#this is what you fuckers sound like LMAO

[obsessivefangirl]

🪱 transsexual-beast Follow

Bi lesbians are setting our community back. Their labels are contradictory and don't make sense.

🎇 dykelovedyke Follow

Agreed. Another one of those identities that uses the q slur and makes it seem normal. They just hurt us. No one should use the word.

🎑 kink-isnt-pride Follow

I swear kids need to get offline and do their homework and let the adults handle lgbt discourse. No respect for the generations who fought for them, they would be disappointed to see what a mockery the movement is.

🎭 we-are-oppressed Follow

It's because they never had to suffer through life like how we did. They don't join the fight but they do join the party.

[rainofthetwilight]

Y E S.

everyone is hc-ing cole as arabic, and you know what, i'm here for it

[punkpandapatrixk]

💓The Greatest Romance of Your Life! ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

You know you’re destined to be with your Soulmate; deep in your Soul you know there���s something beautiful already written in the stars for you and your Divine Lover★

What’s the story? What’s the drama? How will they pursue you? Aaaah! This One who will love you completely and sweetly and only! ♥︎

SONG: ohhh! by Chara

A WHOLE DREAMY VIBE: The Best of Piero Piccioni

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – That Handsome Gentle Soul

VIBE: Emily in Paris (just S1!)

your options? – 2 of Pentacles

Oh! You’re such a tease and you have many admirers, I can tell XD By the time events in your Life are leading you to a union with your Destined One, you will have quite a bit of options, and actually, you’re weighing at least two people in this scenario. Under normal circumstances, you’d consider yourself a person of traditional values. You always think to yourself that you’re a simple and straightforward person with very ‘normal’ desires.

You want the house, the security and stability, and all those ‘normal things’ that come with a marriage. It’s all understandably expected. You’ve always thought to yourself, ‘I want what is normally expected.’ People have rules in society and it is best to keep to what’s already within the guidelines. You’ll be ruminating these values and gains a lot during this time of your Life.

No matter your actual age at this time, psychologically speaking, you’d want to choose the person who seems more stable and wealthier. It sounds like such a no-brainer; but you’re finding yourself ruminating this shit to no end. And you’d wish things could be a lot simpler; after all, aren’t you simple? Oh, as it turns out, you’re really not all that simple—especially since meeting this other fucker who’s lighted up your horizon~

decisions, decisions, decisions – 10 of Cups Rx

In the beginning, you may not immediately realise that this person we’re talking about is your Destined One. By that time in your Life, you could’ve forgotten all about this reading hahah And you’d be so preoccupied with Life’s more pragmatic duties. By this time, half of you could either be in your late 20s or early 30s, being asked endlessly why you’re not married yet; another half of you could be in your early 50s and simply wanting things to settle and get ‘normal’ in your Life.

The thing is, your Higher Self has arranged for you to meet a Soulmate, a Divine Lover who will actually show you how not normal you are if you were honest with yourself LMAO This person on the outside is actually what you are on the inside if you let yourself be. This Destined One is unorthodox, they are weird in a way that suits your tastes and they somehow align with your values! You’re crazy attracted to this about them, but at some point, you will pull away from them because you’re afraid!

You’re afraid this person will pull you away from everything that’s normal and expected of you. But are you really the type of person who regards a matrimony that highly? Seriously? If you’re honest? This person will show you that they, too, don’t particularly care about the expectations of a marriage. They will show you that they care more about the love and romance and all those sweet feelings that come with being actually in love with someone you adore. No riches in the world can substitute the happiness of holding someone you love in your arms~ With this person, you understand that <3

your True Love?! – 5 of Wands Rx

The biggest reason you will pull away from your Destined One is that you’re afraid of fucking things up with this wonderful person who seems like such a grand prize. Rather than facing the reality of losing this person’s favour out of your own fucking things up, you’d rather never be with them in the first place. And that’s such a sad thing because your Destined One would never think of such things about you!

Out of all the options you could be having at this phase of your Life, you will recognise that your one and only true love is somebody who doesn’t make you feel pressured towards making a decision. I’m getting that your Destined One is very gentle and peaceful, and they’re really understanding of the kinds of negative thoughts that often encircle your mind. If anything, your Destined One will want to erase those scary thoughts from your mind. They want to put you at ease~

They’re not weak or shy though. If anything, your Destined Person is quite shameless and they will want to win you over LMAO But they won’t be forceful or pushy. They’re respectful of your boundaries. They will only continue to come forward with Love, and Love, and just Love—they do worry about you tho ;P So, occasionally you will be able to see their ‘cute side’ when they scold you because they’ve been worried sick!

FIRST KISS🔻💛

feelings pouring sweet~ – Red Magus (Edward Kelly)

the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Beauty

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Ahhh, You Know You Like Being Swallowed Whole~ ;P

VIBE: Green Snake (1993)

your options? – 5 of Swords Rx

At first glance, it feels to me you won’t be dealing with too many options during this time of your Life where you’re being led to a union with your Destined One; but it isn’t because you don’t have many eyes vying for your hand in marriage, nooo far from it; you, just already know who you’re gonna allow to make a move on you ;P You just already know who you want to be with! ★ And it seems to me you’re the one who’s gonna do the pursuing ;P

If you’re a feminine aenergy attracted to a masculine aenergy, you’re going to lead them on. Basically, from the moment you fell for your Destined One, they’re already in the palm of your hand. I reckon you’re the one who’s gonna recognise who your Destined Person is, and it’s all because you’re a highly spiritual entity. And honestly, you’ve been through quite a lot of shit and you’ve experienced quite a bit how other people’s negative resonance brought down your protective barriers in the past.

You don’t want to entertain low-vibing suitors anymore. You can’t stand the idea of your Life being turned upside down ugly by people whose hearts are UGLY AF. You’ve got no time for any of that. You want your Destined Person and you’ll do anything in your power to make this person fall in love with you <3 I sense a majority of you choosing this pile actually identify as a masculine aenergy attracted to a feminine aenergy regardless of your gender, which makes a lot of sense XD

decisions, decisions, decisions – Knight of Swords

In the past, you’ve dealt with people who are all over you because you’re attractive as fuck. Maybe they wanted your money, status, whatever. You’re a grand prize, you know. People would be so lucky to call you their own. And you got fucking pissed with being seen as a trophy boyfriend/girlfriend—as if you haven’t got your own personality or other achievements. How about your heart and dreams and Love, right? And you know that most people don’t value you for these things. They value you for the things that, to you, don’t matter at all!

By the time the Universe is arranging for you to be in a divine union with your spiritual Soulmate, you’ll have been single for quite a significant time. You’ve shielded yourself from cheap romances. Are you a sigma? LOL You’re honestly not even that interested in people to begin with. Most of the time, you like your own company and keep to yourself a lot. You’ll have been elusive for a number of years before you meet your Destined Person by chance~ This could be a work/professional setting but you’ll still feel like it’s a destined chance meeting hahah

The moment you catch a glimpse of your Destined Person, you feel something electrifying and know immediately this person is special—different from the rest and that you need to figure them out. Perhaps by your second or third meeting, something in you has made it clear to your conscious mind that this is The One. If you’re the masculine in this situation, it’s pretty obvious you’re going to charm them so that they open their heart to you ♡ If you’re a feminine in this situation, you’re going to tease them a lot until they know it’s perfectly alright for them as a masculine to charm you LMAO

your True Love?! – 7 of Cups

So it’s interesting to see a card of a plethora of choices after all that’s said and done. As mentioned before, you’re an attractive high-quality person who’s lusted over by many undeserving asses, and I’m getting mostly this vibe, that when you’re about to make it official with your Destined Person, there’s gonna come a negative force to try and ruin your chances. For many of you this could be anything, really, but for some of you this could be an ex, or basically someone you used to be quite close to, coming back into your Life in the hopes of winning you over. Or worse—even if they know they can’t win you over, they’re still gonna come over to taunt your Destined Person out of jealousy! OMG

If this ‘trying force’ doesn’t come from your end, this could also come from your Destined Person’s end. After all, your Destined Person is ALSO popular and a lot of people are gonna hate on you for being so close to them hahah So, you and your one True Love are gonna be viewed as that power couple and before you come together there will be forces that try and separate you. It's very likely there is a time you become quite distant from each other because of all these negative intents from your environment.

You’ve got people lining up to become your spouse and each one of them could become uncontrollably jealous when you proclaim a relationship with your Destined One XD Oh, you heartbreaker~ And in the case of an ex, or a very close ex-friend who used to harbour feelings and hopes for you, this person could well break your Destined Person’s heart and make them cry. They might even try and do something very evil to your Destined Person just to hurt YOU! This, is your lesson from the Universe to decide how you’re going to protect the one and only person you say you love~

FIRST KISS🔻💜

feelings pouring sweet~ – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Magick

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – This the One Who’ll Sacrifice Anything for You

VIBE: Titanic (1997)

your options? – Page of Wands Rx

During this time when the Universe is arranging for you to be with your Destined Person, very strange and complex situations are happening in your Life. First, it’s possible you’re already steady/engaged/married to someone else, and this is why it seems you’re not dealing with a variety of romantic options. Two, it could just be that you’re totally NOT opening yourself up to the prospect of a relationship or even a marriage HAHAH

By this point in your Life, if you have friends or are in the public eye, it’ll have been quite obvious to everybody that you’re not the marrying type. For whatever reason, you’re quite sceptical—even cynical—about this whole notion of a relationship or a matrimony. Either you’re tired or afraid of being bound by a loveless contract. You’ve seen how people switch up and betray their spouses. You’ve heard plenty of cheating couples and broken trusts. Ain’t nobody got time to open up to horrendous crimes like that!

To everybody else, you’re an elusive siren who lives in your own world of make-believe, which annoyingly only makes you even more sought-after. At this point in your Life, you appear to the world as some sort of a rare catch and people will be sneakily trying to woo you, to win you over, because that would make them look cool. Many courageous (or should we say reckless?) warriors will attempt to break your icy castle and die in vain, never realising the whole time you were wishing for a King!☆

decisions, decisions, decisions – 10 of Pentacles

To say that you ‘don’t want to be married’ is actually quite a contrarian thing. Deep in your Soul, you want to have a wholesome, a complete and harmonious relationship with a Kingly character. You want something real that most people don’t even know how to give—because most people are shallow and infantile and so poor in character… These peasants… Sigh, they bore you to death. They disappoint to no end. But then, one day…

By some miraculous encounter you bump into your Destined One. Some miraculous encounter that wouldn’t have happened at all if some curiously specific events did not stack up a certain way. It is by Divine Design that you meet at all on that very day. That very moment you see this person, your heart jump and a voice in you exclaim, ‘Husband??’ or ‘Wife??’

Of course that’s super strange that a voice within you would say that at all. You might find it cringe or think you’ve lost all your marbles completely. ‘I think I’m delusional because I’ve been lonesome for a while…’ But soon after, you really wake up to the realisation that the Universe has sent you a pretty gift in the form of a Human who’s the perfect match for you. This person is THE IDEAL, the moment, the archetype, the everything you’ve ever dreamt a true love—your true love—would be~

your True Love?! – King of Wands

The complete package. This Destined Person, is literally YOU in a different form. They may not be perfect for any other person, but for you, all your fingers fit each other perfectly. Mind you, your Destined Person is very attractive in spite of all their flaws, so it’s not like there isn’t any competition here XP Your Destined Person is definitely somebody who turns heads when they enter a room. Even the parking lot is their runway!

This person commands respect, indeed they exude a very Kingly aenergy. They are charisma personified—very giving, honourable, even sacrificial. Your Destined Person is somebody who truly understands what it means to give back to the community. A true King who gains respect for the service he has given to his people. A King like this is truly loved and revered instead of feared. That’s the kind of aenergy your Destined Person operates with.

You will be very happy with this person. You know that, thus the exclamation upon seeing them! In spite of your apprehensions about marriage, when your King proposes, when they claim you as their Queen (LOL), you simply simply simply curiously intuitively know you’re gonna be taken care of~ And that’s such a nice feeling to have to finally feel safe with someone who truly cares for your wellbeing. Someone whom you know, at all times, will make big sacrifices just to put a smile on your face ♥︎

FIRST KISS🔻🧡

feelings pouring sweet~ – Silver Astrologer (John Dee)

the meaning of it all? – Priestess of Energy

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[voxisdaddy]

Veets

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Vox x Chocolatier!Overlord!Reader

Type: Headcanons

Featuring: Alastor, Carmilla, Velvette, Valentino

In which Vox got the Vee’s a collaboration with hells greatest chocolatier.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ For a guy who likes his coffee black, he surprisingly liked to enjoy the occasional sweets every now and then.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ His go-to was a chocolate bar from (Company name). He enjoyed the chocolate treat so much he actually had his team reach out to the company for a possible deal of some kind-just so Vox can have a jar of that chocolate he really likes sitting on his desk when he does his nightly talk show. Something to snack on in between commercial breaks.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Lmao yeah the company said ‘no’. May or may not have bruised Vox’s ego. His company is VoxTek! That’s like the largest television and tech company in all of Pride! A chance to feature your products on his show? Wasted opportunity if you ask him.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Despite the initial frustration with the lack of legal approval to feature (company name)’s on the show, Vox didn’t let it get to him that much. I mean, it’s just chocolate. This is different from a brand deal of some sorts. If he were to work with that bitch Carmila Carmine, that would be different. Besides, Vox stills keeps a chocolate bar or two under his desk or next to him where the cameras won’t catch any sight of it. He can just snack when theirs commercial break. No big deal.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Besides, making a deal with them would probably mean promoting their general business and other products, rather than the chocolate bar-which is like the only thing he cares about.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Ah yes, another extermination. Another meeting with the other Overlords. Vox hated going to these meetings. But alas, Valentino always flat out refused to go, and he can really only rely on Velvette going to represent the Vee’s if she was in a particularly good mood or Vox absolutely could not go for whatever reason.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ While Vox sat in his chair, he could feel certain waves in the air crack and go staticky-Alastor. Vox internationally groaned. Great. Every since that bambi fucker came back, they’d start seeing each other at these meetings again.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Alastor sounded like he was in conversation with someone. Not that Vox cared, but he noted that Zestial and Rosie were already present in the room so whomever Alastor was chatting to did peak Vox’s interests somewhat. Good lord is this man obsessed with the old radio man.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Then the door pushed open and in came Alastor, the creepy smiling fuck, with someone lovely next to him.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ The fuck?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Was this a new overlord? No, no. Vox would have for sure heard about them. You don’t become an overlord without making a name for yourself after all.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox gave the duo a puzzled look as they sat next to each other, right next to Rosie.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “(Y/n). It’s so good to see you after so long, old friend.” Carmilla Carmine greeted you.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ As Vox would come to find out in this meeting, turns out you had been an overlord for quite some time. How he never seen you at these meetings, never even heard of you, and never heard anyone mention you was baffling to him to say the least.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ It wasn’t until after the meeting when Vox would approach you. He put on his charming facade, an act he’s used to slipping in and out of for whenever the occasion calls for it, and held out a clawed hand.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Your name is what again? Oh you’re usually too busy running your company so you never make the meetings? Oh well, he runs a company too! VoxTek, you heard of them? Uh huh yeah what company do you run?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ -MOTHERFUCKING (COMPANY NAME)?!?!?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ His screen may or may not have glitched at this new information. He also may or may have not asked for your personal number-for business!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Despite you both having busy schedules, he still likes finding time to hang out with you on perhaps a phone call or video call-whatever you’re comfortable with. He admits to himself that you’re not only quite a lovely sight but a delight as well.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He’d keep tabs on your company. You, yourself was quite difficult. Because much to Vox’s pure annoyance, your company doesn’t use VoxTek appliances. Meaning he can’t hack shit and spy on you! God damnit!

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Cue Vox unwrapping his favourite chocolate bar and eating it angrily as he looks through the very few pictures he’s found of you online.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Curse you. Your company rejected his offer. You hid yourself so well from him unintentionally. You were so hidden from the public that you were deemed untouchable. You HAD to be buddy buddy with Alastor. And you HAD to be fucking attractive! “Fuck you!” Vox threw the half eaten bar at a screen with your face on it. He didn’t mean it though.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ He would never ever admit this to anyone but like a week later he spent 30 minutes walking in circles around the Vee’s lounge area. May or may not have been hyping himself up to call you. May or may have not noticed Valentino and Velvette walk in. And they may or may not think it’s hilarious that Vox is too nervous to fucking call you.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “I’m not nervous.” Vox chuckles though Val and Vel immediately catching onto the obvious lie. One look at the slip of paper Vox was holding in his fingers, your number, and Velvette had already dialed it into his phone before handing it off to him.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Fuck you!” He flips a quick finger at her.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ With very little, reasonable, options Vox talks to you as confidently as he could. When you respond with questions why a sudden call to your personal number, he quickly mentions wanting to organize a business meeting with you; “For business…. Talk. Meeting… business… stuff.” He wants to slam his screen against a fucking rock. Valentino finds it fucking hilarious and pathetic. Velvette’s recording the whole thing on her phone-mumbling something about blackmail to Valentino.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ To his pleasure, you agree and before either of you know it, you’re sitting at his table in some oversized aquarium of a meeting room.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “What did you want to discuss?” You don’t leave any room for small talk, wanting to get down to business.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Vox had spent the past few weeks putting together some pitches that could have you at least satisfied with the meeting. Truth be told, the meeting was an excuse to see you again-and in person. After going through some pitches, some of them his team came up with, he made a mental note to fire whoever made these pitches cuz my god did you not seem interested in any of them.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ At least with that out of the way, you could make have some time to just talk, right? Like the pitches, Vox spent some time thinking about what he’d even say to you in casual conversation. As well as played with the idea of asking you out. He knows he’s suave and all that but his own body betrayed him with glitches and little electrical shocks whenever he would overheat.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Growing a bit desperate, considering this is the first time he’s seen you in person since the overlord meeting MONTHS ago, he decided to shoot his shot. He knows he could play it off-even if his body betrays him he could always casually blame it on maybe a software update or something. Sure that’s a bit humiliating but it’s somewhat better, right?

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Valentines Day is next month.”

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Oh my god what the fuck was he doing

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ The way you simply look at him and silently urge him to continue has his fans picking up speed. They feel so loud in his head he’s almost certain you hear them too.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Just ask her. Just ask her. Just ask her-

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “If you don’t have any plans, I’d like to propose ayyyyyy….” he trails off, suddenly getting cold feet, “ayyyyyy a collaboration! With the Vee’s!”

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ And that’s how the Vee’s got a popsicle deal. It released alongside your companies Valentine Chocolates, and other sweets and goods.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ At least getting on your good side, you allowed some of your products to be showcased on his talk show.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ oh and you accepted his offer to appear as a special guest on his show! Mainly to promote the ‘Veets’ treats though. He mentally celebrated the ratings this episode was gonna get. You hardly showed your face anywhere or even spoke to the public. This was kind of a big deal. You were the CEO of hells most beloved and largest chocolate factory after all.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ As the show went to commercial break, Vox turned to you to see you lick and slurp on the ‘Voxsicle.’

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ “Despite how short notice Veets was, I’m proud to say these came out marvellously well.” Vox barely hears those words come out of your mouth despite him looking at your, well, mouth.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ Damn… that’s kinda hot though.

This came out sooooooo much longer than I intended too omg 😭

These are unrelated to the draft reveal post but this hit with like a truck and I couldn’t get the inspiration out of my head. Thanks for reading! Likes + Reblogs appreciated♥︎

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓑ump 𝓘n 𝓣he 𝓝ight ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓢𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘. you live in a world of comic book characters, just pure fiction. however, one night you stumble upon a man dressed in a strange costume who looks exactly like those comic book characters inside your house.

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓒𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. fluff, little angst, goofiness, tension, mild suggestiveness (mdni), swearing, pet names, reader’s universe doesn’t have a spiderman, hispanic/latina!reader

ׄ   ׅ ྀ 𝓛𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝓝𝐎𝐓𝐄. randomly thought of this, enjoy! btw this is a repost because i originally posted this at the worst time ever. if you read this before, pretend it’s your first time again lmao.

you heard a light thud.

shutting off the water, you leave the unfinished soap covered dishes in the sink as you step away. drying your hands with a towel before tossing it in the sink as well. anxiety flows through your veins.

what the hell was that?

you live alone, besides your white terrier luna, in this house your parents left behind for you. you rarely invite people over due to work. the only time you do is for holidays, birthdays, or small gatherings with friends. other than that, you’re alone most of the time so hearing noises sorta freak you out.

maybe something dropped like one of your books from the bookshelf in your room. it’s an reoccurring thing. but it sounded so light for a book to drop. what else could possibly fell? was it even an object?

panic settles in your bones. glancing to your left where the living room is, you spot luna peacefully sleeping in her soft, periwinkle dog bed. of course she didn’t hear it, she’s far in doggie dreamland.

very slowly and quietly, you pull a knife out of the drawer and make your way towards the stairs. the noise came from up there. heart pumping out of your chest. blood rushing through your veins. frantic breathing due to the anxiety developing in you.

is it an intruder? a robber?

fuck. this is the last thing you wanted.

you just wanted to wash the dishes in peace before going to bed. why must this happen to you?

very slowly and steadily, you make your make upstairs. gripping onto the knife tightly, palm sweaty. your room is your first destination. as you make it up top, you can hear low grumbles from there.

fuck, there is someone here.

tightening your grip on the knife, you carefully walk towards your room. hiding behind the wall, right beside the doorframe, you turn a little to catch a sneak peek of the intruder. your eyes widen in shock.

a figure clad in a suit of vibrant red and dark blue. the fuck is that? a cosplay or something? you suddenly realize how tall the figure is. way too tall since your white dresser is literally half his size, right below his waistline. this bastard is muscular as fuck. broad back and his suit outlines each back muscle perfectly as if it’s sculpted. his shoulders also broad and thick. insane fucking biceps.

this dude is fucking ripped. he can murder you with his bare hands. probably snap you in half.

there is no way you can take this fucker down.

“este chingaletta…”

oh, he speaks spanish too? pinche cabrón.

the tall figure seems to be fiddling with something on his wrist. perhaps a watch or some sort.

inhaling a deep breath, you gain the courage to confront this intruder motherfucker. whether he’s a giant or not, he needs to get out of your house.

“get the fuck out of my house.”

the man swiftly turns around to see you standing at the door. the knife in your hand pointing at him. you witness the eyes of his odd-looking mask widening.

“hey… i’m not here to hurt you.” his voice is low and a bit musky. he slowly raises his hands in the air, a sign of surrender. “just put the knife down.”

“not a fucking chance.” you snarl with gritted teeth. “get the fuck out of my house or this knife is going straight through your fucking heart.”

a sigh escapes his lips, covered by his mask. “ay mujer… por favor, i’m not gonna hurt you.” his tone a mixture of pleading and frustration.

your eyes narrowed suspiciously. “hardly believable since you’re in my fucking house.”

he takes one step forward. “please just—“

“don’t!” you yelled.

“i’m not gonna hurt you! i’m not the bad guy here! i just accidentally teleported into your house!” he matches your voice level.

now you’re confused. “teleported? what do you mean teleported?”

another sigh from him, running a run over his masked face. “look, it’s hard to explain but trust me, it wasn’t my intention to barge into your house.”

“barge?!” you say in disbelief. “you’re invading my home! you’re a fucking intruder!”

“i’m not an intruder!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up. “at least it wasn’t my intention.”

you scoff. “pinches mentiras.” you eye him up and down. “what’s up with costume? this isn’t comic-con.” you gesture at his suit with the knife.

the man stares at you in disbelief but obviously you can’t tell because of his mask. “are you serious? you don’t know who or what i am?”

now the anger is replaced with confusion.

“what the fuck do you mean?”

“you don’t…” he quickly looks at the watch on his wrist, or what it appears to look like a watch. with a few taps, tiny holographic images pop up from it.

whoa, what the fuck? what kind of watch is that?

“that figures, you don’t have a spiderman in this universe.” he taps away the tiny images from the watch and looks back at you.

your face drops in utter confusion. “spiderman? the marvel character?”

“what? no—“ he sighs frustratingly.

“i’ve seen lots of cosplays but yours is different. cool but different. which spiderman are you supposed to be?” you lower the knife down to your side.

he blinks at you. “that’s not important. and i’m not cosplaying or whatever the hell that is—“

“well, i definitely haven’t seen that version of him. kinda badass, not gonna lie. the costume is cool.”

spiderman groans, on verge of lashing out, rubbing the temples of his forehand with a hand. “for the last time, it’s not a costume.”

you quirk a brow. “right.”

miguel rolls his eyes, growing more frustrated and irritated. “i don’t have time for this.” he grumbles, fiddling with his watch again. “chingado…” the man groans out of frustration. his gizmo isn’t working.

“having issues?” you taunt.

“cállete.” he hissed, still fiddling with his gizmo.

you snort as you walk towards him. “what kind of watch is that?” you tilt your head, staring at it curiously. it’s definitely more advanced.

“not a watch, a gizmo and i made it.”

your eyes perk up. “you made it? ooo lemme see.”

as you go try to touch it, he pulls back. “don’t.”

“oh come on, stop being ridiculous.” you try touching it again but he keeps pulling back.

“don’t touch it.” he scowls.

“sheesh, protective much?”

miguel rolls his eyes and you can definitely tell this time. “don’t you understand the concept of not touching what’s not yours?”

“i’m trying to help you, tonto.”

he scoffs. “you can’t help. you don’t understand how this works, mamona.”

now you roll your eyes this time. “fine, whatever. have fun struggling with your stupid ass watch.” you walk away, leaving the spiderman guy in your room.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

not even 10 minutes, the spiderman guy heads downstairs and joins you in the kitchen. you continue washing the dishes you abandoned earlier. as you stack up the last dish, you head footsteps approaching. turning around while drying your hands with a towel, you see him standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island.

“couldn’t get it work, huh?” you taunt, smirking.

“cállete.” he scowls.

luna awakes from her slumber, stretching out in her little bed then hopping out of it before she starts barking at spiderman.

“¡ay!” he exclaims, startled by the barking. “can you tell your dog to stop barking?!”

“nope.” you shrug, making him groan. “she barks at people wearing masks so… if you want her to stop, you know what to do.”

he mutters something before deactivating his mask. it disintegrates, revealing his identity. immediately and like mentioned, luna stops barking.

holy shit. he’s handsome as fuck.

chocolate wavy hair. eyes with hues mahogany. the sharpest cheekbones you’ve ever seen on a person, let alone a man. very, very plump lips.

“oh shit, you’re hot.” you blurt out.

miguel stares at you with wide eyes. hints of reddish pink on his cheeks, feeling warm. heart skipping a beat. “uh… thanks…?” he averts your gaze, trying to conceal his bashful face.

“damn, you’re the most attractive spiderman cosplayer i’ve ever seen.”

a groan escapes his lips, pinching the bridge of his nose with a hand. “chingado contigo… i’m not a cosplayer, i’m actually spiderman.”

you snort. “right, right.”

“is the gizmo not enough proof for you?! or the fact my mask disintegrated?!”

you ponder for a moment. sure, the watch is heavily advanced. watching his mask disintegrate is definitely a phenomenon. holy shit - is this guy really spiderman? at least a version of him?

“okay, fair points.” you awkwardly clear your throat. “so… you’re actually spiderman?”

“yes.” he shoots you an unimpressed look, clearly fed up with your oblivious attitude.

“which one?”

“2099.”

you raise a brow. “spiderman 2099? as in the year 2099?” you fold your arms over your chest.

“as unbelievable it sounds, yes.” instinctively, his eyes immediately glance down at your chest for a moment. your cleveage sticks out more with your folded arms. the cups of your nightdress hugs it perfectly. fuck, why did he look? yeah he’s a man but miguel feels like a pervert. he hopes you don’t notice.

you did but you don’t care. you don’t sense creepy vibes from him. just a dude who happens to be spiderman from the future or some shit.

“so you’re from the future?”

“technically yes but from a different universe.” miguel watched your eyes pop out in surprise. he groans internally, knowing this was coming soon.

“a different universe? what the fuck is this ‘rick and morty’ shit?” you huff.

his brows furrowed in confusion. “wha— no, listen. yes, a different universe. there are an infinite amount of universes of spider people called the arachnohumanoid polymultiverse.”

you stare at him completely dumbfounded. “that is literally the most nerdiest shit i’ve ever heard.”

miguel frowns. “well, that’s what it’s called.”

“stupid name.”

his expression falls flat. “your opinion is irrelevant.”

“it’s a fact, stupid long ass name. change it when you get back to wherever the hell you’re from.” you turn away, opening the cabinet to grab something.

“you’re annoying.” he sounds irritated.

“i am but i’m truthful.” you grab a container of conchas you recently bought. you set it on the island then head over to the coffee maker near the fridge. “quieres algo? un concha, café?”

he observes you with a dumbfounded expression. “you’re offering coffee and sweets?”

“well, you’re practically stuck here until who knows how long so…” you pour coffee in your favorite mug. “do you want coffee or not?”

miguel remains silent for a moment. taken aback by your generosity. nobody has ever treated him with such kindness or even ask him what he wants. it’s true, it’s uncertain when he’ll return to his universe. he’ll have to remain here for the time being. for some reason, he doesn’t mind staying here, with you.

“uh… si, pro favor.” he said sheepishly.

you grab another mug and pour coffee inside. once both mugs are filled, you turn around and slide his mug across the island.

“gracias.” miguel grabs the mug and brings it up to his lips. a low hum of approval as he tastes the warm, delicious liquid. normally he prefers black coffee for work but this one is acceptable.

you two talk for a while over coffee and sweets. miguel explaining the multiverse. talking about the spider society and its origins. his universe and life. everything seems so fascinating yet bizarre. apparently spiderman, or a shit ton of versions of the comic book character, actually exist. that’s a total mindfuck. part of you believes this could be a dream, hence why you pinched yourself several throughout the conversation. but, it was real. he was real.

“after all this time, you never told me your name.”

he takes a sip of his coffee then carefully placed on the counter. “miguel o’hara.”

you respond with your name, taking a sip of your coffee and a bite of your pink concha.

as the night progresses, you and miguel talk for hours. learning more about each other. miguel still finds it strange how things change drastically. he accidentally transported to a universe that has no spiderman. accidentally transported into a random woman’s house and being accused as an intruder. now having coffee and sweets with the woman he just met, having a genuine conversation.

part of him is still concern about how or when he’ll return to his universe. if his gizmo will ever be fixed and work properly again. but considering the environment he’s in, warm and cozy, miguel isn’t in a rush. in fact, he enjoys your company. it’s been a while since he actually sat down and had a genuine conversation with someone. back in his universe, he doesn’t have anyone. but in this universe, he does.

and he likes that.

maybe being stuck here won’t be so bad.

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[millerscoffee]

reader lives in jackson and is friends with tommy, so she sees joel relatively frequently, and they just DONT get along. the reader is young and she’s got a sharp tongue and cheek that irritates the shit out of joel, who shoots back just as much condescending insults. they literally can’t be in a room without getting into it. however, the reader does it for his attention (she’s got daddy issues), and joel doesn’t catch onto this until she’s knocking on his door at midnight because she can’t sleep and she needs him and she doesn’t know how to admit it. he pulls her in the house and absolute filth ensues. he makes her blow him and then they fuck. joel is smug and condescending the whole time, and reader just becomes a ragdoll. Size kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie/breeding, the works PLEASE

you got it, anon! ✨ this was requested on @atticrissfinch's page too, go check it out! i love how the same request can elicit two different stories. i did my best not to read it before i finished this (it was as difficult as it sounds cos HOO BOI 😅🥵♡)

only daddy that'll walk the line

6.2k | joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: big mean dom!joel™️ lmao, alcoholism (reader's dad, but also drunk!joel for a second - **this is not in the smutty scenes**), parental abuse (verbal, it is brief), smut, age difference (joel is 56, reader is 18-early 20s - your choice), size kink, dirty talk (joel's a talker more than his usual grunty self), name calling (bitch, brat, slut, etc.), light praise kink & like- two pet names, ✨ degrading language and acts ✨, edging, choking/gagging, hair pulling, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, spitting kink!!!, spanking, oral (m receiving), no prepping the reader, brat tamer!joel, bratty reader, if i missed anything lmk

summary: based in jackson, you have the unfortunate predicament of being friends with tommy miller and hating his brother, joel – and you have no problem in letting either of them know that! until one night you are brought to joel's doorstep.

A/N: this is my first request! thank you! huzzah!! hopefully it's to your liking, nonnie. he's big mean dom!joel™️ but with a conscience yknow?? enjoy ♡ i did proofread this, but i wrote it over the course of a couple weeks. i did my best! lol

"Dude, what's his fucking problem!?"  You roll into the dining hall in a huff.  Shuffling to your seat for dinner, you slam your tray down and Maria gives you a combined look of worry and irritation at peace being compromised.

"Who, honey?"  Tommy asks, handing you a glass of water with an entertained grin because he's positive he knows just who you're talking about.

He'd seen the two of you go at each other's throats earlier in the day when you were trying to get by him on your way out the door.  His back was to you, and he all but ignored your request to get out of the way.  Causing you to shove past him, which ensued an argument between the two of you.  Which led you to both of you gunning each other with your words until you both left in a bad mood.

Joel had his back to you, his frame fully in the doorway as he spoke with a woman in town.  It started off slow: a few clearings of your throat, a slight nudge of his back.  No avail.

"Excuse me," you shouted, pushing at him again before he finally turned around quickly with his jaw ticked.

"Do you have any manners, Christ."  He said dry and muttered under his breath, but the lady made room for you and you nodded politely in her direction.

"Maybe if you weren't so fucking old, you could've heard me!"

"And watch your fuckin' mouth."

Joel turned his back to you, not giving you a moment to retort.  Conversation over. 

"This fucker," when you look up, you see Joel coming towards the table.  The sight of him gives you a set of shivers you can't explain.  Not complete disgust, but certainly not excitement.

"You really oughta keep better company," Joel tells his brother, sitting down beside him, he frames his entire body towards Tommy so he's sitting in a way to make you feel ignored.

"I'm right here, you know."  Your head is moving so you're in the line of his vision.

"Don't remind me.  Listen, this is a family dinner.  Go find your own."

A slap in the face would've hurt less.  Before Tommy or Maria had the chance to come to your defences – both of their mouths open ready to take up for you – you stood up, shoving your tray over to Joel.  So loud, other people turn their gaze to the four of you.

"Fuckin– eat up, then."

As you storm off to your house, you hear Tommy scold his older brother but you don't look back.

---

The next morning, your father wakes you up to the sound of his own yelling for you to come downstairs.  You'd been helping out Maria and Tommy to get your own place, or at least a shared one with people your age and to hear your dad's voice; whiskey-soaked and cruel, makes your stomach churn.

After slipping on your clothes for the day, you make it to the kitchen where he's sitting at the table and reeking from alcohol even from where you're standing.

"Didn't you hear me call you?"  His words were slurred and angry.

"Yes, I'm sorry."  It's such a difference from how you talk to other people, talk to Joel, for example.  Maybe because he's the last person you spoke to, but he's the first one who pops into your head during this interaction.  You sound meek, scared to say something wrong.  A stark difference from how you speak to Joel – abandoning all worries of punishment.  Almost like you wanted that from him.

"Fuckinbetterbe – hiccup – breakfast.  Now."  Your dad all but snaps his fingers and rage creeps up the back of your throat, biting your tongue so hard you break the surface layer.  A slight streak of blood coats your mouth, but you do as you're told.

This morning is kinder than others.  Your dad did not say thank you for the pancakes, you didn't get hit or debased too much.  You consider it a win.  Once you leave your house as soon as you can, Joel's chest hits your face as soon as you turn the corner.  The milliseconds seem long when you're met with the warmth and solidity of his chest, the scent of cedar and... whiskey?  It seemed too early, even for him, to be drinking and you shake off the unreasonable rationale that he should be treated differently than your father for the same behaviour.

You ignore the similarities of him and your father all together, actually.

"Watch where you're goin'," Joel's brows are knit together, which is normal for him, but you've never been this close to see his lips from this angle above you.  You almost say something out of the ordinary for the two of you, but you reel it in quickly.

"You're one to fuckin' talk.  Morning coffee smells a lot like alcohol.  Maybe I should tell Tommy about your habits."

"Does it ever hurt your head bein' a bitch all the time?"

"Not as bad as that hangover will be around noon.  Move."

You push past the large build in front of you with a clenched jaw, unable to be around him a second longer.  "Fuck you, Joel," you mutter for good measure on your way to Tommy and Maria's.

They'd given you safety on days when it seemed scarce, and showing up felt appropriate.  You were a little closer with Tommy than Maria.  He was able to listen to you without being too judgy, and you needed that.  The lack of safety piece was a lot like how your day started off.  You walk around to the back where Tommy's working on a new hobby and you sit in front of him, letting out a big sigh.

"Y'daddy givin' you trouble again?"

Typically when Tommy asks about your father he says it like this, but today it catches you off guard.  Confusion twists your mind, but you nod distractedly.  "Yea, he was drunk this morning.  Your brother, too."

You slide that one in fast.

Tommy fists through his hair, letting out a heavy exhale.  "Shit.  We both got trouble this mornin', I guess."

"Seems like it."

You're unusually quiet, looking at the ground more than anything.  It bugs you that Joel and your father have a similar quality to them.  That they both are up reaching for the bottle, but for Joel it's not a common occurrence and that makes you worried – an emotion you don't have for him that often, if you're being honest.  You don't think about his experiences that often.  But this is the first time, really, you've even seen Joel drunk like that.  You remember Tommy mentioning that he'd given up the stuff since Sarah's passing when everyone was around a fire one night sharing stories.

As if the dots connect in real time, you look over to Tommy who looks worried sick.

"He'll figure it out,"  you reassure, chewing the inside of your cheek before heading out.  You call behind you, "I'll be around."

You've never really been good at the whole 'being there for someone' thing.

~~

Later on, you find yourself in the mess hall again for the night's dinner and you catch Maria, Tommy, Joel, and Ellie all together and it feels weird to sit with them.  They're all laughing, Joel looks sobered up.  And it seems that Tommy didn't bring up the conversation the two of you shared.  They look like a happy family and twists a knot in your throat and the proverbial knife at your side.

"Can I please spend the night at Tommy and Maria's?  Please?"  Ellie is looking over at Joel with the sweetest expression, you snicker to yourself at how menacing she actually was.  It seemed to do the trick, though.  Joel's eyes flicker over to you, and it feels like you're being caught for something.  The look is inculpatory without you doing anything.  As if to say you are witnessing something too personal, a side of him not meant for you.  "Yeah, sure," his response to Ellie sounds distant.

This gives you no choice but to walk up to the scene, to sit down beside Maria.  She gives you a welcoming grin and makes space for you.  "What'd I miss?"  You look over to Ellie who's excited to see you, but Joel?  Not so much.  His eyebrows narrow down his face, suddenly more quiet than usual, even for him.  You set your sights back on Ellie who's telling you all of the cool things she's gonna do at her Uncle Tommy's and you flash a smile that lets her know you're listening.  Or at least trying.  It's hard when Joel isn't even initiating the usual conflict with each other.  More arguing than speaking.  And the fact it wasn't happening was off.

"That sounds like a blast...," you trail off, your chin in your hands.

"If you're not gonna listen to her, don't ask her questions."  Joel barks, eyes now solemnly black in your direction.  It makes you scared and delighted at once.  Like he was back to normal.  Your normal.

"I was listening to her?"  You retort, and everyone's quiet now.  Awkwardness filling the air as the two of you battle it out.  "Maybe if you weren't so drunk all the time you'd know the differen–"  "Hey, now."  Tommy chimes in, giving you a stern look of disapproval and you feel bad.  Reflective.  Joel wasn't drunk all the time, and you knew exactly why he was this morning.

You exhale, "I'm sorry," you nod in the direction of everyone but Joel and stand up from your seat, "enjoy your family time."

On your way back to your house, you catch a glimpse of a group of people your age.  People you'd grown up with, but they didn't acknowledge you and it digs the wound closer in.  You truly felt alone.  Like nothing fit, and maybe you didn't belong in Jackson but it wasn't like there were many choices to go to.

---

More times than not you sneak into your room.  Not because you are past a type of curfew, you were an adult.  It was more, you didn't want your dad to know you were around.  Your door was locked when you climbed in through the window.

You got comfortable, spilling out of your clothes for the day and into your pajamas.  Cotton shorts and a loose tee.  Your breasts perky and nipples taut from the worn fabric.  A lot of the day was spent dealing with heavy subjects that you just wanted to let your mind escape.

Staring at the ceiling in your bed, your eyes become blurry in need of sleep.  Needing release.  Anything.

Your mind wanders to why Joel was so quiet with you when you sat down.  It wasn't like that was the first time the two of you had a shouting match in front of everyone, but this felt different.  You deduce it to Joel having an off day and let your mind wander somewhere else.

Or, at least you try.

Because when your hands explore your body under the blankets, Joel comes back to life in your thoughts.  You come back to the warmth of his chest when you ran into him this morning, the grunt that left him from impact.  What that would sound like against your ear.  Before you know it, you're shifting your thighs together, spreading the mess of your cunt.  A craving ignites your bloodstream.

It's slick between your legs when you sit up, and you're full of determination unbeknownst of where it's coming from.  The act itself is a little heady, but you have nothing to lose so why not?

Slipping on a pair of shoes and a jacket that covers your clothes, you turn your back to the window and scurry down until you're able to jump off onto the grass.  One step close to where you want to be.

Joel's house is across the street which makes it easy to get to, but aggravating when you want a sense of peace.  He's always around, shooting you a menacing stare when you're not down each other's throats but there's an ache you can't deny.  A compulsion.

You knock on his door twice before he swings it open almost like he saw you approach, but he doesn't tug you inside like you thought he was.  Doesn't make you get on your knees or fulfill any fantasy of being used.  Of... making him proud.

"What?"  His question is dry and a part of you is crushed. He isn't taking advantage of the way your legs look in your shorts right away.

"You're not the only one who had a bad fucking day," you start, but he doesn't give you a moment to push through the door because before you know it you're being pulled inside.  The sound of a slamming door somewhere behind you.  You're forced to look at him with his paw wrapped around your jaw, thumb tilting your chin up effortlessly.  It locks you in place.

"You came here.  Why?  Y'want me to fuck your bad day away?"

You gape is panicked, eyes wide now in this compromising position.  You can't think, you can't nod or say words.  You just stare.

"She's real fuckin' quiet now," Joel shoves you against the closed door, not letting an inch of space be wasted and he takes your wrist with his free hand, palming you over his hardening cock in his jeans.  "How about now.  You payin' close attention?"

You whimper, nodding softly as your fingers massage and rub, tug at anything you can through the fabric.

"Did I tell you y'could do that?"  His words make you pause, shivering at how truly empty your mind is in the moment.  Even in your inexperience you don't know you've ever felt so instantly timid.  Joel makes you fold at the first hint of misbehaviour.  You can't think of a thing to say.  Halfway don't know why you're here in the first place, and he's got you so wet from this it almost hurts.  Stickiness coats your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and you're sure it will be obvious even through your cotton shorts.

You shake your head, and he's sick of you not speaking to him.  Squeezes your face tighter, "Use your fucking words."

"No... no you didn't," you manage and you've never heard yourself sound so pathetic.

"I didn't, that's right.  You answer to me."  The snapping sound of his words causes your eyes to roll in annoyance.  He doesn't own you, he never fucking could.  The action makes his jaw tighten, his hand from your jaw in a grip that didn't hurt now is wrapped around your throat and although it's not tight, it certainly isn't loose.  "What the fuck was that?"

You're back to being silent, unable to do anything but take.

"Not asking again."

"I rolled my ey–"

"You rolled your eyes.  Roll your fuckin' eyes at me again, little girl.  You'll regret it."

A cool threat, you think.  Meaningless, even.  What possible reproach would he have anyway?

It's then you take in the house.  You'd been here once before to stay with Ellie.  It's dark, a single lamp upstairs.  All of this is background noise to the drone of your need prickling your youthful skin.  It's apparent, your age difference, when you're this close.  His rough fingers, wrinkles catching the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

"I–I'm sorry," you've been saying that a lot lately.

"Don't apologise to me.  Don't say sorry when I know you're not."  His thumb moves from your chin to your lips, thumbing over just how pliable and soft they are and it sends your nerves to the surface.  Prying your lips apart, he presses inside and you willingly wrap your lips around it to lap the pad of his digit.  "Look at that sweet thing," he says, more at you than to you, and your neck flushes being this willing to suck for him, "so easy for me to use.  I put my thumb to y'er lips and you just took it right in, didn't ya?"  The taste of his skin robs you of any other sense, his tone making you all but fold.

"Show me what this mouth is good for, 'cuz it sure ain't good at a sincere apology."

Before you know it, you're on your knees.  Joel is kind enough that he ushers you down onto the hardwood floor and you can't believe you're face to face with his crotch in front of his door, no less.

"You couldn't wait to take me to your bedroom?"

Joel doesn't reply straight away.  Instead you hear the clanking of metal, a zipper coming undone, and the slap of his cock hitting his abdomen on the way out of his pants.  You take mental note that he hasn't been asleep by his attire, but it's all for nothing when your eyes make out the shapes in the dim light.  You choke when you see just how big he is.

He tuts, leaning his head condescendingly as he takes a chunk of your hair in his palm to tilt your chin up to greet his cock.  "Aw, you think you're goin' t'my room?"  The words make you feel naïve, the one or two times you've done something like this didn't have nearly as much... compromise.  And you certainly didn't hook up with someone twice your age.  You don't have time to be self-conscious because the head of him, the leaky head of him, is tapping against your lips and your eyes roll back as you open your mouth for him.  After jumping slightly in surprise, of course.

He sighs in relief with a deigned smile, pushing his hips further.  "Fuck.  You hear that?  Nothing!  Sounds so fuckin' good, shuttin' you up."

But it's not entirely nothing, is it?  Not with your gagging, slurping up what you can but you don't know what you're doing all the way and fumbling through half of it.  Doesn't seem to faze him much.

It's obscene as it feels, him using you like this – and you don't feel an ounce of guilt when it's exactly what you want.  The switch flips on why you came to his door in the first place.  His big thumb swipes over the corner of your full mouth, "You like that, dontcha, filthy thing?"

And you hated how right he was.  You wanted to scream, kick him.  Retaliate in a way so you could still be in this submission at the same time.

Your mouth was full by the earthy taste of him, obliterating whatever feelings you had about the day.  A bad mood that he had contributions in, but it's melting from the constant thrust of his hips.  And he's keeping your head locked in place, hand gripped in the strands so you can feel your spit mingling with the underside of his cock.  Honestly, every part of his dick is covered in your spit.  It spills down your chin, threatens up your nose when you gag, leaves your eyes to water when you look up at him in a dire need to breathe fully, but he's not done with you.

Not until the loudest, lewdest pop from your mouth you've ever heard does Joel break contact completely.  Steps back until you're being observed in a patronising way.  Your gone expression.  All saliva and tears and his precum smeared over your mouth.  You can barely bring yourself to look up, but his demands seem to do the trick.

Snapping his fingers at you to get your attention, you swallow hard.  "Nuh uh.  You're not gonna get all soft on me, girl.  Wake the fuck up."

Which would be simple if he wasn't practically dragging you by your hair, making you crawl on your hands and knees until you're on your feet and you're shoved onto his couch.

All that and you're still dressed.

"Off," he's barking commands like you're a trainable being and if you were in any other state, you may reconsider this whole ordeal, but when he pushed you onto the couch your legs spread just enough for him to see the wetness smearing the cotton at the apex of your thighs and that amuses him. "not good at hidin' how much of a slut y'are."

"You think it's just you that does this to me?" You find your voice again, hoisting yourself up to sit on his couch as his cock – thick and proud – sways against the fabric caught between it.  Your tongue presses to your cheek when you make eye contact, "You're kidding yourself."

The venom drips so fluidly from your tongue, Joel doesn't make a sound.  Just peels off his clothes until he's standing there naked in his house, giving you living proof that you are kidding yourself.

The silence speaks for itself.  He is pure smug under the sight of your drooling gaze.

"It's real cute that you think y'got control over the situation n'all," the weight shifting on this couch from the cushion shaping around his knee.  Joel sits down, taking you by the scalp again to cloak you over his lap stomach-first, and you yelp in surprise when he does all of this and tugs your shorts down in one fell swoop.

With your hair in his fist, his other hand ghosts over your ass in effort to make sure you squirm for him before administering a devilishly loud spank to your ass.  "But somebody better teach you better manners.  Sure as shit itn’t your father."

You crack out a sob at that– from the contact and the truth.  You couldn't retort, you were too busy getting slap after slap against your increasingly worn ass to think about anything else.  "Lucky I ain't making y'count.  You'd have this for eternity now."

Not that it mattered anyway.  He's leaving mark after mark of his large handprint across your cheeks, probably ten more if you could even focus on anything else but finding the words to stop him.

"Please– y-you're right," tears stain your face as you bury your face in your arms.  Flinching when Joel moves, you expect another searing punishment, but instead he pulls your ass apart and you gasp at the cool air striking your cunt that's hot and wet for him.  "Joel!"

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, wet from gettin’ punished.  I talked so bad about you, and you liked it?  You’re as desperate as I thought.  Only good for gettin’ my cock wet.”  And it’s like a lever is pulled when your slutty little smile plasters over your face with him out of view.  Not that you had much time to gloat, or to experience the pleasure of living in your own fantasy because Joel’s got you pulled again.  His thick thighs spread apart when he maneuvers you so willingly to sit between his legs.  Right where he wants you.  Right where you can feel the throbbing pulse at your folds.  He tells you to take off the rest of your clothes and you would be a fool to do otherwise.

“Bad girls don’t get the luxury of bein’ opened,” that Texan drawl slips over your ear when he holds the base of his cock, slicking himself through your folds, you gasp and wriggle against him – his grip tightening harder.  Silently warning you if you make another move it’s over, you’re done.  It’s over.  All the while the searing stretch of him causes your cunt to flutter and clench around him.  It’s too much, too overwhelming, and he won’t let you adjust long enough.  “You’ll get over it,” but it’s not reassuring.  He still sounds in control despite his laboured breathing and when he can, he moves his hands to grip your hips and guide you down on him.  You scream, a knee jerk response wriggle away from him, but this position doesn’t quite allow for that.

“Be a good girl.”

That folds you, quite literally, as he moves his hips down to pound up into yours, using you like his own toy to get himself off with.  And it’s just the incredible sounds of your squelching cunt and his balls tapping against your folds.  The fucking isn’t frantic, but it certainly isn’t soft.  He’s rough with you, a hand traveling up your back to grip your hair so your neck is back in place and he lifts you upright so your back is curved, neck craned so if you tried, you could make him out – upside down.  “Poor thing couldn’t help it, had to get a daddy to take care of her.  You want that, kitten?  Wanna be used and as daddy’s little fucktoy – only good for makin’ me cum?”  his hand sneaks around to the front of you with his free hand, he presses and digs into your pubic bone to make you feel exactly where he is.  “Put a baby right here.  Make everyone know what you fuckin’ did.”

You whine, eyes rolling back at the thought.  It was so obscene, nothing like you’d ever even heard of before.  Where did he fucking learn how to talk like this?  Your brain is swimming while your sticky sweetness coats his lap, clawing at his thighs for any sort of stability, but it was dizzying how he had you.  How his grunts filled the air in between slaps like he had your hips placed at the perfect angle for him to work you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”  His gritting teeth by the shell of your ear, he keeps you secure within your hair to snake his arm around the front of you tugging and rolling at the sensitive nubs of your nipples.  When he feels you appear to drift off, those rough hands supply another smack, but to your tits this time, your fingernails clawing into his thighs involuntarily as you squeal in surprise.  You tighten at that, fluttering around his cock and you feel it at the edge.  So close you can almost taste it.

But he knows you’re close, too, and there’s no way in hell he’s giving that to you.  Not when you’ve barged into his house like this, not when you’ve done nothing but be an insufferable brat to him since the moment he came to Jackson.

Joel hovers you over his lap, and your heels dig into the floorboard.  His hips still, keeping the very tip of his cock inside of you – you feel panic flash over your body.  “No,” it’s the first word you’ve uttered in god knows how long and it sounds desperate.  Any hope of getting an orgasm swirls down the drain, and it’s set in stone when he pushes you on your back – the lumpy couch digging into your skin.  “No, no, please.  Why!”

His eyes could burn a hole through you.  Like a hungry dog, his body hovers – shoulders stooped, head down when he pours his gaze into you.  And he likes what he sees.  Legs open and begging, willing to do anything to get him back into you.  Your cunt glistening, even in the dull light and he can tell it’s pulsing.  “Poor thing’s clampin’ around nothin’,” he teases, grunting when his knees meet the couch cushions – another tell of his age.  But you, you’re too preoccupied in taming the ache between your legs to comment.  It burns, coming back to a fixed state you realise how stretched out you were and it’s more than overwhelming.  To know you haven’t been used to completion, all hope draining from your face.

“Joel,” your breath is shaky underneath him, pupils blown and wet when you make out his features, “Joel, please.  Please, I want this.”

“Darlin’, I know you want it.  Everybody in town knows you want it,” his words make you sob a whine as they approach closer to your neck, the delicate graze of his beard dances at your pulsepoint and you shudder.  Hips raise and he’s quick to slam them back down into place.  “If you want me, ‘Joel’ ain’t whatchu say to get me.”

And if you felt hopeless before, you really do now.  Unable to do anything but debase yourself for your own pleasure.  You’d heard it earlier, the way he referred to himself with a name that brought up mixed feelings at Tommy’s.  You swallow down embarrassment, looking him in the eyes – which were faded obsidian, your fingernails dig into your own thighs as if to brace for what’s tempting to slip out of your throat.

You hated that he made you nervous.

And you hated the hold he had over you.

But he had it, there was no doubt about it.  He had it.  He had you.

Your jaw ticks forward, fully aware of your clit screaming for attention and exhale shakily.  “Please, daddy.  Please, I want this.”

“Eh,” Joel muses, shaking his head, “I don’t believe ya.  Really gotta hear the desperation in your voice.  Maybe if I,” his hand reaches for his cock, slapping the sloppy head of it against your folds and that– that sends you.  Takes you to a different destination entirely because for the first time all night there’s attention to that bundle of nerves, and he knows it.  He knows you need this in order to give everything over to him in full.  “Daddy!” you screech, pelvis jutting up in full inclination and without a single word, Joel’s cock spears into you all the way to the hilt.  All the way to your cervix.

His hands, emitting heat and wrapped largely around your hips, locks you where he wants you like some animal in heat.  It forces you to bring your legs up into a position you aren’t sure you’ve ever been in – thighs against your stomach, by your sides.  It’s so, “deep,” you whimper, head rocking as your mouth flies open and he’s delivering you thrust after thrust of pleasure so wrecking no noise comes from you.

“Is that what you needed? Fuckin' brat,”  Joel is still able to tease, but even he isn’t immune to how tight you are around him.  Your fluttering core begging for release as it moves in and out around him – as if it’s doing its own begging.  “You wanna be filled up to the brim with my cum, babygirl?  Needy fucking cunt like you only good for matin’ like this.”  Your skin burns at his words, your body convulsing as you do your best to keep it together.

That’s when Joel’s hand wraps around your throat, a line of spit falling into your mouth and you willingly drink from him.  “You hold off, you ain’t gettin’ it tonight,” you pout for a moment, not fully understanding what he means by that, but he clarifies when his hips get sharper, more precise.  As if his cock is hooked inside of you, not letting a drip of precum spill out of you against your cervix.  “Y’ain’t cummin’, but I am.”

His grip around your throat gets harder, and you swear you can see every vein in his face rise to the surface when he uses you.  You’re limp, all thoughts washed away – his cock thick and long, you aren’t even sure how he fits it all inside of you but he does.  The edge of your stomach bulges as he works you, his neck cranes back to expose his neck and it’s too much to take. For both of you.  His hot cum ropes cords inside of you, sticking to your walls.  Filling you up is an understatement with how much he has to give you.  It’s as if you can discern the moment his seed grazes your cervix in its sticky texture.  Your head is swimming at the sound of your animalistic grunts, he looks so… fucking hot like this.  His name is replaced with ‘daddy’ more easily than you care to admit.  You do try not to chase your orgasm… a part of you does, anyway.

But you’re defiant.

You can take yourself there without him telling you to, and in fact the opportunity to disobey him is just what you need to send yourself creaming all over his cock.  You gasp, eyes wide before they roll back and you’re fucking yourself on his spent cock that somehow still has life to it.  Even for his age, he can still keep it hard for you after his seed coats your insides.  “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” becomes part of your breath, and you’re shocked he doesn’t pull out of you even though his hips are still.  You don’t notice it until you come down considering you’re using him.  Did he say you could do that?  As if you’re woken up by an alarm, you jerk at the sensation of the orgasm you snuck.  Without his permission.  You look up, and his knuckles are bleached around your hips.  He looks so menacing like this, scary.  You shake your head, swallowing hard in your attempt to fix things.

But it’s too late for you.  You’re a brat at the end of the day, and he has to train you.  Make you realise the error of your ways.

His cock is still buried deep when his middle finger plays where the two of you connect.  A whine escapes you, shivering now, not quite sure what he’s going to do.  He’s lethally quiet, you aren’t sure how to react.  He’s contemplating what to do to you, he’s not met someone who’s as menacing as he is.  As unwilling to give away freedom.  Not since… his nostrils flare as he inhales.

“I told you not to do that,” Joel stating the obvious makes you clear your throat, his cock twitching inside you in the aftershocks sends your teeth to bite down on your lip and you shake your head, “I c- I couldn’t help it!” You lie, and he knows it.  Compels him to prod that middle finger just above his cock inside you and the stretch is too much.  When you reach out for his forearm, his other hand darkens over your wrist, pinning it back in a way that hurts.  You wince in tandem with it and his monstrous hook of the digit inside you.  You’re so full, “It’s too-it’s too much!” you tap at anything you can, but he’s not listening.

Instead, the pad of his finger has no problem in touching that spongy bit inside of you – especially since your cunt is stretched from his cock and he can see it.  His cum tempts to pool out of you, but he shoves it back in, working his finger inside you repeatedly but he’s just rubbing.  He’s just rolling his finger against your g-spot until you feel so overstimulated it brings more pain than pleasure.  “Came like you knew what you were doin’,” he finally remarks, thumb rolling over your clit and you can’t take it.  “Please, pl– it’s too much!  Daddy!”  That rhythm is sly, though, in making you come undone.  Again and again.  As you’re on the peak of what would be an explosive orgasm, Joel pulls out of you entirely.  His cock, his finger.  His warmth is a distant memory when he stands up, palming over his cock.  How did he get hard again?!  He would deal with that on his own time.

Your moan is choked out, thighs pressing together for any sort of… something.  A release, a grind.  You’re left panting and begging, your tits perky and heaving for him.

“What did I say, little girl?”  He climbs into his clothes, one button up at a time with his flannel.  “You won’t be cumming for a week with that fuckin’ attitude.”

You’re so lost in chasing a feeling, soon to disappear as it could arrive that all you can do is whimper and nod.  “I’m so–” his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.  Spit covers your face, and you hum like a kitten at the feeling of his hot saliva down your cheek, “What did I fucking say about apologisin’ when you’re not sorry?”

You wipe your face, sucking the spit off your thumb with a satisfied smirk.  “Fuckin’ loved it, daddy.”

He swallows then, his head shaking in disbelief over how much of a filthy bitch you are.  “Yeah, yeah you fuckin’ did.  Belong to me now, you understand?  Gonna let everybody know what a slut you are for this cock.”

And you would be lying if you didn’t experience a swell of pride in those words.  You’d be down each other’s throats again in no time, but the look of ownership that adorns his face over you is too much not to bask in.

“A week?”  You study him, eyes wet and round, look up at him and you see his cheek twitch in response.

“Gonna be two if you keep it up.”

You let out a faint sigh, resting your head back on the armrest.  “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he coos, leaning down to press his lips at the shell of your ear.  Fingers tucking his cum back in your hole.  He relishes in how hot you feel under his fingers.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

taglist: @cool-iguana - dm to be added!

[jazjelspen]

scarlet and silver lining (part 1)

(alastor w/ daughter reader)

(fem reader/notproofread!/apologies for anything ooc qwq/apologies for the pacing as well!!!! It’s 1AM LMAO—)

[chapter 1]

Sure, you didn’t actually want to redeem yourself.

Personally, you knew you were in the right place and were meant to be in this spot in the afterlife. You weren’t bloodthirsty and power hungry like the rest of the monsters down here but your sins were from your reckless decisions and you knew you couldn’t take it back.

So in turn, you didn’t truly trust the princess’s claims and theories.

But here you were, in her hotel through her doorstep. Dragging you along by your wrist being gentle but also filled with such excitement that she might’ve tugged a bit too hard for your preference.

As she led you to introduce yourself to the other residents and staff, you couldn’t help but wonder why exactly you let yourself get into this predicament.

Then again, you didn’t really have a choice.

_______________________________

Your hands stopped from fixing your hair, you had been stunned from preparing yourself for the next twenty minutes you’d be on air. Your face contorting while your eyes stared dead at your reflection at the mirror decorated with bright little light bulbs all around it’s frame as they shined their lights on you. Your hands shaking slightly and barley starting to sweat.

Why exactly were you shocked? Your boss.

“See here ____, what I need you to do is to simply get in through inside the princess’s little hotel and spy for me for a few weeks here and there! Document everything for me, whichever way you can. “

Vox, your boss, was ordering you on a new mission for you to do. He wouldn’t have you do these kinds of things regularly unless he needed some kind of spy or a pretty face for a segment of his show to get more ratings or as a distraction of sorts. Although lately he’s been sounding more aggravated, annoyed—dying to get what he wants. He was facing the set his crew were preparing as they fixed a few lights, checked if the cameras were functioning, etc.

It was good that he was facing that way and you the other, for if he saw your look of shock and slight fear spreading across your face like a disease he would probably question you like some kind of unruly detective for it.

But why wouldn’t you react this way? After all, he was asking you to spy and be around your father. The man you were ashamed of being connected to. He didn’t know this— he didn’t have to know this. For you knew Vox would simply use and wear you out as a pawn, overwork you, maybe torture you and hurt you to get specific answers.

He wasn’t afraid of doing anything to get what he wants anyway.

“Tape recorder, journal, write it on some fucking menstrual pad I don’t fucking care. I simply need to know what that fucker is thinking of doing next with Lucifer’s daughter now on his fucking shoulder.”

He snapped, static overtaking his voice at the end of his sentences. Clearly absolutely finished with this entire situation especially since for all you knew the last time someone tried to sneak in for him they were caught in the matter of a day, and if you didn’t have a direct connection to Vox he would’ve sent you first.. but now you were one of his only options until he really got frustrated.

“Oh but do this for me and you’ll get your own little studio! Your own show! Be your own boss, have your own crew.. you get the idea. All financially supported by me! Oh and you even get to live by yourself.. although—

I still own you. Get that. But you get your little artistic freedom huh sweetheart? What do you say? Do this little favor for me? If you don’t I’ll simply.. kill you.

Or throw you in the streets. Depending on how badly you fuck up you’ll get either one of the two! You’ll die either way.”

You were left a bit shocked, the immense dump of information overwhelming you so. “I—I—“

“Good.” He cut you off.. geez. “You start in two days, two days to get what you need and to at least plan how you’ll keep me updated. And remember, you give me all the information either throughout your stay there or you spit it all out when I need you to still be here on the job.” He fixed his bow tie walking towards the set to start the broadcast, a strong frown decorating his screen before hiding his stress with a cocky smile for the cameras.

You looked at your reflection with a grim look on your face, heart sinking and a shaky sigh escaped.

You didn’t want to see him again. You couldn’t.. you— wouldn’t.

But you needed to do it whether you liked it or not. You knew this.

Survive, get a few more perks and bonuses that would very much make you live your afterlife a bit more comfortably.

It’s just gonna be a month right?— Fuck.. Vox didn’t specify how long simply just… a few weeks. Most likely he just wants you to be there as long as you could.

Keep your life, get a better job, better home home, stay protected. That’s what you’ve been focusing for all these years—

Why stop now.

____________________________________

Dragged by the princess you were stopped in front of a group of sinners, your other hand almost losing its grip on your suitcase but managed to catch it by the tips of your fingers. The sweat from the anxiety that was accumulating while on your way here.

It weirded you out a bit that Charlie didn’t react to your drenched hand. maybe she was too overwhelmed with emotions as well to notice?…

Charlie set you in front of a pink spider, someone you knew all too well from the constant advertisements, short interactions with him, and Valentino’s undying yapping, Angel Dust.

“Angel, meet ____, _____ meet Angel!! She’s going to stay here for a chance at redemptiooon!! How amazing!” Her excitement was pouring out like thunder and lightening, just simply uncontainable.

The pink soul darted its eyes at you with a sense of familiarity. You knew being a known figure would be a bit of a challenge but god— you really wanted that place to yourself.

“Heyy.. Angel..” you waved a little sheepishly, knowing how awkward this feels for you at least.

Angel eyed you a bit intensely, but you knew deep down he sorta understood why you’d be here as well— at least not knowing that Vox himself sent you here—maybe he thinks that your presence is due to the same reason he’s away from Valentino. Needing an escape from your abusers and bosses was something he understood all too well.

“Hiya cutie, didn’t expect to see you here of all places.” He smirked as he waved back at you but in a more confident and laid back way than you did.

Charlie paused at his words, “Oh? You two know eachother?—“

“Oh.. I know this adorable face anywhere!” Angel exclaimed proudly with one of his arms reaching over to squish one of your cheeks playfully, you laughing a bit due to the slight awkwardness of the situation but also because he was one of the very few people you never had issues with despite how much you guys never really talked much.

“She’s a real darling, hard worker and all. Although.. didn’t think your boss was that bad as to make you want to run in here of all places..”

“I was about to say— aren’t you that chick that is on TV for that one overlord’s show or somethin’…” a low and almost growly voice spoke from slightly farther away.

Looking towards that particular direction you are met with a cat-like person, a furry soul with fluffy ears and a seemingly insatiable thirst for alcohol the way he drank down a large bottle of cheap booze like water.

Your shoulders raised up a bit in embarrassment, smiling as a way to cover up your nervousness that was already slipping.

“Didn’t we also literally catch Pentious trying to work for him literally not that long ago?.. At this point they aren’t even trying to hide it by sending her here.” Spoke another, this time a more serious female voice descended from a mature woman with long silver hair and an ‘X’ over her eye that resembled those of the exorcists.. huh.

You shook your hands together a bit as you tried to defend yourself in a way, not wanting to be caught this easily “Oh nonono!.. I’m not here because my boss sent me I— I just..—“

“Yknow what Vagina,” Angel interrupted you to glare at the woman that spoke “If you knew anything about how the V’s treat their employees you wouldn’t blame her and I for wanting to be away from them and anything work related.. got it toots?”

Your heart warmed slightly but also let out a huge sigh of relief. Maybe that wasn’t the real reason why you were here but you were glad to know that Angel was someone you could relate the most due to your very similar situations.

“Yea Vaggie! Let’s give her a chance! If Angel knows her and if we make sure she’s here for reals then she’s a perfect second official resident!!”

The girl, now named Vaggie by Charlie, rolls her eyes as she lets out a sigh. “Can we at least check if she has no electronics on her. If this turns out to be another Pentious I will not hesitate this time.”

A single glare from her one eye piercing you with a sharp and merciless spike. Making you feel even more nervous and unwelcomed but.. you knew you had to just keep going..

“Oh Vaggie no need to be so rude to our new guest! We can do those checks later! Right now it’s introduction time!!” She exclaimed almost jumping up a down, a bit too joyous for your liking.

Angel noticed this and side eyed you while whispering a cheeky comment to you “Ms. Rainbow pants here may be a bit much but you’ll get used to it sweetcheeks.” He said, with a tone more sounding of an older brother of sorts.

You smiled a bit at him but then looked away to try to relax, not excited to be ‘introduced’ to someone you knew was in the far.. far corner of it all.

“Oh and this is Vaggie! My girlfriend and manager of this establishment! If you have any issues or concerns you may check in with her, she’s a-ma-zing!” Despite making her sound helpful and less.. terrifying. You couldn’t help but still feel rather intimidated.

Vaggie continued to glare at you with a clear distrust in you. You just waved at her shyly as well, trying to at least not seem as dangerous as she may think you are.

Until Charlie once again dragged you to four other figures, the fourth one a bit behind the first three. “And this is Husk the bartender, Nifty our housekeeper and cook, and Sir Pentious! Pentious being one of our first official residents!”

She spoke each name by pointing to which name belonged to who, Pentious’s name ringing a bell but it was new seeing his appearance. So this is the guy that forced Vox to drag you here instead..

Husk, the cat that spoke earlier simply looked at you and didn’t give another word, downing yet another bottle. Pentious waved at you with the same energy you gave as well but was more or less focused on his ‘eggs’ that were poking at the flesh around his eyes on his tail and Nifty.. well..

She was on top of you, more specifically— your head.

She was sniffing you, eying you like a fucking hawk, inspecting you as if you could be contaminated with a dying virus— your breath hitched as you hoped she wouldn’t smell the fear growing on you as your skin went cold.

“Fairly.. clean….” She then backed up slightly to inspect your eyes with her own giant one only to then scurry off across your body like a bug, causing you to get disgusting goosebumps.

“Pretty.. smells nice.. no dirt—“ she then stopped by suddenly standing in front of you with a big ol’ smile as if what she just did was incredibly normal.

“Hiya! I’m Nifty! Had to make sure you weren’t bringing any filth in the hotel.. I just cleaned this place…” She took out her little hand for you to shake.. being hesitant but not willing to be rude to someone this peculiar— you shook her hand with just two of your fingers and before you could pull away yourself she then immediately scurried off as fast as she came.

“And then last but not least—“

“Alastor! Quite a pleasure, a real pleasure to get to meet you young lady! Please, feel free to be welcomed into the Hazbin Hotel!” Alastor, the radio demon, dad— approached you with such enthusiasm and enticement. As if he couldn’t wait to talk to you.

Your blood ran cold, eyes widened with fear, your free hand clutched tightly at the handle of your luggage as Alastor took the other to then put it up to where his smile was, not kissing it or having your hand too near his lips but still keeping courtesy of when meeting a woman as he usually would.

Even in death, he stays a gentleman as per usual.

“My my.. you poor soul. To have to run away from your employer down to this place.. why he must be a terrible person, isn’t he?”

Ah right.. Vox and Alastor hated eachother. You knew this very well.. you honestly didn’t know much about why they hated eachother other than the running joke that Vox most definitely lost a fight with him.

You died years later after Alastor did so you don’t exactly have the full scoop. Him dying in your late teens and you dying in your mid to almost late 20s. You lived life yet— some would say not enough.

“Poor thing, not to worry! Let this be your safe house! Your haven, your asylum, your refuge!” He exclaimed each two sets of words by twirling you around in an exaggerated manner, in a style reminiscent of the way dancers would spin their dance partners in the 30s. You recognized this move all too well— feeling almost nostalgic.

Although you were slightly grateful for one thing he was doing right.. not being overly revealing or announcing the one big fact you two had between the both of you.

You didn’t need that fact to be running around the place like some kind of daily gossip.

Before your anxiety would make you burst in crying or throwing up right in his face you immediately tugged your hand away, his own keeping your wrist in his palm.

“Thank.. you—“ your hand holding the luggage let go to try to tug his hand from holding you any longer until you then finally managed to pull his grip away from off of your other wrist in order to create more space between him and you from the immense anxiety you were having, your lungs threatening not to quicken and burst like balloons. You immediately went back to hold onto your luggage once more.

“How.. welcoming..” you pretended as if you were dusting off your clothes and your arms as if trying to tidy yourself up instead it really meant to give you a few more seconds to collect your thoughts properly.

‘God.. everyone knowing I’m with Vox is only going to make this real fucking hard— I didn’t think this entirely fucking through..’ ah yes.. you totallyyy weren’t panicking about this now active interaction the past two days huh—

‘just act calm and cool _____, you need that money, you need that place, you need that show, you need protection.. stick to the plan..’

“Uh— how humble!.. of your Hotel staff to be so.. welcoming— your highness.” You spoke to Charlie, smiling brightly as if all of this was just casual conversation.

“A real treat seeing dear ol’ Angel Dust here, good to see a familiar face ain’t it Angie?” You turned slightly towards the pornstar, with him returning your comment by exclaiming with a “Damn right!”

Charlie smiled intensely with a nod, face full of joy and innocence. “I’m so sososo glad you like it here so far!! Your experience here won’t be disappointing! You’ll have an absolute blast!—

oh oh!! Can’t forget! We have to get you to your room! If you’d like you can stay there and rest or come down here and join us! Whichever you feel comfortable with.”

“Why thank you very much your highness, your hospitality sure is a darn nice breath of fresh air compared to the rest of hell. Bunch of cats and dogs fighting like wild animals out there.. need a real break once in awhile..” you spoke as you followed Charlie as she lead the way to your room, giving you a minor tour of the hotel before letting you rest in your new humble abode.

Your act, although part sincere and true, was full of holes. Holes not enough for the normal gaze to see but they are clear enough for him to see.

Alastor would eye you as you followed the princess, his fingers uncurling and curling around his staff slowly and menacingly. His sharp pupils narrowing while aligning with his grin as it expanded with a sense of mischief holding it up by its ends.

He saw right through you, of course he would, he knows when you lie, know when you’re honest, when you’re afraid and happy.

Why lie to him my dear? If you know that he knows you like the back of his hand.

Either way he knows he’s going to have to catch you alone at some point, he must catch up to what he’s missed throughout the years he’s been gone from the living world and even in hell.. although you made it clear the last time you met in hell that you don’t want to see him again he finds it curious how you’re even here at all.

Oh but.. gosh.. how much his little girl has grown.

_________________________________

You were a two months from turning 7 years old now, being adopted almost a year ago was the most prolific moment in your young life. Your grandmother, her real name being Adelaide but you preferred to call her Nana or Grandmama… Nana was better for your little voice to stretch out more easily and faster.

She was always such a darling to you, treating you as if you were one of her own. She told you true most amazing and beautiful stories, shared and sang the most wonderful lullabies and songs that sometimes Alastor would join in on, would make delicious food that you adored throughout your childhood, love you unconditionally the way a grandmother would.

And technically you were hers through papers but sometimes it felt as if it was inconsistent in certain areas.. mostly with Alastor.

Alastor was a peculiar man, as famous and passionate as he was he certainly didn’t have a heart of gold, only open to those he truly cares for like his mother and his radio show. It was as if his heart was surrounded from the sky to the depth of the ground with rusty fences and sharped barbed wire that only allowed very few people and things being let into his life.

You tried to get close to him around this time, bringing him little gifts you made and trinkets you’d find that reminded you of him as a way to get closer.

But he always just smiled at you, gave you a pat, and either said ‘good job’, ‘oh how cute, leave it at my study now won’t you?’ ‘I’m sure your Nana would love it.’ And go right back to what he was doing..

You didn’t understand why that happened— but it seems as if he didn’t bother to get close to you simply because you were a gift to his mother, a granddaughter she wanted to have but he couldn’t give unless through legal assistance,

you were for her to love— not for him to raise.

At least that was the case at this point in time.

It was weird.. you never truly has any terrible or bad interactions but— yet it made you disappointed each time, made you crave for his attention. After all— he’s supposed to be your father. Why wasn’t he paying attention?..

You were currently in your room sitting at your desk, papers scattered with different colored wax and pencils messily thrown around on the surface.

You were drawing something, a gift as a last chance to get him to notice you properly. You even had a special gift that your Nana helped you pick out for him! Surely, your dear dad would notice you now right?

Scribbling the last few finishing touches you then dropped the pen on the table as you exclaimed a little “Aha!” And raising the drawing up high, feeling proud of your masterpiece!

You quickly set the drawing down as you then hopped off your chair to a cower through a little playbox full of toys you had, only to search for one single thing. Once your tiny finally felt the touch of wood and slight metal, you grabbed it and pulled it out with yet again another delightful glee.

It was a small radio shaped wooden charm, the metal being the small little ‘hand’ that moved whenever the radio was operating and transmitting audio frequencies. The perfect gift for papa!

You then quickly grabbed the drawing off your desk, both your gifts in hand your little feet went pitter patter as you ran to the dining room where Alastor was having lunch freshly made by his mother.

Your Nana having recently left the home to get a few emergency groceries, made this a good time for just him and you to connect.

“Papa! papa!” You squealed, Alastor’s brows furrowing at several elements in his surroundings annoying him slightly..

“_____, no running in the house remember? Cant have too much noise disturbing our home.” Despite his scolding you couldn’t help but to just giggle and almost jump in excitement in what you’re planning to give him. He continued “Besides as I have mentioned many times before, call me Al—“

“But papa! Papa!— look!—“ you interrupted him, your voice projecting a bit more into a yell as to have him look at what you have.

“_____, no yelling please dear. I can hear you quite well. I’m not a mile away..”

“Yes papa— b—but!.. look..! I made you something..” you then gently set the drawing up at the table first beside his food. Alastor’s attention finally set on the paper and even stopped eating to look at it. He picked it up.. his eyes inspecting it.

It was a drawing of you and him in a sunny flower meadow in a forest both you and his mother had a picnic in recently, except it was just the both of you here.

The drawing was definitely not the most perfect but it was definitely the cutest. Your scribbles somehow managing to immediately the shape of his hair perfectly, his glasses were visible and his red suit was very on parr with what he would wear on the daily, then there was you— your hair a bit more messily drawn than his and seemed more rushed.. as if you couldn’t yet wait to finish the piece. To top it all off it even had small scribbled words in pencil that said ‘papa’ and ‘me’ and an arrow pointing at each individual figure that fit that description.

Oh how cute.

You stared up at him closely, even for a young kid as yourself you were able to notice the way his usually dark and cold eyes had a twinkle in them, a sort of softness diluting his everyday smile ever so slightly.

It took him a second before you then set the trinket on the table where he picked up the paper from “And this is also for you papa.. nana helped me pick it out for you since I said I wanted to give you a present…”

His eyes darted towards the trinket and even picked it up, inspecting the work and its shapes along with the design of it as a whole. Admiring it almost.

His eyes darted back to the drawing, both hands with both gifts.

“Darling…”

Your little heart ran faster, your hopes were rising up to the heavens. Is he gonna say he was proud?.. he loves it? Adores it?.. hates it?—

“This is cute and all, but don’t forget to draw Nana in next time! She was at that picnic with us too remember!” He exclaimed as he smiled at you in an almost bittersweet way, his softness almost being wiped off entirely.

You frowned, “but.. I made it for you papa.. I’m always with nana so.. I wanted to make something for you!” You smiled fondly at him, trying to still hope for a ‘I’m proud’ from him.

“Aww is that so dear?” He spoke as he then set the gifts on the table on the opposite side of where you were, all while hiding behind a smile.

“Well just don’t forget to add Nana in next time, thank you darling for the lovely gifts.” And just like that he began eating.

Ah.. still the same— reaction. It was a bit better.. it wasn’t just a short and quick sentence at least so that made you smile a bit but.. you expected much more.. a hug, a proud smile.

“Yes, papa…” you then slowly walked off back into your room. A bit down but you weren’t going to let that ruin your smile, Nana always told you and papa to always smile no matter what. So that’s what you’ll keep doing. Even if— your expectations were dearly hurt today.

What you didn’t see was Alastor yet again inspecting the gifts you gave him after you left, a hand tilting it a bit to see it clearly and to have the trinket closer to the figures of the both of you.

His permanent smile’s ends stretched a bit, a ‘hm’ escaping his throat as he took another sip from his black coffee.

He never truly saw himself as your father, never fully taking care of you unless his mother asked him to.

Ah but, it was nice to think that way huh?

(HAIIII THABK YOU FOR READING THISSSS I had lots of fun writing this and omfg I have so many idea for Vox and reader interactions, especially when the plot thickens. But thank you so much for the wait on chapter 1 of this story!! I know the prologue has been awhile but I reallyyyy want to continue this since this is my very first original alastor and daughter fanfic that I’ve written years ago and want to revamp into this!!)

[eashn]

hq | how they jack off

with kuroo, bokuto, oikawa, iwaizumi, saeko, and kageyama.

summary: hq characters and their masturbation habits

warnings: NSFW content, fem!reader, male and female masturbation, mentions of rough sex, mentions of oral sex (male and female receiving), phone sex, anal play, bruising, light dom/sub dynamics here and there, many many mentions of tits and ass, mention of fingering

A/N - i rewatched haikyuu and these fuckers starting screwing around in my brain again like they owned the place so here’s what came of that. happy reading, expect more of this crap soon lmao

Kuroo Tetsurō

filthy with it

needs his hand slick—with lube, lotion, spit. whatever’s closest.

he’s rough. rubs himself ragged and sweats through his sheets

grunts and groans, mutters your name here and there

usually goes multiple rounds

That’s it—fuck, baby,” Kuroo rasped, pumping his length in his cum-coated fingers. He’d already finished twice to the thought of his cock in your pretty mouth.

His sheets were damp beneath him and the salty tang of sweat clouded the air, but he didn’t give a damn. All he could think about was you. Your deft hands. Your lips, slick with drool. Your glassy eyes staring up at him as he fucked his cockhead down your throat. He groaned at the image, tightening his sticky fingers around his shaft. 

“Like that,” he muttered, wishing it was really you. Because despite the lewd glide of his palm, the puddles of cum crusting on his abdomen, this was nowhere as obscene as the real thing: your wanton whines and moans, the filthy sound of skin slapping skin. God, he wanted to mess you up—make you feel just as dirty as he felt right now. No matter how many times he’d already seen it, he craved to watch you fall apart beneath him again. 

Bokuto Kōtarō

desperate

god, bokuto doesn’t even like masturbating—the feeling’s nowhere near what it’s like to be with you 

but when bokuto needs it, he needs it bad

he’s loud: gasping moans and vulgar, noisy thrusts into his palm

fists his sheets as if he’s grabbing at your skin

He hated that he was doing it—it felt wrong, felt like betrayal. He didn’t want anyone but you to make him feel good. Fuck, it wasn’t like his hand felt nearly as good as the tight grip of your cunt anyways.

But he couldn’t help it, could he? Not after he’d seen that cute little selfie you sent him. 

He whined, squeezing his cock in one hand and his phone in the other as he stared at picture—at your soft, pretty smile and flushed cheeks, and lower…the white tank you’d chosen to wear for the day’s heat. It was just slightly damp at the collar; beads of sweat pooled in the hollow of your throat. He’d twitched in his pants when he caught that, images of you slick and sweaty beneath him clouding his mind. “Darlin’,” he moaned when he noticed the way the shirt hugged your tits. Shit, he wanted—no, needed that body in his hands, that body he called absolutely perfect no matter how much you disagreed. His fingers slid up and down his shaft, faster and faster, as he squeezed his eyes shut and imagined bucking up into you. He wanted those perky tits bouncing in front of his face, your needy whines filling his ears, your grabby hands winding their way into his hair—

“Fuck,” he breathed, halting his motions and staring at the phone in his hand. He had an idea. 

And before he knew it, Bokuto was hitting the Video Call button and positioning himself in front of the camera. 

Oikawa Tōru

usually a bitchy top, oikawa gets so subby when you’re not around 

he knows you like being tossed around, so he’s always given you that—happily so

but tōru’s never met your dominant side, the one that’d love to replace the desperate fingers he’s got in his ass with a nice, meaty strap-on

or ride his cock till he was begging you to stop

so he keeps those fantasies a secret for now. 

but, oh, he’s a slutty mfer. edges himself and whines your name. dirty talks into his pillow like he’s being filmed

“Please—please, baby, wanna cum—fuck, please let me cum—” 

On his elbows and knees, Oikawa shoved his face into the mattress, bucking his hips into his hand. Drool dribbled from his parted lips as he fucked his fist, imagining it was you. His back arched beautifully—if you were there, you’d have a perfect view of the little buttplug in his ass. 

“Need…you,” he whimpered, wiping the drool with his other hand. “Need that cunt—please.” God, he sounded like a bitch. He wanted you to say so, to degrade him like the whore he knew he was. “Aw, Tōru. You’re a dirty thing, aren’t you.”  He keened, imagining that kind of filth tumble from your rosy lips. And, burying his face back into his sheets, Oikawa came.

Iwaizumi Hajime

big BURLY man but he looks so pretty spread out on his couch, thick cock in hand

usually ends up doing it after working out; the testosterone’s flowing and all that 

a groaner. dark and low, iwa growls your name

flips through dirty pics of you on his phone while doing it

uses spit as lube. he’s a frugal man—doesn’t like spending money on something nice when something shitty does the job

spit’s quicker anyway. he’s eager when he needs release.

It was all he could think of the minute he got home from the gym: your pert little ass in front of him as he pounded into you from behind. God, he was pervy. He was disgusting for wanting you like this, every goddamn time after a good lift. 

But, fucking hell. He needed to cum. 

Dumping his bag on the floor, yanking out his phone, Iwa slumped down onto the couch—not even making it to his bedroom. In seconds, his cock was in his hand and his phone was open to the photos you’d taken the last time you fucked. You: in doggy, his seed smeared across your asscheeks and leaking from your hole. His handprints and his hickies all over your skin. 

“Pretty girl,” Iwa snarled, tilting his head back and thumbing the precum dribbling from his tip. He spat obscenely in one hand, grasping his shaft and pumping it up and down, up and down, nice and slow. 

“That’s it, babygirl,” he groaned, seeing your bare skin behind squeezed-shut eyes, envisioning himself groping your flesh. “Take it—fuck—take it all.”

Tanaka Saeko

fuck me up mama

LOUD by nature—she’s grunty and whiny, she groans and she gasps. 

buries her face in her pillowcase to keep it quiet 

used to invest generously in lube, but fuck, she doesn’t need it anymore. she gets wet enough at the thought of you: slick and pliant beneath her

sends you dirty audio recordings sometimes, of herself saying all the scummy, kinky things she knows get you going 

“Oh, darling I wanna taste that cunt again,” Saeko growled into her phone, hoping the mic picked up the lewd sound of her fingers at work in the gaps between the words. She was going at it—slipping them in and out, rubbing her puffy clit, whining at the feeling. 

“Fuck, I miss you,” she panted, “Miss havin’ you on my tongue.” She was babbling now—groaning nonsense about all the filthy things she wanted to do to you. “Wanna leave my mark all over you, sweet girl—hickies on your thighs, on those tits—fuck.” 

She whimpered, the image of your perfect breasts swimming behind her eyes. She remembered the last time you’d been intimate together: the dark, red and purple splotches she’d left all over your chest, your neck, your waist. Saeko knew they wouldn’t have faded yet. You were still walking around, marred with the evidence of her. She clenched around her fingers at the thought. “God, wanna…ruin you, babe,” she whined, picking up her pace. “Need everyone to know…you’re mine.”

Kageyama Tobio

ashamed of the act. does it in the shower to feel less gross

since meeting you, kageyama’s far better about communicating his needs: sexual or otherwise. but years of repression are hard to unlearn, and he reverts to his old ways sometimes. his masturbation habits are a prime example of this 

he’s terrified of asking you for too much. it feels wrong to want you as much as he does—as often as he does. he’s convinced you’ll think him perverted if he admits to it

so he settles for fixing his problems himself, under warm water and in clench-jawed silence

bites down on a knuckle to keep his sounds at bay, but…sometimes?

sometimes, he whimpers. 

The water was tepid, but liquid heat was bleeding through Kageyama’s veins. He squeezed his length in one soapy hand, gliding his fingers up and down . His other hand was clasped prettily over his mouth. 

Because he couldn’t let you hear him.

You were right outside the bathroom—stretched out lazily on his bed, reading something on your computer. God, you hadn’t been trying to seduce him, he knew that. But seeing you in those plush little lounge shorts, in that tight, worn t-shirt that hugged your braless tits…oh, fuck. He’d mumbled something about needing to shower and then ran the hell out of there. 

And now: he felt so depraved. Sudsy water streamed down his tense muscles as he worked his cock, rutting his hips into his hand. He shouldn’t want you like this; you were clever and soft and you deserved more than the vulgar way he kept groaning your name. “Baby,” he whined softly, envisioning the gentle curve of your breasts in that godforsaken shirt. He wanted to tear the damn thing off you, grab each tit in his hands, tweak your pert nipples, and bury his face right in between—

“Fuck,” he mewled. Loudly. 

“Tobio?” your voice called from the other room. 

Shit, Kageyama thought. Shit, shit, shit. But it was fine, right? You were locked out of the bathroom. You couldn’t see him like this.  

But then, in horror, Kageyama watched the doorknob turn. His blood ran cold as he realized: he’d forgotten to lock the door. 

thank you so much for reading!

requests for more hikayuu headcannons/drabbles are officially OPEN! please drop by with your ideas and follow @eashn for more :)

[livelaughlovesubs]

Heeeeya, Nini! How's it going? I can't believe its already been a year! I've been here since before that time you accidentally deleted your blog XD. Congrats! you've dominated the sub! bsd tag for forever and I'm living for it XD. For the event, can I please request Fyodor (bsd) with the prompt, 'Keeping their hands bound to make basic tasks difficult or impossible. Bonus: punish them for failing or making a mess'. Bro, I have an inability to be all that sadistic, even in fiction TwT, so for the punishment part, can I request something like tickling? Is that allowed?! LMAO- As always, feel free to delete/decline this if it makes you uncomfy, and have an awesome day. And again, congrats on one year!

AHHHHH DONT REMIND ME OF THAT TIME can’t believe how dumb I was 🥲 but thank you for being a long time follower hehe, the idea with tickling is very cute I love it

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor - reader is gn

Warning: humiliation, teasing, a tiny bit of degrading, tickling >:)

Anniversary event

Thud thud thud

Someone was hammering on your door in the middle of the night, and they just didn’t stop. You’ve been trying to ignore it for the past minutes, but the sound only got louder.

Thud thud thud

“Ahhhh which fucker is it?!” In the end, you gave in and cursed, stomping to the front door before opening a small crack. “What is-” to your surprise you knew the person behind the door, it was fyodor, your boyfriend. “Huh?? Fedya? Why didn’t you use the bell?” You immediately swung the door open and invited him in, he gave you a bashful smile before entering. Then you shut the door behind him.

“You see…” he said, while he let his coat slip from his shoulders, revealing his hands which were bound tightly behind his back. “It proved to be pretty difficult to ring the bell three times, so I thought kicking the door would suffice.” That was the secret code you two agreed on, so that you’d know if it was him who’s standing on your doorway. “Ah…” you stared at his restricted limps, then at him, giving him a questioning glance. He didn’t provide any explanation or answers.

The male turned around to face you, who were still standing next to the door. “Well? Aren’t you going to help me?” He rushed you, but kept his soft smile. “Actually no, not yet.” You replied, crossing your arms in font of your chest. That attitude, were you mad with him? “…y/n, what do you want.” Finally he dropped the good-guy act, seemingly irritated by your behaviour. Normally you’d help without being this difficult, except when you aren’t in a good mood, something that seems to be the case here.

You walked past him and sat down on the couch, making yourself comfortable before saying, “bring me the remote.” Fyodor looked a tad baffled, though he didn’t think too much about it and walked to the shelf to the left of you, pondering for a moment on how to grab it, before using his mouth to bite the object. Then he brought it to you like an obedient puppy, right into your hand and cheeks flushed a bright shade of red. “Good job.” You praised him, scratching the underside of his chin a bit, intensifying his blush.

“Now bring me a scissor to cut those ropes. You can find it in the kitchen.” He glared at you when you didn’t stop ordering him around, especially since he found his actions pretty shameful. Nevertheless, he bit back his complains and went to the other room to get whatever you wanted. Once he found the scissor, he bit the handle of the tool, and carefully got back to your side. “That took you a while.” You chuckled, to which he scoffed, “are you done with the games now?” How furious he sounded, he wasn’t having half the fun you had huh?

You tilted your head to the side, acting like you were thinking about it, then said, “one last thing.” Before giving him a big smile. The male rolled his eyes at that, at least internally. “Bring me a glass of water, that’s my last request, promise.” After you finished your sentence, you raised your pinky finger, then said, “ah silly me, you can’t reciprocate it after all.” Fyodor mumbled, “you are unbelievable.” Then he made his way back to the kitchen. What else was he supposed to do, he needed your help.

Through much resilience and great efforts, he managed to get a cup out of your shelves. And he even managed to fill it with tap water! Afterwards he bit the handle of the cup, finding that to be the easiest course of action, and slowly walked over to you. This was now his third time running a stupid errand for you, and he really hoped this would be the last. On his way back, he accidentally spilled the water in the cup all over himself and the floor, causing him to yelp a little, “hmmm..!”

You turned your head to the source of the noise, giggling at the sight but not helping him. His blush darkened even more, and he closed the last bit of distance between you two. Without any commentary, you took the cup and put it on the table, grabbing the scissors and cutting through his binds. He didn’t expect you to not make fun of him, so consider him grateful.

Though after you were done, you got up from your seat, grabbing his shoulders as you sneered, “gosh, fyodor, you couldn’t even bring me a glass of water?” Guess he jinxed it. Even though considering the circumstances he was in, failing his task was a very possible outcome, he still felt humiliated by your words, or at least embarrassed. He wanted to argue, to try and keep some shreds of dignity when you bested him to it, saying, “shouldn’t you get a punishment for that?”

“A punishment?” As soon as these words left his mouth, you pushed him into the couch and tickled him. Attacking his stomach while responding through a huge grin, “yep! A punishment you can’t evade!” “What- ha- ahaha.. no, wait haha…! Stop!” He laughed involuntarily, kicking his legs around and trying to peel your hands off his body. “Haha.. s-stop, hahh.. really, hahaha~ I can’t-!!” Tears were forming in the corners of his eyes already, his clothes and hair all disheveled. “Hehe.. alright, the punishment is over.” You eventually said, reaching out to his face to wipe his tears away.

As if hit by the realisation, he abruptly stopped smiling, still blushing furiously as he gasped for air. When he breathing calmed down, he pouted, then wrapped his arms around your neck as he gave you a quick kiss on the lips, “you-… you better make it up to me for being mean.”

[bubble-dream-inc]

i walk the line.

You had joked with Ghost before about getting married, never with a tone serious enough for it to be taken into account, even if it was something you dreamed about whenever you were alone with your thoughts. What you hadn’t expected was the question to come up at such an inopportune time. 

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Sergeant Reader

rbs greatly appreciated!

WC: 2.1 K

a/n: i hate giving my fics titles so just assume the song in the title is the vibe i want the fic to have lmao. also this is unedited and not beta read so beware of typos and shit

warnings: estabilished relationship, profanity, whump, description of wound, mentions of death, badly timed marriage proposal, medical inaccuracies, fluff, happy ending

It’s cold.

No, scratch that. It’s fucking freezing.

God, you hate the cold. Considering how much you despise it, it amuses you to think you might have been a desert creature in another life. A lizard, maybe. The types to scurry really fast and eat small insects all day. What a life.

You’re lost in your musings but you think there are a few very faint voices calling for you. Where are they coming from? Above? Seems like it. First, you hear their voices getting clearer, and recognize a word. It’s your codename, meaning, it’s your teammates voices. But why do they sound so agitated? Next, you feel pain. Quickly rising, scorching hot pain in your abdomen. 

Oh, that’s right. You were shot.

A scream echoes out wherever you are and only later you’d recognize it as your own, in the same moment you recognize Ghost’s own booming voice frantically calling out for you, and the heavy weight of Soap’s large hands holding you down so you wouldn’t trash as much. It had been ironic, really, how much the mission went smoothly, 99% of it being completed without a hitch, but right as you were about to celebrate success, some fucker neither of you had seen before had decided to put a bullet in you - any of you - blindly, and it so happened it would hit you. The offender was long gone, a throw knife lodged in his skull as quick as a blink of an eye in the split second after the gunshot was heard, but the damage was already done. A few seconds before it happened, you had groaned how much you couldn’t wait for evac to come so you could take a hot shower and sleep, since your bones were aching, and Gaz had laughed and called you old-spirited. So much for that shower, you think as you take in the surroundings of what you could see of the abandoned safe house from your position on the blood stained table. It was painful to think about if that same table was used in the past for a family reunion or to gather folks around for good news, before hell broke loose and war tore apart the people, so you didn’t think about it. Ghost called your codename again and you cast your eyes downwards to look at him, the fear in his eyes sending a chill down your spine.

“Hey! Talk to me, don’t you dare close your eyes!”

You had screamed as he was removing the projectile from your flesh, you realized. Was not your first rodeo, a thought that made you want to laugh bitterly, but just the idea of laughing made you wince in pain. His hands were currently trying to stop the bleeding, and after taking one look at the wound, you suddenly felt at peace. 

It was pretty shitty you were going to die in an equally shitty safehouse, but that’s the life you chose. So, against your better judgment, you chuckle lowly and decide to follow your superior’s orders.

“Keep talking, eh? Alright.” You groaned once more when he applied more pressure to your gaping wound. “L.t, do you- do you remember when i told you…I wanted to retire early and - fuck - get to the countryside and get a big ass dog?”

He looked up at you briefly, glad you were talking but clearly wondering where you were going with this. You knew he hated when you spoke of the future as if you were going to die - which, right now, you were pretty sure it was really happening this time - but you couldn’t help yourself. Of course he remembers that conversation, it was in the beginning of your secret-not-so-secret relationship. You had asked him what he would do if he wasn’t a soldier, and he had given you a very cryptic and vague answer that resembled a lot like nothing. In turn, you told him your wishes half heartedly, as if thinking of living for 10 more years was a very distant dream. 

The relationship between the 141’s Lieutenant and one of its Sargeants was a sort of urban legend going around. People knew it was happening, but didn’t dare speak of it, and no one had ever really seen any proof of it, so, it was best to avoid prying into Ghost’s private matters as to not risk being at the receiving end of his annoyance, and, in turn, you both found solace in having something that only the two of you knew about. It never hindered your professionalism and it had been going on for a few good years now, so it became somewhat naturalized between the folks coexisting in the same space as you and Simon after a while. However, that never stopped the natural curiosity to flourish in a few people - namely, your comrades, who always knew there was something going on given the fact you’d literally look at your superior with hearts in your eyes - so you had to ignore Gaz and Soap’s expectant eyes on you as you spoke so tenderly, the intensity of witnessing the start of what seemed like a very intimate talk momentarily sharing space with the worry they were feeling over you. 

“...Yes. I remember.”

He never forgets the things you say, even if you think it’s not important at the time. You hummed, ignoring the pain that came with it.

“Big dogs were never really my thing. I just-” A cough ripped out of you, and you didn’t need to look to know there was blood in it. “ I just thought it was the kind of thing you’d want. Big dogs fit you. It felt less scary to think about retiring once I added you in the equation.”

You were slurring your words and you knew it. As you regained your breath, you briefly saw a very wide-eyed and angry looking Price curse into his comm asking where the fuck was the goddamn chopper. Your codename being barked alongside the word “WIA” to a poor fellow soldier on the other side of the line left you with a bad taste in your mouth. You hate how scared Ghost looked, your big, scary, stoic Ghost, and you can’t help but feel selfish for leaving him, even if being shot was not your fault and wasn’t really in your plans when you left the base that morning.

“Stop talking like you’re fucking d-”

“We could have done it, you know?” Your laugh is, once again, bitter, and you’re acutely aware of the tears streaming down your face. Death has never scared you, but now that you got a reason to stay, you’re terrified. “Could’ve gotten hitched somewhere nice. Can’t really imagine you in a suit, though.”

The pain doesn’t stop, but it gets duller as you feel your consciousness slipping away, and you never fought so much to stay awake in your entire life. Simon yells something to Soap among the lines of getting something from somewhere so he can continue trying to save you, but you don’t register his words. His tone softens once his eyes are back on you.

“I’d wear a suit if you asked me to, sweetheart.”

“I know. I wouldn’t ask, though.”

Not caring there are other people in the room, you smile at him, well aware it must be uncanny to see Ghost be so tender towards another person, but again, you were the lucky one who got to see it every time it was just the two of you, so you got used to it with time.

Your vision starts spinning more and more, and your eyes start to close the moment you hear the familiar, faint sound of a helicopter getting closer, Simon’s big hands suddenly on your face to try to keep you grounded, and he sounds even more exasperated than before. He calls your name - not your codename, for once.

“Stay alive, do you hear me?! You gotta stay the fuck alive so i can take you to the bloody countryside and get bloody hitched-”

“You askin’ me to marry ya’ in my deathbed, sir?” You manage to slur out, your smile growing despite the panic you don’t have the energy to express settling in your bones, and Simon’s eyes widen even more behind the mask.

“Yes, I am, so stay with me, that’s a fucking order-”

You chuckle, closing your eyes as the frantic sounds around you all blur into a garbled mess. Faintly you feel your body being moved around, a strong wind on your blood and dirt caked hair, hear some more shouting, but then,

Silence.

——————————

Feels like the thousandth time you have woken up, and the feeling of coming in and out of consciousness is unbearable at best.

The first time - or the second, you don’t remember - there was a strong light above you, but you had no energy to open your eyes, so it lasted a measly second before you were out again. Later, you heard an unfamiliar voice saying something about an induced coma for a few days for a better recovery. You wondered if they were talking about you (they probably were). This happens a few more times before you actually feel your consciousness coming back for good, and, before you open your eyes, the first thing you notice is how warm it is, and, if you could, you’d smile. The spring air smells good, and you think you catch a whiff of cleaning products while you inhale, suddenly aware of how empty your lungs felt. The third thing you notice is the weight on your hand, and once you open your eyes, you find a familiar set of skeleton gloved hands on top of your own. A few years back you had told him with a laugh the print was very 2000’s, and he had just brushed you off with a scowl, but you’ve never been so glad to see the tacky thing. His thumb caresses your skin as he patiently waits for you to become more aware of your surroundings, and you instantly smile when you finally meet his gaze, which looks extremely relieved.

“Hi.” Your throat feels parched, voice straining as if you’d swallowed a kilo of sand, but Simon thinks your voice never sounded so sweet to his ears.

“Hi.” 

It hurts to move, but you do so anyway, slowly sitting up despite Simon’s protests just so you can see him more clearly and grasp his hand a little better. While you are busy cringing at the dull pain in your stomach from the stitches, he extends a glass of water for you, to which you grab and gulp down immediately, quenching your thirst and looking over at your partner with such gratitude an onlooker would have thought he was a literal godsend. 

“How bad is it?” Your voice still felt rough from disuse, but at least it sounded a bit more familiar to your ears. 

“Pretty bad.” He doesn’t bother you with details; he knows you were never a fan of hearing about your wounds descriptively. “But you’ve always been tough.”

You flash him a grin that has him silently flabbergasted both with how beautiful you are and how quickly you seem to bounce back from a near fatal injury. Suddenly, you remember your last words before you blacked out, and your smile turns shy as you cast your gaze down to where your hands meet.

“...Did you mean it?” 

Simon has always been extremely observant and smart, he knows what you are talking about immediately, and you like to think he is smiling under the mask as he goes back to gingerly caressing the top of your smaller hand with his thumb.

“I did, sweetheart.” His voice is low, and every time he calls you a pet name it has your heart doing somersaults. “I’m sorry I don't have a ring yet and I don't know when we would have some time off to have a ceremony, but I want to marry ya’. If you’ll have me, that is.”

Feeling like your smile would grow so big it would rip your face, you beamed at him, acutely aware of how you must have been looking like a mess with a - hospital - bed head and tired eyes, but you’d hoped he could notice the hearts in your eyes as obviously as you felt them. Things always seemed to fall in place with Ghost; no need for extravagance or huge acts, and the fact that your marriage proposal was exactly that, made you fall even more in love with him. You watched lovingly as he raised your hand to press a mask covered kiss on the top of it, and shook your head, laughing gently.

“Of course i’ll marry you, Simon.”

[teencopandthesourwolf]

FUCK IT FRIDAY

i was tagged by the lovely @demonicfaerie (thanks, fae!) to share a current WIP. so, here's some of a mild blood kink slash beta shift derek slash frotting in the forest PWP kind of fic, which has the terribly imaginative working title of 'BLOODY MONSTER FUCKER STILES FULL MOON FIC' lmao.

this excerpt is SFW.

.

It's a balmy Tuesday evening in April when Derek realises he wants to taste Stiles's blood.

The notion comes to him, not as some strange intrusive thought or a guilty dream or an Anne Rice-induced moment of madness, but at the first scent and sight of it trickling down pale wrist bone and two large knuckles to then drip from the tips of the boy's spider leg fingers.

Having neutralised the threat of what they thought might be a Vigilantes Oscuros, but actually turned out to be a rogue Nagual, and once Derek satisfies himself by checking over and scenting the rest of the pack who are thankfully all mostly unscathed, he stalks over to where Stiles is standing, breathing heavily.

“Hey, big guy, d'you wanna—”

He trails off when Derek takes the bleeding arm in both of his hands and—after lifting Stiles's shirt sleeve and sighing with relief at the injury being merely a flesh wound—begins to syphon off most of Stiles's pain, to which Stiles answers by sighing his own breath of relief.

Derek hesitates for one thrilling moment before he's opening his mouth, only to close it again as he clamps it gently around the sticky mess of Stiles's skin, Alpha-gaze never leaving big brown Bambi eyes that shine with the godly reflection of the full moon.

As he does it, Stiles's own mouth forms an ‘O’ shape, and surprisingly, the only thing he has to offer Derek is an uncharacteristically quiet and breathy “Oh,” which Derek takes as permission to start sucking at Stiles's skin, delighting at the gooey texture and unique flavour of the blood that overwhelms his tongue and taste buds and feelings.

It is all at once that he hears Isaac’s wolf-whistle and Scott's, “Ew!” and Allison's, “Um?” and Lydia's, “Told you,” to Jackson, who just scoffs, and Derek doesn't need to be looking at Boyd to know that Boyd is looking at Erica to try and convince her not to smugly say, “You owe me twenty dollars, babe,” which she obviously says anyway.

Derek growls, then, loud enough to feel Stiles's trembling in his teeth, and for the rest of the gossipy pack to shuffle off through the trees before Derek can threaten to make them shuffle off this mortal coil if they don't.

Stiles's ever-sharp eyes—which were darting about faster than the dragonflies down by the lake, from one figure to the next as Derek's irritating pack let their irritating thoughts on the situation be known—now gradually find their way back to Derek's.

Derek is carefully watching Stiles, transfixed, has been for the entirety of the ongoing exchange, and doesn't actually believe he could look away if he tried.

Bronze eyes blown wide, Stiles now licks at unbearably pink lips, slowly, his cheeks doing their best to match the hue.

Taking the action for what he hopes it is, Derek starts to suck at the boy's skin some more, sampling his prize, before he's having to pause to swallow the pool of tangy red that's gathered underneath his tongue.

Then he knows, deliciously, that Stiles's treacly blood tastes like sodium and iron, but also like fresh earth and dew drops and mine.

When Stiles's heart picks up the pace to a speed even more Springbok than usual, Derek releases the vacuum of his claret-tinged lips with a resonating pop. The sound echoes defiantly around the small glade in the northern part of the preserve they're standing in, and Derek's wolf preens.

The moon is singing to him as he waits, preparing himself to be challenged on what the human probably thinks of as shockingly beastly behaviour.

Only Stiles doesn't challenge it. He doesn't say anything at all, actually, opting instead to brutally gnaw on that unbearably plump bottom lip of his, shiny eyes misting over as his chemo-signals spike and morph into something smoky-sweet that reminds Derek of incense and trailing mandevilla and sex.

His vision shudders for a beat as his synapses start firing ten to the dozen, causing his eyes to flash impossibly redder than red, the glare from them illuminating Stiles's features in the gloom.

It looks, and feels, like magick.

With his mouth watering and gums tingling, Derek perceives Stiles's inaction to mean that he is maybe allowed to do the thing he really fucking wants to, so decides to try his luck at tentatively licking the scarlet streaks staining Stiles's milky skin.

When the boy's mouth falls open for a breathy sound to punch its way out of what Derek is suddenly considering an incredibly biteable throat, he starts lapping away in earnest at the trails of spilt blood, in long and deliberate strokes, flattened tongue running up and down, up and down, to wash clean lean muscle and dark hair and those pretty peppered moles, warming the cold pebbles of Stiles's gooseflesh as he goes.

Stiles keeps swallowing the saliva that Derek can hear is flooding his mouth, his breath hitching and hiccuping, and Derek's mouth doesn't form an ‘O’, but his mind does flicker into action with morish images as his wolf tries to will him to flop bonelessly into the scrub and roll around in the dirt and howl, howl, howl, all wild and feral and fierce. It's urging him for more; pleading with him to try; begging him to cry out with his wants and desires and to lead Stiles into the deep, dark indigo of the creeping night where Derek is most at home.

And he's really not sure why, but for once in his woefully shitty life Derek just allows himself to think fuck it and does exactly that, breaking the bones of dusk as he selfishly and gleefully drags the sheriff's son down onto the damp, ash-laden ground of his dead family's land.

Stiles, for all of his usual brashness and caustic pride, lets him.

.

(tags beneath the cut, play or nay. anybody else who wants to do the thing, pls just consider yourself tagged and have at it!)

@shealynn88 @novemberhush @greyhavenisback @raisesomehale @princecharmingwinks @ohhalefire @blue-eyedbeta @angela-feelstoomuch @evanesdust @jmeelee @thebigoblin @hedwig221b @isthatbloodonhisshirt

[chiquititaosita]

girl dad! geto x mom! reader

-literally cannot I MEAN CANNOT!!! Mimiko and Nanako LOVE THE BABY! Like not even joking they think of her as a baby doll.

- geto puts his little princess in braids and cute hairstyles because of post partum depression. He takes charge sometimes

-“what do I do? Why is it crying?” He asked a little worried. While baby girl yuikiko is throwing herself back and closing her fists as a newborn. She’s so hungry. The nurse explains everything to him. He takes it with a grain of salt.

-takes care of you during pregnancy and your postpartum journey

-the first diaper change is hilarious. “Oh my god!-“ hello covers his mouth gagging looking away as the baby laughs. Because she has a full poopy diaper.

-the twins just laugh, when geto struggles changing yukikos diaper. “Ah little flower is going to give me a hard time.” He mumbles.

-he doesn’t understand what breast milk is until you were legit breastfeeding. “Wait can I try some?” Mother fucker inhaled that shit because it was pleasing to the tongue. puts it in his protein shake 😭

-if you feel insecure about your new mom body he’s not going to be the type of husband that says “fuck get over it.”

-he keeps on admiring your body, like when y’all had y’all’s first time together. “I have so much more respect for you now [y/n]..” he’ll whisper

-one time you came home from work watching the twins, the baby and Suguru all fall asleep, luckily the baby was alive and breathing well. Even sleeping in the portable bassinet around the house.

-is so proud that yukikos first word is mama but when he hears dada he goes feral crying. It’s giving “I’m not crying you are!”

- he is willing to teach his girls his techniques in order to defend themselves when geto is not present.

- now he calls y’all’s daughter a monkey “y/n! this damn monkey baby is putting things it’s in mouth!”

-(when the baby learns to pull hair he regrets it) “okay okay I’m sorry it’s a her my bad!!” 💀

- like fr though he loves your daughter even when she eats her food in nothing but a diaper and strapped in a high chair because she’s exploring taste and texture

-“I’m gonna protect you from everything that’ll potentially and will put you in danger on your mama.”

- one time he let gojo babysit it did not end well (he lost her by almost sealing her with another curse because he wasn’t watching her while she was crawling around) 😭😭

- the baby is very much a daddy’s girl so whatever baby girl wants baby girl gets

-also he holds your hand while holding the baby when she gets her ears pierced. (He shedded more tears than the baby) then the baby was fine after she was given a bottle of milk.

-“she’s fine?”

-the baby tries to hit Suguru for no damn reason ON PURPOSE (when she’s a bit older and can move her arms during that development)

-“OW SHE BIT ME!” the twins will laugh

-the twins will try to feed the baby baby food but wanna watch the baby feed herself.

-“ why is yukiko eating her foot?”

-“ask y/n”

-“why is yukiko eating her foot?”

-“I think she discovered it”

-he’s there for every milestone and trying to record it.

-lots of pictures and videos of the baby with the girls and you.

-when the baby is tired and screaming crying, and you’re not there singing to her. Suguru discovered his singing soothes the baby (regardless if it sounds bad on purpose or not) or if he sings bad lmao

-and geto would never want anything to change because he loves his little family

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 4

Part 1 2 3 4 5

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 8k+ | cw: fem!reader, DEATH of characters/animals/monsters, POV shifts, mentions/depictions of violence, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional constipation, miscommunication, The Hound being abrasive, canon typical casual misogyny/violence, themes/mentions of menstruation/pregnancy/miscarriage, baby fever, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ❗❗please proceed this chapter with caution. i killed a bunch of characters/animals (well and monsters but i think deserve lmao)!!! ALSO POV SHIFTSS!!!! originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here. also fyi i post this story on ao3 first

Tagging: @otteropera @poisonsage808 @glitterandgoldfinds @the-queen-of-sorrows @j3nn-1

The Hound found himself wrong about the thieving, wrong about the missing livestock. He was so wrong it nearly cost him lives, including his own.

He was so sure about himself when he went into the woods, so sure that he was going to find at least two men, at most five, luring sheep there. It was the men he was prepared for. Fuck the livestock, the farmers can get them back after he killed the fucks stealing them.

Ah, the farmers, barging into his wife's estate... into their house, into house Clegane. 

Fuck 'em, fuck the lot of them, complaining again, complaining about their sheep and their cows. He had enough of their yapping, now was the time to act.

Fuck 'em twice for being shocked when he said he'd go into the forest to kill the fucker causing all of them trouble.

The superstitious peasants warned him. The Hound heard; he even humored them by letting a few spring chickens, boy-soldiers in the making, 'aid' him as he went to the forest.

Between the young farmer's lad, Andrew, and the man-boy, Carter, who he had been training be a soldier, it was actually the Hound who was the one most frightened by that thing that stared back at them.

It looked as though it was twice his damn size. It was darker than tar, and stinkier than shit. It made an unholy sound before attacking them.

He doesn't remember what happened after that in all honesty. His instincts kicked in and he can't recall what he had done. All he knew was, in the end, the two boys were cheering and dragging a black corpse all the way back out of the woods.

The villagers looked at him. They walked towards him and shouted. It was not an unfamiliar greeting-- being pursued by villagers, and yet, it shakes him; it takes him off-guard. They come upon him and begin to weep at his feet. They thank him. They thank them as they hug each other. The thank him as they wave at him. They thank him as they touch his armor like a devout would touch an idol.

The Hound is perturbed.

"Thank you, milord! You killed the beast!"

"You saved our sheep!"

"You saved our families!"

"You saved our lives!"

The Hound was never one to back down, but Sandor found himself taking steps back when a group of children ran up to him and began to ask him how he killed it. Their little hands and big eyes demanded answers from him. His insides rise up to his mouth.

The children begin to talk about how they can go to the woods now.

"Oi!" Carter calls to the ones in front the Sandor, "you do know there's more than one woodland monsters, aye?!"

"But now milord Cligay killed one! He'll teach us how to kill the o'vers."

"It's Clegane. Lord Clegane! And even then, you buggers can't just play in the forest. The brown bears still live here."

"I haven't seen a brown bear!" a little girl cries out. She looks to the Hound, walking up to him, grabbing his hand, "there aren't any brown bears in the woods, right, milord?"

Sandor looks at the small thing. His hand burns at her touch. Her hand was not even hot, not even big enough to grasp half his palm and yet he feels lightheaded. He feels like he's going to pass out.

The Hound finds their sentiment to be all too much at one point. He grumbles he's going home; he's got much work to do. The villagers thank him as he leaves.

When he gets home, just as he gets near the gate, he beholds Lady Clegane, the people's champion, his poor bride. She is outside, speaking to some peasants; it was all she did as of late.

A breeze blows and her dress dances with the wind. Her hair follows as well, and along goes the air from his lungs.

She is the sun. He is a mountain trying to reach her.

Sandor, who hadn't realized that he stopped in his place to gawk, is shaken out of his trance when the stable boy opened the gates for him. The small child named Polly, about as old as his wife when she fled this place, nods at him and motions, "pardon, milord," he says nervously, "I didn't know you were waiting for me to open the gates."

The Hound looks at the boy as he walks in, "I wasn't," he gruffs, eyeing him as he passed, "don't worry about it, laddie."

Lord Clegane looks away from the stable boy when he hears the shrill cry of a babe. He spots the maester walking over to his wife with a wailing child in his arms.

He thinks about the letter he had to write to the Citadel, requesting a maester come to Brown Wood.

Lady Clegane thinks her husband's initiative for it stems from his sense of duty as a Lord, but she'll never know he did it for her, for her to know if she really did have a late blood cycle, or if she lost a baby. Maester Yannick told him it was, regretfully, the latter.

The Hound waited for his lady wife to tell him about it, to ask him to hold a mourning ceremony for the unborn child. She never did.

Sandor watches Lady Clegane willingly embraces the woman who thanked her up and down, over and under, for saving her baby. She tells the weeping woman that it was not her work but maester Yannick that saved the babe. Maester Yannick says it was not his work but the gods.

Sandor tastes something putrid in his mouth when his wife coos at the child, who immediately calmed when the maester reunited the small thing to mama. His insides tingle at the sound of his lady's laugh.

He curses under his breath when she turns to him. He realizes then he had stopped in his tracks again.

The Hound begins his march.

Lady Clegane greets him, but he is not strong enough to reply with a greeting himself. He doesn't know why he stops to tell her that he killed a woodland monsters though. She looked very shocked after hearing that.

He wonders if she was disappointed. He wonders if she wanted him dead.

She touches him and questions if he was injured. Sandor flinches and steps back. She recoils her hand quickly and wipes it on her skirt-- disgusted.

The Hound says she shouldn't worry her pretty squirrel head, then walks away.

His footsteps are heavy as he heads to his office. He didn't want to go through the fucking endless piles of paperwork, but the apprentice he had couldn't grasp basic mathematics quite yet, so, there he went, to go through paperwork in a musty office.

He wonders if doing this shit made a difference to her, or if she'd always see him for what he was: a groom, forced upon her as a joke from a stupid blonde boy; a beast with ill features and temper; a Hound.

He is almost tempted to look over his shoulder at the loud sound of baby's laughter. He doesn't, cause he wouldn't see anything but a wall of he did anyway.

He wonders when she'd ask him again, when she'd ask for a child from him.

He promises he'd be gentler this time, gentler.

He doesn't mean to be so rabid with her.

She just had such an ablaze spirit, she was so fierce, and so vivid that he found himself wanting to devour her whole-- a true predator.

He wishes he could be more than that. He could be more than that to her, but it's so hard to fill in to be someone you're not. The Hound was not a proper lord, he was not that pretty boy Alistair. He can only do so much.

Sandor would do much and more for her than that scrawny, faerie pretty-boy ever could.

She might not like it, but he'll do his best to give her what she wants, to give her a family in stead of the one she lost. She will never love him, but he knows she'll love all the children he could give her, and that was more than enough, more than he could ever hope for or deserve. 

I carefully walk up to the office, clutching my hands together as I prepare myself to knock on the door.

I clear my throat and retell myself what I mean to tell my husband. My palms begin to gush like geyser. I dread the fight I know will be had because of this topic.

I let out a soft gasp when someone calls me from behind.

It was the stable boy, Polly. He had run up to bow and greet me good morning. I smile at him and reach out to him. I brush his hair back, "good morrow, Polly, dear."

The boy grins and bows again, "I'll be learning how to ride a horse soon, milady!"

I link my hands together as I chuckle, "my! Will you now? How awfully courageous of you."

The boy pushes his shoulders back, "it's no'ffin, milady. Just what a man ought to do. I would go to war for you, milady, I would!"

"My boy," shake my head, "I pray you never need to do such a thing. I hope you enjoy riding though. I find that I do not."

"Do you find riding scary? I wouldn't! I'll let you ride with me once I know how, promise," the boy nods as he places a hand on his chest.

"You are very kind," I smile, "I thank you for it, Polly."

The boy puffs his chest out and bows, "I'll be goin' then, milady!"

I chuckle as I watch Polly run off as quick as a rabbit.

My soul nearly leaves me when I turn around and see the Hound looming over me.

I gasp and step back. He reaches out to me and grabs my arm. He keeps me upright and leans down, "you better stop calling the boy dear." He releases me and begins to walk off, "he's already in love with you as is."

I blink rapidly at his words. I turn to him and watch him march away before scurrying after, "he's a child."

"Aye," says Sandor, "all the children adore you."

My stomach curdles at his words; I am unsure why. I rub my hands together, not sure what to make of myself, or what to reply.

"What were you doing outside my office?" he asks.

I run up in front of him and grab his arm, "there is something I needed to discuss with you."

Sandor stops. He looks at my hand on his arm, "can't it wait?"

I pull my hand away and shake my head, "I understand that you are very busy, my lord, but I-"

"Fine," he mutters, "I'll lay with you tonight."

My eyes widen and I topple back at his words, "what?"

The Hound steps forward, keeping me upright again, "that's why you're here, aren't you?" He releases me, "your bloods have waned."

I feel my face burn. I gulp and force a smile, "I-" I chuckle nervously and straighten up, "y-yes. My bloods have waned."

Sandor watches me closely.

I rub my neck and blink rapidly, "I thank you for your thoughtfulness," I dig my thumb nail into my pointer finger. I turn from my feet then to Sandor, "but that is not what I wished to speak about."

His face falls. It's not anything noticeable but I have become quite good at it, reading his face. He purses his lips then says, "be done with it then, I've got work to do, pretty squirrel."

I feel my face burn even more at his horrible nickname.

A group of women had been complimenting my dress when the Hound passed. I knew they did not know he would react that way, but it did not help the embarrassment I felt when the women asked my husband if he thought my dress suited me and he replied 'pretty for a squirrel'.

"I wanted to tell you that I... I still very much wish to be the one to speak to the people about their concerns," I am unable to look at him when I say this, "it is not because I think you are unfit for the task, my lord, but I have seen the way you act around them."

"Like a dog?"

I knit my brows deeply and look to him, "Daisy is a dog. And I love her very much."

"That makes one of us."

We stare at each other for a long, blistering moment. My throat constricts at his words, "... Sandor."

His face contorts. He scoffs and averts his gaze, "don't say my name like that."

My heart begins to race, it twists and clenches. I step forward and reach out to him, "I see how you try to listen, how you try to help, but it scares you-"

I gasp when he rips his arm away before I can even touch him. He grabs me instead though, ripping me close as he leans down, "I'm not scared of peasants."

My eyes water. It's not even because his grip hurt, but because it was as painfully clear as it could get that this man did not like me at all, no matter what I did.

The Hound mutters softly, "do what you wish," he releases my arm, "you want to do my work so badly then? Fine. I didn't want ya to do anything you're not meant to, but have it your way."

I scratch my eyes before my tears could fall. I try to look at him as I speak, but the tears threaten to fall when I do. Instead, I fix my eyes on the floor, "I do not do this to upset you, Hound. I do this because I mean to help you. I swear it."

He is deeply disturbed by the softness in which these words are spoken. Hearing himself be called Hound was unreasonably heart piercing.

"I do not like it when you are angry," I whisper, "it would have been fine if it was only directed at me, but you spur everyone around you."

I flinch when he calls my name.

I shake my head, "if it pleases you, lord, I will do as you said the other day. I will no longer speak to you. I will not bother you. I will not stand in your way." I step back and pick at my fingernails.

Sandor holds back from stepping forward.

"Maester Yannick has been giving me herbs to help with conception, but he said that I should be in good spirits when... consummating... I do not think we should do anything tonight--" I look to him through my wet lashes, "unless you want to--"

"No, I do not," he says coldly.

I gulp. Tears begin to stream down my face. My lips quiver. I shudder. Of course he doesn't want me.

I curtsy and walk off. I break into a sprint after a few steps, as I am no longer able to hold in my sobs.

Sandor watches this. He furrows his brows, unnerved by the interaction, gutted by the fact it ended in tears yet again. He replays the conversation. Was his touch truly that hard? He looks at his hand. He curses loudly and storms off to fuck all.

Sandor wakes before the sky does. He opens his heavy lids and sighs. He turns to his right on instinct; he watches his wife stretch out her arms in the expanse of nothingness between them. He likes to think that she is reaching out to him. He likes to think that if he reaches back, it'll make everything fine between them.

But then again, it had never been fine between them in the first place.

He makes sure not to touch or move her. Last time he did, she woke up. She truly was a light sleeper.

He slowly gets up. He quickly gets dressed. The moment he gets out of the room, he heads to his office.

He's finished his work by the time he hears a dog barking. He looks to the window, the sun looks back at him. He stands, stretches, and walks over to the sill, pushing the curtains open. He sees her, Lady Clegane, cuddling the mutt she named Daisy. Fucking Daisy. Polly, the stable boy was waving a stick, but the bitch could not care less about it, too preoccupied by her master.

He watches Daisy lick her neck. He watches how she scolds the dog for it but giggles anyway. Sandor sniffles. His mind wanders to the one time he had his face pressed on her neck like that. Fucking dog.

He watches the pair go inside. The Hound heads to the dining room promptly after.

He mutters to himself, trying to decide how to start, "I don't meant to make you cry-- I keep making you cry-- Fuck-- .... I know you don't like me," he stops in his tracks before he can get to his destination. He mutters to himself some more.

Fuck it.

He hears the telltale patter of Daisy's paws. It makes his fingers tingle.

When he gets to the dining room, he furrows his brows at the emptiness.

Lucy gasps at the sight of him. She topples back then regains her composure. She puts the plate of food she was holding down on the table with a bang. She looks at him and curtsies, "your food, milord."

"Where is she?"

Lucy's glare darkens, "she is dining with the servants."

He chuckles drily. He feels disappointment. He feels hurt. He immediately plays it off, "pretty squirrel's finally had enough of me."

"WILL YOU STOP CALLING 'ER THAT!" Lucy bursts, taking the Hound off-guard.

They both stare at each other, as if equally as shocked by the outburst.

Lucy fumes. Sandor freezes. The former decides she's already spoken, so she might as well continue, "she is a lady! You took her for this," she motions vaguely. "You need her," she speaks firmly, "just as much as she needs you."

The Hound scoffs. His insides burn and curdle at the idea of the little girl needing a beast to keep her safe. He snaps, "well, go ahead and tell her I will gladly be her hound and breed her little monsters as thanks for her nice, warm castle!"

Lucy makes no attempt to hide the revulsion she feels at the sound of the hound's words.

"You know what," he snarls, "why don't I breed her right now as a thank you?"

Lucy's face drops. She runs up to the Hound when he begins to storm off. She crumples like paper when he shoves her away. He doesn't do it hard enough that she shoots off to the table, but it's enough for her to get the message: he was deadly strong.

Lucy does her best to stop him. She cries and begs and screams. She digs her heels into floor and yanks him back but it doesn't do much, it doesn't do anything.

The Hound only stops when he finally sees her.

Lady Clegane is laughing with the servants as they watch Daisy roll on her belly for food. She feeds the dog just as Lucy runs up in front of him, severely distraught and tear stained. Lucy pushes her hands on his chest and begs him to punish her instead.

The Hound is sickened when Daisy runs up to him and whines. He recoils his hand when the bitch licks it.

"Lucy?"

Sandor flinches at the sound of his wife's voice and turns the other way.

I was in the middle of playing fetch with Daisy when she caught wind of something and ran off to the gate. Usually, this meant Sandor was home. Lo and behold, this moment was not any different.

I turn away immediately when we lock gazes.

The Hound had a large cut of meat on his shoulder. He grunts as Daisy barks and runs up to him, "fuck off, bitch."

He does his best to avoid the dog, nudging her away firmly with his leg as he walks up to a wagon and plops the hind of a cow on there. He hisses at Daisy when she gets on her two back legs and rests one good leg and bad one on his hips.

"Daisy!" I call.

She ignores me.

Sandor looks over his shoulder, "your mam's calling you, dog. Go on!"

Daisy clearly doesn't understand, or doesn't care, and barks at Sandor when he shoves her away. 

"Daisy!" I call and jog up to her when she follows Sandor out of the estate. I run up to the gate and watch as she is chased by the Hound. She runs as fast as her three paws will allow, clearly enjoying what she thought to be a game.

"Come here, you stupid bitch!" the Hound screams.

I turn to one of the men near me. I call Arron over and tell him to tell the Hound not to chase after her. He does just that, "milord! She will stop running if you stop chasing!"

I make a face as Lord Clegane curses and does his final attempt at catching the dog.

"Shall I bait Daisy with some meat, milady?" Arron asks.

I am about to respond but then there is a loud shriek from afar. It makes my blood go still.

The Hound immediately stops, straightens up, and looks at the distance.

I turn to Arron in a panic and tell him to get bait for Daisy. He quickly does that and calls for the dog to come back.

A bunch of peasants run and scream towards the estate; they scream milord.

Sandor goes to them.

When he reaches the panicked townspeople, he tells them all to shut the fuck up and explain what's happening. The old one clamours out that her daughter's been taken, says she was herding the cows then she was suddenly screaming, and he tried to reach her but it was too late. He says his son went to the woods to try and save her sister.

The Hound nods. He easily decides to go into the woods. The man's other son to leads the way.

In truth, the boy didn't have to go with him, he could just head to where the animals were fleeing, but he allowed it because he recognized the boy to be one of the ones in training. He has no idea what his name was though.

He was glad to hear the screams when he did, at least the ones that sounded human.

The Hound sees a lad and a lass running up to him, "RUN WHILE IT'S DISTRACTED!"

The boy by his side screams back, "the Hound is here! He's going to kill it!"

Well, Sandor was only meant to save the girl, and now that the girl was about to run past him, he didn't have to do anything, really. For some reason, he felt compelled to press on. Maybe it was the lack of his sense of self-preservation as of late, or no, don't call it that; it was his need for a distraction, his need prove something.

He sees it, the monster and its fresh kill. It must have been one of the girl's cows, or at least what was left of it. Gods, the abomination was a messy eater. He was glad, at least, it seemed to be starved and solely focused on eating.

His boots stomp into a puddle of blood when he charges at the thing and cuts its head off. That's was quick... and simple...

He's shocked when he hears a hellish scream behind him and gets knocked into a tree.

The Hound is dazed. He hears the battle cry of two voices. He watches the brothers do their best to stab at the thing that towers and claws at them. He promptly gets on his feet and charges at the disgusting fuck, managing to chop off its arm before it chops off the boy's head.

Just as he thinks he's about to get the upper hand, another vile beast pops up from the shadows. He fixes his footing and slashes his sword for his life.

One of the boys get injured. The boy's scream attract the monsters towards him, allowing the Hound to stab through one of them when it's attention is averted.

By the time one of the two vile cretins drop to the ground, the two boys are running for their lives with one monster on their tail. The Hound is forced to chase after them and curses the boys for running. He's not as quick as he was before.

He screams and grabs a rock, chucking it at the slimy tar creature. He throws and shouts some more until the monster is turned back and running towards him.

He slashes the stupid fuck with his sword when its close enough. It still picks a fight though.

He's losing his breath.

The next thing he knows, there's another monster screaming from behind him. The Hound prepares for the one behind him, but it doesn't reach him because its busy ripping something off it with a growl. It chucks something to the side. There is a separate whine that hisses with the wind.

The Hound finally kills the first monster that attacked him. It doesn't take much for him to kill the other as its belly was already gushing with viscous blood.

Once he's the only thing alive and standing, catches his breath and curses. He looks upon the fallen black creatures before him and reckons he ought to get out there before more come out.

But then he hears a rustle to his side. He immediately goes on the defensive and readies for another fight.

He follows the sound of heavy breathing.

His face drops when he hears the way the dog whines when he's spotted.

The Hound sheathes his sword and drops to his knees. He looks at Daisy, her one front paw bent, the other one not. Her hind legs were twisted unnaturally, her side was clawed. She was soaking in red, both hers and otherwise. She was panting and quickly losing blood.

Sandor reaches out to her. Her eyes were wide and teary. She leans into Sandor's touch and licks her nose in a panic.

He begins to feel a rage burn in him. He begins to feel loathe. He whisper-yells, "you stupid dog. You should have stayed home."

Daisy's breath quickens. He realizes see that she is trying not to whine. Gods, the pain she must be in.

He is about to tell her she was stupid for doing that, he is about to tell her she didn't need her help, he is about to tell her she was so fearless for no reason, but then Daisy whines. It was the most horrible thing he's ever heard.

Sandor huffs like he had been stabbed. He grips his hilt tightly, "thank you for saving me, Daisy."

Sandor screws his eyes shut and decides on what he has to do.

He draws his sword. Daisy does not flinch when he presses the sword onto her neck. He thinks about the day they'd first met. 

Fearless.

He strokes her face with his hand once. He screws his eyes shut when he feels her shiver. 

So afraid.

"You're a good dog."

His next stroke pulls Daisy's final breath.

The Hound stands. He looks upon his dog.

He screams.

He screams.

He screams, hell-bent on summoning more monsters. He kills three more stupid fuck, particularly enjoying how he butchered killing a young one.

He takes Daisy's body after. She is rigid against his chest when he reaches the village. He barks out an order to the villagers: burn those fucking monsters he killed. They were more than happy to oblige.

He passes the family he had helped. They are about to come up to thank him but they don't when they see what was in his arms.

He is swarmed with dread with what he is faced with when he reaches the estate. It was very clearly as search party for Daisy.

"SANDOR!" I cry out when I spot him from the distance. "DID YOU SEE DAISY WHEN-" I stop myself when I realize he is covered in blood. Suddenly, I feel awful for not asking him if he was injured before anything else.

His form becomes clearer as I jog up to him and call, "ARE YOU AL-"

I stop in my tracks when I see him adjust something in his arms. I knit my brows and continue walking towards him. Was it a head of a monster? Why was it brownish and not black?

The Hound gives me a solemn look as he inches closer. I furrow my brows at his expression.

It takes a second then suddenly, it clicks.

I let out a horrified cry.

The Hound buries Daisy in the garden himself. Everyone in Brown Wood watches. I force a glance at my poor dog, even though I wanted to do nothing but turn away. Her injuries chill me to the bone. Lucy stands beside me, clutching my arm as she weeps, but does not look at Daisy once.

Maester Yannick speaks some words for her, as per my request, before Sandor covers the grave.

Once it was done, maester Yannick comes to me and says he will plant daisies at her grave come morrow. I cannot find solace, I cannot find myself to care.

"Did you have to slit her throat?!" I demand lowly, voice aching and angry. I eye the Hound with hot contempt and cynicism, "was there REALLY no saving her?!"

"My lady," the maester holds me back, "I saw her body. Lord Clegane showed her mercy."

"Did you enjoy executing your mercy?!" I wail, ripping my arms away from Lucy and Yannick. My gaze does not trail to them at all, as I am intent on getting answers from my dog's executioner.

The Hound's face is blank, it enrages me.

I snarl through tears, "gods, I hope you did! I hope you savored finally being free of your bitch!"

Lucy calls after me as when I storm away. She means to run after me but shoots a glare at the Hound before doing so. She is momentarily stunned when he sees how distraught he looks at the moment. 

Sandor marches out of the estate.

I jolt awake when I hear the front door opening. I wipe my face and quickly stand from the chair in the middle of the living space. The fireplace near me had already burned out.

After the sound of locks disappear in the darkness, I take the unlit candle on the table beside me and walk up to the burning candelabra to light it.

I hear heavy footsteps draw closer.

Boots skid, "fuck."

I look up after lighting my candle. The Hound looks back at me.

"What are you doing?"

I purse my lips and turn to my feet. I clutch my candle, finding it hard to speak. 

"Lucy kick you out of her bed?" he mutters then begins to walk off.

I look up and follow after him. I finally muster out, "you arrive later and later."

He scoffs.

"It's been five days. I fear you'll not return by the tenth."

I pull my head back and stop in my tracks just as the Hound turns and chuckles, "don't worry, little girl. I like the wages of a Lord. Your hound isn't running."

"I know you're not running!" I snap, "I wonder why you think so poorly of yourself!"

"I think poorly of myself?" he hisses and points to his chest.

"Yes!" I bark and push myself up on my tiptoes to prove a point, "and since you are so keen to put words in my mouth, I hope you shove all the fucking pie the unwitting peasants gave you down your blasted throat!"

The Hound is shocked by my profanity. His face slips into confusion.

I heave and pull back, intent on walking away. And I do. I should have never waited for him.

"What fucking pie?"

I snap and turn back at him, "the one you could have eaten fresh had you spared a moment this morning before leaving for a monster hunt!"

Sandor is wholeheartedly confused.

I am aggravated by his expression. I wave my hands, unintentionally putting out the flame of my candle, "they love you, Hound! They're thankful and grateful!"

Though it was darker now, I see his face pinch in to a sort of disgusted disbelief. The sight infuriates me, it squeezes my heart, it pricks me frustration. I wipe my face and repeat the words that were spoken to me, "tell Lord Clegane that without him my children would be dead. Tell Lord Clegane that he has saved me family from hunger. Tell Lord Clegane that me, and my sons, and my sheep are happy to-"

"I didn't do it for them," Sandor cuts me off with a hand raise.

I purse my lips and slowly pull my head back at his words.

He lowers his hand and eyes me for a moment. I see how his gaze drinks my figure. He clenches his jaw and looks away, "you should be asleep."

My jaw slacks.

I wait for him to look at me. I wait for him to ask if I was going to sleep with Lucy again. I wait for him to apologize for keeping me up worrying. I wait for him to bring up Daisy. I wait him to do something, but he doesn't.

My eyes water, "my lo-"

"Good night," he dismisses and turns around to walk away.

"Aren't you-" my voice cracks, "-going to ask me to go to bed with you?"

He stops in his tracks. He does not look back, "do you want me to?"

I furrow my brows deeply. I feel like I was drowning. I let out a shaky breath and wrap my arms around myself. I shake my head and turn away. I chuckle dryly, "forgive me for even asking."

Sandor turns back, jaw hanging, hands clenched. He does nothing but watch.

"Do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

"Yes."

"What's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly, placing his hands on my cheeks. He swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

He kisses me deeply.

"Tell me honest," he mutters through kisses, "have you ever done this before?" he speaks as his hands paw at my sides, "I would not judge you if you did."

I squeak when he touches me between my thighs.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't; you're a good girl."

I gasp at the sound of thunder. I jolt up from my bed-- I turn to my side, seeing a sleeping Lucy's form-- or I mean, Lucy's bed. I look for Daisy in the room as I slowly push the blankets off me. I still when I realize she wasn't here.

I huff and wipe my face. I try to push away the thoughts of Daisy out of my head. I try not to think of her so much because I end up melancholy and furious. I, instead, find myself drifting to the dream I just had-- been having.

The mind can be so treacherous. I nibble my lower lip and rub my belly.

I tried, you know. I went to the Hound the morning after we fought about his coming home late. I tried to make peace with him. I tried to persuade him. I tried to kiss him.

I gasp again when another crack of thunder echoes through the room.

He wasn't having it though. He pushed me away and told me it was wrong, that we shouldn't be doing that. He left the estate shortly after. He hasn't been home since.

I get out of bed and light a candle for myself. I walk to my bedroom and light any of the candles that went off on my way. I wrap my arms around myself and rub my skin. I open the door to room as softly as possible, though it didn't really matter in the end because it was pouring outside and the noise wouldn't be loud.

With a barely audible creak, the door opens.

And it was also empty.

I sigh at the made bed. I walk towards it and smoothen out the already smooth sheets. I decide to get dressed for the day.

I head to the office, which as empty as the bedroom. I light the candles there.

I sit down on the desk and go through the papers, the letters of requests, the list of complaints, the finances, the works. I rub my eyes, willing my sleep away. I look out my window, seeing barely any hint of sun through the dark clouds.

I don't know how exactly how much time passed between then and when Arron burst in, but it must have been a while, considering how nice it felt to stand after hearing him shout, "HE'S HOME, MILADY!"

I immediately blow out the candles as Arron tells me the Hound was in the living area. I thank him for telling me, gather my skirts, and jog out of the room.

I cannot hear the click of my heels over the sound of the persisting rain-- the persisting storm.

I stop in my tracks when I see a trail of water in the corridor that led to my bedroom.

A crack of lightning bolts through the sky when I walk in and ask "where have you been?!"

The Hound is dripping in rain water. He has his back turned to me. He is undoing his armor.

I clench my fists and storm up to him. I circle in front of him the same time he walks towards the closet. He stops there, still undoing his armor, back turned to me again.

I scowl, "Hound! I'm speaking to you!"

He looks over his shoulder, the one he was trying to undo, "what? I can't hear you over the rain."

I burn hot with anger and march up to him, "I asked where you've been!"

The Hound looks down at me. He releases the grip on his shoulder, "does it matter where I've been?"

"Yes!" I snap, "you haven't come home in 7 days."

He scoffs, "thrilling to know you've been counting," he points to the window, "well, as you can see, it's fucking storming."

"It wasn't storming the day you left," I hiss.

"Well, it was when I decided to come to my beautiful wife," he leans down and jeers.

I knit my brows at him and pull back when I smell the alcohol in his breath.

He takes my chin between his fingers, "come on give us a smile."

I pull away from him, heart racing, chin burning, even though his touch got my skin damp with rain water.

The Hound straightens up and undoes his armor again.

I step away from him, "Job said he saw you in the next town over."

"Who the fuck is Job?" he asks, not bothering to look at me.

"Polly's father."

"The stable boy?" he turns to me.

"Yes," I hiss and I feel anger build up in me.

He says nothing.

I nearly choke when I say the next words, "he said he saw you coming out of brothel."

The Hound stills. He drops his hands to the side.

Both of us just stand there for a moment. The rain seems to intensify, and so does the tension between us.

"Tell me the truth," I mutter, "do you-"

"It was the town with the fucking unavailable inn," he shifts in his spot to turn to me, "I went to the brothel instead and paid for lodging there."

I purse my lips at his words. That was not what I was going to ask him. I battle with myself, trying to find the words I want to say. I revise my words over and over again in my head. There were so many things I wanted to say, yet so little ways to make it easy to speak out.

I shake my head, "am I very hard to want?"

Sandor feels rain water drip from his fingers.

I don't know how I feel about the bewildered and perplexed expression that spreads across his face. I do know one thing at least, I feel too exhausted to cry.

I sigh and shrug, "I am no fool, Hound. I learned through the gossip of my maids and my aunts growing up that men are simply like... this. It is their nature to stray. Of course, I hoped different for myself, but we cannot have it all, can we?"

"But I didn't do anything," he snaps. He deflates, "I swear by the gods, old and new."

I press my lips into a tight smile. I slowly walk up to him. He watches me intently. I hear his breath hitch when I begin to undo his armor for him. I half expect him to make me stop. He doesn't.

Sandor steps forward. There's barely any space between us anymore. His heart is racing. His hands itch to touch. He releases a breath when his hand comes to my side.

My stomach swirls at the feel of his palm but I do nothing. Neither do I look at him when I mutter, "maybe you should."

Sandor watches me remove his armor. He furrow his brows and whispers, "what?"

I drop the steel plate to the ground with a clank. It is loud even with the sound of pouring rain.

He doesn't like it when he receives no reply. He takes my wrist. I stop my task. His hand is warm albeit the dampness, and so very gentle. 

I finally look up at him.

He leans closer and speaks louder. He shakes his head and furrows his brows, "what did you say, pretty squirrel?"

I raise my brows, "maybe you should."

"Should what?"

"Do something in the brothels."

His face falls. We stare at each other for a moment. He is clearly in disbelief.

I pull my hand out of his grip. He almost doesn't let me.

"It's not a trick, I swear it."

"What are you saying?" he shakes his head faster and finds himself playing on the offensive, "you want me to be with someone else?!"

"I want a baby," I mutter.

Sandor's face falls again, but then it twists. It is unbearable to look at.

"Find a woman you desire," I turn away from him, "and give her your seed. You may keep her here if you like, and I will let her take care of the babe, but the babe will be mine."

His lips part.

"You're right. I don't want the memory of my family to be tainted by monstrosity-"

He shakes his head once more.

"-and I am the last of my line. My line lives on with House Clegane. People remember names, not blood."

He takes my hand, "I desire you."

I cannot help it. I begin to cry because of that. I break into both tears and laughter, "you needn't shield my heart, Sandor."

Sandor's stomach drops, both at the fact his own words have been used against him and with how his name was spoken.

I place a hand on his cheek.

His knees go weak.

"We've both hurt enough," I smile, "I know you think otherwise, but I'm not a little girl. I know sometimes winning means admitting defeat when the loss is great."

He grabs both my wrists when I try to pull away. I gasp when he does so. He holds me for a second then releases my wrists to capture my cheeks instead. He wipes my tears with his thumbs. He swipes my lips, "I love you."

I screw my eyes shut and cling onto his forearm. I let out another laugh, "I don't think you hurt people that you love, my lord."

The Hound is pierced through his armor.

He doesn't put up a fight when I pull his hands off me.

I continue to undo his armor. He doesn't move an inch.

"Will you sleep with me tonight?" he whispers. The sound of the rain is too loud that only him and the gods heard it.

Sandor had been out of it ever since his pretty squirrel ate his insides. He was thick faced, literally and figuratively; he's learned to take pride in it, to find solace in the fact all the years of flesh ripping torture-- figuratively and literally, had made him indifferent to what people think, made him apathetic, numb.

And yet her smile that day was worse than a sword through the spleen. Her disbelief in his words-- because she was right, you don't hurt people you love-- was heart wrenching, blood draining.

What do you say to that? How do you fix that?

You don't.

He knows you don't. You can't fix something like that.

And since this truth has dawned on him, since this truth has slit his throat, he's been a headless, mindless fucker. He was a dead man walking, and one more unwitting monster attack away from making it real.

"MILORD!" Carter cries, raising his sword to hack at the monster who managed to swipe his lately-been-aloof Lord Clegane.

The boy is fired up; his blood is pumping enough to enable him to cut the black demon's arm off and sequentially pierce it through its heart. Carter does it with a scream and regrets it a moment later; after all, they were in the middle of the woods.

They have to get out of here.

Sandor makes a pained noise. He feels heat surge down his arm and cold shiver up his spine.

"YOU'RE BLEEDING!" Carter gasps, mortified that his lord's armor was scraped off his back. The boy realizes suddenly that his Lord, the fearsome Hound, was not invincible. This newfound truth rips into his ribs the way, he thinks, the monsters would.

The boy immediately takes the Hound in his arms, though it wasn't like he could actually carry him if he wanted. Sandor steadies himself on the boy; Carter struggles even with that task. 

Still, the smaller manages to support his Lord out of the woods.

The next thing Sandor knows, he's screaming and thrashing. He vaguely hears the sound of footsteps skidding away from him.

"What's happening, Maester Yannick?!"

A deep sigh, "he probably feels the pain now."

Sandor realizes he's sat down on a stool, leaned against a table, or at least he was before he started flailing his arms around. He lets out a guttural cry as he pushes himself up. He realizes he's in the ward, being attended by the maester, and his wife was present and very troubled.

"My lord!" Yannick exclaims, raising his hands in both surrender and an attempt to soothe, "it's alright. I have stitched your wounds closed. Do not tear them open "

Sandor huffs through his nostrils. He turns to his side when he hears the soft way his name was spoken. Lady Clegane walks closer, hand wanting to reach out to him. He almost reaches back but then she digs her nails into her palms.

He sinks into the stool and watches her look at him. Her eyes are glassy. Why are they always glassy?

"My lord," Yannick walks towards him, "I'm going to wrap your wounds now."

Sandor huffs in agreement, or more accurately, acknowledgement. His eyes are still fixed on her though. He watches her hover around him, evidently unsure about approaching him.

He wants to reach out to her. He wants to touch her, to soothe her so, so badly.

He's shocked when she decides to take his hand and whispers, "shall I get you milk of the poppy?" 

Sandor looks up at her. Her voice was shaky and he hates how worried it sounded, how desperate. He hates how her eyes were constantly red. He knits his brows, "no."

She hisses, "are you certain? Your gashes are deep. No one in the world would fault you for wanting something to relieve the pain."

"I want to feel it," he mutters, "I want to feel."

She looks between the two of them in a panic, "but you've lost so much blood--"

"Perhaps," Yannick interrupts firmly. He starts binding his wounds, "he wants to feel precisely because he's light headed after losing blood."

Sandor straightens up slowly as he is instructed to. His attention is solely focused on the sensation on his hand though, on how the jittery squirrel was rubbing her soft fingers on his calloused skin.

She persists with this action until his chest and back is bound, she persists until Maester Yannick leaves the room, she persists until, next moment, she drops on her knees beside him. The Hound reacts in an instant.

He gets on the floor beside her, uncaring how it hurt his back, and clutches her face. He calls her name in horror.

"Are you punishing me?" she whispers as water in her eyes threaten to spill.

Sandor knits his brows deeply. He can't speak. He's too afraid to. Everything he's said up until that point has done nothing but rip them both apart. He was a hound after all.

"Are you trying to kill yourself to get back at me?" she mutters, distressed, pained, and defeated.

His face contorts even more. He hesitates but then shakes his head, "no."

"The boy said you've been acting differently as of late!" she grabs his wrists, "ever since I told you what I wanted from you."

His lips twitch. He looks away.

She tightens her grip, "please."

He is suddenly so acutely aware of his injuries. The pain throbs all the way through his heart.

"Please," she begs softly, "just tell me what you want from me-"

"Everything."

The way he responded was quick, as if it was practiced, as if it was reflex.

He avoids her gaze. He takes a deep breath. He waits for a response he somehow knows will never come.

When he turns to her, he notices how her face dropped. Gods, Sandor. Get it together.

"I want-" he starts but cannot continue because of how guilty he feels over the sight of her wobbling lip.

Sandor's hands loosen. They melt from her cheeks, down her shoulders. He grips the area, as if she was water about to slip through his fingers. He releases a breath, and with it, it seems, his thoughts escape. He mutters somethings that mean nothing. She doesn't understand anything.

She whimpers, "I have nothing left to give; you already have it all."

The Hound freezes when his cheek is touched, when his scar is touched. It's like it's being burned all over again.

"Is there something I can give you now?" she huffs uneasily.

He sighs. He feels the wounds throbbing; he feels his head pounding, "no."

"Then will you let me go now?" 

No. No, no, no, no-

"Or, please, at least loosen your grip."

Immediately, Sandor releases her shoulders. She sequentially lets out a breath and rubs the area. There is an imprint on the area of her exposed skin.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

"Do you want me to stay?"

Yes. "Do you want to stay?"

"I had planned to finish some errands before going to bed."

Sandor averts his gaze then slowly crawls back to his stool, "then leave."

It almost hurts as much as his cuts how quickly she stands. She looks down at him, "I will leave you to your solidarity."

Please don't go.

"I will tell Maester Yannick to come back to attend to you, Hound."

Hound. It sounds like shattering glass.

Sandor listens to the click of her heels as she leaves him.

[lowkeyrobin]

Oh hello me again 👀

I had another idea lmao, this one's a little dumber but here me out 🙏

Joshdub x Reader teasing each other over accents/comparing accents (literally any accent I don't mind, I just need Josh content, literally my second favorite of The Boys and second favorite Australian lol)

STOP I LOVE THIS AWERHJRNWNRBSNSN ; thank you for requesting! hope you enjoy ; your reqs r literally the best lol ; also I'll have that foolish one you sent me up soon I just need to tweak some stuff

JOSHDUB ; accents

summary ; you and Josh like to bully each other over your accents

warnings ; language, excessive DubDaddy running gag/joke idfk

word count ; 646

masterlist

"Bro, shut the fuck up, no way you're trying to diss me with your biscuits and tea looking self"

"Says you, scorpion fucker!"

"What the hell is happening right now?" Mully questions with a slight laugh, looking over to Juicy, Eddie, Gabby, and Narrator.

Juicy answers his question, "They're fighting over their accents"

The four watch as you and Josh continue roasting and arguing with each other, throwing insults every which way.

You were all staying at Juicy's house for a large sleepover-party, currently located in the living room. Prior to the playful argument, you'd all been watching a dumb action movie, which got paused because you all agreed that it was too boring and wanted to talk instead. The girls, minus Gabby, had left to go pick up some pizza and wings, considering none of you had eaten dinner yet, and it was already seven in the evening.

Gabby laughs, hearing another cruel insult escape your mouth. "When are the girls getting back with the pizza?"

Narrator looks down at his watch, "Hopefully within the next 15 minutes before they strangle each other"

"You're a cock sucker. You literally speak in gibberish"

"Says you! A few sandwiches short of a picnic. What's that even mean?"

"Okay, and I'm supposed to know what chuck a sickie and fire up the barbie mean? Quiet yourself down, Josh"

Juicy snickers, a hand loosely covering his mouth as he looks away momentarily. Eddie laughs, cheering you on in his native language across the room, Gabby under his arm. Mully can't help but laugh with Narrator beside him, both of them unable to hold back their amusement. It wasn't necessarily what you were speaking was funny, it was the tone and why you were fighting that got them.

"This is the stupidest thing we've ever argued over" Josh chuckles, "That includes that time where you tried to gaslight me into thinking you didn't call me DubDaddy"

"Again, that wasn't gaslighting! I didn't call you DubDaddy!"

"Why do you say daddy like that?" He laughs, "You accentuate the a like an au sound"

"It's just how I speak! Say tuna"

"Tuna" He speaks, pronouncing it like ch-una.

"See?!" You exclaim, "You're the one talking weird"

"You say tuna like t-ew-nah!" He counterclaims

"Yeah, okay" You playfully roll your eyes and cross your arms, leaning back into the couch. You look over at Juicy, then Eddie and Gabby, then Mully and Narrator. "I don't say it like that, right?"

They're silent, failing to hide the smiles tugging at the corners of their lips.

"You're fucking kidding me!"

"To be fair!-" Juicy quickly speaks, "You both sound dumb. Mully does too."

"Ha!" You laugh, looking at Josh with a smug smile.

"What the hell?" Mully questions, looking to Juicy, "When was I involved in them?"

Juicy shrugs, "Since you decided to be Australian, brother"

"Dawg, you can't choose to be a certain nationality," Eddie laughs, using his free hand to rub the T-section between his eyes and over his nose.

"Are we not going to talk about the DubDaddy thing?" Mully asks, refocusing the conversation. "I don't remember this happening"

"Shut the fuck up" You quickly reply, moving your legs around to sit criss-cross on the couch.

"No, no, no. Tell us about that" Juicy giggles.

Josh quickly explains before you can tell your side of the story. "We were on VR Minecraft, after that 24 hour challenge-"

"I didn't call you DubDaddy!"

"-And we were trying to at least get to the Nether, right? They fell into a pit of lava, logged out while screaming DubDaddy into their mic, wanting me to help them or get water to save them from the lava pit they were in" Josh chuckles, seeing your annoyed expression.

"I did not call him that, I swear on my life"

"I don't think anyone's believing you, Y/n"

[writerblue275]

Heartsteel!Kayn NSFW Alphabet (18+)

Previous Members: Ezreal

Inspiration: I mean A. feral hours. B. This is for @mysticdelphox97 and everyone else who is absolutely wrecked by Kayn. 😏 Enjoy! (Again used the NSFW alphabet template from @the-coldest-goodbye.)

Champion: Heartsteel Kayn

Genre: Headcanon

Type: HAHAHAHA NSFW. COMPLETELY NSFW. 18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader

TW: Swearing, discussion of NSFW activities/kinks. Ex: Semi-public sex, mention of BDSM. Smutty as FUCK.

Extra: Implied settled relationship!

LOOK AT THIS SEXY FUCKER!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Fully believe Kayn is better at aftercare than people might think him to be. Yes he can be wild in bed and take a lot, but he also gives a lot. He’s not a selfish lover. He cares deeply about you and wants to make sure you’re fully enjoying yourself with him. He understands that extends to aftercare, especially after an intense session. Will wash you off and help you into a bath/shower and get any snacks/beverage you might need.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Himself: His hands. He loves how you respond when he tugs your hair and moves his hands around your body. His hands can do a lot of good things and he knows it.

His partner: Your lips. Whether wrapped around various parts of him, kissing his neck, moaning his name, when he’s nipping them, etc…Kayn absolutely loves your lips.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His absolute favorite place to cum is your mouth. You on your knees waiting with open lips? One of his very favorite sights.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

As discussed in a previous headcanon (HERE), Kayn has a secret phone with photos and videos of you/you and him which he takes on trips. Obviously you know about it and he only started taking videos and pics once you and him talked about everything extensively and you consented to him doing so. Everything on that phone is for your eyes and his eyes only.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing)

Kayn’s probably the most experienced of Heartsteel. Definitely knows what he’s doing (even better for you).

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy-style. Absolutely doggy-style. Or in general anything where he can hit it from the back. He loves being able to control the pace and being able to pull your hair a little bit (if long enough).

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Can’t see Kayn being super goofy, per say. Teasing? Absolutely, but goofy no. He’s pretty serious/focused/in the zone when it comes down to things.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Keeps things pretty tidy. Definitely doesn’t match the drapes though. (Lmao can you imagine?)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Ok so in general Kayn’s not super romantic when it comes to sex. Definitely a guy who prefers “fucking” to “making love.” But if you ask him, or he can tell you want him to slow it down and be more on the romantic side, he fully can and he does it well. (A/N: I wish there was a better phrase to describe romantic sex because “making love” just sounds so fucking awkward.)

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Oh absolutely he jacks off. No question about it. Probably every day and occasionally multiple times a day. Of course, nothing compares to time with you, but you can’t be around him 24/7 and a guy has to do what a guy has to do.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

HAHAHA It’s easier to say what his kinks aren’t! This sexy motherfucker (affectionate) is kinky as hell.

Some of his big ones though: dirty talk (giving), BDSM, edging/orgasm control (giving), and semi-public sex.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

While he definitely enjoys having you to himself, there really is something about semi-public sex that excites Kayn. The boldness, the risk, the excitement, it all drives him wild.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Kayn is a man with a very high sex drive. It really doesn’t take much to turn him on. Give him bedroom eyes and he’s pulling you into a dark corner to at least make out. He sees you wearing something of his at home? Well let’s just say you won’t be wearing it for very much longer 😉.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Age play. As kinky as he is, age play is just something he cannot get into.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He definitely prefers to receive oral. As stated earlier, seeing you on your knees for him is a sight he absolutely loves. But dont get it twisted, Kayn will gladly reciprocate and it’s something he’s extremely talented at.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely a more “fast and rough” sort of lover. Loves when he’s able to get your noises to the point of only gasps and broken attempts of his name. But again, Kayn can occasionally surprise you and go slow and sensual.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fucking fan of quickies. Kayn’s down to have a quickie whenever you are, really. Since he loves semi-public interludes, quickies are a staple for that.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Risk is Kayn’s middle name whether in or out of the bedroom. He’s always down to try something new, especially if it makes things better for you as well. (Again, he’s not selfish as a lover.)

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Oh man Kayn has quite a bit of stamina. In one sitting, he can go like 3-4 rounds as long as there’s a short break in between. His refractory period is remarkably short. If it’s not a quickie he can last around 20 minutes a round, with each following round after the first getting a little shorter.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

This is an interesting thing to consider. Yes Kayn does, but they’re mainly for you. He might have one or two toys for himself, like a cock ring or a plug of some kind, but most toys he has he bought as your physical relationship progressed and he figured out what you enjoy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kayn’s a master at teasing you. He will rile you up in public then pull away. He will lean over and whisper something absolutely filthy into your ear at random and inconvenient times where you can’t slip away. He’ll send you NSFW teasing voice messsges and texts. He loves to make you blush and he loves making sure he’s on your mind.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Definitely louder when not risking something semi-public, but even then he can’t fully silence himself. Low growls, groans, moans, and dirty talk galore, Kayn will audibly express his pleasure.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Will absolutely fuck as Rhaast, mask on and everything, and his intensity is turned up to 14/10. Like those are the truly wild nights, but boy are they fun as hell.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Around 6”. Fairly thick with a little curve to one side at the tip.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

No question Kayn has the highest sex drive in Heartsteel. He just really enjoys sex and enjoys having it often.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

During nights with you Kayn definitely doesn’t fall asleep immediately. He’s up for a little bit, making sure you’re alright and even cuddling or partaking in some surprisingly intimate and occasionally vulnerable pillow talk. This is the time when his walls are the most down.

[vermithorn]

* DAYDREAM

pairing: modern!jacaerys velaryon x reader x modern!cregan stark

summary: you have an idea, and when your boyfriend cregan tells his best friend jacaerys about it, jacaerys thinks he's hallucinating.

contains: afab!reader, fingering, oral (f!), p in v, unprotected sex, masturbation, a threesome of some sort, slight aftercare, guided intercourse? lmao.

author's note: THANK YOU BEL FOR REQUESTING THIS !!! I've been experiencing a block because i cannot do shit (university moment) and this was like,,, smooth??? JSDJHFSD i enjoyed this more than i should,,, so i hope yall like it as i do hehe! please leave feedback! english is not my first language so be kind fuckers! enJOY

tags: @vhagarlovebot @ilikeitbetterangsty @chompchompluke

“Are you insane?”

Cregan chuckled, giving his friend an amused look, leaning on the chair and crossing his arms.

“Jace, she brought it up, and I’m not opposed if that’s what you’re thinking.” Cregan grinned when Jacaerys’ jaw dropped, eyes widening.

“She brought it up? Are you for real?” Cregan rolled his eyes, sipping from his beer as he watched Jacaerys have a breakdown in front of him. “Am I hallucinating?”

It was no secret that Jacaerys had a crush on you, the girlfriend of his best friend. He confessed his secret one time when they were both drunk, Jacaerys was scared that Cregan would drop him, but his friend just laughed it off and gave him his classic warm smile.

But Jacaerys made sure not to overstep any boundaries on your relationship with Cregan, keeping his hands to himself when around you, just a little kiss on your cheek as a greeting and nothing more, leaving him more flustered than it should be.

So imagine his surprise when Cregan dropped that bomb on him, his mind running a thousand miles per hour and his heart threatening to leave his chest. 

“A threesome?” Jacaerys stuttered, a blush blossoming on his face. 

Cregan nodded, “Mostly you doing the job and I’ll guide you through it,” His friend grinned wolfishly, “You know, to guide you of what she likes.”

Jacaerys gulped, Cregan had a lascivious look on his face that Jacaerys only saw when he was with you, mostly in clubs when you two were in a corner making out. 

“Are you sure, Cregan? I don’t want to overstep.” Cregan’s grin morphed into a soft smile, instantly soothing Jacaerys’ nerves. 

“Yeah buddy, don’t worry, I wouldn’t be telling you this if I didn’t agree with it,” Jacaerys nodded, somewhat relaxed now, “Also, she’s very eager to see what you can do.”

Jacaerys furiously blushed, nudging his friend away.

*

Jacaerys was one second away from puking, his hand frozen on the door handle of your shared apartment with Cregan, he finally got the courage to knock, shaking slightly.

To his bad luck, you opened the door.

“Jace, hi.” Your voice sounded sweet, but your eyes showed a predatory glint he hadn't seen before, he gulped before stepping into your home as you moved to the side.

You both haven't spoken since the day Cregan told him about your idea (a few days at most), and Jacaerys couldn't help but feel more nervous in front of you now, under your gaze.

“Hello,” He says quietly, his eyes darting around the room, searching for a sign to run away before he regrets it. 

You gave him a small smile, “Cregan is in the kitchen, don’t be nervous.”

Jacaerys returned the smile, feeling better as you seemed relaxed around him, you chuckled softly grabbing his hand and leading him to the kitchen, making him blush furiously. 

When you entered the kitchen with him by your side, Cregan was cutting fruits wearing a ‘kiss the chef’ apron, you approached him dropping Jacaerys’ hand and kissing Cregan on the jaw.

“Love,” You mumbled, nuzzling your nose against his neck. 

Jacaerys stilled, his eyes widened as he watched the intimate moment between you and his best friend. He felt like an intruder standing there in the kitchen door watching you two, a voyeur of some sort. 

Cregan chuckled, his gaze falling on Jacaerys after your ministrations on his neck. “Hey buddy, how are you?”

Jacaerys stuttered an answer, “H-hey.”

Cregan smiled warmly at him, his arm sliding into your waist, holding you closer. “I’ll finish this and we can start, yeah?” 

You giggled against his neck, leaving kisses below his jaw, but his eyes were glued on Jacaerys who was fixated on your actions. 

Jacaerys realized Cregan was talking to him. 

“Oh yeah, yes sure, it’s fine.” He blushed, embarrassed by his incompetence. 

*

This was going to be the death of Jacaerys. 

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, Cregan standing in front of you with his hand on your chin holding it softly making you look up at him.

Jacaerys swore you had stars in your eyes while looking up at your boyfriend, a lazy smile on your face as Cregan whispered things only you could hear. 

Cregan took a step back, winking subtly at you as he made his way to Jacaerys who was standing very stiffly in the door frame of your shared room watching you two. 

“Jace, are you still on board?” Jacaerys snapped his gaze to his friend standing in front of him and gave him a sheepish smile. 

“Yes, sorry, I’m just a little nervous.” You smiled softly at him from the bed, and Cregan chuckled slightly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t worry mate, you’re going to do just fine,” Jacaerys released a shaky exhale, nodding at his friend, “Go to her.”

Jacaerys looked your way, you were sitting patiently on the bed with your hands on your lap, waiting for your boyfriend’s instructions. You gave him an encouraging grin as he stepped closer to you. 

You looked up at him, Jacaerys was pretty, that was clear. His soft brown eyes were intoxicating enough on their own, but his tall lean build was indeed a plus. “You’re so pretty, Jace,” You murmured, tilting your head.

He blushed furiously, in a sudden bold move of cupping your face, his fingers against your jaw. “You’re prettier,” He said softly, caressing the side of your face. 

Your soft smile morphed into a wolfish grin, “You’re very tall too, is your cock big?”

Cregan chuckled and that startled Jacaerys, forgetting his best friend was standing behind him looking at every action he made on his girlfriend. Jacaerys felt his friend take a step towards him, standing right behind him, Jacaerys' back against Cregan’s chest. 

Cregan was taller than Jacaerys, “Take her shirt off,” He said softly near his ear, but he knew it was a command.

Jacaerys exhaled softly, grounding himself for his task. He looked at you, waiting for you to consent. 

You gave him a nod, “Jace, follow his orders, yeah?”

You thought it was sweet how nervous he was, but willing to comply and ask for consent in his every action. You looked intently into his brown eyes as he took your shirt off of you, smirking slightly at his blushed face. 

You were wearing nothing underneath your oversized (Cregan’s by the way) shirt, and Jacaerys’ eyes glued to your chest instantly, gulping harshly at the sight. “What now?” He stuttered, breathlessly. 

Cregan smirked, whispering huskily, “Touch her, she likes when I play with her tits, a lot of biting and sucking.” 

Jacaerys inhaled sharply, nodding stiffly as he lowered his head to your chest, bringing a hand up and squeezing your breast gently at first, as he looked into your eyes with his face crimson red. 

He brought up his other hand to squeeze your other breast, cupping it as he started playing with your nipples, rubbing them with his thumbs, and his squeezes getting harder with each second.

He finally lowered his face towards your chest, wrapping his lips around your breast, mouthing and sucking, his tongue lapping around your hardened pebble. He started leaving marks, first softly trying not to hurt you, but slowly getting harsher, leaving purple marks around your breast making you moan. 

He froze at the sound, looking up at you with wide lustful eyes. “You like that?” He whispered, returning to his ministrations on your tits. 

Cregan chuckled as you moaned softly, your hand traveling to Jacaerys’ brown curls grabbing them tightly and pushing his head towards you, to keep him in place sucking and biting. 

Jacaerys moaned against your chest, feeling himself getting harder in his trousers at the sounds you were making and the feeling of your soft skin on his mouth. 

Cregan put a hand on Jacaerys shoulder, “Take her pants off, get her on the pillows,” You released your grip on Jacaerys’ hair and he pulled away from your breast with a pop, his face flushed looking at you with doe eyes. 

“Yes, right.” Jacaerys nudged you into the bed, as you crawled into the pillows, your back against them. 

Jacaerys followed you into the bed, looking into your eyes as he slipped your sweatpants off, leaving you in your black lace panties and nothing else. 

He inhaled sharply again, taking in the sight of your body. He looked you up and down, drinking your curves and your bare chest, which he was becoming more intoxicated and attracted with every second passing. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He muttered, his hands shaking slightly. 

“Thank you, Jace.” You purred, looking at him with hooded eyes. 

Cregan nudged Jacaerys into you, “Take her underwear off, I want you to look at her closely and tell me what you think of my girlfriend.”

Jacaerys’ shaky hands reached the top of your panties, slowly sliding them down revealing your wet cunt. He had your underwear in his hands, and he stared at them watching the wet patch on them, the result of his earlier actions on your tits. 

In a sudden move, he put your panties on his nose, taking a deep inhale into the wet spot. “You smell godly,”

He heard you swear, and Cregan chuckled darkly. 

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Jace.” 

Jacaerys turned around to look at Cregan, his eyes pleading, “Can I taste her? Please?”

Cregan grinned wolfishly and nodded, “Go on,”

Jacaerys wasted no time on lowering his head towards your lower stomach, leaving kisses and licking his way down to your thighs, kissing and nibbling on the skin near your center. 

He positioned himself between your thighs, his arms around your legs holding you down to the bed, his hands on your waist. 

He looked up at you and saw how you were biting your lip as you looked back at him, breathing heavily with your hands gripping the sheets. “Eat, Jacaerys.”

He nodded, his warm breath on your center making you shudder. He started by licking your wet folds, eagerly lapping at them, and moaning while doing it. Your hand traveled to his brown curls again and pulled them roughly, moving his head to your pearl. 

“Suck.”

He wasted no time, wrapping his lips against your clit and sucking it keenly. 

You moaned loudly, thrusting your hips against his face to encourage him to continue. He continued sucking harder and faster, groaning against your wet cunt. 

“Put a finger in her,” He heard Cregan talk behind him, and he removed one of the hands holding you by the waist to move it towards your entrance. 

He continued sucking on your pearl while his finger traced your folds, until it reached your tight hole, intruding on it. 

“Is she tight? Or is she wet enough to add another finger?” Cregan said, mockingly looking down at you while you were writhing against Jacaerys mouth and finger, “I know she can take another one, do it.”

Jacaerys followed the command, inserting two fingers inside your warm cunt as he lapped eagerly at your pearl. His fingers move in a motion hitting your spongy spot effectively, making you whimper pulling his hair harder. 

“Fuck, Jace,” You moan, your other hand flying to your breast, pinching and rubbing your nipple. 

Jacaerys hears Cregan laugh, “Add a third,” He complies, working you with his fingers and tongue simultaneously, making you come undone with him sucking eagerly at your release. 

You’re panting heavily, Jacaerys pulls slightly away from your pussy and you see his mouth and chin wet, he sees you give him a lazy smile while you still catch your breath. “You’re decent enough, Jace.”

He smiled at you, still in the trance of the opportunity it was given to him. He made you come undone with his tongue and fingers, he was on cloud nine. 

Cregan’s voice snapped him back to reality, “Well, I think she’s ready to get fucked senseless, what do you think, buddy?”

Jacaerys suddenly stood up from his place between your thighs, he looked at Cregan with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”

Cregan rolled his eyes amused, “Yes, Jacaerys, don't you see how eager my girlfriend is to get fucked by you?” 

Jacaerys gasped, snapping his head back to you, the sight making his knees buckle.

You were laying on your back spreading your legs, your wet cunt in full display for them as you slowly circled your pearl with two fingers, the other squeezing your breast as you looked at them expectantly. “Are you still thinking with the wrong head?”

Cregan shook his head, delighted by your teasing towards his friend. 

Jacaerys gave his friend a last questioning look, and Cregan nodded. He wasted no time on getting off of his clothes, taking his shirt off revealing his well-toned body from working out. 

His eyes were glued on your pussy, watching it intently as you kept the circling motions on your clit. He removed his pants, leaving only his boxers on with a very prominent outline of his dick showing. 

Your gaze fell to his crotch, he was well-endowed and it showed clearly. “You’re big,” You muttered, then looked back at your boyfriend who was smirking, “I was right, love.”

Jacaerys blushed furiously at the thought of you and Cregan discussing his dick size when he wasn’t around, making him more aroused than he was before. 

“Take them off, Jace, let me see you.” You whispered huskily, tilting your head as you looked at him hungrily.

Jacaerys felt himself crumble at your request, shakily removing his underwear revealing his impossibly hard cock, with precum leaking from his red tip. 

You muttered under your breath, “Fuck, you are big.” 

Jacaerys gulped, somewhat embarrassed for being exposed between his two friends this way, but he looked back at Cregan as if he was waiting for a command. 

Cregan looked back at you, raising an eyebrow. “Do you want to go raw, love?”

Jacaerys let out a low grunt when you nodded enthusiastically, “I want to feel him all inside of me.”

He wasted no time and positioned himself between your thighs again, but this time his hard cock near your entrance. He brushed the tip on your wet folds, gathering your juices on his length as he softly rocked his hips, grinding against your core. 

You let out a whine, and he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of your wet cunt soaking his cock, he pressed harder against your pussy, grinding harshly. 

He almost lost control, but Cregan’s voice grounded him, “Eager, buddy? Don’t waste my time, fuck her.”

Jacaerys whimpered softly at the command, grabbing his hardened length and positioning the tip on your hole, slowly entering and groaning at the sensation of your tight warm cunt hugging his cock. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” He muttered breathlessly as he bottomed out, his full length inside of you.

When he looked at your face you had your eyes closed, gripping the sheets firmly, Jacaerys cock breaking you in two. 

After a few moments settling in, breathing slowly to ground yourself, you whispered for him to move. 

He started slowly, soft but long thrusts as he built up a pace you two were comfortable with, while you still struggled a little adjusting to his size. 

Jacaerys was concentrated on your face and the way you frowned as his cock brushed your spongy spot, making you moan softly every time he rocked his hips. He didn’t hear Cregan move around to sit beside you in the bed, holding your face softly as he kissed you and whispered things only you could hear. 

Cregan keep kissing you as Jacaerys fucked you slowly, his hands gripping your hips. “Go harder, Jace.” He heard Cregan say, and he only could comply, his hips snapping harder against your tight cunt, your walls fluttering around his cock that hit all the right spots inside you. 

You started to moan louder, grounding yourself by kissing your boyfriend and Jacaerys holding your hips, his cock going deeper and deeper with each thrust. 

“You’re doing so good, love, you’re taking Jacaerys so well for me,” Cregan praised you between kisses, nibbling on your lip as you moaned in his mouth, “Are you close, love? Are you going to come for me?”

You nodded sharply, eyes closed as Cregan kissed your neck leaving little marks on your skin. 

Jacaerys hips snapped harder and faster, his release approaching. He grunted, your pussy clenching around his cock and your loud moans were enough to send him over the edge. 

He couldn’t form words, the pleasure being too intense. “Where,” He gulped, mind hazy, “Where can I cum?” 

You whimpered, your back arching as your hand traveled to your pearl, circling your fingers eagerly looking for your own release. 

“Inside,” He heard Cregan distantly, and he couldn’t help the high-pitched moan that came out of his mouth, spilling his seed inside your warm fluttering cunt. 

He kept thrusting, helping you chase your peak, and it was worth the overstimulation because the sound you made when you came all over his cock was heavenly. 

“Fuck,” After a few moments, he pulled out slowly and went to the bathroom to get a warm towel to clean you up. 

You and Cregan shared a look, giving him a lazy smile and pulling him for a deep kiss as you waited for Jacaerys to come back. 

He came back, still very much naked, and approached you, “Can I?” His voice was quiet, and he looked into your eyes, pleading. 

You nodded, and he started wiping you with the warm towel, cleaning you up, “Thank you, Jace.” 

He finished his little task and put some clothes on as he watched how your boyfriend helped you dress up too. He stood up awkwardly a few meters away from you two, not knowing what to do next. 

You whispered something in Cregan’s ear, making him chuckle. 

You winked at Jacaerys, “How about we do this again some other time?”

Jacaerys was now absolutely sure that he was hallucinating this whole thing, blushing furiously as he nodded making you two laugh. 

vermithorn © do not copy, repost or translate my works.