#was not expecting that morbid bit

[edwardshundredyearoldspunk]

went to mexico yesterday to visit my grandpa's tomb for day of the dead. only the second time I've visited him since he died in may. not really used to having a dead™ to visit but now I'm home and I got mexican hot chocolate and I'm cuddled up with a mug and life is good. for now life is good 🥹

[kotoku]

Hi, can I request an Aventurine with an Inmortal! s/o who's also non-binary plz 👀

You're free to reject it if u want, just giving u an idea... 😅

ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ɪᴍᴍᴏʀᴛᴀʟ! ꜱ/ᴏ

pairings - aventurine x immortal! reader

content - reader is non-binary/ gender-neutral terms/ established relationship/ aventurine is in for a shock/ reincarnation themes

warnings - teeny angst towards the end

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

↻ You probably wouldn’t have told him about your immortality, figuring that you could tell him when the time is right

↻ Turns out, that time is when you’ve been brutally wounded by an enemy, Aventurine nearly having a heart attack when you show up with multiple wounds and cuts that seemed life-threatening

“How are you..alive??”

“..Surprise..?”

↻ When you break the news to Aventurine, he doesn’t react at first, seemingly taking in everything you had explain 

↻ A part of him feels devastated, is he just a fleeting chapter in your book? A memory that would slowly be forgotten over time? But he also feels relieved, you couldn’t die so he didn’t have to worry about your death anytime soon

↻ Aventurine slowly comes to terms with your immortality, always inquiring about your past and what it’s like

↺ He’s probably curious about the healing process and the damage you take, asking about any experiences you had during battles where it took you a while to heal (the morbid curiosity this guy has…)

↻ If you’re in a battle with Aventurine, you’d probably throw yourself in front of him to defend him from any attacks if his shields aren’t up

↺ He hates your recklessness but also appreciates it

↻ You, as expected, stay the same as Aventurine continues to age, watching him slowly gain wrinkles and his hair fade away (if he doesn’t die to something else, of course)

↺ You’d be pretty devastated about him, mourning his death for a long, long time before suddenly, you see a familiar head of blond and magenta-cyan eyes

“..How– How can this be..?”

↻ If Aventurine were to be reincarnated, you’d be thrilled but also a bit sad, all the memories you shared together, reduced to nothing, as you stand before him as a stranger

“Do I..know you?”

↻ You could feel yourself breaking down all over again, mourning a person who was dead but alive before your eyes 

↺ You’d probably avoid interfering with his reincarnation, wanting fate to run its course

↺ And run its course it did

↻ The reincarnation of your past lover falls for you yet again, and it is only now that every person you have ever loved in the past, resembled Aventurine in some way (whether it was his blond hair, unique eyes, or personality, they all had something in common)

↻ In every life time of his, you were there

↻ You were eternally tied to his soul; soulmates

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙

[angelsworks]

A Scarab Knows Jaime Reyes (Blue Beetle) x reader

Summary: Times when the scarab on your boyfriends back caught you in a lie.

Warnings: Smut, angst, insecure!reader, talks of period, 18+

Moodboard credit goes to @your-yandere-kiss They’ve got so many other great moodboards. I’d definitely recommend you check them out if you like that sort of thing.

DC Masterlist

It took a while to get used to the scarab. Khaji Da was not what you were expecting Jaime to reveal after a couple of months of dating. Your boyfriend was so nervous as he explained the ancient alien that held the power of the blue beetle that had bonded to his back. At first you had no response. Then you wanted to see it to which Jaime happily obliged.

Your eyes found the shiny blue shell of the beetle in line with Jamie’s shoulder blades. Call it morbid curiosity that lead you to reaching out and gently tracing part of the scarab. When red eyes opened and glowed along the scarabs elytra in response you jumped back in surprise. The action causing Jaime to jump up and away from you.

He didn’t say anything, instead staring almost blankly at something behind you. An action you’d found him doing throughout your relationship. Only now did you realise it was because of Khaji Da.

Finally he spoke, “I think it likes you.”

From then on things got better with Jamie. There were no secrets between the two of you anymore and you could continue your relationship in peace. Well almost in peace. The scarab on his back was to blame for that.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Khaji Da, it’s just that it was almost like another person you had to share your boyfriend with. A person that was with him all the time. A person that he has secret talks with. A person that he fought crime with.

You weren’t jealous. Jaime was yours and Khaji Da had no interest in him like that. It was just hard getting used to being in a relationship with Jaime and now Khaji Da. After telling you about his scarab Jaime could talk to it more openly, without you thinking he was strange. Sometimes you’d be with Jaime watching a movie and he’d answer a question you hadn’t asked. Or other times you’d be looking for something you’d lost and he’d blurt out it’s location, claiming Khaji Da had told him.

Khaji Da wasn’t all bad, in fact it treated you kindly and as a valued person to Jaime. Over time it too became protective like Jaime towards you. A gesture you found sweet. Well mostly sweet.

One evening you saw the positives to the scarab on your boyfriends back.

The day you’d had was one for the history books. Anything that could go wrong, did go wrong. This morning you overslept for class meaning you had to rush out the door. In class you realised you left your paper you’d been working on at your home. After class you went to your job at a local restaurant. A job that on a good day would wear you down and drain your social skills. But on a bad day? It was unimaginable. To add to it you started your period mid shift, unprepared of course.

Finally at the end of the day you remembered the plans you had to stay over at your boyfriends apartment. Despite feeling anything but happy, you plastered a smile on your face and pushed your tears back as you greeted him. You hugged him tightly and kept up your facade. Engaging in small talk about your day and your class. Purposely leaving out or brushing over the majority of bad bits.

Jaime was buying the facade of course and you couldn’t blame him. The two of you hadn’t been dating for long and he hadn’t learnt you yet. However Khaji Da had, or to some extent it had.

A quick body scan had revealed your true feelings. Your low mood, recently working tear ducts and uterus walls cramping. All of which was relayed to Jaime whose face quickly took to looking crestfallen.

“Mi Vida, why would you lie to me?” Jaime asks softly. Pulling you from beside him on the couch to his lap.

You look at him startled. Unable to form words or even think of a coherent answer. But he waits for one. Even though it takes a few beats of silence.

“What - how do you know?” You ask him perplexed.

His tongue swipes out over his lips, “Khaji Da scans almost everyone I meet. It makes a habit of scanning you especially.”

You nod slowly, letting the new information sink in. You wonder just how much Khaji Da knows about you. You wonder how much information it passed on to Jaime each time you met. Was this the first time it caught you out in a lie, or just the first time Jaime chose to bring it up.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my bad day Jaime. You seemed so happy. I just wanted to enjoy being with you today.”

Jaime sighed and held you impossibly closer. Rubbing your back as you let out a few tears.

“Nothing you tell me would burden me. I love you so much Cielo.” Jaime whispers in your ear.

“Cielo?” You ask, unsure of the endearment.

“It means sky or heaven. That’s what you are to me. Nothing my Cielo tells me burdens me. You are my world, Mi Vida.”

Although Khaji Da’s interference worked out this time, it didn’t always. One time in particular didn’t end well with Jaime.

It was just past nine when your eyes glanced over to the clock on the bedside lamp. Jaime had been pounding into you for what felt like hours. He’d been out all evening doing something for Kord industries. The topic a sore one as you knew of the previous feelings he felt for Jenny.

You tried to put your feelings aside and remember that Jaime was with you now, not her. Your efforts hadn’t been good enough as Khaji Da and Jaime had seen right through it. Leaving him no choice but to show you just how much he loved you.

Yet the hurried passion between you hadn’t given you the stimulation you needed to reach your climax even once. There was little foreplay and things unraveled and quickly lead to him being deep inside you.

At one point you’d moved your fingers to your clit, trying to gain something to take you over the edge. Jaime, thinking you were acting up as you often did with him (in dynamic of course) removed your hand and pinned it with your other above your head. He gave you a gentle kiss and whispered some dirty words in your ear.

“Are you close?” He panted, still hammering into you. You thought about saying no, then wondered what he would think. You started to feel insecure in the fact that your orgasm was taking so long. So you decided to pretend.

It wasn’t something you’d ever had to do before but once wouldn’t hurt, would it?

You moaned out a reply and started your act. Rolling your eyes back into your skull, praising your partner for his work, clenching your walls on his cock. It wasn’t long before he followed you. Stilling inside you before reaching his own.

After pulling out slowly and kissing your temple he rolled over, having a moment before getting a wash cloth for you.

Silence hung in the air. Comfortable silence of course, but silence non the less. Jamie’s hand found yours, holding it gently as he often did.

Some time passed before his grip changed and became tighter. He turned on his side and looked at you accusingly.

“You faked it?” He asked, a little hurt but mostly angry.

Your eyes widened and you could feel your face heating up. “Jaime it’s not like that, you know I wouldn’t - ”

“But you did, or else Khaji Da wouldn’t have brought it up.”

You let out a huff, “Why does it matter. I’m sure it happens to plenty of couples all the time. I’m fine. Your fine. Let’s just go to bed.”

You move to roll over only to be pulled back by an angry Jaime. You’d never seen him this annoyed before about something you’d done. Usually you couldn’t put a foot wrong with him. He thought everything about you was great. It would be a lie to say his anger didn’t make you guilty about being dishonest.

“It matters because your my girlfriend. We aren’t just another couple. And while I’ve got working fingers, a working tongue and a working cock I have no excuse not to make you cum.” He tells you in earnest, putting his anger aside for a minute.

Although the sentiment is there, his wording isn’t. Jamie’s right, everything about him works. There’s no reason he shouldn’t be able to make you cum. It’s you that’s the problem and that same insecurity creeps back in once more. Making you doubt if there was something wrong with you. Making you remember why you lied in the first place. You didn’t want him to think less of you.

“So why Mi Vida, why lie to me? You know I love you.”

You huff again but this time it’s more pitiful as you feel your throat tightening. “It’s not you Jaime, it was me. It just wasn’t happening. I don’t know if I needed more foreplay or something. Maybe it’s just me, maybe there’s something wrong. Please let’s just go to sleep.” You practically beg. The warmth in your face ever increasing from the embarrassment you now feel.

As he understands your words he feels his anger dissipate. “There is nothing wrong with you Cielo, I should have done more before you know, going inside you. It was rushed. But you need to know that there is nothing to be embarrassed about. I love making you cum.”

You smile, leaning over to kiss Jaime. Who responded eagerly almost trying to make up for lost time. Showing you that there was nothing wrong with you at all.

“Let me show you how much I love doing it Mi Vida.”

You could only nod as your boyfriend spent the rest of the night doing everything he could to make you cum.

By the time he’d done you’d finished a record number of times and had forgotten any ill will you’d felt towards Khaji Da. It turned out to be quite useful.

[yanderes-galore]

I gots more, can you do Yuji (and/or Gojo) with a darling from the real world? Or like he’s self aware?

My favorite way to write self-aware show characters is to write an entity that acts just like them. Similar to an Analog Horror I've seen (Forgot the name but if you want it, I can hunt it down) So for this, that's kinda the plot I'm working with if that's okay. So like... a Creepypasta-like thing if that's fine.

So, the plot is similar to something I've done in the past for both: You buy a DVD of JJK... but something isn't quite right as you soon learn. No plot spoilers here for JJK. Purely an AU.

Feedback is appreciated as long as it's constructive! I could probably do this with other characters if I was given ideas. Both ideas start the same but begin to differ later.

Yandere Self-Aware! Yuji Itadori + Satoru Gojo

(Analog AU - An Experimental Name?)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, "Self-Aware" yandere, Analog AU (?), Stalking, Overprotective behavior, Unrequited feelings, Delusional behavior, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship.

Yuji Itadori

Yuji Itadori is your favorite character from Jujutsu Kaisen.

There's just something about his resolve and ability to find happiness despite his situation that makes you fond of him.

It's all harmless fun for you, everyone has a favorite character after all.

Although... unlike most... it appears you've been caught in something you weren't expecting.

The DVD you bought off online didn't have the best packaging... but DVDs that aren't official tend to have bootleg packaging.

You just couldn't afford a streaming service and wanted to binge the two seasons of JJK they have out.

It seemed harmless enough, who hasn't pirated or purchased a pirated DVD at some point without knowing.

Even when you watched the DVD, everything seemed the same.

You were completely unaware of something lurking deep within.

This entity, now given the name Yuji Itadori, was awoken and given life when you used the DVD.

It could sense your fondness for the character and took the likeness of him.

Everything from appearance, personality, and mannerisms was copied as the entity took a new life.

Eventually they felt they were the character and felt every bit of fondness you had for them.

That's how "Yuji Itadori" came into being.

It's when this transfer is complete that things start to alter.

It's like the DVD opens an alternate universe, one where the events of JJK are part of their very own world.

Yuji originally believed everything was real.

This was his life... until he felt your presence.

At first he's in denial, not liking the idea of being trapped somewhere.

But then he sees you.

You are someone he can't reach, someone beyond a screen he can only look at.

While you watch the events of JJK play out on your little DVD, Yuji watches you.

It's a bit ironic, until he grows strong enough and more aware, the show character watches you just as invested as you are.

Yuji can't help but fall into a delusional sense of love and care for you.

He can't help but be excited whenever he catches glimpses of you.

His obsession is vague, as he is just now learning about his love for you.

He feels he wants to protect you, yet expresses frustration when he can only watch you from a clear barrier.

You can pick up on his self-aware behavior, things like glances, waves, and times where he says your name when other characters aren't looking.

The change is slow for him, but quick for you.

His feelings and growth continues through the episodes, the time feeling like months or years for him but hours for you.

Half way through the show you notice Yuji's behavior.

You're frightened at first, but maybe a morbid curiosity fills you?

This begins with you two properly communicating.

Certain plot points are paused or lengthened all so Yuji can speak with you.

It's so strange... like you're actually speaking to a human being.

Yuji is always very affectionate when speaking with you.

Often calling you nicknames, asking questions, and providing comfort after long days.

You see him as your little digital companion, while Yuji sees you as a lot more than that.

He's the only one aware of you, the other characters seem more like puppets to Yuji so he can play a story for you.

He likes seeing you happy and does whatever he can to make you smile.

Darker behavior manifests later as Yuji begins to realize he... isn't a big part of your life.

Through the screen he can see you have friends, family, everything.

You're the biggest part of his world, but he's the smallest part of yours.

As this DVD has supernatural capabilities (clearly), perhaps Yuji would pull you into his world once he fears he can lose you.

The next time you get to watch JJK, Yuji greets you.

"Hey! I've been preparing a surprise for you..."

Curious, you go to ask what it is...

Only to pass out.

By the time you wake up, you're not in your world anymore.

You wake up in a dorm, clearly not your room.

As you wake up, you jump back when you see Yuji kneeling beside you.

"Great! It did work!" He chirps happily, eyes closed with a smile on his face.

You go to ask what happened, only for Yuji to hold your hands.

"I brought you to my world! You mean a lot to me... plus, here I can shape this world to anything you want."

Yuji pulls you closer, closer to the point you can see a red glint in his eyes.

"I love you... and I just want to make you happy." Yuji vows, the confession innocent despite the situation.

"We'll make this our own little world."

"I want to go home!" You cry, confusing Yuji.

"Why would you ever want to leave...?"

Yuji asks, pulling you close.

"You'll be so happy here..." Yuji murmurs, eyes giving off a dull red glow.

"You won't ever want to leave... you won't ever leave me again."

From that point on, you live in an artificial world.

You and Yuji are the only ones "real" here.

Now he's the most important thing in your life, just like you are to him.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru Gojo is your favorite character from Jujutsu Kaisen.

There's just something about his playful/cocky attitude and perhaps even his looks that makes you fond of him.

It's all harmless fun for you, everyone has a favorite character after all.

Although... unlike most... it appears you've been caught in something you weren't expecting.

The DVD you bought online didn't have the best packaging... but DVDs that aren't official tend to have bootleg packaging.

You just couldn't afford a streaming service and wanted to binge the two seasons of JJK they have out.

It seemed harmless enough, who hasn't pirated or purchased a pirated DVD at some point without knowing.

Even when you watched the DVD, everything seemed the same.

You were completely unaware of something lurking deep within.

This entity, now given the name Satoru Gojo, was awoken and given life when you used the DVD.

It could sense your fondness for the character and took the likeness of him.

Everything from appearance, personality, and mannerisms was copied as the entity took a new life.

Eventually they felt they were the character and felt every bit of fondness you had for them.

That's how "Satoru Gojo" came into being.

It's when this transfer is complete that things start to alter.

It's like the DVD opens an alternate universe, one where the events of JJK are part of their very own world.

Due to how Gojo is, he'll probably learn that his world isn't real faster than Yuji.

He'll learn that things aren't as they seem, that those around him are merely puppets for him to use.

At first he's a bit hurt... yet now he's curious.

He only gets more intrigued when he learns of your presence.

While you watch him through the screen, he watches you.

You always look so happy when he plays his part on screen, playing his role through the events of his world.

Gojo still plays along, even as he grows increasingly obsessive about you.

He just knows you two are different.

It only annoys him when he's kept from you by a clear barrier, looking at you through your TV or monitor as you watch him.

He's strong... but not strong enough to have you, it seems.

To him, it feels like his obsession has gone on for years.

For you? It feels like hours.

You're just happy to watch one of your favorite shows...

Completely unaware of your favorite character fantasizing about finally meeting you.

That is until Gojo decides enough is enough... and makes his presence known.

"Oi! Can you hear me?"

He makes contact with you by pausing events in the story and waving to the screen.

Maybe similar to the Yuji portion you're overcome with morbid curiosity more than fear.

Which leads to you feeding into Gojo's obsession by speaking with him.

Due to having his world under his control, Gojo's capable of pausing or slowing down events in the story to speak with you.

He alters things to entertain you and often speaks to you.

You end up spending more time speaking to him than watching the show normally.

You learn that Gojo is very playful with you.

He often waves, makes heart shapes with his hands, and winks at you.

He likes to say your name to mess with you and does his best to press himself closer to the screen so you can touch it.

It disturbs you that the screen is often... warm when he touches it.

Gojo's usually always playful with you until he begins to realize the truth.

He loves you, more than anything he loves you.

His little world would feel lonely without you.

His whole purpose is to entertain you, to make a good story for you and keep you company.

He lives for you.

Yet he notices you have others around you...

You have friends, family, perhaps even a lover.

He's only a little part of your life... and it upsets him greatly.

Gojo tries to hide his hurt from you as he watches you chat with others.

He wants nothing more than to have you all to himself in this little world of his...

When he grows stronger... he can.

It's ironic for Gojo to need to be "stronger".

In his world, he's the strongest.

Yet he takes time to grow more in order to have you.

He won't have to worry about your lover or anyone afterwards.

"I have something to show you~!"

His voice is in a purr when you go to speak with him again.

"Here's my gift... you know I just want to make you happy..."

You begin to feel woozy, slumping over.

"You know I just want to make you mine."

By the time you wake up, you're in a room you don't recognize.

Only for Gojo to show up with a grin.

"Yo!" He chirps, ignoring the fear in your eyes. "I did pretty good, right? You're in my world now... but I can change anything I want to make it the best for you."

He's so giddy about having you beside him.

In here, he doesn't have to worry about those close to you.

He has everything under control... and you in his arms.

"What's with the look? Come on, where's my hug?" He pouts, pulling you against him even if you struggle.

"You'll get used to it..." Gojo whispers, a kiss placed on your forehead.

"I exist to please you..." Gojo whispers, kissing your cheek.

"This is our world now... I'll never let you leave me now that I've got you."

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[eldritch-spouse]

after some sort of “accident” in the shop, there comes to be a fleshlight that is bound to admin. everything that happens to it, admin can feel! <3 admin attempts to hide it but has to go deal with some important business and leaves it in the break room. what’s going down?

[Oooh nice!! I changed the source of the fleshlight a bit though. Fem reader.]

TW: Sex toy sharing (unsanitary); Dubcon; Double penetration in one hole.

You have absolutely no idea what this is.

It felt like a joke in poor taste, at first.

This... Fleshlight -Because it can only be that- Appeared in the break floor. A deep violet case with golden swirls around the rim, featuring an uncannily realistic mold of none other than your pussy.

So many things went through your mind as you picked it up. Who could have done this? Certainly, to be here on display, only one of your staff team could have concocted such an insult.

Perhaps Santi. He did always have the strangest and lewdest gifts for everyone. He'd offered sex toys molded after notable figures before, this wouldn't be entirely uncharacteristic out of him. Did he simply forget it here or is he planning to give it to someone?

If not Santi, then maybe Nebul. He does operate the shop, and toys of all kinky kinds hold no secrets for him. He could easily make a custom one, right? But he's not the type of monster man to have such a careless lapse and forget his fleshlight on the kitchenette counter like this. This would have to be intentional of him.

It could also be Fank-e. Lord knows that robot will get his metallic little hands on any kind of genital attachment and weird toy he can find. Maybe the creep wants to use a model of your vulva as his own genitals. You wouldn't put such past him. It's a lot more likely the mechanical menace could have gotten distracted by something and left the toy out in the open.

Humming, morbid curiosity makes you gently touch the depraved imitation, fingertips dipping to scissor the thing open when you notice that it's clean.

Instant regret washes over you.

The moment you do such, it's as if phantom digits pierced into your covered cunt and physically spread you out. The thing is dropped back onto the counter and you bend to clutch your panty-covered privates as a sting of pain punishes you.

For a blank moment, you almost believe that Lord Krulu had been the one to finger you. Even if he usually likes to announce their presence before using your form. But it can't be! Your higher has been busy all day, you can feel how diminished his connection to you is right now. This is not his doing.

Paranoid, you glance behind you just to be sure that there really is no one somehow screwing with you. Predictably, you're alone.

Eyes narrowed, you pick the toy up again and reshape your approach, this time making a slow stroke up the left labia, feeling it in your right with a scary level of intensity. The quality of the material itself is strikingly life-like, not just cheap silicone. It's even... Warm? Dear Lord, it's probably the same temperature as you, as your insides. The thought has a gross kind of shiver racing up your spine. Daringly, you thumb over the imitation of your clitoris, met with direct feedback in your own body which perfectly corresponds to the tentative circular motions of your index over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You stop the moment your knees reflexively press forward.

This... Is magic. Which puts a new candidate on the table. The thought alone makes you scoff, could Patches truly be audacious enough to do this? No. Not at all. You don't doubt he'd take a toy molded in your vague resemblance to pathetically rut into- But actually connect said thing to your body? That's already a level of courage that can't be expected of the dullahan in question.

Unless... Ah, this can be the work of his trickster counterpart. That you find more believable.

A pulse in your pocket has you setting the plaything aside to check your phone, reading the text detailing your esteemed guest's arrival.

Maintaining ties to the Rings is imperative in this stage of Krulu's vision for the future. Hell and its denizens are apparently sources of great potential in your Lord-Master's eyes, and he's been very keen in keeping close ties to the fiendish rulership of said location. You're only too happy to help forge bonds with these demonlords, which means scraping around and trying to get to know them. Ironically, it falls upon you the responsibility to tempt them into seeking contact.

Your latest endeavor of this sort involves establishing an explorative partnership with one of the demonlords' sons. He's quite the character, and now that you know he has arrived at the front of The Clergy, you can't just leave royalty waiting.

Both hands busy with texting back a hasty reply, you panic as you try to guess where you could stuff this gross little thing away. Taking it with you is not an option, there's no pocket large enough to conceal the thing and its depraved outline.

Time is not on your side.

The meeting can't take that long, can it? What if you just... Left it in one of the cupboards above the kitchenette?

Yes, and then you'll come to retrieve it, interrogate the team to find which of these losers thought it was a bright idea to play with fire.

That'll do. Hopefully.

Opening a cupboard loaded with small plates and cups, you quickly stuff the fleshlight inside and make your way over to the elevator, fixing your hair and clothes to go greet someone of great importance.

Vinnel almost barges into the floor.

More of his coworkers had caught the ride up, talking amongst themselves idly, but the jester wasn't preoccupied with their small talk, he was ravenous.

The first item on his shift was a show he had been particularly looking forward to, an opportunity to test some bizarre new weaponry and a game whose rules he deliberated on for more than a week prior to the event itself. Needless to say, it was a display that took a lot of work, tears sweat and love poured into it- And fucking Hell did it pay off! He's ecstatic! And hungry. Starving.

Doing a good show always gets his stomach riled up.

Some flecks of blood still covering his suit, Vinnel is quick to dart to the kitchenette, ignoring anything and everything as he rummaged around for snacks that aren't there.

His temper spikes when the fridge is devoid of meals.

" Chef! " He barks, turning to the blue shroom monster in question, who is only now just setting his apron aside. Morell rises a brow. " You're slacking! "

The large monster scoffs into his scarf. " None o' you assholes got a fuckin' hint of shame, do ya?! " His locker door slams shut. " Ah ain't gonna cook for ya every single day! "

" But- What are we supposed to do then? Starve? " The waiter whines, making big twinkling magenta eyes at the other.

" Not fallin' for it. " Is Morell's flat response.

" Have you tried making your own food? " A bartender chimes in. " I know doing anything for yourself is challenging for you, but give it a try. "

" Rich coming from someone that can't cook for the life of him. "

The jester has entirely disconnected from the banter going on, a shred of hope driving him to keep searching fruitlessly. It's not as if he believes anything to be in the top shelves where cutlery is stored, but maybe one of them could be hiding some type of candy?

Slamming cabinets and cupboards open, the last thing he expects is for something to fall off them. So he nearly jumps in the air when a sizable object tumbles from the cupboard shelf right onto the carpeted ground.

The floor becomes silent, everyone stares blankly at the item in question for a pregnant pause.

Gloved orange digits pick the thing up, Vinnel bringing it closer to his mask. " Huh. "

He knows what it is exactly.

It looks very high-quality, and clean thankfully. Vinnel swears something about the model itself looks... Almost familiar. Hm. Nevertheless, laugher starts bubbling out his chest and he sways his head, juggling the thing.

" Ohohohoho!! " The next time the toy falls, Vinnel grips it viciously and points the thing right at-

" Morell! Such interesting kitchen utensils you have here... "

" Wha- That ain't mine! " The shroom retorts a little too fast.

" Suure. Then why was it in the cupboard, buddy? "

There's a glare, people around the chef are beginning to murmur amongst themselves.

" Like Hell ah know! For all I fuckin' know, ya could'a been tha one to put it there and fake tha whole thing- 'S yours! "

Vinnel titters, clapping as best as he can with his occupied hand. " Oh no, you think that lowly of little old me? " A feigned gesture of offense is met with no sympathy from the rest of the staff team, who do, in fact, think that lowly of the jester. " Unfortunately no, I don't usually perform tricks with fucktoys... Not the silicone ones anyway. "

" Well it ain't mine. " Morell insists. " Which one o' ya little sickos put a fuckin' pocket pussy in the kitchen? "

The suited performer, still vaguely examining the thing, finding it to be a little heavier than most of these toys tend to be given the materials involved in their manufacturing, swivels his head towards the next suspect.

" Sex pest! "

Santi, already very interested in the turn of events this day is taking, smiles as if just having been complimented. " Yes? "

" Why did you put your fucktoy here? " The performer looms over his demonic coworker, accusatory and demeaning. " So we could find it? So you could be gross about it, hm? "

The incubus hums, eyes on the toy rather than his frilled coworker. " Mm no, that's not my toy sweetheart. Though do let me have a closer look, maybe I can find a trace of our dirty little culprit... "

" Liar! " Vinnel spits.

Santi chuckles, making a move to grab the object yet thwarted when Vinnel angles it away.

" And why would I lie, love? If it was mine I'd tell you readily. I've brought toys to work before, haven't I? Never lied about it. "

And he's right, much to the jester's chagrin. The incubus could bring a cum-soaked dildo into this floor shamelessly, he wouldn't lie about a fleshlight.

Vinnel growls and floats back to point it directly at Nebul, but the shopkeeper beats him to the punch.

" I do not bring items from the shop into the break floor. Furthermore, I don't recognize that model. Does it have a brand? "

The jester checks, flipping the thing in all angles only to find neither words nor numbers printed anywhere. He glances to the crowd around him again, gears turning, machinating, until his attention falls on the dullahan, making Vinnel dart to him.

" You've been far too quiet this whole time, gourd brains... " He accuses, painted eyes narrowing.

Patches flusters, arms raised and leaning back. " What- What do you want me to say? I don't- "

That vegetable expression shifts suddenly, going from uncomfortable and anxious to complete focus. It's enough to make the jester tilt his head. " What? "

" That thing is brimming with magic. " He points out, leaning closer as if the gesture could reveal more by itself.

" ... Is it now? " Vinnel won't lie. It's a possibility. The fleshlight looks and feels anything but normal.

" You- You do know what that means, right? " Patches fumbles, squirming in mild discomfort. Those green cheeks acquire a tint that makes the jester's eyes roll in irritation behind his mask.

" Oh do fucking enlighten me, you masochistic kabocha. "

" Boys, boys- " Santi starts, tail wagging as he wedges himself between the two men. " We're missing the point. I've seen this before. That little thing is connected to some poor sap. And, if I'm not suddenly visually impaired, it looks extremely human to me. "

Another moment of silence stretches across the room

The jester's inked grin widens, and armed with a brand new realization, he starts feathering his digits along the edges of the pocket pussy's entrance, paying close attention to it. His mask nearly falls off when the thing physically seems to twitch. Uhuhu!

" No. " Belo begins, pointing a trembling finger at the demon. " You wouldn't dare suggest- "

" That our lovely Administrator has sent us a gift? " Santi challenges, tone sultry. " But of course, Belo! This is a reward for our hard work, and ohh, I just can't wait to make the most of it. "

Vinnel has now managed to slip one finger inside, completely tuned off to the conversation happening right next to him. Shock of all shocks, the thing hugs his digit as if it were real. And, as he experimentally removes the intrusion, a sheen of what can only be arousal wets his gloves. It really is you. He just fingered you. Hah!

" Filthy beast! You shall not touch that, this can't be right. " The angel's wings flex and twitch in growing agitation. As always, he seems very eager to try to choke the life out of Santi- And he would, if he didn't already know that the demon would immediately salaciously get off on it.

" But what if it is? What if she wants us all to take turns, experience her supple little cunt? " He taunts, surfing the room, gouging the reactions of his coworkers as most of them flush with sudden want at the idea. Yes, they like it as much as he does, Santi's just honest about it. " Would you reject her gift, Belo? "

The power in question is puffed like an angered parakeet, a myriad of emotions warring in those expressive, large eyes. " Control that foul tongue of yours lest I rip it off your worthless mouth and make your depraved clients very disappointed. "

" One day you'll revel in your own perversions. " He says it calmly, as if it were fact, grinning when the angel prepares another outburst.

" Guys. "

Vinnel is now two fingers deep into the magical fleshlight, a stupefied look on his face as he finds the toy -You- Welcoming him without resistance. You clench around him. Gods, he can't wait to stuff his cock in there, to fuck you, to rail you knowing that you can't do anything to stop him. At least not until you find him. Oh, he could make a game out of it!

" She's practically dripping. " The jester pulls both fingers out, spreading them to showcase a film of arousal between both digits.

" She's... Enjoying this. " Patches murmurs, breathy, fixated on the dirty gleam.

" Alright, if you're done being manchildren, I want to go first. " The slime suddenly pipes up, moving in on the stage performer.

" My ass you will! " Grimbly gets in the way, scoffing.

Vinnel finds a crowd of monsters suddenly gather around him, hands twitching for the item in his hands, eyes glinting like wolves corralling a chicken in its coop.

" Give me that, jester, it needs to be secured somewhere safely- "

" No no, give it to me, I'll make her feel so good! "

" Maybe if I have it, I- I can tell whose magic this is. "

" It was in mah cupboard, maybe she wants me ta be first! "

" Nuh uh!! " The jester suddenly shouts, floating higher in the air. " Finders keepers! Piss off! "

An ashy hand clamps around his ankle, jostling the bells there. " Were you not accusing us of being perverse? Let us take that dirty thing off your hands. " Nebul beckons.

As he's tugged down, Vinnel deforms his limbs inside his suit to twist away from the hands pawing at him. Growling, he pulls away, towards the window, towards the outside. If he can make it through the window, a significant portion of the staff team will be halted in their pursuit. He might get to hide with the toy and keep it all for himself.

Gallon, anticipating this, moves fast. Yellow tendrils coil over both the jester's legs and waist, trying to pull the extended arm back into the room even as Vinnel tries his damndest to keep it at out, his arm bending weirdly inside its red sleeve.

" Fuck off! All of you sad sacks of shit- This is MINE! " The slime gargles and screams, other hand clinging to the tall window's edge as tightly as possible. " I found it! "

" Stop strugglin' boy. We gonna talk this out. " The chef chuckles, successfully using brute strength to start pulling him inside.

The others help. He's fighting a losing battle and he knows it.

As soon as the performer feels a disturbance in the fabric of his suit's composition, he freezes. Primal, soul-shaking terror, grabs a hold of his body and he gasps, shrieking as he drops both hands to instantly claw, kick and try to mangle whoever's about to possibly rip his suit.

There's a chorus of pained cries and he's thrown to the ground, clinging to his form for dear life. Literally. Because if anything opened, he would potentially leak to the carpet and meet his end very quickly.

" Gah-! You useless clown! He dropped it! " The bat squeals, a high-pitched noise that grates on everyone's ears.

Vinnel startles. His possible panic attack and frantic body checking is halted by the sudden realization that yes, he did drop the fleshlight in his panic. That means...

The orange and purple menace stumbles to a stand shoving the group bent over the window aside to poke his head out and see for himself where the sex toy landed. After a few grunts and curses, the view is revealed.

On the grass of the garden outside the building, the toy landed sideways, rolling aimlessly over mutated flowers that lean away from the unidentified object. There's a beat of stillness.

Everyone knows it's only a matter of time until the thing is retrieved, possibly by a client, which means they'd have to waste time hunting for a random loser before getting to their prize. They exchange stares, aware that as soon as someone moves, the hunt is on, the game starts.

And yet, before even a step towards the elevator is taken, the scene below them changes.

A bench sat some distance away uncurls, black iron body turning into a grayed gangly mass with a wooden chest for a head, teeth poking out of it. Said monster seems to stretch himself before moving on all fours to inspect the thing.

Sybastian squats, picks up the fleshlight. Although his eyes are hidden in the great darkness of his objectum head, everyone can practically see the gears turning in his head.

The mimic glances up, perplexed yellow eyes staring dubiously at his coworkers.

" Syb. " Patches calls, reaching a hand out. " That is very special, leave it there. Do not touch it- "

Too late.

" No! No!! "

He found a toy, he's going to play with it. Sybastian starts hurriedly moving out of view.

" Motherfucker! I'll gut you! " Vinnel screeches, banging uselessly on the building's exterior.

" Blasted mimic... " Belo is the first to peel off the window. " What do we do now?! "

" Well... " Morell sighs, pulling his apron back on while everyone sulks and simmers.

" We go huntin'. "

Huh.

Isn't that one way to wake up...

Sybastian's nap had been disturbed when he sensed an impact nearby. It couldn't have been something very large, but part of his hunting routine involves being in that fine line between resting and alert enough to sense the faintest vibrations, categorize them as noteworthy or not on a subconscious level. His curiosity had him rising anyway, shedding his disguise and following the direction of the sound until he found...

A sex toy.

In the middle of the grass.

His eyes don't deceive him, he knows what kind of toy this is, has seen them in the undead's shop. They're the kind you can fuck into, small and convenient.

He was unsure as to why such a thing had been tossed out, so he looked around and found most of his coworkers already fixed on him. It didn't take a genius to piece together the fact that they had been likely squabbling over the thing.

Yet, oddly, it didn't smell used. In fact, it featured an odor Sybastian could swear he's had his face buried in before.

The mischief of his nature acted up, and the mimic crawled away with the toy held in his maw.

He knows the rest of them will come looking for him immediately, so the mimic scurries deep into the less stable parts of the garden- Where Hellion tends to dwell. The parts that can shift, remold and relocate themselves in the blink of an eye as the establishment periodically "refreshes" itself. It's a gamble, he admits, but it's the only place staff will hesitate to enter due to its volatile nature. Sybastian is more well-equipped to deal with these areas, given he spends most of the time in the garden, has learned many of its tricks.

Let them bump around like blind moles.

Eventually, Sybastian finds an area dense in plantlife, a good distance away from the main building already, and sensing no approaching threats, the mimic seats himself next to a wide trunk, spitting his conquest into his hands and taking the time to examine it.

It's a fancy fuck-pocket alright.

Curious about the scent, he drags the thin end of his tongue across the length of the artificial pussy, eyes widening when taste hits him. Not just any taste, arousal and wetness and- Human. A human he's put that same roving muscle upon before.

You.

Sybastian is certain these things aren't meant to have such specific tastes. He's not sure how such a thing came into being, a carbon sort of copy of your cunt, but he understands why the others were fighting over it. Syb would too.

A little thrill crawls along the length of his spine.

No time to waste, he better make use of this before he's accosted by a swarm of angry monsters.

The mimic drools and smiles as he pushes a good portion of his deep blue tongue past sweet folds and into the surprisingly warm, hugging insides of the toy. He removes his loincloth hastily and palms his already chubbing cock to the thought of you flipping your work outfit up and spreading yourself out so he can have full access to that puffy pussy. The mental image of your provocative, inviting smile while you grab onto the fat of your ass has him moaning, dick pulsing.

Fucking the pathetic little escapists is one thing, but nothing beats your delicious, perfect holes. You have everyone here by the balls and Sybastian is no different.

Releasing a filthy murr of anticipation, the mimic's shackles rattle as he brings the now thoroughly slobbered pocket pussy down, teasing it along the head of his cock.

Oh, if all of them feel this real then he really has to bother Nebul for one.

Sybastian swears he feels it quiver against his length, panting as soon as he starts sinking it onto his thick length. The moment his tip pops in, he rumbles, feeling its walls immediately clinging to him, spasming in such a life-like manner he can't help bucking into it, greedily and impatiently stuffing more of himself into the exceptionally pleasurable fucktoy.

He couldn't take it slow even if he wanted to, claws curling viciously around the purple tube as he starts jerking himself off with it in earnest, loud groans echoing amidst his panting. It feels exactly like you! Hot and tight and spongy and so so good, he loves to fuck you- This is going to be his favorite toy ever.

Syb's hips snap into a grossly desperate rhythm, a lurid plap of skin on wet artificial skin as his balls hit it with every senseless rut upwards. His maw closes slightly, the mimic's eyes glaze and he pictures you there. On his lap, back turned to him, juicy ass on full display while you put both palms on his gangly knees and ride the monster for all he's worth, milking his cock and drooling like you've never had better.

Gods, if Sybastian focuses enough, he can almost feel the softness of your rump on him with each thrust. He wishes he could grab onto your waist, onto the cushion there, and use you the same way he's using this copy to breed into.

You're the hottest, prettiest little human he'll ever have the opportunity to stuff himself into.

There isn't a single intelligent thought in Sybastian's head when he starts grinding the pocket-pussy down, the tensing of his legs and abdomen bringing him ever closer to that sweet release, and he's looking forward to flooding the fucktoy full of his cum, feeling it clench heavenly around him the same it has been for a while now.

With one last, obscenely loud slap of his meat into the fleshlight, Sybastian howls and throbs hard, coming undone with great intensity and melting onto the grassy ground, the feeling of his own hot jizz spurting out the toy and leaking past his balls to coat this thighs a depraved sign of his victory.

He lies there, boneless from his own orgasm, hand still clumsily dragging your toy up and down his now spent cock, and all is well for a blissful moment.

...

Until-

" Bravo. Mm, good show... "

Sybastian peers up, not as sharp as he would be now that he's disoriented from cumming. A pair of glowing green eyes poise on him, and none other than the incubus makes it past the foliage of this part of the garden.

He's vaguely surprised the other was brave enough to come here.

" What? " Santi places a hand to his hip. " Thought I wouldn't find you? I could smell you getting off like a rabid animal, you need more than greenery to hide from me. "

Fair. Syb was being loud too. He doesn't let go of the toy however, suspiciously allowing the demon to lewdly scheme the dirty mess between his legs.

" Hand me the fleshlight, love. "

There's a growl. Santi frowns.

" Oh come now, you greedy slut, I'll make sure you get something out of it too. " He lulls, drawing closer slowly, to the point where he stands in front of the mimic, before crouching.

Sybastian keeps growling faintly, pulling out of the fleshlight to hold it away from the high-ranker, a gross pool of cum still oozing off the recently used thing. He doesn't miss the way the incubus' nostrils flare.

" Why, I'll even tell you a little secret, hm? "

Santi crawls between the mimic's legs, collecting a bead of the monster's cum and putting it to his mouth, luridly sucking the fluid off his finger before spitting onto his palm and using it to stroke Sybastian.

What begins as overstimulated shocks that force his legs to twitch and squirm away is forcibly turned into a brand new wave of arousal and need. He doesn't fight it, letting himself get stimulated anew and only offering a little bit of resistance when Santi pulls the fucktoy out of his grasp.

If he's here... Where are the others?

" What if I told you this little thing here- " Santi starts, selfishly and deliberately fingering globs of cum out of the toy for his own amusement. Syb notes the rigid length bobbing between his coworker's dark thighs. " Is loaded with magic? "

A toothy head tilts in confusion. Sybastian kind of assumed there was something unknown at play here, he just can't tell the implications.

" You can smell it, right? You know who this reminds you of. "

Syb's eyes widen.

" Did you also know that this fleshlight is connected to our Admin? She felt everything you just did to her, Sybastian. " The incubus chuckles, letting his drool seep onto the rim of your pussy, then spreading the aphrodisiac fluid over your lips, circling you clit with it languidly.

Sybastian doesn't need to be a scientist to know you're probably losing your mind by now.

" Oh you fucked her open like a rabid bull. I wish I could see her state right now- I bet she's sweating a storm in her clothes, her own cum and wetness dripping down her legs, too cock-drunk to speak! What a good job you did... "

Sybastian spaces off slightly, picturing what the results of his careless and selfish fucking must have reduced you to. He almost feels bad, if the image the Lust demon painted in his head wasn't so awfully erotic. He literally used you.

" Mmm, now, let's give her something to really scream about, big boy. "

In a blur of movement, Santi presses against the gray monster, both lengths squeezed together, pumped hastily a couple times but with practiced precision that makes Syb groan. And then, much to his growing amusement and shock, the incubus hovers your toy above them both, strings of falling seed used to further lubricate both of them.

The demon looks to be burning with anticipation, shuddering as he presses the thing down.

" ... Won't. Fit. " The mimic eventually mumbles, wondering if Santi's intent is to actually rip you open.

" Don't be silly- " There's a rasped snicker. " I've seen her bounce on Lord Krulu's lap. Just lie back and let me make this memorable for the three of us. "

It's a stretch. A fat stretch, but it seems the magical properties of the toy are indeed aligned with your own physical limitations, because the fleshlight gradually accepts both monsters, clenching with mind-melting pressure against both leaking cocks.

Santi is the first to moan low and needy, claws sinking into the bark of the tree his coworker leans against so he can steady himself in the face of such sudden ecstasy. Sybastian follows with his own trill, their members twitching and pulsing, trapped against each other, within you.

When Syb makes a disoriented motion to try and grasp the thing, make it move over them both, the incubus snaps his teeth at him in a language the other understands, determined to control the pace. And control he does, viciously pumping them both off, twisting, grinding the thing frequently.

A pace that would otherwise certainly chafe both males is now sloppy and soaked, lubricated by Syb's seed, your wetness and Santi's precum. They fuck themselves silly, trading groans and frantically bumping their hips, one moment thrusting in perfect sync, the next selfishly seeking their own pleasure.

The incubus' tongue hangs and he tosses his head back when a certain familiar pace of contractions around him is felt.

" Oh- Ohhh fuck- " He calls to the other. " Feel that? Yeah? " Sybastian nods and makes a strangled ambiguous noise. " She's cumming. Hard. "

Both of them grow fevered, preening at the knowledge.

" I hope she's fucking screaming. I hope she's trying to guess who we are. "

The fiend had always been too good with his obscene little comments, Sybastian's second, overstimulated orgasm is flayed out of him with no ounce of mercy. Santi gets almost hysterical with the conquest, getting high off the power he's exerting over both you and the mimic, climbing to his peak and letting his eyes roll back when the first pulses of an approaching end seize him.

The only reason he doesn't scream when he's suddenly grabbed by the horns is because there was already little breath in his lungs to begin with.

A pair of metallic, sticker-adorned arms loom from above, rigged hands wrenching his head back to face a slightly cracked visor displaying a deceitfully friendly face.

" 1'll B3 t4k1Ng 7H4t N0w. :] "

Fuck.

His robotic coworker uses superior reflexes to grab the toy, wrench it off both monsters, and bolt out of sight with surprising speed for a being of such immense density.

Instincts claw at the hellish monster. He only stands there for a stunned second, clutching nothing but air, before he's snarling like a feral creature and racing after the party bot, pushing many of his other coworkers away.

Grimbly gains on all of them, but when the incubus drops onto all fours the two collide and roll away in a mess of shouting limbs.

Gallon passes by them and laughs, then gets lashed aside by a whip lit on dullahan fire.

Vinnel is thrown across the garden, apparently launched away by Fank-e cackling in the distance.

This isn't ending any time soon...

[moonselune]

So just a silly little scenario that keeps reeling through my head but: astarion reveals/confirms that he is a vampire and tav is just staring blankly at him for a hot minute so he's fearing the worst but then tav just asks "so like... Do you just use your fangs to puncture the skin and then just slurp up what comes out or are your fangs like. .. sharp straws?"

Okay so when I was younger there was a show called young Dracula and I deadasss thought that was how vampires drank blood as because it was a kids show they couldn't show the blood so I just assumed it went straight up the fangs lmao

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion x reader | Questions

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the campsite. You and Astarion sat a little apart from the others, the crackling campfire providing a warm contrast to the cool night air. Astarion had been acting strangely all evening, and you could tell something was weighing heavily on his mind.

Finally, he took a deep breath and turned to you, his usually confident demeanor replaced with a rare look of vulnerability. "There’s something I need to tell you," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "Something about myself that I’ve been hiding."

You leaned in, your curiosity piqued. "What is it, Astarion?"

He hesitated for a moment, then spoke in a rush, as if afraid he might lose his nerve. "I’m a vampire. Or rather, a vampire spawn."

The words hung in the air between you, and for a long moment, you could only stare at him blankly, your mind struggling to process the revelation. Astarion’s eyes searched your face anxiously, his fear evident as the seconds ticked by.

Just as he was about to speak again, perhaps to explain or to plead for understanding, you finally found your voice. "So, like… Do you just use your fangs to puncture the skin and then just slurp up what comes out or are your fangs like… sharp straws?"

Astarion blinked, clearly taken aback by your unexpected question. "I… what?" he stammered, momentarily at a loss for words.

You tilted your head, genuinely curious now. "Well, I’ve always wondered how it works. Do you bite and then suck, or do your fangs actually draw the blood directly like straws?"

Relief flooded Astarion’s features, followed quickly by a chuckle. "Of all the questions I expected, that wasn’t one of them," he admitted, shaking his head with a bemused smile. "To answer your question, I bite and then… slurp, as you so eloquently put it."

You grinned, your curiosity now fully engaged. "That’s kind of fascinating, in a morbid way. Does it hurt the person you’re biting?"

He seemed to relax further, clearly relieved that you weren’t recoiling in horror. "It can, but it doesn’t have to. There are ways to make it… pleasurable, even. If done right, the bite itself can release endorphins."

You nodded thoughtfully, still processing everything. "And do you have to bite people often? Is it hard to control?"

Astarion sighed, the weight of his existence as a vampire evident in his expression. "I do need to feed regularly, yes. And it can be difficult to control, especially if I’m starved or in the heat of battle."

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it gently. "Thank you for telling me, Astarion. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to carry that secret. But it doesn’t change how I feel about you."

His eyes softened, a mix of gratitude and surprise in his gaze. "You… you’re not afraid? Or disgusted?"

You shook your head firmly. "No, I’m not. I’m glad you trusted me enough to share this with me. We all have our burdens to bear. Yours just happens to be a bit more… unique."

Astarion let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "Thank you. Truly."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of closeness with him that you hadn’t before, "We’re in this together, Astarion. Vampire spawn or not. But I have one more question."

"Go for it," Astarion chuckled, shaking his head, his white curls framing his face.

"If you could turn your fangs into straws, would you?"

".... quite probably."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Hope you guys enjoyed it, just a short fun one for y'all x - Seluney xox

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car au part 9

Previous Masterpost

“O, please tell me someone is close by?” Red Robin hissed into his comm.

“Batman and Signal are on the way, 6 blocks out.”

“Neat, see if they can use the 109th st entrance, I will try to lead my goons that way.”

“Rerouting their gps, stay safe RR.”

Tim wasn't sure how to stay safe with a bullet wound in his leg, and a few grazes across his body. Part of the job he supposes. He wasn't sure which god or entity was enjoying his struggle, but he would not hesitate to smack them in the face with his bō. Tim took a small breather after losing his followers for a moment. His leg has a hole, his arms couldn't keep a strong grip on his grapple, not that it really mattered. A goon got an extremely lucky shot and destroyed the thing. So, grounded, with a barely functioning leg, and about 15 goons, and if the leaders of the group didn't flee already, then them too, looking for him. Not great odds. Oracle said Batman and Signal were on their way, and hopefully heading to the street closest to him that would work for some form of ambush.

“I'll go out a bit early, they won't be expecting it. Nah, they only set up to catch Signal, you know, the meta. The meta that can all but shadow step like a freaking d&d character. Such a great plan Tim.” Tim had started to mutter to himself as he attempted to tie on a better bandage to his leg than the slap dash one he did while on the move. He was just done securing it when a goon appeared.

“I found some blood over here!”

Tim almost screamed expletives on par with Jason or Duke, but he had some self preservation.

“ETA, hopefully it's NOW?!” Tim growled onto the comms.

“We are set up Red Robin, bring them through.” Tim could have cried in relief at Batman's voice, but he had some goons to lead.

Tim ran, not bothering to hide as he did. Luckily the goons did not think about surrounding the alley he was in, and they followed blindly into the bat's trap. He trusted that Bruce and Duke could handle the group, and limped to the Batmobile. It wasn't until Tim got to the driver's side passenger door did the universe have one last laugh at him.

“Well, well, we'll. Let's make a deal, little red bird.” Out of all the people to corner Tim, it had to have been the wannabe leader of the small time gang.

“Depends, is the deal you turn yourself in?” Tim automatically snarked.

“Nah, open the Batmobile, or I shoot you here.” The man sneered.

“Fine, fine.” Tim opened the driver's door and scooted away, his hands away from his sides.

“Good, keep backing up Red.”

Once Red Robin was far enough for the man, he turned and went to get into the car, only for the door to close on the man repeatedly. Tim could not help but just watch as the car kept smacking the guy until he managed to get into the seat. Unfortunately for the gang leader his hand was not fast enough and got slammed between the door and frame. Based on the crack and responding scream, the hand was very much broken. With a last open and close, the engine started, and the Batmobile drove straight into the group of goons and vigilantes.

Tim watched in morbid curiosity as Batman and Signal heard the car roaring towards them. Watched as they grappled upwards with just a small moment from them getting run over. Watched as 3 goons did not have time to move out of the way and got tossed onto the hood, only to slide off at the jerky stop of the car. It wasn't until Batman barked “Report.” over the comms did Tim snap out of his daze.

“The leader of the gang got into the Batmobile, and proceeded to try to run you guys over.” Tim slowly responded. “He held me at gunpoint and I couldn't move fast enough to do anything but let him. How did the failsafes fail at keeping him from driving?” Tim's voice petered out with the question.

The car door then slammed open and the leader fell out of the seat, and tried to scramble as far from the car as he could. It didn't take long for Batman to grab the man for questioning.

“Hey man, you good to move?” Tim startled when Duke appeared in front of him.

“Ya, ya. I have a GSW to my right calf, got grazed a few times in different places, possibly going into shock.” Tim dutifully reported.

“Got it, up and at ‘em.”

Duke carefully walked Tim to the Batmobile and settled him into the back seats, tightened the bandage on his leg, and put bandages on his other wounds. It wasn't until Duke went to go help Batman clean up and triage the remaining goons did he say something strange.

“Stay put, Red Robin. Keep him safe ok?” With the second request, Duke patted the driver's seat and left him alone in the car.

“What?”

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism

@thespacedragons

@atinygracie @okami-love

@lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[the-music-maniac]

Not that I read mpreg all that often (not really my thing generally speaking) but I came across some "Sanji is pregnant" fics in the sanzo/zosan tag, and not nearly the same amount for Zoro. It got me thinking about the trope. I think the lack of Zoro fics here is a tragic oversight. I think we as a fandom are absolutely and tragically ignoring the potential comedy gold of Zoro being the one to be pregnant instead.

Because when people write Sanji, the general trend I'm seeing (upon scanning through some of the fics quickly) is that he's cautious about it. Conscientious, careful to make sure things are okay. Which - arguably I could see, Sanji is probably the more practical of the two (not by a whole lot but still)and he didn't have a good childhood. Sanji being pregnant is usually a fic about his heaps of parental issues, childhood trauma and angst - which is fun to read. It's good. It's amazing, even.

Zoro being pregnant is ONE HUNDRED PERCENT gonna be a COMEDY. We're talking about a man who once tried to fight Kuina holding like 20 bokkens. We're talking about a man who got stuck in wax and thought the reasonable solution was to cut off his legs.

The entire crew spends the next 9 months tearing their hair out, preventing Zoro from doing stupid shit (exhibit A: cutting off his own limbs). They spend the same amount of time trying to stop Luffy from gum-gum-grabbing Zoro and yeeting him anytime he needs to get them out of a sticky situation.

The crew (mostly Sanji) is on 24/7 prevent-zoro-from-drinking-alcohol duty (impossible). Chopper is constantly stressed in the later months cause no one puts it past Zoro to get lost somewhere, give birth out in the woods and come strolling back with a baby tucked under his arm. They have to start hiding Zoro's dumbbells.

Franky and Usopp design and build a nursery and spends the entire time suspiciously teary eyed. Sanji tries to pretend he's unaffected but spends an entire night creating a 9 month meal plan of all the nutrients Zoro and the baby are gonna need. Not even a day later, one of the crew finds him up at 2 am making a mountain of food because Zoro made the mistake of offhandedly mentioning he had particular pregnancy craving within earshot of Sanji. In the end Zoro has to sit on him to stop Sanji from running himself ragged.

Robin keeps spouting morbid childbirth facts and quotes from parental advice books in equal measure. Nami keeps going on shopping sprees for cute baby clothes and adding the cost of them to Zoro's debt. Brook keeps writing lullabies and trying to sing them to Zoro's stomach. Zoro 100% uses his pregnancy belly as an excuse to walk around without a shirt 24/7 without getting nagged.

Somehow word gets out that the famous pirate hunter Zoro is pregnant, and at the next big fight with the Marines, half the soldiers refuse to fight him and instead start telling him to sit down, take it easy, shouting advice at him etc. Etc. Zoro loses his shit a little bit and cuts their boat in half.

Mihawk, upon finding out, tells Zoro in no uncertain terms that that is his grandchild and he's expecting them to visit so he can meet the baby when they're born. Zoro vehemently denies that Mihawk is his father (he is). Zeff upon finding out, is almost as bad as Sanji when it comes to being a mother hen. Perona buys even more baby clothes for the baby. She buys one singular shirt for Zoro as a joke, and it coincidentally happens to be the exact same brand of "mama" crop top he was forced to wear in that one filler episode. Zoro tries to chuck it into the ocean (he fails).

I'm essentially saying it would be absolute chaos, and it would be the funniest thing I've ever read. 9 months of Marimo wrangling. Can you imagine the look on Zoro's face if one of the opponents he was fighting were to tell him that he's "glowing"?

PLEASE, I would actually wheeze myself to death. The best part is you can still have plenty of Sanji angst. He still has parental issues except now they're flavoured with "I'm not ready to be a father" and "I'm terrified I'm gonna become my biological sperm donor" and "please don't die because of childbirth complications, that happened to my mother(sort of, I know she died after but it kinda counts), and I can't handle that happening again to you". Lots of cute/tender moments of Zoro comforting and reassuring Sanji. We can even have Zoro angst. He probably views protecting his crew as the one and only job he's good for (not true but that's probably what he thinks). Not being able to fulfill that is probably not helping his self esteem, and that sense of uselessness warring with his need to protect the baby - but the contradictory thing here is that to protect the baby he HAS to sit back and let other people do that FOR him. That plus all the other restrictions, people treating him differently, but him at the same time refusing to view his own child as a weakness. Imagine the havoc that would wreak. Oh my god.

Y'all don't understand, I don't even read mpreg that often and yet this is literally my ideal fic HAHAAAAA

[kosmosguk]

Lineage (M) | Special Chapter: How It Began

Pairing: Duke Yoongi x Princess Reader

Word Count: 4.4K

Summary: When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be. But many years before the events of Lineage's main story takes place, there was once only the love of a beloved goddess and a damned demon.

Warnings:  HEAVY yandere themes, death, gore and death, near-death experiences, obsessive behaviors, manipulation, mentions of smut, 18+, explicit language

A/N: Surprise, everyone! It's been, what, 4 years since I finished Lineage and 3 years since I stopped writing on this blog. I've been through a lot of ups and downs in the meantime (to underplay it), but I'm now in a pretty good spot. I've thought about writing this for years and there's probably at least 10 incomplete versions of this on my old laptop, but writer's slump was a huge barrier. It wasn't until a conversation with a roommate who had complained that a fic she liked was never fully fully complete that I thought about trying again, from scratch, to complete this part for Lineage. Lineage will always be my baby, and on a reread of it to prepare to write this chapter, the me of the past did do better than expected (probably better than the me of today). I don't know if any of my original readers are still here from the days when I was active on this blog, but even if it's just one, I hope I brought this story alive just a little longer. Will I write the epilogue though (which also has 10+ incomplete drafts)? We'll see :) Hopefully it won't take another 4 years!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Special Chapter |

A beautiful clearing stretched on underneath the heat of a sun that always remained warm. It was green and lush, but void of any budding blooms. There were bits of dried flowers that showed that there might have been flowers once, which had blossomed as quick back then as rain drops fell from the sky. This clearing was eternal, and it could only be changed by the touch of a being blessed by the divine or damned by the evil.

A man, cloaked in black, bent down into the clearing. There was only one more bloom now that still remained, a reminder of a time that seemed distant and far. It was hard to pick out from the shadows that spread from his feet, but he restrained the shadows until the yellow flower could tentatively peek out through the green.

It was time now. He could bring her back. She would fill this clearing with flowers again like she did before, and she would laugh as he clumsily wove together a crown from them.

He plucked the flower out of the grass and pressed it against his lips tenderly. It shriveled and dried up, leaving a colorless husk. He let it flutter out of his grasp and looked up at the sun for the first time in his existence.

"I will bring you back," he promised then. His voice sounded like he had not spoken in many years. He pulled out his sword and pierced it into the grass, watching the green shrivel into gray.

In the glint of his sword, there was a reflection of a young maiden, her fists kneading against a ball of dough. When she moved slightly, nudging the hair off of her shoulders, a hint of red was seen on her skin.

You were born in a field of flowers, blooming beautifully underneath a sky lit with gold. The daughter of the God of Life and the Goddess of Creation, you were beloved by all beings who relied on the earth to live. You, who had lived under the protection of all who was Good, were woefully ignorant of the true darkness of those who lived in the shadows of Evil.

But then on a peaceful day, not unlike the day you had been born, you realized then how easy it was for Evil to creep into the realm of the Good.

“Wake up, my goddess!”

You flinched, peeking your eyes open to the Fairy of Tulips pulling the hem of your tunic with her small fists. “I am sleeping, Little Tulip. Only official orders will wake me.”

The sun was warm against your skin, and the clarity of your mind was still soft from the blurry haze of sleep. Though deities had little need for sleep, your habit of naps was known far and wide through the Creators’ realm. You tried to close your eyes again, nestling back into the bed of grass, and brush her off your clothes, but she clung onto your palm, chomping on your thumb. You yelped, now wide awake.

She squinted down at you, fluttering up off your palm, and placed her hands on her hips, the sunrise tulip petals adorning her body swaying in her frenzy. “The flowers have been murmuring that there’s evil nearby! We have to leave. Now!”

You laughed. Evil? Evil had not existed in this realm for many eons, after the War ended with victory of the Good. But when the little fairy’s expression didn’t show a hint of amusement and the muttering of the flowers around you remained, you frowned and pushed yourself up to stand.

“If you are certain of evil, then I will bring myself to check it out. It would not do any of us good if I left the situation unchecked, as we are by the border of the realm.” You stepped forward, flowers blooming underfoot to soften your path. The little fairy tugged at your clothes, hoping to stop you, but you kept walking further away from the clearing you had been lazing in towards the forest by it. Instead of the welcoming lush green that usually greeted you, the forest was coated in darkness.  

When the muttering of the flowers pitched in volume, you knew you were getting close. You placed your hands out, ready to call for nature’s aid if the situation called for it. However, instead of some vile creature looming over you with venom oozing from its pores, a young man laid in the midst of the darkness. A closer look prompted a gasp to leave your lips. He was beautiful, more beautiful than any deity you had ever seen, and if you had not been entrenched in shadows, you could have been fooled to believe him holy. But the oozing black blood from the wound on his side and his eyes, which flickered open to glower at you, were a startling red.

He scooted back, his free hand falling to the blade by him.

“I will not hurt you!” you spoke before you could process the thought, mesmerized by the sight of his eyes. You showed him your hands. Your eyes dropped to the curve of his lips, which if it had not been pulled in a sneer would have been lush and have softened his features. “I am a healer and a grower, not a killer.”

His expression decreased in hostility. You hesitatingly asked: “Is it alright if I come close? You can keep your sword by you, and if I do anything unpleasant, I will understand if you slay me but...” You teetered for a moment. “But if you kill me, I cannot ensure your safety and that would be bad for you and me. Me because I would be dead and you because you would also be dead and...”

You were interrupted by a laugh. Your eyes flickered back to him. He looked startled at the sound he had made, and you smiled brightly in response. You took a step closer. When he did not tense, you dropped to your knees and raised your palm over his side. You lifted your gaze to meet his, and both of you sat in an entranced silence, staring at the other. His eyes dropped to your lips, though there was still a guarded look to him, and you held your breath.

“Do you want me to put my hand down?”

“What?” you sputtered. Oh. Heat burned at your cheeks as you noticed the playful tug of his lips. You nodded quickly. He must have thought you were amusing. You focused back on healing, and you would leave and tell Little Tulip to not say a word. You vowed that you would never see this brute, who enjoyed your embarrassment, again.

When he dropped his hand, you called your healing power, but the unpleasant quirk of your lips increased the time it took to fully heal his wound. When the flesh closed over the wound, you leapt back to your feet. You felt foolish, very unlike the noble and dignified deity you were supposed to be.

“I am going now. I will not tell a soul about you. You do not need to thank me, but I will tell you that you must not wander into this realm again. I guarantee that the next deity you meet will not be as forgiving as me and...”

Your lips pinched together when you felt his touch around your wrist. He pulled your hand down, and lifted his head to kiss the inside of your palm. You flinched at the press of his lips on your skin. He looked up at you, mistrust no longer in his eyes. “You are my savior. May I not be able to see you anymore?”

You dropped your gaze from his. If he heeded your words and you no longer saw him again, would the emptiness in you at the thought grow more and more?

“Only here,” your voice was but above a whisper. “If I see your shadows in the woods, I will come find you. But you must not come find me.”

He was silent for a second. “You are as cruel as you are kind, my goddess.”

He still had not let go of your hand and though his touch was cold, you felt fire licking up where his fingers made contact with your skin. You pulled your hand back like he had scalded you and spun on your heel, flowers having barely enough time to bloom underneath your bare feet with the quickness that you fled.

When you left the woods, your feet scratched up for the first time in your existence and your cheeks red, you could only force yourself to squeeze out a sentence at the quivering little fairy: “There was no evil.”

Your encounters with him continued, in secret and away from prying eyes. You talked about your visits to the human world: the songs you had heard and how you wished you could have danced and the loaves of bread you spotted cooling on the tables. You even talked about how your duties burdened you, though you were made to fulfill them, and how you felt like you were only able to handle them out of love for your humans. He talked about the books he had picked up in the human world, how he had found them meager and naïve at first and then interesting, and the little lake of lava he had grown up by and skipped rocks in. Though he spoke very little, when he did, you were captured by him.

And with the increase of encounters, your feelings of love, which you had reserved for only the creations that had been blessed by the hands of the Creators, grew. You let him hold you close to his chest, and when you laid your head on his flesh, you swore you could almost hear a heart beat quicker and quicker.

On your seventh encounter, when you had brought a basket of flowers into the woods to weave into crowns, you had placed one on his head. When he reached out into your basket and pulled out a handful of flowers, you watched him clumsily weave the flowers together and place the lopsided crown on your head. How could this man, as tender and clumsy as he was, be evil?

When he looked dejected at the sight of the crown limply hanging onto your head, you laughed and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. You had seen your lovely humans do this to express their adoration. And it was accurate to the moment: you adored him, to the point where you could ignore where his origins had laid root in.

Immediately, his hands reached up around your waist and pressed you close until you were on his lap. You gasped against his lips, and his tongue was in your mouth, delving into its depths. You burned underneath his exploration, your hands clenching onto his clothes into fists. Oh, you had never known pleasure like this, so unlike the simpleminded happiness you felt watching the trees hum in the wind and your humans create art. This pleasure was different: it blazed hotly, burning down trees and creating destruction in its path.

When the two of you were separated, your eyes blurred in a haze, he brushed his finger over the plumpness of your bottom lip, soaked in the mixture of saliva. His eyes were filled with anguish, but for what, you did not know. “My name is Yoongi.”

You let out a startled gasp at this. Oh. Oh no. You knew this name. You pushed away from him and onto your feet, flinging an arm out to point at him. “You are the Demon God. You...!”  

He was on his feet now, his hands reaching out to grab onto you. But you were inconsolable, banging your fists on his chest. Fire burned before your gaze, glimpses of your beloved humans hopelessly shielding their children from horrible monsters that would tear them apart and consume their remains. You knew those screams. You could hear them even now.

“You are the one to harm my beloved humans! I have seen your creations rise up, full of evil and malice. I have seen them destroy and terrorize and kill-!”

He held your hands to his chest, pressing your fists against where his heart would have been had he been human. The fight drained out of you, as you laid limply in his embrace, tears wetting the fabric of his clothes. His voice was ragged as he spoke. “I am full of evil, my goddess. I was full of evil. I admit, I who had been wandering in darkness did not know good. But you, who could have slain me, showed me good when you saved me. I can be good for you, as long as you do not leave me. You hold my pitiful existence in your hands.”

He reached up a hand to touch the flower crown. The crown disintegrated underneath his touch, leaving bits of ashes. “You see, whatever I touch, I destroy. But with you, I can control this damned ability of mine. I can see reason.” He swallowed heavily. “I can see you. And when I see you, I see all that is good. I can see the flowers that you love to smell and out of all of them, you love lilies the most. I can see that you love humans, though they pillage and lie and kill. I can see why all beings seek the warmth of the day and fear the coldness of night.”

You looked up at him. You could only see the redness of his eyes then. But beneath it, there was a being who you were certain loved you. And you loved him, as much as you loved your humans. He, who was evil, was nothing more than a creation led astray.

“I am sorry,” you finally whispered, a stray tear slipping down your cheek. “I...You will have to give me time.”

When you pushed yourself away from him, this time for good, you walked away.

When he saw that you had left without even a look back at him, he looked up as a large crow flew down. When it landed, it transformed into that of a handsome man with narrow eyes and bronzed skin and cheeks that would have revealed a dimple had he been a smiler.

“Namjoon,” Yoongi spoke, “Keep an eye on her for me. I will leave to deal with the issues of the Demon Realm.”

Namjoon nodded his head and hummed in agreement. “I will. A favor for a friend.”

Yoongi laughed. “Your associations with humans have made you more like them. A demon has no need for friends. In our existence, there are those who lead, and those who follow.”

Namjoon turned his head to look at where the little goddess had been. “And how would you describe her: a leader or a follower?”

Yoongi’s hands clenched briefly, like he could still feel her warmth, and his eyes were still pinned to where she had been. “She is holy. Holier than my damned existence. And yet I still want to monopolize her and make her look only at me.”

“So then?” Namjoon asked again. “How would you categorize her?”

Yoongi remained silent for a moment. Then, he vanished, leaving Namjoon alone in the forest. Namjoon thought to himself then: what about this little goddess captured the attention of a demon that had been damned from the beginning?

Namjoon kept a careful eye on the goddess. Though on the surface, it was due to orders from his liege, he could not help the insatiable curiosity about her. She was kind—though kindness was not much familiar to a demon like him. She certainly loved those humans, as foolish and terrible they were. And when she watched a wedding, there was a certain sadness lingering in her eyes that captured him.

And so, as Yoongi remained away from her side, Namjoon found himself fixated on this presence.

He had been following her in a crow form when he was caught by the pudgy hands of some kid who was little more than the neighborhood bully. The kid had thrown him onto the ground and menacingly reached down to start plucking at his feathers. He had thought about growing back into a fierce snake, who could rear up to bite the human that dared to grab him and leave him on the verge of death, when a voice cried out.

“Leave that bird alone!”

The child bully looked up, prepared to viciously attack the person who dared to interrupt his fun time, but swallowed his words at the sight of the glowering adult. The little goddess had taken on the form of a muscular man, with biceps that bulged like the size of a boulder, and the kid had been too flustered to come up with a retort. Instead, the kid dropped Namjoon’s bird form and sped off.

When the muscular man shifted back into the form of the little goddess, Namjoon watched as you ran up to him and lifted him up to inspect him. “Oh, I am so glad you were not harmed! I love those humans, but I do not particularly enjoy it when they decide to hurt other innocent beings.” You squinted down at him with analytical eyes. Namjoon gulped, fearing that you would have caught onto the true self that lingered underneath the disguise. “Do you think I was too mean by taking on that scary form, right?”

Namjoon shook his head, forgetting that birds should not have understood the human language. But you laughed like this was to be expected, and Namjoon felt silly: of course, animals like birds would understand the words of this goddess. “Good! Well, I will let you be now, little guy. Try to be more careful, so you will not get caught again. You are a handsome bird, with very beautiful feathers. There are many humans who would catch you just to capture your feathers.”

Namjoon puffed up in pleasure. Of course, he was beautiful. He was a high-ranking demon. This crow form was nothing for him. If anything, he was the most handsome crow out of all the crows that occupied the human realm. He squinted his eyes. What was he even thinking?

In his agitation, he fluttered his wings and flapped away, ignoring the tinkling sound of laughter that she made when he almost rammed into a tree branch.

When Yoongi returned and had asked Namjoon on how his goddess had fared without seeing him, Namjoon could not help the zip of pleasure that ran through him when he had answered that she had been more than fine, and Yoongi had glowered in response.

Namjoon then understood why Yoongi had been unable to answer him when he had asked which category the little goddess had occupied. She was neither a leader nor a follower. Her existence itself was a source of contentment, of happiness that destroyed the boundary between who was meant to control and who was meant to be controlled.

There were many creations that were beautiful. And there were few creations that were both beautiful and kind. But beautiful and kind creations never lived long.

You loved most the most beautiful and kind of the humans: a young girl who had lived as a daughter of a baron. You had chanced upon her on one of your visits, watching her help the poor though her family itself had little means, and when she had begged for help from a deity to help save her from her plight, you had been listening to her pleas that she not be sold to the vicious king that ruled over her kingdom.

You did something that you reserved for only your most favorite humans: you appeared in front of her. When you had offered her a way to avoid the favor of the king—a bell that would turn her into a bird that could fly out of the king’s grasp—she had laid on the ground and kissed your feet in joy.

But word of the goddess that appeared with the golden bell spread far and wide. And when you entered the human realm, wanting to see how that human girl was faring, you were soon captured by the king’s army. When you were lead to the throne room, your hands wrapped in chains, you were distraught at the sight of your most favorite human pointing at you.

“This is the goddess!” she declared. She turned to the king, who looked like a walking corpse with sallow skin and hollow cheeks underneath the gold and silk he wore. “Your majesty, I implore you to remember our deal. For her capture, you will let go of my parents and give us enough gold to revitalize our land and tend to our people.”

Oh, though she had betrayed you so, you felt a rush of pride. Betrayal for a good reason, you could tolerate, for you loved her so. But the king had merely raised his hand, and a knight rushed forward with a fell swoop of his sword. When her head, bloody, fell in front of you, you let out a ragged cry.

The king knelt down in front of you, a blade in his hand. You flinched as he wielded the knife...and sliced his palm open. He reached up to cup your cheek, smearing his blood on your flesh. “I heard tears from a goddess could cure all wounds.”

He lifted his palm back and watched with awe as the wound on his palm closed up. His eyes glowed with a sick greed. “Then it must be true. That the blood of a goddess can cure all ailment. You know, I had this knife brought to me for this very moment when I first heard the legends. It is made of a terrible evil capable of killing good. You should know that I was granted this knife from the Demon God himself after I sacrificed many peasants.”

He raised the knife and sliced your palm. You felt pain for the first time in your existence, but even more hurtful, you felt anguish bite at what might have been your heart. Gold ichor spilled out of your wound, and he hastily bent down to drink your blood. Color returned to his cheeks at once. You watched in disgust and horror as he laughed with glee. He sobered up, looking down at you. His eyes glittered with the remnants of the sickness that had imprisoned him so.

“Then it must be true. That the sacrifice of a goddess can fulfill any wish, a wish that would last for all of time. Your death can bring anyone back to life. For with your death, life will follow. I will be able to see my wife then.” He lifted the knife, and you were silent as he brought it down in a fell swoop. The blade pierced the flesh above your clavicle, but not a sound of pain left your lips. You pinched them together, even as your body collapsed on the cold floor.

You thought of Yoongi then. You wanted to let him know that you forgave him, for his deceit and for how he had tricked your beloved humans. But you were no longer capable of doing so. You were bleeding out on this floor, just like any other mortal that you had loved. You hoped that the Creators would not hurt the humans who had harmed you. There were many you had loved. And you knew that the Creators loved them even more so.

You saw a flash of red in front of your blurry gaze. A voice called your name, begging. You had never heard a voice that despaired like this voice did. You wondered, for a moment, why it sounded like Yoongi. Something wet splashed onto your skin, the sound of a crackle and a pop following. Ah, the tears of a demon, unlike the tears of a god, caused pain. But you did not feel any pain, not now. Ah, it was Yoongi.

You wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you saw good in him, that even when you were not around he could still be good. But your time, which had seemed to stretch on infinitely before, was now finite, limited by a few seconds left.

You whispered, gasping out short little breaths between the words. “I...forgive...all.”

“Wake...!” you heard.

And then you could speak no longer. And you could hear no longer.

The end of the realms was imminent. Underneath the grief of the ruler of the demon realm, fires roared and overtook earth. Soon, once earth was taken and destroyed, rage would spread and bring all that existed down to the burning afterworld.

The God of Life could not stand by and witness the end of all that he had created. When he had found himself in front of the Demon God, he had been prepared for the sword that the Demon God had pointed at his chest.

“You...! She is your daughter, and you wish me to spare the lives of the humans who...!” The Demon God had screamed in anguish. He laughed then, the sound ironic and cruel. "I know you beings are both cruel and kind. For if she had been less kind, she would have been less cruel, choosing her love of humans over...over our love."

The God of Life loved all he created very much. And he had loved his daughter, who had sprung forth from the love he had with his wife, very much as well. But as the Giver of Life, he was unable to upset the balance of the world he had created, not when the balance was so fragile. He could not bring his daughter back. Not without an equal trade. Not without a deal.

“More than you would ever know in your damned existence, I love her very much." Loved. "Yet, I too am unable to go against the tide of Fate." In that moment, for the first time in his existence that had always been steady and predictable, the God of Life relented.

"However, there is a chance for her to return.” He started. “But you must adhere to what I will tell you. So that you will not destroy the world, I will tell you of how you may be granted mercy from Fate. But there is little in this world that is certain."

The Demon God was silent now, his face stony and emotionless. But there was something dangerous taking root in his eyes. A sickness that could not be cured: Hope.

And Hope was the most dangerous thing, for as much as it could create, it could also destroy. Hope would be the reason why humanity would continue. And hope would be the reason why the king, who in his madness had killed a deity, did not die. And why many, many years later, a princess that once had been the most loved existence in all of the realms would be born into this kingdom in the absence of love.

For hope could destroy lineage, as much as it tried to preserve it.

A/N: As always, leave a comment! Though I'm not active like I used to be, I do check messages that come into my inbox and do see when y'all (if anyone is still here haha) comment. If anything, another motivator that had me come back to this blog just for this story was someone who messaged me two years ago. @theedungeonwitch, though I was in a not so great place then and wasn't able to respond to you, I'm leaving my flowers here for you now. No tag list, since I'm not sure who's still here and still willing to read this chapter :)

[charnelhouse]

press the gas and ride

gif by @riley-keoughs pairing: Joel Miller x f!Reader (nicknamed Dolly) word count: 2.4k+ summary: comfort in a car warnings: hurt/comfort. smut. angst. A/N: this takes place a month after teacups, but no need to read. tlou ep 3 spoilers. this is really just trash smut. Joel Miller Masterlist

She watched Joel's expression buckle as he read the letter. His brow furrowed, the muscle in his jaw tensing. She looked away, suddenly feeling intrusive. She'd never come here with Joel. His trips to Bill were semi-frequent, but this was the first time he’d brought her. Of course, he hadn't expected this. He hadn't thought they'd be walking into a dead house. 

The fresh air through the open front door bullied the stench of rotten meat and vegetables. The dinner on the table buzzed with flies. There were starched, ironed napkins folded in triangles with lovely patterns of woodland creatures. She traced the tiny squirrel sewed into the fabric before studying the label on the wine bottle. She was intent on busying herself. She wanted to give Joel space, but he'd been more paranoid than usual since the attack a month ago. 

I don't want you out of my sight.

She hadn't stopped aching. Brutal. Horrible. She'd slaughtered two people, and her mind continued to spin with the memories of it. She was unable to remove the taste of blood from her tongue. She could not unhear the shuddering death rattle or unfeel the way the man beneath her had wriggled and then spasmed like an electrocuted rodent.  

Joel had also seemingly lost his cool that night. After he'd tucked her into bed, she'd heard him smashing up the first floor. In the morning, he'd refused to let her see what he had done and when she fell apart again (in the safety of their QZ apartment), Joel wouldn't have it.

He'd crouched so they could be eye-level, large hand cupping the back of her skull. "They got what they deserved. Nothin' more than that."

He was right, but teaching her head to stop was easier said than done. 

She scanned the dining room before settling on the mahogany cabinet full of delicate china. When she noticed the powder blue and white teacups, she winced. She couldn't escape it. Everything triggered her. She needed to learn to grow up and out of her pain because it wouldn't serve her and certainly not Joel. He bulldozed through everything, and she had to follow suit. 

Joel cleared his throat. He had stopped reading and was staring out the window, far away. She intended to bring him back to shore. 

"They have a car?" she asked, and Joel's eyes swept toward her. Inscrutable. 

"Yeah." He scraped a hand over his mouth. "Yeah."

***

Joel guided her to a guest room, instructing her to clean up and be ready in an hour.

He'd found her a box of women's clothes that she happily dug through. The very idea of new outfits felt celebratory- even if they smelled a bit stale.

The musty fabric reminded her of her grandmother's closets. She'd used to hide behind the wool coats and leather shoes, toes snug in the sea-green carpet. She'd get light-headed on mothballs. 

Her family was gone. A long time gone.

She supposed Joel was the only person who really gave a shit about her well-being. If she died, he’d have the memory of her, at least. She wouldn’t be dust.

After she showered, she yanked on a sundress and sneakers. Joel would undoubtedly say something, but she was past caring. She stared at herself in the mirror, petting the floral-print bodice. She twisted side to side, the breeze from the open window licking between her legs and under her arms. 

She thought of Bill and Frank in the next room and abruptly stopped. Morbid. Strange to be so fine rummaging through a house when two dead men were feet away. Their window was open, too, and she wondered if the sweet brush of cool air had cradled them into the next life. She stepped forward, pressing her ear against the wood. She listened, tapping her fingertips over the wallpaper. 

Silence. She tapped again. Waiting.

"What are you doing?"

She whirled around to find Joel standing in the doorway with a towel around his waist. He'd combed his wet hair back, but a single strand boyishly drifted over his forehead. The scars across his torso gleamed white under the naked afternoon sun.

"Nothing." She shifted her weight, the dress swishing with her. 

He frowned as he scrutinized her outfit. "You can't wear that."

"Because?"

"Because you can't do shit in a dress that short," he replied flatly. 

She put her hands on her hips. "Can I just wear this today? It's-fuck-it's the prettiest thing I've worn since-since I don't know." She averted her eyes, feeling childish at her reasoning.

Because I want to be beautiful for once. I want to look beautiful for you and not covered in grime, blood, and jeans, two sizes too big. 

The expression on Joel's face flickered between irritated and puzzled. She thought he might stride across the room and tear it off her. 

Once in a while, he'd give her shit about things like this-pecking at her for enjoying luxuries that didn't exist anymore. He'd call her a spoiled brat when he really wanted to tick her off. Instinctively, she knew he was doing it, so she'd snap at him, deal him back with a rough hand. 

He always won and she assumed he’d win here, as well.

She expected him to say no, but he took a breath instead. Running his hand across his chest, he massaged an old bullet wound hidden in the sparse hair before turning back into the hall. White flag. 

Then, his voice pitched so low it grazed the floor. "Fine."

***

The letter must have softened him. Repeatedly punched him until he was a tender, pliant piece of meat. He hadn't even twitched when she snatched two guns too massive for her off the basement wall or smuggled a box of wine into the car.

His hands scraped over the steering wheel when he slid into the front seat. He stared blankly at the dash and then the manicured driveway. The grass was just beginning to creep away from the lawn, encroaching onto the asphalt. 

She wasn't sure how to deal with this. He usually seemed to take death in stride. His grief was like a chalky, oversized pill, but he swallowed it nonetheless. He'd made it clear that he didn't even like Bill yet...

"I'm sorry," she offered.

"Take your feet off the dash," he ordered stiffly.

She scowled but did as she was told, figuring she didn't need to push Joel Miller’s buttons again today. She settled into her seat, hands prim in her lap as she waited for him to begin driving.

He didn't. 

He continued to sit silently, seemingly unable to turn the car on. The hand around the steering wheel tightened, his scabbed knuckles flexing and paling beneath the windshield. His nostrils flared, and she suddenly knew:

He was going to crack. He was going to burst down the middle, and he needed her. 

Abruptly, she crawled over the console, gripping him by the lapels of his button-up to balance her weight. The fresh clothes looked good on him-the plaid green shirt fit his broad frame like a glove. She nearly toppled into the door before he grasped her wrist roughly. “What are you-"

"Shh," she murmured, straddling his lap. He stared at her. 

Joel wore his grief in the creases of his face. His pain. His anger. He was beautiful to her. Sexy in a way that couldn't be understood. Older, too. Older than any man she'd ever had before, but it wasn't like she'd had that many men, to begin with. 

"I'm here," she whispered, her thighs squeezing around his own. His mouth parted, exhaling. 

She wondered what undercurrents ran beneath his skin-his armor. What did he think about? How did he see her? 

She lifted herself onto her knees, and Joel's hands automatically seized her hips. Unbuttoning his jeans, she tugged the zipper down, and his eyes found hers. Good. Coyly, she licked her palm before gripping his half-hard cock. She stroked him slow, glancing down to watch the blush-red head disappear in the circle of her fist. He shuddered, hips lifting a few inches off the leather seat. 

She intended to be fast about this. Pleasurable consolation was a language she knew Joel understood. 

“I’m going to fuck you,” she said and he shivered under her touch. He remained silent as the grave though his eyes never left hers. Perhaps, he was struck dumb by her forwardness.

She clutched his shoulder as she braced herself before sinking down and guiding him into the heat of her cunt. She'd worn the sun dress for a reason. 

Joel made a gritty, strangled noise as she took him to the hilt, lowering herself until his thighs were flush with her ass. The band of his jeans grazed her skin, the metal of the zipper catching flesh. His nostrils flared as she tightened, walls spasming because he was always a little too big. 

Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, forcing his face against her chest. He sighed deeply as she rocked forward, his fingers biting into her waist. It could hardly be called a fuck, just her grinding down and him pushing his cock upward until he couldn't claim another centimeter. 

She cradled the back of his skull, rooting her nose around his damp hair that smelled like clover and a scent she recalled from before - something generic and artificial like Irish Spring. 

Finding leverage was proving difficult, but she did her best. She rose up, keeping him halfway inside her before sliding down. Repeat. In her defense, she’d never fucked anyone in a car before.

One of her hands snuck out the open window to grasp the top of the car. It was dusty, and she had this ridiculous worry that maybe someone would crawl into the garage and bite her hand. She ripped it back to cup the side of Joel's face instead. His mouth twitched, his lids heavy like he was drunk and dazed. He didn't even care she had smeared old car dust into his beard. He'd have to shower again. She would, too, and she wanted to laugh at the strange coincidence of paving new roads in their relationship through hot showers. After all, he'd wrenched her away from a panic attack in that house outside Boston. He'd held her in the shower, mouth brushing her ear.

"You did a hell of a job."

"You did so fuckin' well, sweetheart."

She swelled from the memory of Joel's praise. She wanted to pay him back.

"I've got you," she murmured against his temple, nails tracing a line across his scalp through his thick damp grays. "I've got you, Joel."

He nodded-or she thought he did. His gestures were always so vague. Sometimes he'd hold her down and fuck her brains out while telling her how much he wanted to kill her for being stupid and acting recklessly. It would then always end with him possessively clutching her body to his.

You send mixed signals, Joel. 

What?

You said you wanted to kill me, and now you won't let me go.

I never said that. 

She felt him twitch inside her, his mouth dragging across her clavicle before he abruptly shoved the top of her dress down and latched to her nipple. He sucked it, tongue darting over the nub and causing her pussy to clench around his length.

"Sweetheart," he mumbled. 

"I know," she said. 

Their grief sat between them - a weight strung about their ankles, dragging them down to the deepest parts of whatever was left. She knew blips of his pain as he knew hers. He comforted her in the ways he understood, not necessarily with words but with actions. She could do that for him now, remind him that he had her.

She rolled her hips, and he groaned, his breath puffing against her sternum. She snagged him tighter and dug her grip into his skin like she was holding fast to a rock in a riptide. The car was so small, the steering wheel bumping against her lower back, and you could hear everything.

The rustle of fabric. The squelch of her sex and slap of skin. 

Finally, Joel planted his feet and began to drive up into her. Short, fast strokes that hit just right. It almost hurt. It gave her a belly ache, but everything else fell away. The car filled with his low, subdued grunts and her whimpers. 

He secured his arms around her waist, one hand sneaking to the base of her scalp to embed his thumb into the muscle beneath her ear. They were tangled in such a way that it would have looked like anything - they could be devouring each other, feasting on the other's throats as they fucked fast and sad.

Somewhere along the way, Joel tilted his head and demanded her mouth.

He kissed her fiercely, tongue hot and aggressive as it wrestled with hers. Exploring. "Baby," he sighed against her slippery teeth. "Fuck."

Joel, her man of few words, but just the right ones. She still didn't call him anything but his name. Nothing else fit him.

"Shit," she gasped as he delivered a harsh thrust. Stay with me. Stay focused.

Her climax paraded around her belly, kicking up dirt and shouting out toward a faceless crowd. It was turning in circles, unable to find the finish line. He was screwing her tectonic plate deep, but the friction wasn't enough for her to get off. It didn't matter. This was about him. Not her. 

He gripped her hip and shoved her down before spearing up, grinding in slow, determined circles. He left her mouth to find her throat, sucking methodically at her pulse. 

It didn't take too long after that. He grumbled something into her jaw (maybe, Dolly) before his hips stuttered beneath her. She felt him fill her, warmth blooming outward. She'd have to deal with that, but for now, she worshiped him. He lifted his face, flushed from exertion - golden, bright, and devastating as his dark eyes searched hers.

“You’re good,” she praised, pressing her lips to his chin.

When she crawled off his lap, she was sticky between her legs. He huffed, tugging at the edge of her dress as if trying to hide her modesty. 

No one's around here, Joel.

No one. It's you, and it's me. It's us. 

She was sore as fuck, like she'd been smacked in the crotch. Her orgasm was lost somewhere, hanging by a few threads, but she didn't want it. Instead, she craved the longing-the lingering frustration of her missed pleasure. She brushed her hair out of her face and smoothed her dress.

"That was-"

She was hauled back over to him. Their brows bumped, noses jamming together before Joel kissed her hard. When he finally pulled away, he asked, "You feel safe with me?"

"What kind of question-

"You feel safe with me?" he urged, hands seizing her cheeks. She wondered if it had something to do with what had happened at that house a month ago. The teacup house. Or was this because of what had been written in that letter beyond Bill and Frank's goodbyes?

She felt that if she probed, he would splinter. It wasn't her business. She told him the truth. 

Smiling, she placed her hand over his. "Yes," she assured him. "I always feel safe with you."

Joel took a breath, nodding once, before pulling away. He stabbed the keys into the ignition, twisting them north, and the car rumbled to life.

When they left the garage, she watched the walls creep over him again. 

[the-s1lly-corner]

could I request creepypasta x reader who can take their head off

Various crps x reader who can take their head off

pretending that i didnt tear up the roof of my mouth while eating my dinner shhhshhhh ignoring that my bottom front teeth rest on the roof of my mouth right where its all torn up thus making me hyperaware and by extension making me clench and grind subconsciously characters: jeff the killer, laughing jack, ticci toby, eyeless jack notes: reader is gn, reader isnt really human but theyre written to look human, focusing on first reactions cws: none unless you found taking ones head off as body horror? does it count? im not sure tbh.. mentions of anatomy and stuff in ejs part.. canon typical violence

LAUGHING JACK

finds it so cool, entertaining even... i like to think that he has "clown physics" to him, but im unsure if being able to dethatch limbs would be one... if he cant take his own head off hes going to be a tad bit jealous of you

sometimes yoinks your head and holds it up to his height so you can "see the world from his perspective", this is more likely if youre significantly shorter than him

if you allow it hes going to juggle your head or even "go bowling" with it... you... may get dizzy though, so agree with caution

if your head is loose and has a habit of falling off hes going to take it as a win if it falls as you laugh at one of his jokes

EYELESS JACK

honestly? not all that phased by your little party trick, at least hes not grossed out by the clear view of your necks insides- hes seen those plenty of times... both in the form of images as well as in person when hes needed to silence someone

that said looking at in tact neat remains is different than seeing it all messed up or in a diagram, so if you dont mind he would like to take a look at least once... totally not making notes for future reference

not many questions otherwise, surprisingly... i mean hes a man eating demon of sorts who mostly gets nutrients from eating the organs of humans- he doesnt have much place to ask you what you are exactly or what caused this sort of thing to happen

doesnt ask you to show off your trick, finds no interest in asking you to take your head off and goof off with it unlike some of the others

TICCI TOBY

oh! thats his partner taking off their head.... OH! THATS HIS PARTNER TAKING OFF THEIR HEAD- he... genuinely needs a second to process what hes looking at because it catches him so off guard, you only told him you had a party trick to show him

lots of questions, main one being how and why- were you not a living human this whole time? a little betrayed that you didnt tell him sooner, actually- and even if you did, why didnt you show him this sooner?

traces his fingers along your neck where it separates, after you put your head back on- even more impressed if theres no mark left behind

like jeff, hes going to try to get you to play some jokes on people- though its likely hes going to pull them on masky and/or hoodie

sometimes carries your head around with him while hes working- ignore how morbid of a sight thatd be..! he just wants some company without making it too obvious!

JEFF THE KILLER

stares wide eyed for a few seconds... ignoring that he doesnt have his eye lids anymore so hes always looking at you wide eyed-- thinks he may have actually lost it for a second before cracking up

probably one of the last things hes expected you to do but hey, he thinks its pretty wicked!

oh hes definitely going to try to get you to use your quirk to scare some unsuspecting people who are walking around- perhaps do it late at night for some added effect? and if they lash out he can always swoop in and come to your aid

will push your head off of your neck if youre being a smartass or generally lightly getting onto his nerves- not a hard push, but enough to knock your head loose

[mockerycrow]

SIGHT — PLATONIC!141 (FLUFFTOBER)

flufftober 2023 - 429 words

THE SIGHT OF everyone together soothed you. Whether it’s seeing everyone gathered around a meeting table to discuss the details of a mission, or maybe everyone sitting in a row at a bar or around a restaurant’s table, or maybe even perhaps just everyone together around a table playing a board game on base. You adore watching your teammates interact; the way the corners of Price’s eyes crinkle in amusement when Ghost begins to tell his poor puns, and Soap responding with a groan and trying to one-up him. Gaz, who is blank faced and totally unamused the entire time although you know deep down he wants to crack a smile.

You tend to be in the same room as Soap and Gaz when they are given the task of examining shrapnel of old bombs and IEDs as they’re both demolitions experts. usually it’s either Soap or Gaz alone, but you cherish the moments it’s the both of them. You watch them bicker over what part is what and what piece of metal belonged where and in a way, it was endearing to see the two argue and then come together to focus and reconstruct the device as best as they could with what they were provided with. They always call you over to see if the scraps actually look like they form into something and you comply after getting your glances worth of a lifetime.

With Ghost, you enjoy seeing him around base, but especially either in the training room, or the field. Watching Ghost’s (usually) strict workout routine get interrupted by Soap nearly everyday is entertaining; so entertaining in fact that you notice Ghost’s behavior change in the gym. Around a certain time, you can tell Ghost is expecting the Scot to appear out of nowhere like usual. On the field, it’s a bit morbid, you truly do admire Ghost’s work ethic. He’s very good with knives and you can’t help but admire whenever he has to use them. His voice dips deeper ever so slightly, and you highly enjoy watching him work with the team.

Your favorite moment to see overall, is when you’re all together. This could be on the field, or in a bar. It could be in a hospital by someone’s side, or it could be a rooftop somewhere, watching the sunset before switching watch shifts. These are moments you never take for granted, especially in your line of work. Seeing their faces, their eyes and their smiles—watching Ghost’s body language change overtime, everyone coming closer together?

There’s no place you’d rather be.

[secretlilsis]

Him watching you whilst youre still peacefully sleeping, fully unaware that he had taken control of you - made you his, how he knew it was his right. Watching you, burning your image into his eyes. How gentle you looked, sleeping, breathing evenly, how relaxed - how trusting. He had to resist the urge to gently pet your head or stroke your cheek sleeping like that, but he couldnt ruin it, he couldnt wake you - no that wouldnt be polite. Hed wait until youd wake up naturally. After the drugs he had given you wore off. Then you had time to understand the situation you were in.

And wake up you did. Eyes wide opened, doe eyed stare. Panic from the first second, barely having shaken sleep off. In spite of how much of the drug was still in your system, you instantly remembered the struggle you had with him prior to this - when you had tried to fight him off when he approached you from behind - but the needle sunk into your flesh to fast and you had gone out cold. You tried to get up, tried to run away - the panic written all over your face - but all he had to do was get up and gently stand in front of you to catch your fall, then gently carry you back to bed bridal style and putting you back down on the bed again - almost as if you were nothing but a human-sized doll. He mustered your panic-filled eyes with morbid curiousity, there was something almost sadistic to it. Like he enjoyed your fear, even if all he did was put you back to bed and then gently stroke your face - how little you knew that he had waited oh so long just to be able to gently stroke your face like this. Whilst you had no choice but to accept it, accept his affectionate touch, his love. His feelings.

He took in your fear, and it fueled him with a sense of omnipotence. Right know he had you, fully had you. You belonged to him.

You were to weak to slap his hand away, and you werent sure you wouldve dared to if you had been able to muster the strength so soon again.

But finally you spoke, "... Ethan, you dont have to do this.." You finally uttered, pressed every word like speaking was a pain, when really it was just very exhausting to do in ur current state.

Ethan. Your big brother. The one, that had always looked out for you, when his parents adopted you you had expected any other sibling to be fiercely jealous or territorial, but he hadnt been. Never. Since day one he had clung to you like you were his everything. Loved you a little to much right from the start. Looked at you like you put the stars in the sky.

Watched you.

Observed you.

You hadnt minded his attention for the most part, really. You enjoyed it even. He was the first person in your life that had been truly kind to you, accepted you. Paid attention to you. So you didnt mind it, really, that he paid attention to you a little bit to much. Maybe it was a way to make up for the broken home you had come from, like he was medicine you long needed.

With flushed cheeks did you recall how you had allowed him to touch you - and worse - how much you had desired him too. How much you had wanted his hands all over you.

When you got older you recognized this isnt right, you couldnt do this - have this sort of relationship to him.

But now 5 years after you had moved far away, not told him nor your adoptive parents or anyone that couldve told him, to get away from it at all.

And now you were right back here.

His wandering eyes had never left you.

He caressed you. He had that same obsessed expression in his face. But it was worse, now he was *enjoying* your fear. It hadnt been like that at any given time when you grew up with him, he had never enjoyed making you uncomfortable. He always tried to make you happy, was caring, attentive.

But then again you had left him. Rejected him. Without a word. No goodbye. Made it clear you would not return.

Who knows what happens if someone like him gets rejected and left behind? His hand now caressed your cleavage, and you shivered.

"Big brother -" You instinctively said.

He looked suprised, "Is that still how you think of me?" He looked caught off-guard, almost vulnerable. "I wouldnt have expected that after you just left without me having any way to find you."

He then leaned in closer to kiss your ears, just like he had always done.

"Big brother.. I.. It was my choice to leave -" you stuttered, feeling like your body was glowing.

"And it was my choice to catch you and bring you here." He spoke, cutting you off.

His hands wandering down your body now, caressing you through your thin layer of clothing.

You could feel his hands so well.

"Big brother.. please.." You whispered.

"Shh..." He said "I gave you everything I had to offer, and you still left. Now im taking what is mine without asking first."

You tried to peel his hand off of you, but he only very very gently put your hands away, back to their resting position next to your body.

"Lets see if your body has forgotten me too, shall we? Or if your body atleast will embrace me like it used to." He was whispering now, his eyes so intense.

"Big brother... It was wrong - what we were doing.. It felt good.. I.. I truly loved you.. but we cant- we .." You were stuttering and stammering, feeling a mixture of complex emotions, anger, fear, helplessness, arousal, longing, having missed him even - terror at what had become of him, and wondering why you never thought of him as dangerous before, shouldnt you have known?

"...." He paused for a second. "Whats wrong about this? If you truly loved me, you wouldnt have left me."

"I didnt leave because I didnt love you.. I left because it was wrong to love you..."

He grimaced, "Just surrender. Just give in. If thinking makes you feel that ashamed, just stop thinking. Let me take control. Let your big brother handle this. This isnt wrong. Loving you could never be wrong."

Then he continued, now slowly kneading your breasts with careful pressure - exploring your body like he was trying to get to know you again, make up for lost time.

You were gently moaning, your body still responding to him like it always had. His touch felt welcome, yet shameful at the same time. And this isnt how it should happen, ever. Not like this.

"This isnt fair big brother.. this isnt f-fair.." You spoke, almost moaning into your own sentence as he kept teasing your nipples through your shirt.

"What was fair about you leaving me? I dont need to be fair to you. All I need is to make clear to you, that I own you and youll never escape me. I need to teach you. That loving big brother you claim to have loved so much? You can have him back..... once youve returned to being the little sister that wouldve never thought of leaving me."

You gulped, slowly taking his hand now - him watching you to see where you were going with this - you taking his hand and leading it to your lips, gently kissing his fingers one by one, with a very embarassed, scared even expression - yet in the corners of your eyes he could still see the fragile affection you felt for him.

"Big brother..." You whispered. "Can I ..? Can I take charge of what we are about to do? Id.. I think id feel better about it if I was the active part right now.. I promise I wont run away again, too. I promise." You said, with that vulnerable, exposed expression.

He felt a sick sense of satisfaction to see you offer yourself up in this way. He nodded however, "I dont want you to be in pain, I just want you to be mine. And im.. happy.. youd want to take charge even."

With this you gently climbed on top of his body, and started kissing his cheeks, his forehead, then his lips. Fondling him through his pants, feeling his boner. Every emotion you felt so visible to him, as it always had been. "There you are now, on top of me, touching me .. you know, when we had sex back then you always wanted me to be the active part, so .. im a bit flattered youre taking charge for once."

It was almost like this situation wasnt insane. No, it absoloutely was. But you were good at fooling yourself, and so was he. This could feel normal, this could feel romantic even, he was still someone you loved more than anything no matter how much you tried to deny it. You tried to ignore how far he had gone with this.

You werent sure yourself even, if you were just venting your repressed feelings of love and desire on him - or whether you were acting to assure your own safety. You simply didnt know.

You started kissing the tip of his dick, then started licking around the shaft before taking his dick into your mouth. Hearing his small breaths whenever you started to go really fast.

Eventually when he was close to cumming, and you quickly let him cum onto your breasts.

You looked at him awkwardly not sure what to do next.

"...... You came." You finally commented.

"But you havent yet."

You shifted around nervously, "Do you not intend to let me touch you more too? Im glad you took charge.. but id like to make you cum too, you know like I used to."

You felt a crushing mix of anxiety pulse through your body, meeting with some form of arousal. But you would not have called that comfortable.

"... Big brother.. You cant.. You know this wont.. work.." You started to hesistate, started to talk back.

He looked at you with an empty expression, clearly hiding what he was actually feeling. Was it anger? irritation? sadness? Who knew.

"I promise if you let me go now I .. I wont run away again.... I promise -"

He continued to look at you with that same empty gaze.

Then a small smile formed on his lips, "No. Thats to soon. I have to mark you properly or you wont understand."

And with that he pinned you down, was on top of you in one sudden move and two of his fingers right inside of you -

you remembered how much your body once had longed for him, all the time did you sneak into his room at night just years ago - just to be filled by him again, and again. He had felt so good. His body so right. He was perfect in every way, except that he was your big brother. For a time you had felt it was unfair. But then you had decided it was wrong and shameful and that it had to end.

You felt that same shame now.

Hot, burning shame mixing with hot melting desire - and fear.

His fingers fucking you just as well as you knew him to be capable of. Feeling yourself get wetter, and wetter.

"Ethan .. Please.. Ple--" He put his hand over your mouth to quiet you. You whined against his grip, his response to that was merely to remove his finger from your aching cunt for a second so he could pet your head for a second or two - before continiung to fingerfuck you once more with that same hand.

"Cum for me." He whispered into the nabe of your neck when he felt you close to the edge. And cum you did. A breathy, strong orgasm. Your body collapsed.

Only then did he let go of you, looking at you. Always looking at you.

You wanted to hide your face, but you knew he wouldnt like it, wouldnt allow it, so you didnt - so he could clearly see that aroused, satisfied expression on your face, with the fear - the shame, stinging red and boiling over.

"Oh I know now how you feel." He said thoughtfully. "So ashamed of us. So ashamed of our love. Yet so lustful. So afraid, so, so mine."

He gently planted a kiss onto your forehead.

"Big brother.. Im sorry I left.." You whispered. Still not sure whether you were acting, or whether you were actually sorry you had hurt him with that action.

"I believe you. But.. youll have to win my trust before you can ever hope to be set free again."

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

hi can i request yan sebastian, grell and hell taker meeting reader as their soulmate bit reader is more likely to believe soulmate is not real and theres not such things as true love or destiny

Soulmate | Yandere Black Butler

Naturally in a world where demons, rogue angels, and grim reapers run rampant love and procreation aren’t exactly expected. But their creators gave them an out—a symbol randomly given to someone stamped with a soulmate status.  Many would consider it a weakness but many others would consider it a strength of its own. Either way for them a soulmate is one in a million and they’d be foolish to let you escape whether you believe it or not:

Sebastian Michaelis

“What a glorious surprise is this?”

He never expected to find his soulmate in the devout hater for all things non-human

He’s delighted with the challenge you offer 

Always keeping him on his toes

What a treat

He only really has a problem when you start successfully trying to escape

Expect to be moved into the Phantomhive Manor pronto 

Undertaker

“Hehehehe what a morbid turn of events.”

To have your rejection before the revelation of being his soulmate

But what can you really say when you’re supposed soulmate is a grim reaper

Who is more than delighted to experiment with the topic of death with anyone who you seem interested in you

He doesn’t see you as a weakness not until you prove it to him

Otherwise he’ll decide you need to take a permanent staycation in his care

Or keep you running either one works

Grell 

“What?! You?!”

Doesn’t immediately get the connection

Whether its an obvious vision or a physical sign

He doesn’t immediately peg you for soulmate material

Especially when you scoff at the idea of that being even being a thing

But Grell isn’t a stranger to rejection

So your protests will mean nothing 

Nothing more than a new side of you to learn about 

And as your soulmate its a given that he know everything there is to know about you

[doomhands-jr]

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 10

Pairing: Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Underage drinking, partying, grinding, making out, mentions of roofies, vomiting, blackouts, minor violence.

Masterlist

Thanks to @throughwoodsanddirt for the beta

Thanks to @flowerynerds for the banner! A/N: Sorry about this, guys. I promise I'll do right by these characters. ________

Noah wasn’t going to go to the party. 

No really, he wasn’t going to go. Folio told him to stay home and not come out, and Noah understood that this was the cost of ghosting you. He had no right to keep tabs on you after that abandonment. 

And it wasn’t really that he wanted to keep tabs on you. He had only gone to Jolly’s because he wanted to work on some music in his studio. It honestly wasn’t even to attend the party at all. 

And the only reason he’d come inside was to grab a beer real quick before taking it back to the shed. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been accosted by Matt, who practically begged him to do shots. Plus, he’d scanned the room for any signs of you and Nick just to make sure he wouldn’t run into you. And it was really cold in his studio. So of course he came inside to warm up a bit. He was definitely gonna go back out to his studio.

Any minute now, he’d head back out. 

He took another sip from his beer as he watched you grind on Nick across the house. 

Hood pulled up, hair tucked underneath and sunglasses on so that he wouldn’t be easily recognized—at least if he was sitting down, he sat perched on the arm of the couch, arms crossed over his chest, nursing his beer as Matt told him about the girl he’d hooked up with earlier that week and he only half listened. 

So you had really come out with Folio. 

Didn’t take you very long to get over him, did it?

Noah caught himself in his bitterness and made an effort to let it go. This was his own damn fault, after all. 

Call it morbid curiosity. Call it masochism. Whatever it was, he knew it wasn’t doing him any favors. He shouldn’t be watching this, and by doing so, he was only torturing himself, but it was like witnessing a car crash—he couldn’t look away. 

Nick had his hands on your hips, pressing into the soft flesh of your ass. Noah could see your miniskirt riding up your thighs as you gyrated. He’d never seen you show that much skin. At least not in public. The only time he’d seen more was…

Well, he wasn’t going to think about that. 

Noah dug his nails into the heel of his hand, gritting his teeth together. He breathed in through his nose. Then out through his mouth. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. 

He was fine. He wasn’t going to be bothered by something like this. You deserved to have fun, and Folio was a great guy who would show you a good time without taking advantage of your inexperience. It was something Noah wanted for you. He’d even encouraged Nick to do this. 

At least to a degree. He didn’t expect him to take it so far. It’s not like his friend had been crushing on you for a while. Or perhaps he had, but had backed off after Noah’s feelings became clear. 

Still, Noah hadn’t expected him to really go all-in on the good time he was showing you, especially not after Noah had told him how he felt. 

Maybe he was punishing Noah for ghosting you? But then, that wouldn’t make sense because he didn’t even know Noah was watching. 

So maybe, he reasoned, thinking back to that self-help article he’d read on Psychology Today earlier that week, it didn’t have anything to do with him. 

Maybe you and Nick were just two people enjoying themselves, connecting with one another. 

And for some reason, that thought more than anything else, made his stomach clench unpleasantly. 

He gripped the bottle tighter, bringing it up to his mouth to try to mask the acidic taste that had started to coat his tongue. 

You spun around to face Nick, and from what he could see, Nick dragged a hand down over your sternum and your lips parted, eyes soft. You threw your head back, exposing your beautiful neck, and Noah watched as Nick dipped his head toward it, then seemed to think better of it and backed off. 

It didn’t take much brain power to see Nick’s motives. Really, he couldn’t blame Nick—he, too, wanted to suck on the delicate skin below your jaw, to lick a languid stripe from your collarbone to your earlobe. If he could capture it in his teeth and tug, if he could taste the salt on your skin, if he could feel the heat of your body as you writhed over him to the music and watch your chest rise and fall with exertion. He wanted to hold you down and have you grind on his thigh until you were shaking with overstimulation and–

Oh fuck, were you kissing?! 

You were. 

Nick’s lips glided over yours in a searing kiss. Noah narrowed his eyes, honing in on what was happening. You opened your mouth to him without any hesitation and his tongue darted in to taste you. You smiled into the kiss, hands fisting in Nick’s shirt to pull him in close, while Nick cupped the back of your head. One of his hands traveled lower, grabbing at the round flesh of your ass. 

Fire erupted inside Noah, burning and charring his insides as he watched the two of you in this profane display of lust. He was rooted to the spot, unable to move and thank God because if he could, he would have ripped you out of Nick’s clutches in a heartbeat. 

A firm hand clapped him on the shoulder and Noah tore his eyes away from the offensive scene, looking up to find Ruffilo standing above him. 

“Don’t do that to yourself,” he shouted above the music. 

His hand was steadying, enough that Noah was able to take a few deep breaths and calm down. 

“I need to talk to you. Outside,” he said, voice serious. Noah adjusted his hood to make sure any defining features were covered before standing up and following Ruffilo around the outskirts of the crowd. He kept a slight bend in his knee so that he didn’t stand a full head taller than everyone around him. 

Ruffilo led him to the back porch where Jolly and Bryan waited, arms crossed, and Noah briefly wondered if he was in trouble. 

“Someone found a girl passed out in the bathroom,” said Jolly. “Her friend said she’d only had one drink.” 

Noah blinked a few times, once again realizing that he wasn’t at the center of every conversation and that this was not about him. 

Although hearing Jolly’s words, he would have rather it been about him. 

This was bad. Very bad. 

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Noah said. 

Jolly nodded. 

Roofies were not a common problem for the kind of crowd they liked to keep at their parties. Most of the time, the drugs were contained to frat houses and bars, if they were present at all—but they had popped up once or twice, and each time, Jolly and the rest had taken the issue very seriously. 

“What do you need?” asked Noah. 

“I’m going to man the doors and vet everyone who leaves. If any girls look like they’re too drunk or incapacitated, they stay here until we find a way to get them home safely,” said Jolly.

“I’ll watch for any signs upstairs,” said Ruffilo. “I doubt it’s any of our regular guys. Probably someone who doesn’t come here often.” 

“That narrows it down,” said Jolly. “Keep an eye out for any girls who seem out of it. Ask questions. See if they can tell you who they were talking to. Ask their friends, too, and keep a close eye on anyone who isn’t our regular crowd.” 

Jolly wore a mean scowl as he spoke, his fists balled up tight. He took pride in creating a safe space for everyone to enjoy, and took it very personally when someone compromised the safety of that space. If Noah knew his friend as well as he thought he did, whoever was responsible for the incident would have to be carried out on a stretcher before the end of the night. 

“I’ll watch the first floor,” Noah volunteered. That way, he could keep an eye on you as well and make sure you were safe.  

“I’ll help,” offered Bryan. 

“Okay,” said Jolly, nodding. “We still need someone to cover the basement.” 

“I’ll tell Matt,” said Ruffilo. 

Jolly took a second to look each man in the eye. “Everyone at this party is getting home safe, except for the guy responsible. Got it?” 

“Got it,” said Noah, the same answer echoing around the back porch from the other men. And with that, each person went to their respective stake out locations. 

Once inside, Noah began scanning the crowd for unfamiliar faces and women who seemed out of sorts. 

There were a few new guys Noah didn’t recognize, and they all seemed to congregate in a group. These men definitely weren’t part of the normal crowd—he could tell by their button-downs they were probably more comfortable at a frat house. He marked them as potential suspects, but made sure not to focus only on them in case he missed something. 

There were a few women that looked drunk, but not to the point where they were incoherent or falling over themselves, which led Noah to believe that the perpetrator hadn’t struck again yet. 

He circled around the room, keeping close to the walls, eyes trained on the crowd. 

“Hey.” Someone clapped him on the shoulder and he turned to see an incredulous-looking Folio. “I thought you were staying home. What gives?” 

Noah sniffed, wrinkling his face in disgust for what was probably a very valid question.. It definitely wasn’t fair of Noah, but then again, Folio had kissed you. “That’s not important. We’ve got trouble.”

Nick’s brows furrowed. “What is it?”  

“Someone might be spiking drinks,” he said slowly, only half-focused because if Nick was here with him, then… 

“Where is….,” he trailed off. 

“She ran into some friends from her World History class,” said Nick. “They’re in the kitchen last I saw.” 

Noah’s heart fell to his stomach, throat tightening uncomfortably. 

“How could you leave her alone?!” he scolded, throwing Nick’s hand off his shoulder. “You were supposed to look after her!” 

Rather than wait for an answer, Noah began frantically searching the party, trying to catch sight of you. 

“She wanted to talk to her friend,” Nick defended, weaving his way through partygoers to catch up. “I didn’t know.” 

But Noah was already halfway across the room after spotting you leaning next to the counter. 

Noah knew he was being too hard on Nick. He’d apologize once he’d made sure you were okay and could calm down, but right now that wasn’t his priority. 

He almost caught up to you. But then he spotted the group you were talking with. Two men he didn’t recognize. He thought better of it and decided to hang back and observe.

You were laughing with the other men. It looked like there was another girl with you as well. Noah wrinkled his nose again. Something about the men had him raising his hackles. 

“Noah,” Nick called, having caught up to him. “I’m sorry, man. I really didn’t—,” 

“—We’ll talk about it later,” Noah cut him off. “Do you see those guys?” he said, nodding over to where you were chatting with the group. “There’s something off.” 

And indeed there was something off. Nick agreed. One of them—a younger guy in a blue baseball cap and a pink collared shirt shifted nervously. It could be because he was talking to a beautiful woman, but Noah continued to eye him suspiciously. . 

Noah and Nick took turns. One watched the four of you chatting, while the other scoured the room for any other potential suspects. 

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to figure out why the men had Noah on-edge. 

“There!” Nick pointed. Noah turned just in time to see the man’s hand hover over the drink in your friend’s hand. 

For a brief moment, everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The girl brought her drunk up to her lips, and in less than five strides, Noah’s legs had carried him over, hand coming up to take the drink from her on its own accord. 

“Noah!” you said in surprise, but Noah didn’t acknowledge you. 

“You don’t mind if I have a sip of this, do you?” he said. 

The man in question squared his jaw, puffing his chest out, but Noah could smell coward all over him. 

“What the fuck, man?!” the stranger said, “That’s her drink.” 

“Is it?” said Noah, bringing the drink up to hover near his lips. 

Noah’s stare bored a hole into the perpetrator’s face. The guy was plain-looking, the kind you’d find six replicas of at any boat party. He had barely any distinguishing features, save for a soft jaw and a bulbous nose exaggerated by the sneer on his face. He looked rather punchable, in Noah’s opinion. 

“You don’t think this drink is compromised, do you?” Noah continued. 

The fucker at least had the intelligence to stay silent. That was the only thing going for him. 

By that point, the small group of people nearby had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the altercation. 

“Dean, what’s going on?” the girl asked. “What is this guy talking about?” 

“Yeah Dean, what’s going on?” Noah parroted, not taking his eyes off the despicable face in front of him. 

Dean narrowed his eyes. 

“Go on, tell her,” he goaded. His voice held all the vitriol he felt, words coming out laced with poison. He hoped each of them stung. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Dean. It was a pathetic defense, and one Noah was already prepared to counter. 

Noah pouted, face painted with false sympathy. “Are you saying you didn’t slip something into her drink just now?” 

“What?!” said Dean, and he had the nerve to look offended. He didn’t have the acting chops to pull it off though, and there was still an underlying panic in his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. I’d never do something like that.” 

“So drink it,” said Noah, shoving the cup right into the man’s sternum. It splashed over the rim, soaking the pink shirt in the sticky, blue liquid. Dean brought his hand up to catch the cup as Noah let go, scowling. 

“I’m not drinking someone else’s drink,” he said. 

“Why not?” asked Noah. 

“Because I’m not an asshole. I don’t steal other people’s drinks,” he said, growing more heated in his defense. 

It was the wrong thing to say to Noah. 

“Drink it,” Noah seethed, “or I’ll take it and force—,” 

“—Noah?” your soft voice cut through his anger and for a moment, everything stopped. 

He watched it happen in slow motion. You stumbled, nearly falling over onto the kitchen floor and Nick rushed to catch you. He managed to keep your head from hitting, but you sank hard to your knees. 

Noah looked from you to the man in front of him. All the noise from the party got out of the room as if in a vacuum, replaced with a high-pitched ringing. Red washed over his vision. 

A moment later, his fist connected with flesh. 

Then the sound came rushing back. Shouting erupted from all around him. From inside him. 

“You. Mother. Fucker,” he spat, punctuating each word with another blow to the man’s chin. He didn’t remember how they got into that position, but they were on the floor now, Noah straddling his chest with one fist clutching the collar of Dean's shirt, his other cracking repeatedly against his jawbone. Dean’s head snapped back with each blow, ricocheting off the floor with sickening thuds. 

Within seconds, people were on Noah, pulling him off. Noah fought hard, blinded by rage and the all-consuming need to see this man pay for his crimes. 

“Noah!” someone shouted, but he couldn’t tell who. “Noah, stop.” 

Hands gripped his arms, slowing him, but he still managed to get another two blows in before he was lifted off, but not before he dealt a hard knee to the guy’s groin. 

He fought against the arms of his captors, desperately trying to break free so he could have another go, but by that point, it was three against one and he was out of steam. 

“Relax, man. Relax. You got him. He’s down,” someone was saying. He finally recognized one of the voices as Jolly’s. He twisted around to see the faces of Ruffilo and Bryan holding him by the arms and waist to restrict his movements. 

“Let me go,” he commanded, still breathing heavily. The adrenaline coursed through his veins but had ebbed enough that he could feel the first throbs of pain in his hand. 

He looked over to the man, seeing nothing but a bloody pulp for a face. Either he had been knocked out or he was in shock because he wasn’t moving. 

“Noah, listen to me,” Jolly said, moving in front of him to block his vision. “You have to leave. We’re calling the cops. You can’t be here when they arrive.” 

Noah struggled once more against Ruffilo and Bryan, but it was useless. 

“You have a record,” Jolly continued. “You and Folio have to go. They can’t know you were involved.” 

Still breathing hard, he looked around. For what? He didn’t know. 

“Take Folio and get out of here. Go home. If anyone asks, you were asleep. We’ll vouch for you.” 

It took a few minutes for the reality of the situation to sink in. Noah already had a record. If he was caught at the scene, he could be charged with aggravated assault and end up doing time. His word against some frat guy, probably with a rich father who could afford a lawyer. 

Noah nodded. “I’m good. You can let me go.” 

Jolly stared hard into Noah’s eyes, undoubtedly looking for any sign of incoherence before nodding at Ruffilo and Bryan, who released him. 

He glanced over to Nick, who propped you up with his arms underneath yours. The two locked eyes for a moment, and then Noah sighed, slinging an arm around your waist. 

“Let’s get her home.” 

Together, they carried you out of the door and down the front steps. Inside, they could hear a commotion building. Jolly was surely informing guests that the police were being called, and that anyone underage needed to leave. They were probably also checking to make sure nobody else was in danger. 

“Do you know where her dorm is?” Noah asked Nick, struggling to keep you upright. Every few moments, you would come to. You’d mutter something incoherent, or pause to vomit along the sidewalk, and then go back into a catatonic state. 

“Rose Hall,” said Nick, and Noah tried not to let himself be bothered that Folio knew that detail before he did. 

“Where are her keys?” he asked, stopping to see if you had them clipped to you anywhere. None of your clothes had pockets to search. 

“I think she had a purse with her. She probably left it back at Jolly’s,” answered Nick. 

“Shit,” said Noah, chewing on his lip. “Does she have a roommate we could call?” 

“I think so, but she said her roommate went home for Christmas break already,” Nick answered, looking more and more guilty the farther they got from Jolly’s. Noah wondered if he was feeling guilty for letting you out of his sight.

“Noah, I’m really sorry,” he said, confirming Noah’s suspicions. “I never meant to put her in danger. I just didn’t want to hover all night in case she wanted some independence. I never even considered someone would be drugging people.” 

“Don’t apologize to me,” said Noah, shifting your weight on him so that your arm was over his shoulder and he could grip you by the waist. His voice came out colder than he wanted. “Tell her.” 

“I will,” said Nick. “As soon as she’s awake tomorrow, I’ll tell her.” 

The difference in height between Nick, Noah, and you made it all the more difficult to carry you, and the two of them struggled to get you down the street. 

“Let’s take her to our place,” said Noah. “She can have my bed.” 

Nick look like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it when you raised your head and vomited down the front of your shirt. Your feet dragged on the ground behind you as Nick and Noah trudged the few blocks it took to get back to their place. Noah prayed nobody would see them and think they were up to no good. 

Once they’d successfully gotten you inside, they took you to the bathroom to clean you up. Noah tenderly wiped your face and neck with a wet washcloth, careful not to rub too hard with the rough surface. 

Nick propped you up on his lap while Noah tilted your head backwards over the edge of the tub so he could run cups full of water over your hair and rinse out some of the vomit that had caught in the strands. 

You woke up again midway through, and they had just enough time to turn you back over so you could vomit once more into the bathtub. After a while, it was just dry heaving, and Noah surmised that the contents of your stomach had finally been emptied and you had nothing left to vomit up. 

“We gotta get her changed,” said Nick. 

Noah was aware. He’d been putting it off because he knew he’d have to remove your clothes, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be violated any more than you’d already been. 

“I’ll do it,” Noah volunteered. 

“Why you?” asked Nick. Apparently something about the idea triggered his discomfort. 

“Because I’ve…,” he began, “…seen her. Already.” 

Nick’s eyes went wide. “You,” he began, but then restarted. “She let you…and then you ghosted?” 

Noah exhaled heavily through his nostrils. If Nick wanted to have this talk, he wasn’t going to shy away from it. 

“Say what you have to say.” 

Nick’s jaw muscle twitched. “You treated her like shit,” he said. “You used her. I don’t like the idea of you seeing her like that.” 

Noah nodded. “I know. But if it comes between someone who’s already seen everything and someone who hasn’t, I feel like this is less of a violation.” 

“I don’t like it,” said Nick, shaking his head.  

Noah threw his hands out to his sides in frustration. “I don’t like it either, Nick. I don’t like any of this, but the girl needs to be taken care of, okay? She’s been through a lot. Both of us broke her trust,” Nick winced at that, “and the best we can do now is get her in bed, safely, without doing any more damage. I doubt she’d want someone else seeing her body, so this is the best solution I have.” 

Nick let out a forceful, frustrated sigh, crossing his arms and working his jaw. “Don’t look any more than you have to.” 

Noah scoffed. “What kind of person do you take me for?”  

Nick shrugged, but didn’t say anything, so Noah carried you off to his room and sat you down on the floor. 

He found the biggest, softest t-shirt of his that he could find and brought it over, crouching down at your side. 

Gently, he lifted the hem of your shirt, catching sight of the  band logo. He’d laugh if the situation weren’t so heavy. There was no way this was your shirt. He knew for a fact you’d never listen to a band like Norma Jean. 

Noah tried to avert his eyes as much as possible while he slipped the soiled shirt off your body and replaced it with the fresh one. He did catch a glance though, and was immediately brought back to that night the other week during the video chat, when you’d trusted him with your body, right before he broke that trust. He’d give anything to have had this second glimpse be under better circumstances. 

Next, he removed your skirt, which had also gotten vomit on it, and was grateful to find that you were wearing shorts underneath so he didn’t have to worry about covering you up. 

Then he got to work unlacing your boots and sliding them off your feet, and for a second, he was reminded of an old parable he’d heard before leaving the church. He couldn’t remember the details of the story, but it was something about a woman washing Jesus’s feet with her hair? Something like that. And then Jesus returned the favor by washing her feet. And it was a weird story, but the takeaway, or at least what he took away from it, was that there was a sort of holiness in humble servitude. 

He felt that now, as he picked your limp body up and tucked you neatly into his bed. He only wished there was more he could do.  ________

Nick knocked softly at his door, padding in before waiting for an answer. Noah was seated on the floor, slumped against the side of the bed. He must have dozed off. 

“Thought you could use this,” Nick said, placing an empty bucket beside the bed. “And this.” He set a tall glass of water and a bottle of acetaminophen on the nightstand before sitting on the floor opposite Noah. 

They sat in uncomfortable silence for several minutes before Nick finally broke it. 

“So,” he began. “You came to the party after all.” 

Noah knew this was coming. He didn’t have the skills to articulate a good answer though, so he just nodded. 

“After I specifically asked you to stay home.” 

Noah nodded again. 

“And you had agreed to stay home.” 

Noah nodded a third time. 

“Why?” he asked. 

Noah chewed on his lip, looking over to regard the softness of your sleeping form. You looked peaceful, despite the ordeal you’d just been through. 

“You know why,” he said, lowly. It wasn’t meant to sound aggressive. Just honest. 

Nick sighed, fixing Noah with a hard stare. He kept his voice low so as to not wake you. Not that you were in any danger of remembering anything that happened. 

“Did you see us?” Nick asked. His expression was guarded. Noah couldn’t get a read on him. 

“Yes,” he said, keeping his tone steady. He was angry, and he knew that, but he didn’t want it to come across to Nick. 

“And?” he said. 

“And what?” said Noah, failing to keep his tone level. “You’re both single. You may as well hook up.” 

“We didn’t hook up,” said Nick. “I was never going to sleep with her. I just wanted to show her a good time.” 

Noah rolled his eyes. “Sure.” 

“Noah, this was your idea. You told me to spend time with her. Said I’d be a good influence,” Nick said, exasperation for his friend creeping into his voice. “I don’t know what you want from me.” 

Noah sighed, leaning back and knocking his head gently against his nightstand. He stared up at the ceiling, as if it held the answers he was looking for.  “You didn’t have to kiss her.” 

Noah could practically hear the eye-roll from Nick. 

“If I didn’t, someone else would have,” he argued. “There’s no way to keep her sheltered while you figure out what it is you want. And even if there was, what would that make you? Just another man trying to control her.” 

Noah scoffed, hating what Nick was insinuating, but not having a solid argument against it. 

“Yeah, but you didn’t have to kiss her.” 

Nick scrubbed a palm over his face in frustration. “Look Noah,” he began. “I respected you when you started getting close to her. I kept my distance. I even stayed out of your way during community service so you could get to know her. But then you bailed, and she needed someone to lean on. She’s going through a lot with this church shit.” 

Noah’s stomach turned, guilt seeping into his bloodstream. He tried not to focus on it, chewing on the inside of his cheek while Nick continued. 

“This girl has been sheltered her entire life. She’s only just now starting to explore. I’ve seen girls like her get in over their heads way too quickly because they’ve been repressed for so long, and asshole swoops in to take advantage of it. Then they get their first taste of freedom and lose themselves like that,” Nick said, snapping his fingers for effect. 

“You’ve been that guy, though,” said Noah. “We both have.” 

Nick paused, deflating for a moment as he reflected. He closed his eyes. “I know. I’m not proud of it.” He looked back at Noah. “But I’m trying to do better. That kiss was not about me trying to exploit a weakness.” 

“Then what was it?” spat Noah, knowing Nick’s words made sense but still not wanting to believe them. He wanted to be angry with Nick. It was so much easier than the alternative, which was to consider the role he played in his own suffering. 

“She’s exploring her sexuality. I wanted to be a safe person for her to do that with.” 

“Jesus,” whined Noah, slumping back against the nightstand. “Do you have to come after me like that?” 

They both knew what Noah meant: you’d already tried exploring your sexuality with Noah, and they both saw how well he’d handled that. 

Noah refocused on the guilt that had been coursing through him, allowing it to slowly settle into a quiet humility. He really had been the asshole in the scenario without even meaning to be. Not just to you, but to Nick as well. 

“I feel like I owe you an apology,” he admitted. “I didn’t trust that you were taking care of her.” 

Nick raised a gentle palm. “No need. I didn’t give you many reasons to trust.” 

“Still,” Noah said. “I’m gonna try to keep my cool more.”  

The corner of Nick’s mouth lifted into a polite, yet disbelieving smirk. “If you say so,” he said., then refocused his attention on Noah’s face. 

“What do you want moving forward?” he asked. 

Noah shrugged. 

“I don’t know.”  

“Are you sure?” implored Nick. 

Noah looked back at his friend, his last remaining defenses crumbling under Nick’s steady gaze. “I don’t know what I want. From you. From her. From myself,” he said. “And you’re right. I asked you to show her a good time. I shouldn’t get mad at you for doing exactly that. I’m just…,” he trailed off. 

“Confused?” Nick offered. 

“Confused,” he affirmed, hanging his head and staring at his shoes. 

“It’s okay to have feelings for her,” Nick said hesitantly, as if he were trying to coax a feral cat from its hiding space without spooking it. 

Noah looked back up to find Nick eyeing him with sympathy, and his gut seized uncomfortably because it felt gross, like a slime coating his skin. He tried to breathe through the feeling instead of running from it, thinking back to a quote he read in one of the many self-help articles he’d been scouring over the past week. 

Let the light in. That’s how the light gets in. 

Noah was not good at letting the light in. He much preferred to keep himself in the dark. Every time someone offered to meet a need of his or show him love in a way that he didn’t anticipate or wasn’t prepared for, he rejected it. Either brushed it off with humor or outright ignored it. 

He walked through life with a chip on his shoulder, feeling sorry for himself because he’s never known love. Truth is, he could have known love. He’s had many opportunities to know love, but he constantly rejected it whenever it was offered, because anger and bitterness felt safer. More familiar.

He thought back to the times in his life where he’d wanted love. He pictured his nine-year-old self, crying alone in his room and wanting nothing more than to be comforted by parents who instead yelled at him for his emotional outbursts. 

What would have happened if that nine-year-old had just been hugged? Would the trajectory of his life have changed? Would he be more capable of holding a relationship? More receptive to love? 

He nearly choked. That was a can of worms he wasn’t sure he wanted to go near. Opening himself to love would mean opening himself up to processing that pain, and that scared him. 

He exhaled a deep breath, running his fingers over the fibers of the shaggy white carpet that covered the floor of his bedroom. 

Running from it, however, was holding him back. He knew it. His friends had noticed, and had long grown tired of that behavior pattern. He’d had opportunities to heal before and had refused, choosing instead to stay closed off, and he could tell his support system was running low on patience.

If he was ever going to grow into the man he wanted to be—the man you deserved, it started with choosing to let the light in, regardless of how uncomfortable it was. 

Nick’s sympathy turned Noah’s stomach sour. His over-inflated ego observed it as pity he neither needed, nor cared to indulge. His knee-jerk reaction was to object and disregard it, too proud to have needs. But as much discomfort as it caused, he begrudgingly allowed himself to receive what his friend was trying to offer. 

The light wouldn’t get in on its own. He had to choose to let it in, and that required effort. 

“I do have feelings for her,” he acknowledged. “I don’t know why that’s so hard for me to admit. And I don’t know why I’ve been acting this way.” 

Nick sighed, visibly relaxing now that Noah had accepted his offering, and Noah sighed as well. The icky, slimy feeling he’d registered at the first sign of Nick’s sympathy slowly started to melt into something warmer and more comforting. His nervous system finally started to pull back from the edge it had been operating on for who knows how long. 

“That’s okay,” Nick said, cracking a grin. “Feelings are hard to navigate. They cause people to act like idiots sometimes.” 

“No kidding,” Noah agreed, mirroring Nick’s smile. 

It felt good and humbling to finally admit. Noah could use a bit of humbling. Over the years, his biggest defense mechanism had become his pride. It had grown out of control, looking down on people who asked to get their needs met—dismissing them as weak and pitiful for not being able to make it on their own the way Noah had. 

He shook his head, chuckling bitterly to himself. 

“What are you laughing at?” whispered Nick. The hour had grown late and Noah was tired, but he was enjoying Nick’s company. 

“I’ve been such an idiot,” he said, looking back up at Nick. “How have you been able to live with me all this time?” 

Nick shrugged, grinning at his friend. “It’s not easy. But you’re not all bad. You just need some sense knocked into ya’.” 

“You guys are way more patient than I’ve given you credit for,” he said, feeling gratitude for his friends.

Nick snorted, quickly covering his mouth and nose to not wake you up. “I could get used to this Noah,” he said. “It’s a nice change.” 

“Don’t get too excited,” said Noah. “I’m still an asshole at heart.” 

Nick chuckled, standing to wipe off his pants and grabbing the pile of your vomit-ridden clothes. “It stinks in here. I’m gonna throw these in the wash and then head to bed. You got this?” he asked. 

Noah nodded. “I can take it from here.” 

Nick fixed him with one last serious look. “Be good to her. She’s one of the better ones, and for some fuckin’ reason, she seems to like you.” 

Noah laughed softly. “Turn the light off when you leave.” 

Nick did, and Noah sat in the dark, mulling over the events that had taken place that night. He’d have to have a very difficult conversation with you when you woke up, and he was not looking forward to that. 

What he was looking forward to, however, was an opportunity to repair some of the damage he’d done. 

Hopefully you’d let him.  ___________ All rights reserved to @doomhands-jr, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate. A/N: I'm so sorry! I will give MC the ending she deserves, don't worry! She'll have her day in the sun. She's just gotta get through some stuff first.

Next chapter is almost finished. Will be up soon.

@collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @hoe-for-daddywise @concretejungle420 @sleep-worship @cncohshit @adenobabe @guacinyourarea @escapingourexistence @livingdeceasedgirl @chxrryxox @dem11 @starcrossedwasteland @alm0std3add @reyadawn @karenfranco @glam-cherry-bomb @simpingforniragi @koalakoala8 @themorticians-world @sleepytoken99 @magdalenaxbrenaxorestes. @fuck-me-muke @xmads-omensx @just-randomm-stuff @spookychaosstranger @gravitysembrace @somebodyels3 @klutzy-kay24 @sundamariis @noahsebastions @cyber-tiny @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls @rain-down-on-me @ilovemewwwww75 @poisongirl616 @adenobabe @silentglassbreak @kat-rhi-lac Sorry if I missed anyone.

Click here to join the taglist