and he yanks you tighter against him. His cock laying flat against your body, and the salacious moan for what little he was doing rings into the bedroom. “We gotta let — let your cum sit me in.”

“I’ll fucking plug you up if I have to. I just want to see your cute little bump with our baby inside of you.”

“Shh, I’m supposed to be getting fucked, not having dreams of you holding a baby,” his hand adds pressure to his cock, and he slides it through your velvety lips. Getting right at your entrance when he smirks at you. He only thrusted hard one time, and that was entering inside of you. Bucky was someone who made love.

You brace yourself, nodding slightly, and he rails into you. The only thing stopping him are your bodies colliding. You were never going to get used to his size, and yet, your body always craved him. Always needed him.

He lets your back settle on the bed, and he drops his weight on you. Holding himself up by his forearms, “Hey, pretty Shy. Are you gonna let me know when you’re good?”

“Mhmm,” you breathe him in. Inhaling his masculine scent. Your fingers drift up and down his back. Going lower each time until your dainty little fingers grip the voluptuous spheres of his ass. “I’m…” another word gets stuck in your throat as Bucky draws his hips back.

His cock slides out of you before it slowly pushes back in. His forehead presses against yours, and it’s just the two of you. Only you and him in a bubble of love and safety. You aren’t sure how Bucky was able to take every brick off your wall, and allow himself into your heart, but he did.

He was always surprising you. A man that everyone feared was the biggest teddy bear when it came to you, and your daughter, Alpine. He hadn’t ever raised his voice towards you. Your arguments were minimal. You two had created a good life. You had gone to his small little house, and never left him. Even made a big step in buying a house together out in the middle of nowhere.

Bucky’s lips pucker out randomly for a kiss. It’s like even though he’s closer to you than he can possibly get, he still can’t get enough. They’re just pecks, but they’re desperate and needy. Giving a roll over on the bed, he stares up at you as you readjust your body.

Getting settled, you bounce over him. Admiring your boyfriend’s dashingly handsome face, and a sinful body. Bucky was carved by the gods in the sky, and the underworld. A fallen angel completely. Intricate lines, and blacked out blank spaces covered him from the waist up. He would even let you color them in with markers during your writer’s block

He was all you had ever wanted, and even more than you could have imagined. Even your most perfect fictional boyfriend did not compare to the man that was whimpering below you. You loved it when got like this. Hearing him turned on by your movements, so much that he got vulnerable and made sweet sounds makes you melt.

No man should be like this, and yet there he is. You feared Steve was asking too much of him, and all you wanted was for him to start coming home every night like he used to. It wasn’t being selfish. It was protecting Bucky when he couldn't’ protect himself.

He grabs tightly to your hips, holding you still before he launches himself up inside of you at lightning speed. Eyes rolling into the back of your head as heat drains into your belly. That fuzzy feeling that only Bucky could create tickles every inch of your body. Right as you start to scream his name, that familiar high speeds through your veins, followed by his warmth painting your walls.

Thick ropes of cum shoot into your womb, and he flips you back on your back. The backs of his knuckles brush against your skin as he smiles down at you. “Shy, will you marry me?”

“Will you always come home to me?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Bucky brushes your baby hairs off your face. Looking down at his fiance. You’ll notice the ring when you wake up. He hates himself for asking you that way, but it felt right in the moment. Alpine snuggles up against you, your own little heating pad. She once loved only Bucky, and now she just tolerated him.

He glances back down at your printed out manuscript. Reading the final paragraph for the finished book. He didn’t deserve you. He wasn’t a good enough man to come home to someone as perfect, and as smart as you, but he did. Every book you wrote amazed him at how you created worlds from nothing.

It was your way of escaping as a child. Fabricating fictional worlds, so you didn’t have to be present in your real life. The best part of your books is he could tell what part was influenced by him. The way you saw Bucky is something no one ever has before. You saw him as an innocent angel, and Bucky was more of a devil, and had no wings.

You stir in your sleep, looking up at Bucky, “How long have you been up?” You ask without opening your eyes.

“A while. Go back to sleep. It’s still dark,” you blink yourself partially awake as you stare at him. They didn’t make perfect men. They just made Bucky.

“What do you got?”

“Baby, this is perfect,” reaching out to hold his hand, you gasp looking at your own. The most pretty little diamond. It was just what you wanted. It wasn’t gaudy or flashy. It was just perfect. “You were so sleepy I was able to slip it on.”

“You had an actual ring? How were you going to propose? Surely it wasn’t while your sperm was trying to find my egg, was it?”

“No, sweetheart,” he chuckles, sliding his fingers over the pretty diamond. “I was going to cook us dinner, and we were going to walk to the river, and while you were busy trying to sit on the swing, I was just going to drop to my knees.”

“I like the way you did it better.”

“Oh, yeah, why’s that, you sex fiend?”

“Because we were together. Hopefully creating a life. Even if our daughter was fussing on the other side of the door. It was very us, bubba.”

“I’m going to talk to Steve about getting Dove her own bodyguard. You’re right. I think Natasha would be a good fit for her.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, and he pulls you in close to his body. He gets a short death stare from Alpine, but she falls back asleep soon after. “We can’t lose you.”

“We?”

“Yeah, eventually, me, you, and Alpine will have our little human.”

“Well, mama Shy, close your eyes, and get some rest. Grow our little egg. You’ve got me all weekend,” that sounds heavenly. You hate to waste it on sleep, but you were tired, and your baby was so warm and cozy. Bucky was, too.

Next

Masterlist

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[accursedhex]

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄.

A/N: It was a moment of weakness. I am losing my mind at this very moment and I need another drink. And just Perhaps, just Maybe… I couldn’t stop thinking about Mingyu’s hands.

GENRE: Smut. [ MDNI ]

T/W: Fingering, body worship (I suppose), marking, unprotected sex (please for the love of god wrap your shit irl), penetrative intercourse; Mingyu is obsessed with you. No, like literally raging stalker level obsessed. Let me know if there’s anything I should I add, thanks.

SYNOPSIS: You’ve been Mingyu’s muse for quite some time now. Though, you didn’t realize just how deeply infatuated the two of you have become. I am unsure as to how, seeing as his studio is filled with nothing but pieces of You.

W/C: 1.2 K

♫ : primavera

His hand around your throat feels a lot like a tender caress. 

Your mouth gapes, eyes fluttering, breath stuttering. You do nothing to stop him as his mouth smashes itself upon yours. Lips pliant, eager even as your hands grasp desperately at his form. Fingers tangling in the fabric of his clothes as he presses you against the nearest wall.

Heat radiates from his frame as it easily crowds over you, enveloping you. You felt as though you were being swallowed whole, consumed by his presence.

“Isn’t that what we all crave?” He would whisper in your ear, deft fingers tracing over every curve and divot of your body.

“To consume,” his fingers root in your hair. “To be consumed,” his breath fans over your throat with every syllable. “To consume; is to be,” words barely even a whisper as he sinks his teeth into your skin.

A shudder travels up your spine, to the tips of your fingers and down to your toes. His tongue laving at every raw mark he leaves, with teeth and tongue no inch of you is left unscathed in his wake.

He’d mutter nonsense and you’d devour every word like it was your religion. A devout follower, diligent in your prayers— his name falling from the tip of your tongue like a forbidden sacrament. You weren’t sure when you got here, or even how— at his mercy, at his beholding.

Infatuation; your pulse roared in your ears. Obsession; your lungs threatened to burst with every kiss exchanged. Call it what you will, there was no taste like his on your palate. There was nothing like the sound of his name pouring from your tongue; “Mingyu,” breathy and heady.

His grasp was bruising, and yet, somehow, he held you as if you were a delicate flower. Centering the both of you, there was a pull neither of you could fight. The same way the moon encircles the earth, you were his world, spun it on its axis. As if together you had hung the stars in the sky and gave life to everything beneath.

“Again,” he urges, hands making easy work of your clothes.

“Mingyu,” you breathe, he was your air.

“Again.” A hand slips between your thighs and you let your head roll back with a sharp breath of air.

“Mingyu.”

Maybe there was a madness to it all, the way his eyes pierced you as you fell into pleasure. You were his muse, pushing him over the edge of insanity. To find himself; his breaking point. He’s told you as much as you had laid many a night sprawled upon silks as he drank in your form.

“You’re perfect,” he voices his awe, thick fingers trailing against your core.

Your breath hitches as he collects your essence, sinking those digits into you.

Mingyu’s eyes are as dark as the midnight sky just outside, racing over your features. Looking everywhere the eye could see, tracing every line, every curve. From the arch of your brow, to the tremble of your lip, to the flutter of your lashes and the desire that clouded your eyes as he worked his fingers into you.

He had committed every bit of you to his memory. His paintings that flooded his apartment could attest to that, the sculptures that were eerily life like were tribute to you. 

“Can’t get enough of you.”

Your thighs spread, hips rocking forward against his hand. Fingers scissor and thrust into you, his mouth working a new piece of artwork upon the blank canvas on your skin. You could come undone upon his fingers alone any day, he made sure of that as he works you closer to your own edge. Nudging you, coaxing you, sweet words of encouragement stuck like honey.

“Always so fucking perfect,” his voice strained, much like his own clothed need as it prodded against your thigh.

He wished he could capture every sound in his work, it was the only thing his pieces were missing. Maybe that’s why it drove him mad whenever your voice bounced off the walls of his loft, with every gasp and pant of his name, every pitch and crack of your voice. The moans— “Fuck,” he grunts out at the way you squeeze around him and the moan that follows was icing on the cake.

“Close... so fucking close, don’t stop,” you labor out, praying your knees don’t give out as Mingyu continues to sandwich you between himself and the wall.

“That’s it baby,” he coaxes, nipping along your jaw. “Just like that, come on. Give it to me, mhm?”

With every slide, you could barely keep yourself together. His thumb coming to tease over your bundle of nerves, sending sparks up your spine, eyes rolling back as a plethora of noises fall from your lips unrestrained. It wasn’t long until you were tumbling over that edge, reaching that pinnacle you had so truly needed, the knot in your stomach snapping. Thighs quivering, knees trembling, you have to hold tight to him as not to collapse right there as pleasure ebbs the corners of your vision.

There’s a guttural noise that sounds from Mingyu before he’s all too easily handling you, spreading you upon his desk. It rocks, jostled by the abrupt force of two bodies bearing down upon it. He rids you of the tattered slip that had scantily covered you.

His hands are on you in an instant, from the swell of your chest, to the dip of your waist, and the curve of your hips. His hair mused, locks out of place, his shirt missing a few buttons as it hung from his broad frame. You could make out the rise and fall of his bare chest, the way every muscle rippled as he let his shaft spring loose, slapping against his abdomen as you follow down his happy trail.

You grab for him, fisting his shirt as your lips meld together. He finds you, still basking in the aftermath of euphoria but greedy enough for more. Your free hand wrapping around his length as it throbs under your touch, thumbing at the pearlescent substance that had gathered, smearing it upon the raging tip. He curses, your name on his lips.

“Please.”

“Please?”

“Mingyu.”

“As if I could deny you.”

The both of you let out a slew of swears, though, yours were perhaps a little less coherent as he bottoms out. He offers his condolences as he smatters your face in messy kisses, lips grazing the corners of your mouth as he loses himself in your heat. Your body bending and arching, tears springing into your eyes even despite the preparation.

He kisses the salt from the corners of your eyes, murmuring heartfelt apologies. Mumbled apologies, “I’m sorry,” followed by desperate words, “I can’t help myself.”

You weren’t sure who was more of a mess at the moment. Hips rutting against you with abandon, dark locks shadowing his gaze as he watches himself disappear inside you. You weren’t sure where he began and you ended, bodies molding together as you took the brunt of him.

“Fuck,” he exclaims hoarsely, “You were made for me.”

“Mingyu.”

“Again . . .”

“Again for me.”

“Please.”

“Mingyu . . .”

[msmk11]

perhaps a tangerine x fem!reader where she's an agent they work with on 3-person jobs, and she gets severely injured (like I'm talking shot in the abdomen or severe head wound or pushed off a roof), nearly fatally and tan goes into a rage, then Angst because she's on the verge of death?

(sorry I really don't know ask etiquette)

Tangerine x fem!reader

CW: Angst, fluff, violence and blood, r almost dies

A/n: thanks for requesting, love! happy reading :)

- - - -

Things went to shit quickly.

The plan you, Tan, and Lemon had put into place should’ve been flawless. You were all supposed to bombard the target at once in hopes of overwhelming their forces. Though there were only three of you, when your individual strengths were combined, you guys were an unstoppable team. Tangerine was impeccable in hand-to-hand combat, Lemon could outshoot anyone with a gun, and you were so agile on your feet that it was already too late for the enemy by the time they noticed your presence.

But this time, they noticed. Maybe you’d taken one wrong step, or the man before you just had a bionic ear, but regardless, you were in trouble. Instead of surprising the target, he surprised you. You were creeping slowly towards him from behind, knife in hand, when he suddenly turned on you, gun pointing straight at your chest.

The cruel smirk that decorated his face made your stomach drop, and you knew this was it. This was how you’d die. You threw up your hands and dropped the knife, hoping your surrender would encourage some sort of mercy.

It seemed your luck had run out, for he pulled the trigger anyways, sending a bullet right into your abdomen.

You’d been shot before, but never so fatally. Instantly, you crumpled to the ground with a loud cry. The searing pain in your stomach was severe, and you writhed on the floor in pain.

The man stalked towards you, gun still in hand, prepared to finish you off entirely. Your life flashed before your eyes and you were overcome with so much regret and remorse. This was it, and you were so young. You hadn’t even confessed to-

Bang.

Another gunshot went off and you flinched, but the pain never came. You opened your eyes to find the man on the ground before you, blood pooling from his head and Tangerine above him, jaw tight and a severe look on his face.

Already you felt so weak, and you could barely whisper his name, “Tan…”

Tangerine rushed towards you and fell to his knees, gun cast aside with a clatter. He pulled you into his arms and you hissed in pain.

“Love? Lovely?”

You gave him no answer, only casting your hand aside to reveal the wound. There was already so much blood.

For the first time ever you saw fear flicker through Tangerine’s eyes, “no, no. Fucking shit. No, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. You’re fine. Nothing we can’t fix just gotta-“

With shaking hands, you cupped his face, “Tangerine, sweetheart. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.”

Without me.

He shook his head at you, unruly curls bouncing everywhere, “no, don’t say that. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to survive this. Bloody fucking he’ll I should’ve been there. I could’ve stopped it, I could’ve saved you and-“

When Tangerine got into one of these rants, there was little one could do to stop him. So you did the only thing you could think of- and also the thing you’d been dying to do for years- kiss him. His mustache tickled your lips, just like you’d imagined countless times, and he tasted of whiskey and cigarettes. You only pulled away when you felt your grip begin to weaken, “Tan, let me go.”

The tenderness in his eyes vanished, replaced by something darker and more severe, “No. Like hell I will. I finally got to kiss ya, and I won’t let anyone take that away from me. You’re gonna live, I swear it.”

“Tan-“ you protested pitifully.

Tangerine kissed you tenderly on the forehead and propped you up against the wall, “I’ll be back.”

He ran straight back into action and screamed at Lemon, “take ‘er to the car. I’ll finish this off. She needs medical help, now.”

“Bruva’-“ Lemon protested.

Tangerine only screamed at him again, a wild look in his eyes. You were starting to fade in and out of consciousness, everything around you going hazy. But you heard it all, his screams, then the gunshots, and then the screams of others. You thought there was a lot of blood on your hands, literally. But it was nothing in comparison to the blood on Tangerine’s.

“Darling, please, my love. Don’t, don’t leave me. I can’t do this without you.”

Bits and pieces of the words that tumbled from Tangerine’s mouth reached your ears as you struggled against unconsciousness.

The sharp pain in your stomach had subsided and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not- either it meant you were one step closer to death, no longer feeling the pain at all, or somehow, miraculously, you’d gotten medical help in time.

It took everything in you, but you forced your eyes open and were met with Tangerine’s piercing blue stare.

“Love, you’re awake I-“

Tangerine didn’t finish his sentence. His voice was so thick with emotion, he couldn’t manage it. Instead, he reached out, stroking away stray hairs from your face, and you could feel how much his hand was trembling.

“You- you almost died, love. I- I” a single tear rolled down his cheek and landed on your forehead.

“Tangerine, hey, look at me,” you whispered hoarsely.

He tried to look brave as he did, but his jaw shook and tears brimmed in his eyes.

“You wanna know the first thing I felt when I thought I was gonna die? Regret. I laid there thinking- god, I’m about to fucking die, and I never got to tell Tangerine that I loved him. And while the bullet in my abdomen was painful, it was nothing compared to the pain I felt when I understood that I was losing you. My chance to be with you. To be happy with you. To love you. So I’m telling you now. I love you.”

Adoration and awe decorated Tangerine’s face so prettily, and you were sure that you could look around him forever.

“My love, my beautiful girl,” he sighed, “I love you. I love you so much. And imma kiss you every day for the rest of my life, so you always know it too.”

You were surely gonna hold him to it.

[scorpiussage]

Tommy Shelby + Age Gap

Pairing: Tommy Shelby/ Reader

Warnings: smut

For @peakyltd

He’s known you since you were little; you were always running about with Ada and your home life was worse than theirs so you spent an inordinate amount of time living in their house.

When he left for the war, you were still a child — skipping classes and causing mischief with his sister. When he get’s back, though, it’s to his own surprise that you grew up in the time he was away. You’re still young, barely 19, but those years changed you in so many noticeable ways.

It’s the day after he got back and he stumbles down the stairs of his home to find you sitting at their kitchen table, probably waiting for Ada to come down. He pauses at the bottom of the steps, almost not recognizing you but when you turn to look at him, your appearance hits him like a punch in the gut. God, you’re beautiful.

“Ah, y/n,” he rumbles after clearing his throat, “It’s been a while.”

You nod, your own eyes tracking over his form curiously as you take in his more chiseled features that years in a trench carved out.

You get up and carefully pull him into an awkward hug, “I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

Tommy, feeling like a deviant, uses the hug as an opportunity to smell your hair. It gives him a strong sense of calm to take in your unique clean, sweet scent. He feels at peace for the first time in years.

He reluctantly pulls away from your arms and sets a firm hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

Ada chooses that moment to come clomping down the stairs and Tommy quickly pulls away, turning tail and heading for the door without saying anything else.

…

After seeing you in the kitchen the other day, Tommy can’t seem to shake the thought of you. You absolutely consume his thoughts and even worse he sees you everywhere. The only place safe from your presence is his bedroom and only just, because he can hear you and Ada giggling away to each other through the thin walls. He feels like he’s going mad.

It all comes to a head one evening when you show up at dinner, presumably to spend time with Ada but she’s already left. Tommy tells you this and watches the way your cheeks flush prettily under his intense attention.

“Oh,” you say with a huff. Actually, now that he mentions it, you think you remember Ada saying she was going out with a boy and to not tell her brothers. You quickly try to wrack your brain for a decent excuse to give to Tommy while he slowly moves to where you’re standing.

“Silly me, she said we were going to meet at the dance hall,” You stutter as Tommy stands terribly close to you, the scent of his cologne making your thoughts fuzzy, “I should head out.”

Before you can turn fully, Tommy grasps your wrist in his big, calloused hand; his thumb reaching out to rub gently along your pulse point. That little touch is enough to make you weak in the knees. You’ve always fancied Thomas— he was the dashingly handsome older brother of your best friend. That was when you were a child, though, and you never really thought he’d ever see you as anything but.

“Tommy?” You question hesitantly, your eyes searching his. He doesn’t reply, instead his other hand reaches up to run along your cheek before he guides you forward into a sweet, testing-the-waters kiss. It’s a soft peck at first but you respond readily, your own lips chasing after his when he starts to pull away.

His arms slip to wrap around your waist and back, pulling you tightly into his chest as he ravishes your mouth. He tastes like tobacco and whiskey and you mewl whenever he nips playfully at your bottom lip. You feel like you could drown like this, in his tender mercies, and you wouldn’t care in the slightest. When he finally pulls away, you’re both gasping, your breaths mingling and your eyes hooded.

He reaches up and pushes your coat off your shoulders, and you barely register it pooling around your feet as he grasps your hand once more and begins tugging you towards the stairs. Feeling like you’re in a haze or a dream, you follow after him your eyes never leaving his. Every few steps he pushes you against the railing or the wall and kisses you until you’re practically shaking with a desire you’ve never known before.

He pulls you down the hallway and into his room, a sacred space you’ve never dared enter before, not even when he was away at war. It’s the largest bedroom in the house and scarcely decorated but there are a few personal touches here or there that paint an intimate picture of what kind of man Tommy is. Photographs are lined neatly up on his dresser with loving care and across the room you spot a small bookcase with worn books and a little tin horse figurine. He lets you inspect his space while he divests himself of his jacket and waistcoat, leaving him in a partially unbuttoned shirt and suspenders hanging loose around his hips.

His gaze is almost hungry as he makes his way to you; his gait like a lion stalking a rabbit. He’s quick as one, as when he reaches you and before you can say anything, he’s hefting you up into his arms and pushing you down onto the creaky bed. You manage to breathe out his name before he kisses you again, this time far more heatedly and desperate than when you kissed in the kitchen.

“‘Tell me to stop and I will,” he whispers into your ear as he pushes your dress up. Nothing could get you to stop now, you think, you would die to keep what’s happening going. You try to keep up with him, your shaking fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He helps you along, practically ripping the shirt off of himself and the following undershirt. You’re likely staring in a most uncomfortable way but he’s so damn handsome. He’s all lean, corded muscle from his time in the war and is even decorated with a few tattoos that you trace curiously with the tips of your fingers.

As if he’s reading your mind, he smirks in that infuriating way of his and presses your hand more firmly to his chest, guiding it down to run over his abs and to the hem of his trousers. This is where you clam up. You tug your hand away and flush in what you’re sure is a terribly unattractive color and admit, “I’ve never done this before.”

It’s embarrassing to still be a virgin, you think, especially when compared to someone like Tommy who’s experience precedes him.

He kisses you again, this time not as hurried and tells you with such open honesty, “I’ll take care of you.”

His hands trace around to your back and he finds the ribbon holding your brazier with perfect accuracy. With a single, sharp tug, you’re breasts are barred to him.

He tries to be gentle as he runs his hands up along your sides, his fingers dancing out to graze over your breasts. You let out a soft gasp as he fully cups them both and rubs his thumbs over your peaked nipples. His gaze is reverent as he looks over you and he rumbles out a hushed, “God, you’re perfect.”

You have to fight the urge to cover your face in embarrassment, struggling to accept the compliment especially knowing how beautiful some of his past girlfriends have been.

“Don’t believe me, eh?” He asks, taking in your furrowed brow and red cheeks.

He leans down at begins placing nipping kisses along your collarbones, worshipful words leaving his mouth every so often, “Ever since I saw you that morning after I got back, you’re all I can see. All I can hear. You’ve ruined me, Y/N, absolutely ruined me.”

His kisses trail down to your breasts, his lips sucking in the first nipple he finds and laving at it like a starving man. When he pops off of it, he blows a teasing breath over the peaked nub and watches the way you squirm with rapt attention.

He slides his hands further south and carefully tugs your knickers down, leaving you fully bare before him. When you try to close your legs to hide yourself, he doesn’t let you, his firm hands holding your thighs apart with unerring strength.

“Don’t you ever hide from me, eh?” He orders you sternly, but his eyes never once leave the sight of your dripping core and he licks his lips as if he’s suddenly salivating. Without warning, he surges down and begins licking along your slit with avid enthusiasm, his tongue expertly drawing teasing swirls to your clit before dipping down to lick at your opening.

You let out a squeal and reach down to grasp at the longer hair on top of his head, unsure if you should push him away or tug him closer.

His chuckles vibrate through your core in the most confusingly pleasurable way and he looks up at you, “I want to be surrounded by you, by your smell and taste.”

With those seductive words said, he dives back down to continue licking you. He’s relentless in his exploration, his tongue leaving no place untouched.

Meanwhile, you’re sprawled out across his bed, your fingers yanking at his hair and your back arching lewdly. You’re building towards something you’re not sure of that has you feeling like a bow string pulled too taut. Tommy seems to know this and is apparently eager to encourage it.

One of his thick fingers trails up through the mess of your cunt and starts pressing into you. That’s what makes you come undone, and the most fantastical feeling washes over your entire body, making you cry out Tommy’s name in pleasure.

He works you through the experience, his ministrations gentling until you’ve gone lax in satisfaction. He sits up and looks down at you, his lips stretched in the first smile you’ve seen him give since he returned. Placing both hands on either side of your head, he hovers over you and tells you, “You’ll only get that from me, understand?”

You nod sleepily as all the adrenaline causes you to crash. You see that his trousers are tented and you ask, “Do you want me to-?”

He shakes his head. Standing up he shucks the pants off before crawling back into bed with you, drawing up the quilt to cover you both.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you when I got back,” he says to you, his fingers tracing up and down your bare arm. He leans forward and gives you a sweet, slow kiss that has you tasting yourself briefly before he pulls away and turns the light out.

He holds you throughout the night and is the first thing you see when you wake up; those blue eyes of his peering into your very soul. You’re his.

…

For more bingo prompts click here!

[academic-vampire]

What are your thoughts on love?

I have written over 300 poems, a dozen short stories, and a handful of books on the topic of LOVE. And to be honest, I don’t think I’ve come any closer to solidifying my thoughts on the matter quite yet. If anything, I have only realized how abstract love it.

Like art, love differs in definition from person to person. But for me, love is a bunch of random things. It’s everything, and yet, nothing. I don’t know if I can explain this very well, but I will try.

Love is the soft kiss on the back of their hand. Love is reading your favorite book. Love is that warmth in your chest when you feel pure empathy for a stranger. Love is looking up at the stars in the sky. Love is the stars in the sky smiling back down at you. Love is giving your seat to a stranger. Love is holding their shaking hands. Love is dropping the charges. Love is a child being carried to their bed after having fallen asleep on the couch. Love is leaving the light on for them at night. Love is a kiss, a hug, and sex. Love is a dog laying in the sun by the window. Love is kneeling before them in utter reverence. Love is that sweet shared smile between friends. Love is the swirl of cream in your coffee. Love is a warm cup of tea. Love is a crow finding a shiny new coin. Love is the beating of your heart. Love is forgiveness. Love is mercy. Love is holding them while they shake and cry. Love is the rain and the storm. Love is the memories we hold. Love is the tears we cry. Love is the wilting vase of flowers on the table. Love is a tree providing oxygen for humanity. Love is tracing patterns on their skin. Love is sharing an umbrella. Love is the moon and the sun and their eternal dance of desire. Love is a fervent, whispered prayer in the dead of night. Love is writing your favorite poem in your journal. Love is rubbing their sore muscles with a gentle tenderness. Love is listening to your friend talk about their day. Love is holding the sick and dying. Love is two children becoming friends. Love is finding a new, perfect sweater. Love is kissing their scars until they melt into tears of vulnerability and rawness. Love is aching. Love is the letter never sent. Love is meeting again, after all this time. Love is dying in the place of someone you love. Love is living for someone else. Love is living for yourself.

LOVE IS.

I used to think that love wasn’t for me. I have been told by many people through my life that I didn’t deserve love; That I was heartless and incapable of love. But love is everywhere. It is something I can witness, something I can give, and something that I am. It’s a gift, free and sweet and all we crave. Love is for everyone.

(I’m not sure that this makes any sense. I will try to have a more concrete conversation about this tomorrow, but I am feeling sleepy. So I hope you enjoy this, anyway. Thank you, anon. :))

[unbidden-yidden-deactivated20240]

I feel myself having so much less patience these days, and I don't like it.

Patience and compassion and kindness are things that must be cultivated like tender plants - they grow by the inch and die by the foot.

Seeing into someone's heart is something that takes a little effort, but the way to do it is by reframing your outlook, like you might adjust your vision to see through water. There are layers to a person, and you have to look past what they say or do on the surface in order to get to their true motivations.

And it takes patience and holding space for people, because they are used to operating in an unsafe environment. It's like when you go to the pond, you're not likely to see frogs right away. You might need to sit quietly for a half hour before the frogs re-emerge and float to the surface. But once you see them, suddenly there are frogs everywhere! You just had to wait until your mind allowed you to take them in. People's vulnerabilities and intentions are the same way. You might need to wait a while until the person is sure you are safe to be around, or they might have been exhibiting all of those vulnerabilities and motivations pretty openly; you just couldn't tell until you knew what you were looking for.

This gets much, much harder to do when you yourself don't feel safe, especially when you aren't (or feel like you aren't) being seen as human. You also (obviously) must see the other person as equally human to yourself, or this doesn't work. Perhaps a broken, deeply flawed person; but a person nonetheless.

I work in the domestic violence field, and so I end up talking to a lot of abusers in my professional life on behalf of my clients. I've found that it helps a lot to be kind. Why? Not because it's deserved, but because it's unexpected. They come into the situation ready to fight and argue, and instead, I speak to them kindly and explain why what my clients are asking for is in everyone's best interests. This seems to deflate them pretty immediately. They come into the situation thinking I'm the boss level for "fights with my ex (or whatever)" and then I listen. I take them out of earshot of my client, I let them vent (which helps me figure out what they actually want) and then I patiently explain our position and how we're offering to resolve the situation. And you know what? It works. A lot of the time, they were expecting me to treat them like a monster. But they're not a monster; they're a person who has done some inexcusable and horrific things, but they remain a person. I think about both my abusive exes, and the truth is that they're both people I loved, and loved for a reason. I wouldn't want someone else to hurt them (even if it was in cruel words only) just because they hurt me. Sometimes, the abuser is the father (or mother) of the client's children. There is typically always anger, but what good does it do for me to vent that anger for my client? Who does it help? Nobody. If we can't agree, then fine. I will do my job of asking the tough questions without mercy. But before that? Far better to de-escalate if possible.

Another conflict resolution thing: you have to remove the aggressive third parties that are angry on one side or the other's behalf. They tend to aggravate the party and escalate the situation by talking in the person's ear and saying how unfair this is and generally making it about their own feelings rather than problem solving.

But here too, finding out where the third parties who have involved themselves in the situation actually want is critical to diffusing this as well. They are people who are righteously (at least in their mind) angry on behalf of one of the parties because they love them and this has activated their protective side. And sometimes people really do need an advocate, yes. But sometimes (a lot of times) these third parties actually get in the way of de-escalation and problem solving.

All of this requires patience, effort, cultivation. And I work hard to do that. But lately my patience has been worn thin by too many people seeing me as subhuman, and it's really starting to wear on me.

[optimist-pine]

Dermatillomania (Daryl Dixon x Reader)

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of the fall of the Greene Farm in a way your therapist would not approve of.

Warnings: Typical TWD content! Dermatillomania (BFRB's, self-inflicted injury), mentions of death, etc.

Word Count: 719

Era: Follows directly after the season 2 finale

A/n: Just a personal vent... Dunno if anyone else relates.

It hadn't been easy to stop necessarily, but anything other than going cold turkey hadn't really been an option. When you absentmindedly find yourself starting to pick, a quick reminder that it could get you killed is all it takes to shut it down. Most of the time anyways... Tonight though? Oh, tonight you've fallen into old habits so fast and hard that you're stuck there in that state, in the worst session you've had since it all began.

You're tucked away in your own little corner of the ruins and firelight, shadowed enough that no one's really paying attention to what you're up to. At some point, your arms have come out of the sleeves of your coat and it's shrugged loosely around you, leaving skin exposed to the chilly air. You don't notice.

It's all catching up now, all replaying in your mind like the final straw has been plucked. That horrible night at the quarry, the panic when what had been a safe place was so quickly turned into a graveyard. Leaving Jim to die. The terror at the CDC of almost being murdered as a mercy. Leaving Jacqui to die. Sophia... Dale... The farm could've been a safe place, you'd truly believed it until they were somehow just - everywhere. Patricia, Jimmy, Shane... Leaving Andrea to die...

You can feel how it's all too much for your mind to handle, how it's trying to relieve the pressure in this way. It's no good, but your body doesn't know better and you don't know how to make it stop. You can't make any of it stop. Your fingernails desperately search raw skin for any bump, or blemish, or imperfection. They're everywhere. Maybe you'd feel ashamed if bigger and uglier emotions weren't cramming it out of the way.

The cold air cools drops of hot blood on your skin, you can feel it, and yet you feel separate from it simultaneously. Like the same way you breathe without thinking about the breathing part. The fire crackles low and leaves rustle out in the trees as the others hunker down. Nobody's really sleeping though. Not tonight.

Daryl's keeping watch on the perimeter when his eyes settle on you. Your fingers pause in their assault; you can't continue with an audience. Please just look away so I can keep going, some darkness in your mind pleads. But no, you scramble to pull the coat over yourself to conceal the evidence.

"What's this?" He asks, his voice low enough that the others won't really notice.

"Nothing. I'm fine." You can't meet his eyes, shame has finally pushed its way to the forefront now.

You don't try to stop him as he slides the coat off your shoulder, revealing your handiwork. Even in the darkness, you're sure the ugly redness has to be so obvious. You're not only weak, you're weak and stupid.

He pulls your backpack over and digs through it. "Your first aid kit in here?"

You nod once, but that only initiates the tears. What feeling are they from? Anger? Guilt? Fear? This was always the worst part, hating what you've done and wishing for nothing more than to go back and undo it. After everything that had happened... pathetic.

Daryl finds the antibacterial spray and gets to work. His care and surprising tenderness only make you feel that much worse. You were so incapable of handling yourself that you've got a full-grown man treating you like... like the broken thing that you are.

After that he takes a couple of bandages and wraps them around your upper arms, fingers steady and slow. "Leave 'em alone an' let 'em heal. You're tougher than that." He packs up the supplies, helps you fit your arms back into the sleeves, then waits. You're not sure what he expects from you, but then he mimes a zippering motion. You comply and close up your coat. With a single nod, he turns and returns to his watch of the dark surrounding forest.

Maybe you're just thoroughly messed up, but you trade the repeating images in your mind for his words. The past. You have to leave it alone. You have to let it heal. You're here, now, in the present. Alive. You would be tough enough to stay that way. You would.

[seancekitsch]

Competition: an Eddie Munson x Reader Kinktober fic

AN/ Warnings: technically a continuation of Indiana Handshake but can be read standalone, mentions of poly! steddie x reader, biting/marking kink, less smut and more the aftermath, Eddie calls reader mama but it’s not really a mommy kink, drug use

“Anyone ever tell you that you taste delicious?” you ask, lips still pressed lazily against Eddie’s throat. He hums, splayed out beneath you in the back of his van.

“Mmm, no. Just you, Mama.” 

His hands move sluggish against your bare back, warm and soothing to your muscles. You continue your onslaught, lips smashed and teeth grazing against his soft skin. You love this, you think; the afterglow of your best friend, the sticky haze of sweat and sex hanging on the cobwebs of weed smoke twirling through the air. He fucked you good, limbs feeling like jelly, perfectly content to lay around naked and pass a joint back and forth while you kiss him stupid. 

Eddie places the joint between his teeth, and reaches down to grab a handful of your ass. 

You help as he sinks his fingers into the tender flesh, and out of revenge you bite down on his neck, trying to mess with him back. But you’re not mean, no you could never be. You avoid the raised pink scar tissue on the side of his beck. 

“Ah, fuck,” he hisses through gritted teeth, “Fuckin take this.”

He thrusts the wet end of the joint towards your cheek, and you finally turn and show him mercy by taking it between your lips. You lean back from him and pull smoke through, smiling at him as you exhale through your nose. 

“Yeah? You think lookin’ like a dragon is gonna be hot for me or something?” he asks, removing his hand from you to rub at the scar on his chest. 

“Well I mean, thats why you play D and D right? The hot dragons?”

“Shut up.”

You do, taking another pull before you hand it back to Eddie, and he places the joint in the ash tray. He takes the time to kiss you deeply, pulling you closer in another embrace. He quickly pushes you back down flat on your back, his knee pushing itself between your thighs. 

“Hey, Hey!” 

A shout from outside interrupts his wandering hands. 

Shit, either the group is looking you, or worse… they’re trying to go on a snack run. At this exact moment it seems to dawn on you and Eddie both that his van is blocking in every single other car in the Harrington driveway. Shit shit fuck shit fuck. 

“Looks like we gotta scatter,” you say, not at all hiding the pout on your lips. 

“Open the trunk,” you hear Nancy’s voice, a little more distant now. Okay, less stressful. You remember hearing her say that Jonathan brought an extra case of beer in his car. 

But you still have to get out of this situation. It’s not exactly… well known that you’re in the situation you’re in. The group knows you’re seeing someone, or at least dating around. 

You break away from each other as if burned, you scramble for your panties and also the joint. A girl’s got needs. 

Eddie finds his boxers pretty quickly, and awkwardly wiggles them on. You can’t help but laugh as you exhale the joint, blowing smoke everywhere as you laugh and cough. 

“Careful,” he smirks, winking at you.

Eddie rummages around in your bag, looking for the little compact mirror you carry. This is routine now, to make sure that his hair doesn’t look absolutely fucked and frizzy after these trysts. He places the little silver up against one of his amplifiers, using the moonlight to examine himself.

“Mama, holy shit. We gotta get you a muzzle next time,” he laughs, hands coming up to better assess the damage.

“What?” you ask, anxiety spiking in your tone. 

“Look,” Eddie says, his laughter infecting his tone.

You peer up at him through the smoke, worry crossing your features for the first time. He was right, you did do a number on him. Dark purple and red splotches littering his skin, more drastic than just a call for a spoon thrown in a freezer could fix. There’s no way you could walk back into the house without the entire group noticing.

“You think they’re gonna know it was me?” you ask meekly. Eddie just laughs, hands still pawing over the marks on his neck in the little mirror compact.

Eddie chuckles again. 

“Well its either you or Harrington chewing on me,” he reminds you, and yeah, there aren’t many option as to who could be doing that to him, “And they don’t know about Harrington.”

“So you think I have competition?” you ask, eyebrow peaked.

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Eddie shrugs, a mischevious smile playing on his face as he leans back down towards you, giving you a sweet kiss as his hands search the blankets for his discarded shirt.

“Wouldn’t be much competition,” you downplay it, “You’d be competing with me if we throw Harrington into the mix, and he loves my tits.”

Eddie tips his head, as if he can’t argue with that one. An almost win.

“If I buy a training bra it’s over for you, Mama.”

Both of you erupt in laughter.

“Get dressed,” he mumbles, and you shimmy into your underwear and continue the search for your sweatshirt. Eddie throws your shorts at you and you curse as he almost knocks over the precariously placed ash tray.

You smooth yourselves out in every way that matters, slipping your sandals back on as you crouch at the van doors. 

“Fuck it?” you ask, meaning so much more. 

“Fuck it, Mama,” Eddie confirms, tugging at your hair before he opens the doors, letting the streetlights mix with the moonlight from the car windows. 

Your feet hit the cement of the driveway and you turn back to the house, your friends all back inside presumably to continue their pool party. 

All except one. 

The porch light illuminates one figure standing at the entrance, cigarette smoke a cloud of a halo around their head. You’d know that silhouette anywhere. 

You jog up to the porch, ready to throw your arms around Steve and kiss him as well, but he stops you before you can plant your lips on him. 

“No, no no no no,” he practically begs, playfully pulling himself from your arms. 

You pull him back in, and he fake struggles to wrestle himself away from you. 

“Stop! Dont!” he gets dramatic, “I can see what you did to Eds from here!” 

He points to Eddie, who did not run up the driveway following you, but instead walks calmly, sated by weed and pussy. He only smiles sheepishly at the other man, and shrugs his shoulders. 

“She’s dangerous, man.”

Thats all Eddie offers as an explanation.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

What Shall We Become 5 - Fed

The rogue enjoys a nice meal, despite the rising, existential dread.

On AO3.

This is the third time he’s tasted her in this way. The first crunch of teeth piercing skin, sliding through muscle. He’s careful not to go too deep—a wrist isn’t a neck, with more tissue and thicker vein walls. He doesn’t want to cripple her hand.

Blood spurts. That first release. It hits the roof of his mouth, slides down the back of his tongue and his throat opens and he cannot help the low sound he makes. It would be embarrassing in any other context; a needy thing. But the monster within him is too focused, already too intoxicated in the taste of her.

Rich, like the memory of cream custard on a spring afternoon. A hint of spice—some hot drink as gray rain patters on windows. Salt and iron, surely. But so much more.

He’s got her arm in both of his hands, now. Lips latched, tongue lapping at the inside of her wrist. He tries to let it fill his mouth, wants to savor the feel of it, the hot slide of a gulp. But he’s too impatient. He needs this in his belly, needs it inside of him now.

He catches a sour tang: her fear. Not of him, he thinks, but of this cave. Of the Absolute and the gith and their uninvited cranial guests. And something else, something old woven all through her veins.

Beyond that, there’s her breakfast that morning: toasted bread with peppered eggs, her delight at slitting the yolk open and letting it run over her toast and the rich flavor as she chewed. There’s the scent of woodsmoke and the heat of roasted venison. Flesh tearing between her teeth and the grease she licked off her fingers lest it go to waste. The warm contentment of a full belly and a cool night. Laying on her bedroll and staring up at unfamiliar stars.

The acidity of sorrow.

He suckles as gently as he can. Pulling too hard hurts her, and he doesn’t want that. Gods, but it is a glorious temptation. Draw her in, draw in all that life. Suck it right out of her until it fills him, until he’s drowning in it, stuffed full and fit to burst—

A tap on his shoulder. Her captive hand flexes.

“I think that’s enough,” she says.

Oh, but it’s not. He could seat himself at the bottom of a river made of her blood and open his mouth and let it gush into him until he drained the whole of it, and it would never be enough.

But she doesn’t have a sea of blood within her. And he rather needs her alive if he ever wants to indulge again.

So he breaks off. Laps at the rivulets still so eager to be taken by him. Tongue at one of her punctures, feels the shape of it—he wants to jam the tip of his tongue into it, rip it wide open—

She hisses. He forces himself to pull away. She’s ready with a cloth bandage; of course she is. He takes over clamping it down. Needs that pretty wrist to seal itself back up. Seal off that delectable blood so she can make more. So he can feast upon her again.

“Did it help?” she says as they sit there, her wrist held tightly in his hands.

He’s kept his lids shut tight. Didn’t want to sour the experience should it not…

But now it’s time. He needs to know.

He cracks one eye open.

To utter blackness.

Both eyes open and it’s the same. Nothing. No light. No shape or colors, not even the miserable gray shades of his cursed nightvision. Just the deepest black he can imagine.

“No, it didn’t work,” he says. He’d fling her arm away if he wasn’t trying to stop her bleeding everywhere.

“What the fuck,” she says.

Indeed.

The panic turns sharp, claws digging out through his abdomen, climbing up his throat and he doesn’t need to breathe, but still he’s choked. He’s blinded. Left in the dark forever. Hideously underground, trapped and forever and he can’t claw through the walls, can’t even depend upon the tender mercies of his master—

“Astarion?”

Their leader. She’s here. He’s squeezing her too tightly, and he forces his grip to loosen. Clears his throat. “Yes?”

Her free hand touches his shoulder. Though “touch” is a generous description. It’s barely more than a pluck of his padded armor.

“We’re gonna figure this out,” she says.

Shit. He smooths his expression back to calm. Can’t go around wearing his weaknesses for anyone to see.

“Gale thinks it might be some kinda curse, and I know I can’t do magic stuff—”

“You do realize you’re making this worse, yes?” he says because he cannot stop himself. The fear is too great to contain. So rather than crumple before her, he does what he usually does to anyone not above him and opens that pressure valve to blast her instead. “You’re incapable of doing a thing about it, and we’re gods know how far from anyone who can. So spare me your reassurances. We’re both useless and we both know it.”

She says nothing. Hardly moves, save for a flex of the hand he still holds captive.

“The Underdark might be fun if I could bloody see, but now the both of us are going to die in some gruesome manner.”

While she continues to sit quietly, he feels her pulse pick up between his hands. Yet her voice is a forced calm when she says, “Gale seems to think there’s a network of them waypoints down here. All we gotta do is find one. Just one.”

“Because that’s likely.”

“Would you rather sit here and starve to death?”

She doesn’t understand. She can’t understand. He’s done this before. Curled into a ball in a dark, cold corner as his flesh mummified around his bones. How those bones cracked and chipped at the slightest movement as his mind cracked and chipped, but never sank into oblivion. He lay there for tendays, for months as his eyes withered into useless, wrinkled things like dried fruit. As his gums pulled back and his skin eventually cracked open, with only the stink of his own flesh for company.

“And you’ll have us do what, exactly?” he says. Sneers, if he’s being honest.

But their illustrious leader doesn’t lash back. Doesn’t belittle him or snap at him. Doesn’t strike him or choke him or command him to kneel and prepare for punishment.

He almost wishes she would. Because that he knows. His mind knows the paths to exit the immediate area, knows how to fade away and wait until it’s over. Instead, he has to sit here, still holding her arm while she churns things up inside him that he left long, long buried in two hundred years of rotting detritus.

“I will do my best to get us the fuck outta this tunnel,” she says. “And then I will do my best not to lead us into a crevasse or some kinda ambush and to find one single, goddamned motherfucking waypoint stone.”

Even her swearing isn’t angry. Not aimed at him. She just…just uses it as a vulgar garnish for her calm, steady words.

The woman is infuriating.

“Will you?” he says, all bladed tongue.

“Unless you got a better idea?”

Which… “settle in and wait for death” isn’t an actual idea and he pointedly doesn’t want to waste away down here, thank you very much.

He can feel her gloat.

“At the moment, no,” he says.

“Alright.” She’s so very good at not letting the gloat he knows she feels seep into her voice. Always acts like she’s listening to everyone. Even him. That she’s genuinely open to one of his silly ideas.

Ideas she…actually incorporates into her plans for some reason he can’t even begin to decipher.

Because she’s clever like that and she’s better at the game than he initially gave her credit for.

“Well, as we’re in a tunnel, which way shall we go?” he says.

She hums. The tadpole behind his eye squirms as she reaches out—not to him, but to the others.

“That way, I think,” she says after a pause.

And likely points, because that is helpful to a blind man. But then she does something. Taps the wall behind him with her staff, and then tugs his sleeve until he releases her wrist (the blood scent is weak and fading; she must finally be clotting).

She holds her other arm out, and he realizes she points his arm in the direction she intends to go. She’s used the sound on the wall to orient him, and he begrudgingly lets himself feel the first slither of relief.

It’s not towards the boulder field.

“The ground here is cracked to hell,” she says. “And there’s big rocks all over, looks like chunks fell off the walls and roof a long time ago. They’re all worn smooth around the edges. I’m thinking you give me that torch, and you take my hitting stick, and you can use it to feel the ground ahead of you a bit?”

She’s not going to leave him. She’s taking him with her and handing over her only weapon. Just so he can use it as a prop.

“And…” She pauses again. “You got rope in your pack, right?”

He does. Plenty of it, in fact. She’s not the only one who likes to stuff her pockets with more than the standard valuables.

“I was thinking we tie ourselves together. So we, y’know, don’t get separated somehow?”

He cannot fathom what her play is, here. He’s not valuable enough to keep as an ally now. Certainly not one for this level of investment. Should one of them fall down a crevasse or be snatched up by something lurking in the dark, the other one will be at risk themself. He’s not sleeping with her, can’t use his superior vision to scout ahead or even see an enemy to strike, and he’s just taken enough blood from her that he can catch the slow, deep inhales she takes now and again (she must be dizzy).

He’s a liability. Yet she’s treating him like an asset. Like there’s something he can do for her and she’s yet to name it.

He saw things when their tadpoles connected. She truly doesn’t want to have sex with him. She had such a visceral reaction to it, and he doesn’t think that’s changed overmuch in the last tenday or so.

But then, what else could she want? What kind of alliance could this even be?

Damned alien yokel.

“Lead on, then,” he says. He’ll just have to find another way to ingratiate himself to her. Find something he can provide her.

Previous - Index - Next

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 3

Joel Miller X fem!Reader

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, graphic depictions of violence, being turned on by violence, pregnancy, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot)but fair warning, major age gap

This is a reader fic, reader is early 20's, Joel is 40's at this point, reader is small enough that the men can lift her, but these are strong men. Reader is also referred to as little one, little girl ETC, but that's more in reference to her age/innocence than physical size.

Please reread warnings, as they have been updated.

Chapter Summary: Joel softens, just a bit.

Pretty fucking proud of this chapter. Might be some of my best work yet.

This chapter is detacated to my friend @maura-honey i fucking love yoooouuuuuuuuuu she made a tumblr just to read my shit <3

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When you woke up that moring, Joels fingers were inside, lips on your neck… kissing…  something he’d never done with you before. He’d also never fingered you this much, he might give a few pumps at most to ease you in, but in generally Joel had no regard for your comfort when he was feral with you. You could hear how wet you were, none of the fear you usually had during sex holding you back because you were fast asleep. Hell, you could fucking smell how wet you were, Joel must’ve been fingering you for a while, because you knew you were about to cum. 

You couldn’t open your eyes, too tired, too sleepy, too exhausted. Memories of last night flooded in as you grew closer, you bodies pain bringing back specific memories. As you lay on your back, you start to remember, every prick of pain cueing a new memory as your exhausted body gave into Joel. Your burning scalp; he dragged you from the barn to the house, Tommy yelling at Joel to knock it off, holding you up. The rug burn on your neck that Joel didn’t seem to notice as he kissed and sucked hickies into it; Joel ripped your shirt open with one hand, your skin taking the bunt of the pain where his calloused hands clearly did not, exposing you to all the men watching hungrily. Your hips ached; you were bent over the table pounded into the edges. Your wrists; the handcuffs that dug into your skin. Your cunt, currently being abused again by Joel’s thick fingers, inside you, only saved from the brutal pain of a gang rape by Tommy’s mercy. And finally, your hip; Joel’s pelvis bucked as he gave you his own sick version of pleasure, but since you were on your back, his pants rubbed against the fresh wound where he branded his initials into your skin. 

“AH!” You shout, fully awake now at the searing pain in your side.

“Good morning, sunshine” Joel mutters softly into your neck. He was oddly tender today, was he trying to make you cum on his fingers? You didn’t have time to think much, it became clear he was still wearing jeans, and you butt naked from last night, Tommy’s clothes he left untouched on the floor that you were now wishing were on you as the rough material on him dug into you.

“Joel- no, Joel-ah! stop-” You tried to protest, brain still foggy, trying to move away, but he continued to grind into you, large body pinning you down. 

“You always say that, but you’re so fucking wet, little one” He pulled you closer, the seems of his crotch tearing open the damaged skin.

Joel thought this was your usual pleas, you began crying from the sting and burn on your hip as he stimulated himself on you. “No, not Joel it hurts, please” you sob, unable to speak clearly “Joel the- the burn- ugh!” You didn’t have it in your from stopping the sounds you made, the ones you usually stifled to all hell because god, Joel was beginning to feel good, and you hated yourself for it.

“There we go, knew you wanted it, always putting up a fight…” Joel went for your lips, but you whipped your head away, sobbing from the pain that was so bad you didn’t care what Joel thought of you rejecting this newfound, strange affection that you didn’t know what to make of. “C’mon now, baby girl” Joel’s tone was stern, but not the anger you expected. Usually, after he fucked you, he seemed to feel bad, providing you with some semblance of care afterwards… maybe last night was clearly crossing such a line that he still felt bad… so why did he have so little regard for the pain you were clearly in? You continue sobbing and when you look at Joel, rubbing your eyes, you see him look almost… confused? You didn’t cry like this infront of him… you cried, but it was softer… 

The next words you did not expect. “Don’t I make you feel good?”

You couldn’t contain your anger. “You hurt me!”

“Oh come on.” He says almost condescendingly. “My fingers are nothing compared to my dick.” But he still looked… confused? Concerned that you wouldn’t stop sobbing and shaking. He thought it was the fingers that were the problem? He moved towards you and you wince, only to find that he was wrapping the blanket around you and picking you up. He carried you like a toddler, carrying you under your ass and thighs, your face looking over his shoulder and you couldn’t help the instinct to wrap your arms around him as he walked toward your door.

“No, no I don’t want to go out there” Panic rose up inside you, fearful your yelling was going to get you a treatment like last night all over again, or leave you for Nick and the others, and would Tommy be able to save you? How many times could Tommy step in without losing his head… You didn’t want Tommy to get hurt, not for you… You try to tell him you’re sorry, that you’ll stop, but between the desperate words and choked sobs, you weren’t making much sense, and you got the feeling he wasn’t listening anyway.

When you were taken to the living room, the men immediately perked up, no doubt hoping they’d get their chance with you, but Joel kept walking towards the door. Was he done with you? Was he taking you outback to kill you, maybe have a round or two with your dead body that wouldn’t put up a fight like you do, then leave your naked body to decompose? The panic had set it, and the crying became shouting.

“Joel! Please! Don’t, please-T- Tom- TOMMY! TOMMYYY!!!” You scream for the only person you could trust, scrambling helplessly to get out of his his grasp but it was useless, you kick and fight and scream for his brother.

“Why the fuck are you cry’n to him for?” Joel muttered more to himself than anything, and you want to shut yourself up lest Joel suspect what happened, but you can’t think clearly, scrambling to get out of his grasp, wishing to god your brother was still alive or that Tommy would come save you. You’d be good, you’d stop acting up, you’d stop doing things that put Tommy and yourself at risk if please, please he’d come fix it just one more time…

You were outside, the sun was rising, the air was crisp but not bitter, and you were in shock… you hadn’t seen anything of sunlight other than your pathetic window since before Joel had taken you… you realized you stopped crying, Joel’s large hard rubbing your back as he calmly sh’d you as you shook in his arms. Joel sat down on the steps of the porch, cradling you in his arms like a baby. 

“Let’s enjoy the view”

Now, what exactly did Joel think was happening here? Who were you to him? Because he was cruel and violent, but then came tenderness… the way he talked yesterday, the way he seemed so betrayed, so convinced that he was good to you, that you deserted him… did he care about you? You did as he said, watching the sunshine and listening to the birds tweet…

“You’re bleeding” You look at Joel and he’s frowning, peeling off the blanket and exposing your nakedness to the outside. Your hip had bleed through the thin blanket enough, and Joel’s fingers touched around the open wound, deep concern in his eyes. “What happened?”

You were flabbergasted. Did he not remember?

“You… you branded me…” 

Joel shook his head. “No, no I mean why’s it bleed’n?” He looked to you. “Were you picking at it?”

You couldn’t help but blink, dumbfounded as it seemed he genuinely did not know how he tortured you. “You hurt me, Joel. This morning… Your jeans…”

Joel looked down at his jeans and saw the blood from when he rubbed on the raw and open skin. “I did that?”

“Yeah”

“That’s why you were cry’n?”

“Yeah. It really hurts.”

“It looks like it does…” Joel looked back at you. “Did anyone touch you last night?” 

You shake your head. “Tommy unlocked me.”

“Tommy touch you last night?”

Again, you shake your head. “Just to put the ointment on my thigh, I swear”

“You’d tell me if anyone touched you, right? Including Tommy?”

You freeze… What did he know? Did Tommy already tell him? Was Joel testing you? Would it be better to be honest… no, Tommy wouldn’t tell Joel, he wouldn’t do that to you. “Yeah, I’d tell you.”

Joel nodded, seeming to believe you… Then, he called inside. “Nick!” 

You startle at his shout, and even more so when Joel sits you on the porch, careful to keep you covered. “Watch her” Joel says to the redheaded man. “I gotta get some shit, and don’t-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, don’t fucking touch her I heard the spiel last time, Miller.”

Joel glared at him, but left you outside with Nick, where there was silence for a moment as you watched him nervously. Nick’s eyes had been intent on you every time Tommy or Joel took you to the bathroom, or if he was walking by the door when they opened it, and he had been very eager to get a piece of you when Joel temporarily lifted the ban. You startled when he spoke.

“You just think you’re hot shit, don’t you?”

You didn’t know what to make of that. You felt the complete opposite of hot shit, you felt pathetic and used and in pain…

He kept talking. “You got both fucking Millers wrapped around you’re god damn finger, just have to sit in that room and get fucked, huh?”

You look up at him, unmoving.

“He’ll kill you, eventually, you know. Or he’ll get board of you, throw you to the rest of us and we’ll rape you until you’re dead, and Tommy won’t be able to stop it. He can’t always be there to protect you.”

Joel opened the door and Nick acted innocent, heading back inside without a word.

“He say anything to you?” Joel asked, sitting down with you.

You knew it was best to keep your mouth shut, not cause problems. “No”

“Good. Don’t like ‘em look’n at you. Barely tolerating Tommy but…” Joel opens up the first aid box and gets working, cleaning the wound.

You whimper, but try to keep it together. “But what?”

“I ain’t around much and… well I’m not exactly good at talk’n. Tommy’s better at that, better company.”

You had wondered if Joel knew about Tommy playing cards and talking with you. It seems he did, and he allowed it… because he knew you’d be bored? With Joel newfound softness and obvious guilt, you decided to test something.

“Could… could I maybe…”

“I ain’t letting you go, little girl. You’re mine.”

“No, no I know” You quickly assured. “Maybe next time you’re out, if you found something maybe…”

Joel softened his tone. “What is it, sweetness?”

You take a deep breath. “Maybe a book?” Joel turned to you. “Or just something to do, Tommy gave me playing cards but I can only do so much… ”

“You can read?” 

Fair question, “My mom taught me.”

Joel seemed to consider this… “I’ll see what we find today.”

You nod vigorously, gasping again as he applied triple antibiotic cream to the stinging wound. “Thank you, Joel, I know I don’t deserve-”

“Hush” He stops you. “You ain’t been good but I shouldn’t have done that to you.” He was apologizing for the burn? “You’re mine, and they don't get to touch you, or even look at you like that” Oh, it was about rapeing you in public. “And I know… I know ‘m not very careful, I don’t mean to hurt you…” Well, that wasn’t exactly true, the branding was intentional, the hard slap that first day was intentional… but you knew he meant when he gets carried away and the hair that gets pulled out and the bruises that form and the open fucking wound on you are just collateral. “I’m gonna try and be more careful, okay? But you gotta behave.”

For some unknown reason, you rest your head on his chest as he wraps your thigh in gauze. “I will, I swear. I wanna be good now.” If you got this side of Joel when you were quiet and behave… this would be much easier on you. You’d have him and Tommy’s protection, none of the men in their or anywhere else would fuck with you, and if Joel was bringing you books and didn’t hurt you… this could be better than what was being done to you at your dads house. Joel could be soft, Joel could be tender.. Yeah, this could be good…

You stayed there in Joel’s arms for a while until he brought you inside so he could take care of business. 

While he was gone, you took a nap and were woken up by the sound of the door flying open, and for a moment you fear Joel was back to his old self but you turn and see Tommy, running over the the mattress and dropping down beside you, seeing you in his clothes again and scrambling to touch you, checking you over, eyes frantic.

“Jesus honey, are you okay?” He grabbed your shoulders as he looked you over.

“Tommy” You grab his arms, sturdying you. Tommy was your anchor here, and you’d cling to him whenever you could. 

“Jack said he heard you screaming this morning in the room? Said he was pulling you out of the room and you were calling for me? I’m so sorry honey, I was out working, I’m so fucking sorry I shouldn’t have left, not after last night-” 

You interrupt him with a hand on his face, feeling his cheek, you’re thumb on his mustache. “Tommy, Tommy I’m okay…”

“What did he do to you?” Tommy asked with worry.

“He didn’t mean-”

Tommy spoke your name softly. “It’s okay, just tell me”

You blush, knowing this would bring up sex, which was a closed subject with Tommy, but it wasn’t like he didn’t know what Joel was doing to you. “He was… um… his jean… were rubbing against the burn when he… he um…”

Tommy’s face softened. “When he what?”

You turned away. “When he was fingering me…”

Tommy’s face furrowed in confusion. “Does he do that a lot?” His face was tinged with something else… jealousy?

You shake your head. “Today was weird.”

You explain what happened today while Tommy redressed your wound. You had no idea why you trusted him, but for some reason, you are beginning to trust Joel too. 

When Joel walked in on you and Tommy playing cards, he was carrying a bag. 

Tommy stood up quickly. “How’d it go today?”

“Good” He answered gruffly. “I got it here, Tommy” Despite Tommy looking guilty, Joel patted him on the back, turning Tommy to him. You assume Joel thought you couldn’t hear him, but Joel thanked Tommy for taking care of you. Tommy left without another word or a look at you.

Joel turned to you. “I got you some things, you can look through them later”

You give him a little smile, and it’s not all fake. You scoot onto the bed and take off your shorts; you want to show him you can be good, you can be good for him, if he’s good to you…

Joel returned the smile, however small it was. “Good girl”

You couldn’t help but smile a little bit more at his praise. You nod to the freshly cleaned wound on your leg, bandaged for protection. “Could you…”

With surprising gentleness, he adjusted you as he knelt, bending your knees, massaging your legs. “Don’t worry, little one, I’ll take it easy on you this time, consider this an apology.”

You put your hands on his thighs. “Thank you, sir”

Joel bent over, kissing your neck and palming your breasts still in his brother's shirt. “‘M gonna make this good for you, sweetheart, and you’re gonna come and stop fighting those pretty sounds you make, okay? That’s how you’re gonna thank me.”

You nod. “Okay”

Joel kissed and sucked where you were certain there were already dark marks, grinding his naked cock into your center. You did as promised, letting go for him, moaning as he worked you up for the first time, the first time he didn’t just ram into you and it felt good.

“Joel” You moan out gripping his shoulders; you wanted to see him. “Shirt off?”

You swore you could hear him chuckle. “Mine or yours”

“Both?”

“Good girl.” Joel sat up, taking off his shirt and fuck he looked good. He was strong, insanely broad, large muscles in his arms that you were already aware of that stretched in his sleeves. His chest showed obvious strength, and his stomach was soft, comforting… Joel pulled you up, taking off your shirt. “Fucking perfect.”

His mouth went to your breast as he lined up at your entrance, pushing in as quick and harsh as he always did, but this time you were working up enough and it hardly hurt, just a comfortable stretch.

Joel went for your lips, but you dodged him, and Joel paused to look at your with a cocked eyebrow.

You look at him, wide-eyed and nervous, would he punish you? He never kissed you, neither had Tommy, neither had any of the men your dad had sold your mouth too… that was yours, so far.

“I’m gonna give you time on that one, little one.” Joel began thrusting, his pace fast but not harsh. His hand was under your injured hip, your leg bent, propping it up just enough so that the brand didn’t rub against the bed as he fucked you.

“Thank you sir” You whine, relaxing into him, loving this side of things… Joel thrusting into you, fucking you full and actually paying attention to your body, your wants and needs…

“You gonna cum? I’m right behind you, been wait’n all day to be inside your perfect little pussy”

You were, that warmth in your stomach becoming a sure-fire thing. Joel slowly conditioning you to associate him with pleasure, the assault on your body, the violence that came with him, all with your orgasm, one of the few good things you had… “Yes, please make me cum”

His hand moved your throat, not the bruising grip you were used to, but a light, dizzying squeeze. “You gonna stop fighting me?”

“Yes, I swear, Joel, I’ll be good”

He sped up, igniting more inside you, the room swirling with the sounds of sex, the smell of Joel after a long day of work and you preen for him because you knew, you knew you could cum, and then for a few short minutes at least, Joel would care for you and you could feel a soft touch for fucking once… Tommy was so fucking scared of getting you killed, of abusing you the way Joel did he would barely touch you, you couldn’t get anything like this from him, although you were beginning to suspect he wanted too…

Joel grunted in your ear and you knew he was close too. “I know you will, sweet thing. Because you’re mine, your body is mine, your orgasms are mine, and this?“ Joel slapped your pussy before rubbing the clit as he growled, louder than before. “This is fucking mine, now cum!”

How much could the men outside hear? How much could Tommy hear? You couldn’t be bothered to think more, because you were his good girl now and you did as you were told, coming on his cock as your hands gripped his sweaty back, clinging him to you, your obedience a plea, ‘please, please take care of me, don’t let them hurt me, don’t hurt me anymore, and I’ll give everything to you Joel, I am yours as long as I am safe.’ You moaned as promised, load and with every ounce of feeling you had, letting everyone in the damn house, including fucking Nick, that you were Joels and yes, you had him wrapped around your finger.

When he pulled back, your stomach was painted in white as you panted breathless on the mattress. Joel collapsed on you, his heavyweight a comfort, and he even shifted his weight away from your hurt side. Kissing up your neck, to your cheek, he almost kissed your mouth, and god, you would have let him, but Joel hesitated before kissing away. That was one promise he’d keep.

When Joe came back to carry you to the bathroom where he had boiled water for a hot bath, you willingly wrapped your arms around him, kissing his neck. When you are carried past the kitchen, you see Nick watching you, eyes intent while Joel has his ever protective grasp. Just to make a point, you lock eyes with the man and lick a long stripe up Joel’s neck. The message was clear.

‘I belong to Joel Miller. Don’t fucking touch me.’ ********************

I hope you guys liked it!!!! Remember, likes and reblogs are the way to keep an author motivated to write more!

That being said, this is the last chapter out until probs after finals, so please dont ask when the next chapter is cuz i don't know ;-;

In the meantime, check out my masterlsit on my main @romanarose I have a few Joel fics, but my triple frontier fics are some of my best. consider reading Leather and Lace for Santi, or if you like moon knight, check out sunshine starlight sweetheart brightside! both deal with rape recovery, but head the warnings! espcially sunshine, its heavy

If you have an AO3 I would love if you check out this story over there and left a kudos, and maybe checked out some of my other work!

if you didn't catch it, theres a bonus chapter with tommy out!

LOVE YOU ALL!

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