#you're not a nasty woman you're just an asshole

[madamechrissy]

Well, are you mine?

Pairings: Sukuna x fem reader

Summary- You're Yuuji Itadori's best friend since forever, and his older brother Sukuna is a grade A ass to you. After a nasty breakup with your ex, you text Yuuji who's out for the night, he gives you the go ahead to stay at his place. But it's only Sukuna there, and he is oddly comforting? You've had it bad for him forever, but little do you know, so has he, even if he doesn't show it, because Sukuna thinks Yuuji loves you (ahem, he's WAY wrong) Porn w/feelings, best friend's brother trope, Duo POVS

CW- Modern Sukuna, he's a gamer and tsundere af lol, this is SMUTTY asf, loss of virginity (don't mention much abt it aside from reader is one) Sukuna is ROUGH lol, oral sex (m and f recieving) overstimulation, dirty talk, Sukuna calls reader brat and slutty, lowkey breed kink, possessiveness, marathon sex lol. Sukuna is BAD AT FEELINGS lmaooo, but he whimpers? Reader- 20, Sukuna 25- 6.4k WC!

Comments/reblogs appreciated if you enjoy this one!

You’re walking out in that pathetic excuse for a tank top and the most revealing shorts that morning when Sukuna sees you, peeking up from his monitor, proceeding to get sniped like some damn noob when he sees your nipples perk up through the material. He curses loudly, slamming off his headset then, you look at him in surprise, lips parted just so.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, he glares at you then, standing up as he takes you in, irritated you have such an effect.

“What are you doing here? Yuuji isn’t even home until tonight.” He says with a glare, ruby eyes glinting, you tense just a bit, Sukuna is tall and intimidating, and constantly an asshole.

“He said it was fine, here’s the text.” You swipe up on your phone, he snorts as he looks at it.

“You have a teddy bear case? Stupid.” Your eyes narrow in irritation when he picks up the phone, scoffing as he sees the texts. “God. What a simp you’re making him.”

“What now? Am not even! He’s my best friend, not that you’d understand, you don’t even have any. You’re such an ass.” You snatch your phone back from him, earning his scowl.

“You’re an annoying brat, y’know that? If Yuuji didn’t simp so badly I wouldn’t have to deal with you.”

“Whatever! Ugh.”

“Why’d you need to come here anyway? Boyfriend piss you off?” You sigh, crossing your arms, just pressing your breasts up more for his view.

“He cheated on me.” Sukuna pauses then, hearing the hurt in your voice, seeing it on your pretty face, annoyingly pretty face.

“Shit.” Is all he manages, and you sigh, looking at him then, emotions in the back of your throat.

“That was mean of me to say, that you have no friends. I know you do… I’m sorry I said it.” His mouth opens, then closes, his brows lowering.

“You’re always bitchy to me, it doesn’t surprise me.”

“And you’re always an ass to me.”

“Tch, I’m not gonna fawn over you like your little best friend does, if that’s what you mean.”

“No, every time I stay or hang out you tell me you can’t wait for me to leave, or are just mean as shit.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, looking up at the ceiling then, it’s true he is mean to you constantly.

Every time you stay, he’s picking on you or making snide remarks, to the point he’s made you cry sometimes, and then felt like shit. Nothing was worse than seeing you cry, but he didn’t know what else to do, because you’re haunting his every dream, even last night he was stroking his cock to a stupid Instagram picture of you.

The thing is, Sukuna wants you, and wants you badly, so much it makes him pathetic, his little brother’s best friend, who Sukuna knows has had some stupid crush on since forever. Sukuna’s only five years older than you, but twenty just seems too young, you seem too inexperienced, too innocent and sweet, the last thing you needed was him around you.

And he knew you had some little crush on him, most of knowing him, you used to literally make doe eyes at him, he found it sort of cute at first, but now you’re a whole woman, walking around in nothing half the time. He was happy you got a boyfriend, despite the odd clench in his chest from hearing it, only because he wouldn’t have to see you as much.

So, the best course of action?

Make you hate him, and he thinks it’s worked, you don’t make doe eyes, you’re not fawning over him, or pathetically trying to flirt. No, you’re just as mean to him as he is to you now, god and you scowling and flipping him off? That turns him on more than fucking anything, unfortunately.

“Fuck him.” Sukuna says, and you’re shocked for a moment, as you stare up at the guy you’ve had it bad for since you can remember, Yuuji’s older brother, you thought he was so cool, you were always coming over more and more to see him.

Yuuji was the best friend in the world, so it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy hanging out with him, it’s just your mind kept wandering, Sukuna was always a grump, but something shifted in the past couple of years, especially this year. He was downright mean and nasty to you, making jokes, pinching on you, ruffling your hair, rolling his eyes whenever you were near.

If his goal was to make you hate him, you don't, you just really can't stand him. Can't stand seeing him shirtless seeing the tattoos around his biceps, down his strong chest, hate seeing his stupid abs that have abs!?! Why does he have to be such an attractive ass, you don't know, but your crush hasn't gone away.

It's worse.

Last night you'd seen Sukuna was here when you'd used the key Yuuji let you have, he was crashed out on the couch sprawled out, movie ended, you'd covered him with a blanket and given him a pillow. In his sleep he almost looked sweet, you thought, having slept in the guest room, he'd swirled in your mind, your boyfriend having cheated hurt, but thankfully you hadn't taken that step with him…

No, you stupidly still wanted Sukuna as your first.

As if that would happen, he hates you so much clearly, and you have seen the girls he brought over, older and more experienced, more confident and worldly. You weren't there yet, especially when the man you're wanting doesn't see you as anything but a little brat.

“Sukuna, are you comforting me?” Sukuna scoffs.

“Of course I'm not, but also… he's a fucking idiot. You don't deserve someone who does that shit.” You blink back tears then, stepping to him, hugging him.

Sukuna freezes, as he inhales that scent, something floral and irritatingly delicious, your soft breasts pressing against his chest, your nipples taut under the tank top. You're tiptoeing, holding him around his chest, he grimaces, wanting to pick you up and drag you to his room, but he shoves at you.

“Annoying brat, off me god.” You shake your head, snuggling closer, when he realizes you're crying. It annoys him how you wrench his heart when you look up, tears falling out of your stupidly pretty eyes.

Did you have to affect him this way?

“Thank you, Kuna.”

“Don't call me that, ugh.” He places his huge hands at your waist to shove you off, but you gasp at it, taking over your waist, burning your skin then. He falters, his breath coming faster as he holds you there, just a little off of him, eyes going to your lips, tempting him to no end. “Stupid nickname.” He grumbles.

“I… you used to not mind it. What happened to make you hate me so much?” You whisper, hands slipping up his chest, so much revealed in the soft white shirt he's wearing, you feel his heart thudding under your hand.

“Don't hate you, just you're annoying.”

“How?”

“Just being here.”

“So I annoy you just existing?”

“Yes.” He speaks through clenched teeth, when you lean back, and he views your body. “Why do you fucking dress like that!?”

“It's comfy. What do you care, Kuna?”

“Stop it with the stupid nickname. Your… your body annoys me.” He is whispering now, hands slipping down your hips, you let this little sound out from the back of your throat that destroys him then.

“My body, what not your type? Don't wanna see it?”

“You're so fucking stupid.”

“How can a body piss you off? Ah!” Sukuna had you picked up now right on the kitchen counter, your breaths come in pants at getting handled like this, his big hands on your thighs, his eyes boring into you.

“All I can think about is all the ways I wanna fucking ruin you for any stupid boy you'll ever meet.” Your heart thuds in your chest, blinking rapidly as if you're in a fucking dream.

“Wh-what?” He moans softly, rough pads of his fingers slipping up your thighs, watching the goosebumps rise everywhere.

“Thinking how good your little pussy tastes, how pretty your tits must be, how your face would look fucked out.” You're moaning out loud when he finds you then, lips hovering just an inch from yours, he moans when he finds your slick cunt dripping, he laughs then, softly. “That wet for me? Haven't even done shit.”

“Shut up and touch me, please, Sukuna.” The way that his name sounds from your lips? Your eyes dilating? Your wet cunt on his fingers? His cock starts throbbing from touching you, watching your face when he shoves a finger in your hole, you grip him like a vise.

“Anyone ever made you cum? Any of your dumb boys?” You grip his wrist when his fingers curl in your gummy walls, finding that spot instantly and pressing on it, making you gasp as you gush down his fingers. “Fuck you're wet, why are you so stupid tight, fuckin feel you…”

“Don't know… I… Kuna, m’a v-virgin, ngh!” He yanks away then, panic on his face. “Don't stop, please.”

“A virgin, how the fuck?” You whine out as he backs off, sucking you off his fingers, his cheeks moaning, those crimson eyes dilated, the hottest thing you have ever seen. “Why do you taste so good? God I can’t stand you.”

“Kuna, please… just…”

“No, I won’t do that, I sure the fuck won’t take that. How are you even…”

“I’ve been waiting.” You murmur, earning his brows raised, barring you on either side with his strong arms, leaning close.

“You what now?”

“For you, stupid.” Sukuna cups your face with one hand, hot as your overheated cheek, so close your breaths mingle.

“No way, I’m not doing that, it’s bad enough I even touched you, now you’ll be all I can think about, annoying little brat ruining me.” His words hit, your pussy throbbing around nothing then, you lean your head and kiss his palm, melting him as you do. “Don’t do shit like that.”

“Do you want me?” You ask, thighs on either side of him.

“What do you think?” He grabs your hips, and you feel him, huge and hard against you over the fabric of his pants and your shorts, he grabs you tight, you’re looking at those lips, usually in a smirk or a sarcastic grin, so pouty right now, begging for your kisses.

“Doesn’t have to be anything serious-”

“How can you say that? No, it would be.” You would end him the moment he got inside you, he already knows it, tasting your sweet arousal on his tongue, looking at the color your cheeks are tinged, imagining your face as his cock leaks precum against his boxers.

“I can be… casual…” You’re grinding on him, you’ve never felt this, the longing for him in this way, you’re jutting your chin up, trying to kiss him, but he pulls his face away, shaking his head. “Kiss me.”

“No way.” He won’t be able to stop, at least at this point he can rip himself off of you, taking several breaths, turning away from how delectable you look sitting with your thighs spread on his counter.

“I’ve seen all the women you bring over the years, why not me? You clearly are casual about it?” You hate the emotions in your throat. “Am I not…”

“If you say some dumb shit like you’re not attractive, I swear you’ll piss me off. Look at you.”

“You won’t look at me.”

“I can’t right now, I won’t just fuck you, especially your… first I… can’t. Just drop it, just forget it even happened.” You jump off the counter then, breathing fast, heart nearly pounding out of your chest.

“I’m sorry I asked.” He curses as you run off to the room, his head is spinning from your scent, your taste, the images now burned in his brain, your slick still on his fingertips.

He could never just take your virginity, what if he hurt you? What if he hurt you emotionally, he sure his entire life has never had a real girlfriend, he’s had hookups and booty calls, that’s it. And for the past year he’s pictured you half the time when he’s played with himself, when he’s slept with them, but he can’t do that, you deserved better than him surely.

You’re all dressed now, you stand there and look at him, he hates the tears that have streaked down your face, your bag on your shoulder. “You don’t have to leave, just leave me alone.” He says then, and you laugh without humor, shaking your head.

“I can’t face you after that, too embarrassing. Don’t even tell Yuuji I came over, please.” You go to leave and Sukuna stops you, a hand on the knob above you, his hard body towering behind you, you feel so small next to him, god who didn’t?

Sukuna runs his fingers down your spine, you shiver from the sensation, he leans close, his lips against your ear. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“No?” You look at him then, noses touching, so close.

“Everyone wants me, it’s fine brat.” He smirks, you glare then, smacking at his hand on the knob and pulling open the door.

“Fuck you, Sukuna.” You say, he grins at you like the asshole he is, but when you shut the door behind you, you don’t see him cursing himself, forehead resting on the door, his stomach sick.

Why’d he do that?

Why couldn’t he just give you what you wanted, what he wants so badly?

He’s terrified to disappoint you, but he already has.

*****

Two Weeks Later

“Please stay for dinner!? Please, please, please!” Yuuji begs you, literally on his hands and knees bowing, you giggle, shaking your head.

“No, I can’t… your brother-”

“He won’t bother you, he just yells at the game, it’s fine! Never used to bother you, and I miss you.” He looks up with sweet honey eyes, making you sigh then, nodding, he jumps up all excited. “Perfect, I need to show you the recipe my brother Cho showed me!”

“How is he? I miss him.” You say softly, Yuji’s other brother lived far away now, he was a sweetheart, much unlike Sukuna.

“He’s doing so well, his band is so popular now. I’ll tell him you said hi! You know he thought you were so pretty.”

“Cho did? No way.”

“Well who doesn’t, even Sukuna does.” You pause then, faltering as you look at the kitchen, where he’d had a long, thick finger inserted in your little hole. Where he’d tasted you.

“Um, I doubt all that. He hates me.” Yuuji shakes his head, checking his phone then. “Your girl?”

“We’re not dating yet, just talking, but we are going to a movie tonight. You know her, yeah?”

“Yes, she was so sweet in school.”

Sukuna walks in as Yuuji shows you their texts, his eyes darting to you, taking in your little pleated skirt and top with some dumb anime character you liked on it, you looked fucking adorable. So cute he hates it, so he scowls at you, earning your scowl right back, as Yuuji looks between you both.

“Woah, calm down. Sukuna, I have a date!” Sukuna’s heart drops, Yuuji surely would be good enough for you, he’s sweet (annoyingly sweet) and devoted. Choso and Yuuji were sweet, he’s not sure how he got all the asshole of the family, but he supposed it came from taking care of them both, being the oldest.

He should be a little relieved, you’d leave him alone now, right? You wouldn’t give him that look, he would finally know you’re untouchable, he clears his throat now, hating that his heart feels like it’s ripped in half. Just two weeks ago, the last time he saw you, he’d felt your heat, he’d had you begging for him, but he turned you down.

He did this.

“Finally, you two are going on a date, huh?” He says, trying to act casual, and Yuuji snorts, shaking his head, as your eyes go wide.

“Us, no! We’re too close, we’d never ruin our friendship. Though I sure asked her out a lot in school.”

“You tried.” You say with a little smile, as Sukuna stands there dumbfounded. “You’d never have liked dating me, I hate your zombie movies too much.”

“You have the worst taste, it’s true. Now, Sukuna, it's this girl…” Yuuji starts going on, and Sukuna can barely hold his composure, as he shows him a picture of her, as he’s rambling.

He was convinced his brother was in love with you, it’s a huge reason he has pushed you so far away, he’d never dishonor him like that, even if he knew you didn’t feel the same. He struggles to focus now, as you look down nervously, as if you could hear his thoughts, feel what he wants so badly.

“Thought you simped for the brat here.” He says, Yuuji laughs.

“No, she’s just a beautiful best friend.” He kisses your cheek and you smile warmly at him, it lights up your face, doing the annoying thing to his heart again. “If you’re not so mean, maybe she’ll stay for dinner.”

“Me, mean? Never.” You and Yuuji both roll your eyes at him.

“I don’t have to stay, Sukuna, I was just stopping by.” Your words break him down, remembering how mean he was, and he didn’t apologize, why should he though?

He should have said something.

You’re feeling his gaze on you, as he runs a hand through his pastel locks, the same shade as Yuuji but his are longer, messier, he has a little stubble on his cheeks you don’t remember seeing. As you further look, you see the dark circles under his eyes, how tense he is when he opens his mouth, just to close it, and re open it again, as if he doesn’t know what to say.

Sukuna is… on edge?

“You can stay, what do I care? Used to your ass around anyway.” He walks to his room then, and Yuuji excitedly talks to you, but your mind is in that room, with that asshole of a man.

The dinner is awkward as fuck, and when Yuuji leaves to get ready for his date, you hastily start washing your dish, you feel his gaze on you, he’s leaned back in the chair with his legs wide. You don’t dare say a word to him, you’re too mortified still, too confused, his one touch with no kiss has done more than anything you’ve experienced so far.

Awakened shit that was already there.

Made it worse.

“So you two never…” Sukuna trails off, leaving the question open, you look back at him as you dry your hand with a dish towel.

“Never what, dated? Of course not.”

“I thought the kid had it bad for you.” His voice is quiet, you clear your throat, shaking your head then.

“No, I tried to tell you, just friends. Yuuji is sweet and I love him, but I’ve never felt that way… like I…” Like with Sukuna. “Yeah, anyway, the girl is so sweet. I’ll head out when he does, don’t worry.”

Sukuna’s standing next to you before you can blink, he’s wearing this black dress shirt unbuttoned just so, revealing too much of his strong chest, pecs that are ridiculous, your eyes keep darting to it. To those collar bones, the black lines running along, making you wonder just where his tattoos stop, you physically back up, looking away then, unable to even look in his eyes.

“Running away, brat? Scared?” He raises a brow, you blink then, shaking your head. “Yeah you are.”

“Scared of what?”

“I’m ready guys! Oh… are you two gonna… hang out?” Yuuji asks with a little smile, you’re blushing then, shaking your head.

“Hang out with him? What, no.” Sukuna’s jaw clenches now, you smile as you feel how mad he is. “What?”

“What’s so wrong with me?”

“You’re an ass.”

“You’re a-”

“Okay, dumb question, don’t kill each other.” Yuuji does a little spin then, showing off his outfit, you giggle. “How do I look?”

“Amazing!” He kisses your cheek and hugs you then, just the sight of that alone has Sukuna infuriated, imagining kissing you.

What do your lips feel like?

Would they end him?

“She’s staying, she’s gonna… game with me.” Sukuna says then, you and Yuuji both look at him with shock. “Yeah, brat wants some lessons on Call of Duty.”

“Lessons? You game?” You want to burst out in laughter, the only video games you play involve very hot men on your phone.

Sukuna eyes you though, so intense it’s hard to breathe, you smile then, a little shy almost, realizing what he wants even though he’s not saying it. He wants to spend time with you, this shithead, this asshole of a man, he’s… he’s trying to express that he wants you to stay. And, to stay alone with him.

“I do wanna learn though, plus we should try to get along, hmm?” You look right at Sukuna, he’s not smirking or grinning, he’s vulnerable for a moment. His full lips parted just so in surprise.

“This makes me so happy. I love you both so much! If he pisses you off too bad, just text me.”

“What would you do, kid?” He demands.

“I’d… well I’d tell you to be nice.”

“I love you too.” You tell Yuuji then, and he runs off now to his date, leaving you alone in the kitchen again, with Sukuna. “Video games, huh?”

“Video games.” He answers, and before you know it, he’s right in front of you, gently holding you by your face, in a sweet manner you’d never think he could. “I want you, fuck I’ve wanted you for a long time now… but I thought you…” He’s trailing off, words escaping him.

“You thought Yuuji loved me, and you couldn’t do that.” You answer, everything starting to click now.

“That and you irritate the shit out of me. I don’t like what I feel.”

“What do you feel, Sukuna?” You step forward, arms wrapping around his thick waist then, he gulps visibly.

“Too much.” Is all he says, eyeing your lips hungrily.

“Maybe I feel too much. It’s scary, yeah?”

“I’m not scared of shit.” He’s leaning closer, you’re aching for him to just kiss you, licking your lower lip, tantalizing him as it turns glossy.

“If you’re not scared, then why are you so afraid to kiss me?” You whisper the words, his eyes flutter shut, a hand gripping your hair then at the nape of the neck, pulling it just so.

“Because I won’t stop there, I won’t stop till I’ve kissed every part of your body, till I’ve licked every part, until you’re cumming all over me.” Your little whimper from the back of your throat ruins him, he slams his lips down then, and it’s over.

Your kiss is messy, it’s desperate and sloppy, your tongues dripping saliva as he lifts you suddenly, you cling to him, thighs squeezing narrow hips, arms around his neck, your hand drifts through his undercut just so. He’s moaning as he kisses you so brutally, carrying you until you’re against a wall, pressing you there, you gasp for a breath while he starts licking down your throat.

“Kuna…” You’re arching against him, clinging tightly as he bites your throat, his big hands gripping your ass and squeezing.

“Hate that nickname. Hate how much I like it. Fuck you.”

You scowl, pulling away. “Fuck me for what?”

“Being so stupidly pretty. Driving me crazy forever. Fuck you for tasting so good, too.” You’re opening your mouth to protest, but he’s already carrying you to his bed, unceremoniously plopping you down on it, yanking off your top then, your breasts heave as your breaths come quickly, and he eyes you. “Fuck you for perfect tits.”

“Fuck you for being a dick.” You counter, but he’s gripping your breasts in his huge hands, squeezing them, sucking on your nipples, your hands enwrap in his pastel locks as he looks up at you, saliva strings dripping from your breasts. “Fuck that… feels s’good…”

“Fuck your sexy little moans, too.” You can’t be mad, not when he’s got your skirt off you, not when he’s ripping your panties to shreds, not when he eyes your pussy hungrily, shaking his head as he nips your inner thigh. “And fuck if you don’t have the most perfect pussy, what the…”

“Kuna, you’re c-crazy.” You whisper, he laughs then, breath tickling your cunt as he parts your plump lips, inhaling you like some psycho, burying his face. “Kuna!”

“Shut up, brat. Gonna ruin you for anyone.” He’s talking to your pussy it seems now, strong fingers pressing your thighs apart as he swipes a stripe up between your lips, licking you all the way from your hole to your clit, the sensation has your hips jerking, which he pins in place. “Ah- ah brat, stay still.”

“S’too much… I… oh my god.” Sukuna is devouring your pussy, there’s no other term for it, the way he laps at your pussy with his stupidly long tongue, his eyes bright red when they look at you, when he flicks it to your clit. You’re soaking him, hands pulling at his hair, earning his groan against you. “Wh-what… you’re… I…”

“Shut up, brat, I want to hear you cum, not run your mouth.” You should be offended, but you can’t be, not when he’s fucking your velvety walls with his tongue now, pinching your clit with two of his fingers, the stimulation far too much, you feel it, the pressure building in your core, spreading.

“Kuna!” You’re screaming that nickname, he doesn’t care in fact he loves hearing it, loves your pussy drooling around his tongue, he feels your walls tighten around his wet muscle then, looking up at your face, mouth open wide in an O, eyes rolled back, your hands yanking his hair out, and he knows you’re cumming for him.

He’s grinding his cock on the mattress, aching to be inside you, but he also wants to make you beg for it, wants to make you pathetic for him, only him. You’re cumming so blinding, stars bursting everywhere behind your eyelids, your body convulsing as you’re gushing all over his handsome face. You feel his grin against you when he pulls back his tongue, slipping two fingers inside.

“Hear how slutty she is, huh? So slutty thought you were a good girl.” He huffs, you’re reeling from cumming so hard when he quickly finds your g spot, as if he knew your body forever. “Can’t talk? Pathetic.”

“F-fuck… you I… it’s too much!” You whine, he’s scissoring those two fingers in and out of your now soppy little hole, you do hear it, the wetness so fucking loud, he’s licking your clit now, sucking it into his mouth, you’re pushing over the edge again. “Both!? I c-can’t!”

“Mmm, you can, cum again, pretty slut. Lemme drink it.” You’re trying to close your thighs, but he forces them open, smacking at one, shaking his head. “Again, y’can do it.”

“S’too much…” You’re whining over and over, it is so much pleasure you have trouble comprehending a thought, when he crooks his fingers in your gooey walls, and sucks your clit again, you’re shattering.

“Mmm, there you go, you can do it can’t ya?” He’s cooing to you, smirk on his features, that are coated in your slick.

“Please!” You’re yanking him up, he chuckles a bit, letting you, hovering over you with his strong arms, as he wipes your chin with one hand.

“You’re fucking drooling, god, fucked out already? Can you handle me?” He raises a brow, you want to retort, but you are fucked out, you came more than you ever have, now you’re opening your mouth and closing it. “Can’t talk, stupid brat?”

“F-fuck off… ass…” You manage, earning him more hard for you, kissing you deeply, you taste yourself then, but even more when he shoves his fingers in your pussy, scooping out more arousal, shoving them in your mouth.

“Suck them like a good girl, there ya fuckin go, pretty little slut.” You’re in tears from overstimulation as you suck him eagerly. “So ya can follow directions, ha… didn’t know that mouth could shut.”

“Shut it.” You whisper, pulling back with a pop, he falters at your seductive words, shaking his head.

“You sucked dick?”

“N-no.” You admit, he sighs then.

“Look, maybe not the first time.”

“Sukuna, are you being caring?” You tease, his brows lower, lips pressing in a firm line.

“No! Just… you need a lot of workup and… will you stop smiling like that!? Stop looking at me that way.”

“Like what?” You tease, hands unbuttoning him shakily, he pulls back then, taking a breath as he looks down at your pretty body, and you reveal more of his chiseled frame.

“Like… that. Like you’re…”

“In love with you?” His jaw tenses again.

“Shut it, now.”

“I am, stupid ass. Don’t know why.” You sit up when he stands, eagerly unbuttoning his pants, his heart races like he’s the virgin, brain short circuiting when you slip them down, his boxers following.

“I… you… shouldn’t…” He doesn’t remember what he was saying, you’re too sexy, too pretty, your words he’s never thought he’d hear. “You don’t love me. Don’t say it.”

“I do, and I will say it.”

“Then why did you ask for… casual!?”

You’re blushing when his cock is revealed, and it’s massive, thick and heavy, his reddened tip drooling precum. It’s so big you can’t understand how it would fit, your hand barely circles the girth, looking so tiny against him, he’s ridiculously big. You nervously look up, seeing his eyes dilated, his lashes lowered, Sukuna’s hands come to enwrap in your loose hair, gripping it.

“Answer me, brat. Now.”

“Because if that’s how you want to, I’ll do it. I want you, I have wanted you.” He exhales, jerking when you lick his tip.

“I don’t want to be casual with you, okay!?” You smile, he rolls his eyes. “Don’t you dare smile like that. Doesn’t mean I’m gonna be all mushy and dumb.”

“I don’t want to be casual either.” He cups your face with his other hand, groaning when your hot mouth starts sucking him in, there’s too much of him, you barely get the tip and an inch or two, swirling your tongue, tasting the salty precum, his musky scent filling your nostrils.

“F-fuck…” Sukuna’s stuttering, you swear you hear him whine, but you wonder if it’s a trick of your ears, his hand on your face shaky when he starts thrusting his cock in your mouth, eyes locked on yours. “Stupidly pretty brat.”

He might as well say ‘my love’ or ‘darling’ because your body reacts, already having had so much pleasure you’re wet again, when he yanks you more on his cock, shoving it deeper. You’re breathing through your nose as he fucks your throat, as he’s gasping and moaning out your name, you finally think you have a rhythm when he pulls you off.

“Was it okay?” You ask nervously, he shoves you on your back, between your thighs in an instant then, you gasp for breath.

“Okay? Sucked it like some pro. You lyin’ t’me?” You giggle, shaking your head and catching his gaze.

“Watch porn though.”

“Porn ain’t shit to what I’m gonna do.” You’re crying out as his tip leaks precum along your clit, biting your lip when he’s pressing into your tight ring of muscles, your nails dig into his back, feeling the taut skin. “If we do this, you’re never fucking anyone, never. Fuckin got me brat?”

You blink a bit, as his tip presses in, stretching your skin. “You love me too, don’t you Kuna?” You tease, he scoffs, but then nods just a bit, and kisses you, pressing past your barrier, you gasp at it, at the pain, being stretched by him. “Ow! Shit!”

“Shit… y-you’re too tight… loosen the fuck up, brat.” You glare up at him, throbbing from the pain now, he’s barely holding on.

“I can’t. Y-you’re an idiot!”

“Running your mouth?”

“You’re too big!”

“Fuck…” He eases back, leaning up on an elbow, hand slipping down and rolling on your clit. “Relax, annoying ass. Even your pussy is stubborn.”

“You’re… so… ah!” His circles are rough, calloused thumb pressing on your little engorged clit, when he sinks in again.

“Relax, now.” His husky voice gives you that order, you do so then, exhaling and looking into his eyes, that are so dark they look black, you nod weakly. “You… are you alright?”

“You care, aw.” You can’t help it, you’re grinning all fucked up.

He glares again, this time thrusting deep, you scream out at it, he moans, biting your neck again, big hand gripping your thigh and lifting it higher. “Fucking feel her, gripping me my god. She’s mine, huh?”

“Y-yours, Kuna.” Your little whimper destroys him, your cunt pulsing around him, stretching and getting wetter to accommodate, and he begins actually fucking you then, you’re so wet, hot and tight he can’t stand how good it feels, he’s already dreaming of breeding this little cunt as you convulse under him.

“F-fucking love it, slutty little pussy.” His words along with his tip dragging against that spot in your walls send you reeling, you hear it now the skin smacking, his balls slapping your ass, wetness squelching when he pulls back, gripping your hips with a wicked grin. “Look, fucking your guts up, huh?”

He forces your chin to look down at the ridiculous bulge in your tummy, you gasp at it, clinging to his sheets now, so full when he sinks more of his cock in you, so much you don’t think he’ll fit fully, he’s already slamming your cervix. His hands slip up your hips, yanking you down further, you scream out at how good it feels.

“Ruin you, no one… n-no one’s gonna do this, yeah?” He leans over just a bit, fucking you harder, thrusts so rough your tits jiggle, your body moves. “Use you as my little fuck toy, pretty toy, so fucked out and stupid.”

“Ngh!” You are stupid, your eyes are rolling back, you’re drooling, incapable of doing anything but pulsing on his cock now, of desperately clinging to him.

“S-say it, brat.” He’s shoved his cock so deep, your cunt is dripping down his veiny length, you’re whimpering desperately, nodding. “That’s it, cum f’me, lemme feel her clamp down. F-fuck, there she is…”

Now Sukuna is full of nonsense, you’re both mumbling as he does ruin you for anyone, as you ruin him for anyone, he’s kissing you sloppy, his tattooed hand wraps your throat. He squeezes just so, you’re fading as he rails your cunt, muttering filthy, nasty words, you were a virgin, but he sure the fuck wasn’t taking it easy.

Well, you didn’t think he was, Sukuna actually is taking it easy.

He’ll wait before he goes where he wants to, but you so eagerly open your mouth for his spit, desperately cumming all over his cock then. “Made f’me, pussy she’s m-mine, hmm?”

You’re getting choked, swallowing spit, and this asshole asks you a question? You manage a nod, as he slows finally, releasing your throat, hand slipping up your titty to pinch your nipple, hips rolling just so, jerking his cock against your bruised cervix. You’re a stupid mess under him, sputtering when he finally slows his rhythm, when he thickens impossibly in you.

“I’m never pulling out of you, on something?” He huffs, you blink in confusion as he grins. “Asked ya a question brat.”

“On… pill… mmm…” He moans now, exhaling.

“Good, hah-” He thrusts deep again, you’re fluttering around his length. “Wouldn’t pull out anyway. I’d knock you the fuck up, breed your slutty cunt.” You’re done for, when he starts spurting cum, crying out in your ear, taking over everything with his huge body on top of you, in you, around you. He’s cumming so much it’s ridiculous, coating your walls, filling your belly full. “Oh f-fuck… fuckin love you…”

You blink as you come to, as your cum and his are pushed out with each thrust, your thighs shaking, head buzzing from pleasure. He looks at you then, eyes desperate, biting his lower lip while you put it together. “You love me, Kuna?”

“Shut up.” You smile when he kisses you again, and well… you don’t just fuck once for your first time.

You’re fucking in the shower to ‘clean up’ and then he’s got you up on the counter, devouring your pussy again, seeing how many times you can cum, soon he’s got his game going, showing you the controls as you’re cockwarming him. You’re so sore no amount of ibuprofen will fix it, but you want more, you’re grinding on him as you wear his headset, getting shot hopelessly by the players.

That’s where Yuuji finds you all, your tits out, Sukuna half naked, big hands on your hips with his cock inside you, you gasp then, covering your tits with your hands, but Sukuna just laughs, kissing on your shoulders. Yuuji covers his face, turning away quickly in embarrassment.

“K-kuna… s-stop…” You whisper, but Yuuji waves at you all, covering his eyes with a smile.

“You’re getting along!”

“Um… yeah.” You manage, and Sukuna’s laughing so hard it’s annoying, he doesn’t pay attention to your glare.

“Cool… um… bye.” He hides in his room, you try to get up, but Sukuna has you pinned down, tilting your head and kissing you.

“You’re insane, Sukuna.”

“You love that shit.”

“Shush. Show me the… g-game…”

The teammates are very curious why Sukuna started sucking at Call of Duty that day, but he has his new very annoying girlfriend to blame, she’s just squeezing his cock too good.

A/N I really have been feeling some Sukuna latelyyy, I hope ya'll enjoyed the smut aha!! <3

Taglisttt: @yenayaps @schlokki @elliesndg @thelightknight21 @attackonnat @indiewritesxoxo @sylussss7 @ninikrumbs @zezedoesshit @iveiveim @spacefae-x @maomimii @moonchhu @jinxiewritings perma tags- @alt--er--love @seeing-stars-alt @nanasukii28 @labelt-san @makingtimemine @aldebrana

All my sukuna oneshots hereee

[dinogoofymutated]

Jealousy headcannons! Multi/GN!Reader - Cable, Gambit, Nightcrawler, Quicksilver. Ok I know this wasn't on the schedule butttt Yeahhhh. Cable is going to have an extended version of his fic, and I might do the same for the others but no promises! Also I know that Cable's written half is literally just the snippet I shared with some minor edits but bear with me please his stuff is in the works!!! TWs: Jelousy. Barfights. No violence on Reader but men are creepy. Mentions of sex work. Cable and gambit make public spectacles it's just what they do. The return of wolverine and the X-men Pietro bc I love him

Cable

Look, any man who comes over to flirt with you after you walk in with a legit wall of muscle has to be either stupid or blind.

Cable is by no means a very jealous man. He's not gonna care if a man (or woman) approaches you and starts up a conversation. He might get a little frustrated if they start flirting with you, but he trusts you. He knows you can take care of yourself and he doesn't want you to feel like he's got you on a leash.

But when someone is being persistent, not taking no for an answer, and hell, putting their hands on you? He doesn't take it too well. He's more of an overprotective type when it comes to his flavor of jealousy.

    “That beer for me, Beautiful?” The voice of a stranger cuts through your thoughts, and to be honest, you don’t even think he’s talking to you until you realize how close to you he is. He’s sat on the barstool next to you, leaning towards you like he can’t quite catch his balance. You make a face at him, nonchalantly moving Cable’s beer closer.

    “Last time I checked it wasn’t.” You say curtly. The man has a smile hiding behind his pout as he leans a little closer to you, oblivious to the way you casually recoil from him.

    “Oh c'mon, don’t play hard to get. I’m chill!” You can tell this guy is most definitely drunk, and you find yourself trying not to roll your eyes at him. If only he knew what kind of trouble he was in.

    “Sure you are. But believe me, my Husband is not.” You tell him. You're not married, but to be honest, you knew this guy wasn't going to leave you be if you left him with some vague label. Didn't matter anyway, however, the stranger laughs in your face, and his breath smells like alcohol and cheap cigarettes, a nasty combo that repulses you. You point back at the corner booth where the cable was sitting just a few minutes before, hoping that he’d at least back off at the sight of the six-foot hunk of muscle you call a lover. Unfortunately, He doesn't. 

    “What Husband?” The man says mockingly, and when you look at the booth you find yourself pointing at an empty seat. The sight lights a small flicker of anxiety in you, and your face falls as the man sets a hand on your shoulder and squeezes. It’s not there for long before the weight suddenly disappears. You snap your head around, feeling relief when you see the man’s wrist caught in Cable’s literal iron-clad grip. 

    “This Husband.” Cable grunts.

    All of the blood drains from the stranger’s face in an instant, but it doesn’t take long for the attitude to come back. He tries to yank his arm out of Cable’s grip, but Cable’s arm doesn’t move an inch. To be honest, the sight kinda made you blush a little. Sure, you had seen Cable’s strength many times, but this… well. This was different. The guy starts to yank a little more aggressively, and all Cable has to do is clench his hand for the asshole to yelp and give up. You set a placating hand on his shoulder, and Cable glances back at you. His gaze softens, and he sighs before letting the guy go.

    “What’s your problem, man?” The stranger spits as he holds his bruised wrist. You had already gathered your things and were getting ready to get the hell outta dodge, giving Cable’s shoulder a hard pat as you desperately tried to keep him from getting in a barfight. Cable ignores the guy, walking close behind you as you start to walk away.

    “ -s’ an ugly bitch, anyway.” The stranger mumbles under his breath, but not nearly as quiet as he should’ve. Cable stops in his tracks, wheels around, and slugs the guy with his left arm. There's a sickening crunch and the bar goes silent as the drunken stranger is violently knocked from his seat. Your first instinct is to scold Cable, but the guy had it coming anyway. You look around, and with every eye in the bar squarely on you and Cable, you decide you’ve definitely stayed past your welcome.

Gambit

Gambit is probably the most jealous man in this lineup. Again, He will get fidgety and somewhat aggressive when someone approaches you and begins to flirt, but he trusts you. He doesn't want you to think he doesn't, and as a result, he tends to grit his teeth and bite his tongue to keep himself in check.

There's definitely a very, very thin line in between "I don't want to be overbearing" Remy and "This guy needs to take the fucking hint" Remy.

He's mostly fine with drunk bastards, He thinks they're funny, and as long as they're not bothering you for the most part he'll keep the aggression to a minimum. -But the one thing he absolutely cannot stand is snobby pricks who think they can steal you from him because he's a "swamp rat."

"It's a shame to see such a lovely creature like you standing here all alone." You try not to roll your eyes at the man that approaches you. You and Remy were supposed to have a nice, romantic night out. It was your anniversary, and Remy had told you that he wanted to pull out all the stops for this one. Unfortunately, fate wasn't on either of your sides today. The X-men needed Gambit, and you told him that the plans can wait for another time. Remy, in a very gambit fashion, told you to dress up anyway and he bet he would meet you there. Definitely a rather High-stakes gamble, but you loved him, so you said you'd hold him to it.

Unfortunately for you, it looked like the restaurant was hosting an event at the bar for what looked like a rather stuffy- sorry, High-end law firm. You had been content with waiting for Remy, even if the waitress clearly looked convinced he was standing you up. You had ordered something to drink while you waited, and caught the wrong kind of attention during your trip to the bar.

"I'm not alone, I'm waiting for someone." You say, flashing him an annoyed smile. He smiles back in a smartass kind of way, flashing you his Rolex as he pushes up his glasses. Great. He thinks you're a sugar baby- or maybe a sex worker. Either way, you really wished he was anywhere but here.

"Right. I'll be honest with you, I know you've been waiting here for what- and hour now? Hour and a half? Any guy that leaves you here for that long is not worth your time, sweetheart." You cringe at the nickname, but he clearly can't seem to tell. At this point, you start debating your options. You could run to the bathroom, but there weren't any windows you could crawl out of and he could wait at the door for you to come out. You could try to leave, but you didn't want Remy to think that you left him hanging. It's probably best if you stay and wait for him, but man was this guy getting on your nerves.

"Again, I'm waiting on someone. I'm choosing to wait on him, and frankly, I'm not interested in you." You say bluntly, getting more and more aggravated. The man only smirks at you.

"You're certainly a fiesty one. Don't worry, I like it when they play hard to get." He sends you wink that makes you want to sock him, and to be honest, you start to think about it. The bell at the door of the restaurant dings, and you glance over, face breaking out in a smile at the sight of the man you had been waiting on.

Remy was still in his x-men suit, obviously having come fresh from the fight. He's got some dirt on his face, and his hair is a little messier than normal, but you had never been so happy to see him.

"Well, don't you clean up well." You joke as Remy walks to your table. He chuckles, barely sparing the other man a side-eye before picking up your hand to kiss it.

"Sorry, Chère. Originally, I planned on changin', but I couldn't stand the thought of leaving you here for another moment." Remy's fond gaze turns into a bit of a glare when he finally looks over at the gobsmacked man across the table from you. "I see you've made a new friend?" You roll your eyes at that, shaking your head. Remy gets the message.

There's a gasp from the other patrons of the restaurant, as the sound the contact made was rather loud. There's already a red mark forming on the mans face as you take Remy by the hand and begin to lead him out of the restaurant. Remy is looking at you like he'd fallen in love with you all over again.

"You've been waiting all this time for some Cajun freak?" The man blurts out, finally having found his words.

"Watch it, Mon ami." Remy's shoulders tense as he snarls at the prick. You stand up, giving his bicep a reassuring squeeze before you walk in front of the man. The side of his mouth slightly upturns as you do so, right before you slap the everloving shit out of him.

"I know you really wanted for us to eat here, honey, but to be honest? I like your cooking better anyway."

Nightcrawler

Kurt? Jealous???

Absolutely. He absolutely gets jealous. Kurt is much more of a "cat" kind of jealous than a Guard Dog kind of jealous though. He's not going to do anything crazy like punch anyone, but he's gonna brush up against you, slide his tail around your waist, hold your hand. He wants reassurance from you more than he is angered by whoever is flirting with you.

That's not to say he's not angry. He doesn't like the way some people look at you like a piece of meat instead of the intelligent, beautiful person you are, and he's not afraid to call people out on it.

Kurt knew that the guy you were talking to right now was only stopping to ask you for directions, but he really didn't like how close to you the guy was. Kurt had gone off to get you something to eat from the street food vendor nearby, telling you to just relax and he would be back soon.

When he returned with food in hand, it was obvious to him what was happening, but he still couldn't help but frown. The man is leaning into your space as he shows you the map in his hands. It's fine. There was obviously nothing really going on, the stranger must have been simply touchy. He then watches as the man sets a hand on the back of your waist to point at a building up ahead, and Kurt's mind quickly changes.

Obviously, you had stepped out of the stranger's reach quickly, uncomfortable with the action, but Kurt still slinked up to your side like a cat, pulling you close with his tail as he hands you your food, resting his newly freed hand behind your back.

"There you are, Meine Liebe. I hope you didn't wait for too long." Kurt says sweetly, giving you a grin. You smile back at him, thanking him for the food. You felt relieved to see him. Sure, the stranger that had been speaking to you seemed to be a nice man, but there was a certain amount of comfort and security Kurt provided when he was near you. Kurt makes a show of leaning in and kissing you on the cheek that makes you giggle. The stranger clears his throat after a quick moment.

"-Sorry if I interrupted your date. I appreciate the directions!" He says quickly, face flushed red from embarresment.

"You're perfectly fine! I hope you're able to find what you're looking for alright." You respond sweetly, waving as the man walks off. Kurt is pouting again when you look at him, tail still wrapped comfortably around you. You can't help but giggle.

"You're so jealous." You laugh. Kurt gives you an innocent look as he brushes off the accusation.

"Whaaat? No. Ich habe dich vermisst. That is all!"

Quicksilver

I'm not even gonna lie the fic half of this is just part of that enemies to lovers hcs that I wrote

anyway!!

Pietro is a very pouty, bratty kind of Jealous.

Like sure he trusts you and all but you actually looked at someone else while they were speaking to you? >:[ Don't look at them. Look at him. Smile at him not them. You're laughing at something they said? Well, he's funnier than them!!

He's just, so pouty over the smallest, pettiest things. He just needs a smooch on the forehead and some reassurance and also possibly cuddles, and he'll be fine. God he's such a brat ILHSM

However, If someone is actually flirting with you or going too far and making you uncomfortable, he will in fact throw hands. Or do his speedster thing and find a way to embarrass them, like pantsing them or planting something embarrassing on them. One time he snatched a guy's cell and called his wife before planting it in the man's pocket so she could hear all the flirting he was doing. Now that was fun.

"So I heard you had dinner with the wolfie guy tonight." The sound of Pietro's voice makes you yelp in surprise. You whirl around to see him leaning against the wall of your room, arms crossed. You scoff, and pick a pillow off of your bed to chuck it at him. He catches it easily.

"His name is Logan, and No. Not really. All we did was happen to sit next to each other at dinner." You turn back around to sit at your vanity, but Pietro is already there, sitting on the stool with the pink pillow tucked into his arms.

"So you did have dinner with him?" He pouts. You roll your eyes at him, holding back a laugh as you shove him off the seat. He looses his balance for less than a second before there's a gust and he's sitting cross-legged on your bed, having tossed the pillow to the side.

"What does it matter to you, anyway? You're not even supposed to be here, Pietro." You tease as you sit down, unable to keep yourself from smiling. You comb through your hair as you ready yourself for bed, still grinning like an idiot as you hear Pietro huff and haw.

"Why shouldn't it matter?" He asks, watching as you complete your routine. "I- I have a reason to care." He stutters out cheeks flushing a light pink that reaches his ears. You cover your mouth to keep yourself from laughing.

"Don't laugh!" Pietro objects, and it sends you into a fit of laughter as you stand back up and flop onto your back on the bed next to him.

"He's not my type anyway." You say. It only takes a second before Pietro is leaning over you, caging you between his arms. There's the ghost of a grin beginning to form on his face, simply at the sight of your own cheesy expression.

"What is your type, then?" He asks, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Let's just say I prefer a man who can keep up with me." You say with a wink that may or may not have been the most terribly, corny action you could have done. Pietro doesn't seem to care as his face is split with an equally as corny grin.

Both of you are caught off guard by someone calling your same from the hallway, and then a knock shortly after. You take Pietro's moment of distraction and quickly lean up, placing a chaste kiss on his cheek. Pietro looks absolutely shocked.

"You better get going." You whisper. He smiles at you, almost in disbelief, and then he's gone, the window left open and the breeze catching on curtains, blowing gently.

[lookingformoondrop]

ok but Can you image the total shit show it’d be if reader somehow rizzed up BOTH Andrew and Ashley?? 😨 literally preying. Like imagine reader is not necessarily popular, but they definetly are one of the most attractive people in the class if not the most

Andrew Graves x Reader x Ashley Graves

TW: Some nasty cat fights between the Graves siblings, everyone has a potty mouth, mentions of unaliving eachother, not proofread, reader just wanted a cookie.

♥︎Notes: This was actually so fun to write. I always love writing arguments between my two favorite assholes and watching it burn from there. Enjoy this messy headcannon and sorry it took so long<3.♥︎

Someone call the police, ain't no one coming out of this alive.

First, we gotta start with how you rizzed up the siblings. Starting with Andrew,

I can already see that to get through Andrew's heart, you gotta be funny.

Yes I know that this brooding son of a bitch is dressed in only dark colors, but he values some humor and I feel like the way through his heart is that.

You were in class chatting with a classmate near Andrew's desk when the classmate brought up your history teacher. Uptight, strict, and a prick, you said, "If he berates me anymore for my red pen, his head will go so far up his ass he'll find his own bullshit."

Unexpectedly, both of you heard a snort. Searching for the source, you saw Andrew covering his mouth with his hand, horrified by the sound he had just made.

You smiled at him and brushed off the snort to the classmate, "I think we're hearing things."

That truly made his heart flutter.

He had started sitting closer to you after that. Whenever he got ready in the mornings for school, an extra step in his routine was to hope that you were coming too.

"Hey Andrew," you walked by Andrew's desk.

"Y -Y/N! Hi..." Andrew mentally cussed himself our for the stutter.

It was dumb...really dumb.

But it made Andrew smile and feel giddy when he walked home.

I feel like Andrew would be very tame when it came to his feelings for the reader.

He'd blush when you're around and check in with you to make sure you're okay. He'd be too embarrassed to actually ask you out, but he would definitely try to find excuses to hang around you.

Now, the only natural explanation for Ashley's involvement with you would be that she saw her brother with a dumbass grin one day and HAD to investigate.

So, how did you rizz up Ashley?

Well, it's simple, really,

She went to your house to get a clear look at you and saw you dancing through the window,

You were fun and disgustingly too kind.

("Idiot")

But somehow, that fun energy intrigued Ashley. You would smile at her randomly when she corssed the street. You had no idea who she was, and yet that smile irked Ashley (in a somehow pleasant way).

"Hey guys!" She cheerfully entered the classroom doorway, a spring in her step.

Andrew turned to look at the voice and immediately felt a muscle in his forehead twitch. "Great," he thought, "another one of Ashley's ploys so that she can harass any woman out of my life."

You, of course, were baffled at seeing this girl suddenly love up on you, but judging by Andrew's murderous smile towards her, you figured they were related somehow.

But instead of Ashley being an ass towards the reader, she began to cling to their arm.

This began a looooong sequence of events where it would go one of the following ways,

You'd go to a spot around town, invite one of the Graves siblings, and no matter how secluded, isolated, unknown, or illegal said spot was, the other Graves sibling would find and join you.

This definitely opens the possibility of more intense sibling fights.

I say intense, but it's more like,

"SAY HER NAME ONE MORE TIME ASHLEY AND I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!"

"DO IT ANDY, DO IT, I DARE YOU. WHAT WOULD MY Y/N THINK ABOUT A MURDERER, YOU FUCKFACE!"

The fights would get so loud that the neighbors would call the police

By the time the police came to knock at the door, Ashley was pulling Andrew's hair and trying to put him in the washing machine, while Andrew was clawing at Ashley's face and trying to smack her head against said machine.

When Andrew (and for some reason) Ashley came to school, you were startled by how banged up both of them became. Still, when you asked about it, all they did was brush you off (and stomp on each other's toes when you weren't looking).

While they did loath each other for trying to steal Y/N from one another, they never doubted the protection they felt they owed to Y/N.

Some random classmate decided to hit on you and make you verryyyy uncomfy. When you recounted the tale to Andrew, he refused to leave you alone for weeks, constantly fantasizing about bashing the guys face in.

ASHLEY ON THE OTHER HAND would absolutely demolish any shithead who tried hitting on you. "They needed to be punished!" Is the last thing she said, and the last time you ever saw that classmate.

Was it risky? Yes. Did Andrew scold her for it? Yes. Did either one of them regret it? Hell no.

Overall, the entire relationship is a complete shit show. And even if you begged them to play nice, they'd still fight over you.

"Ashley, can you help me? I can't reach that cookie jar."

Ashley sprung up from her seat. "Sure thing, N/M~" But just as Ashley was going to reach for the jar, Andrew pushed her into a pile of trash bags in the kitchen and proceeded to grab the jar for you.

"Here you go, Y/N," Andrew smiled at you while you panicked on who to check in with first.

Suddenly, from the pile of trashbags came, "Andrew, you ass!"

Fight or flight kicked in, and you immediately bolted out of their kitchen. Having remembered plenty of their fights, you decided that for today, you were perfect content with just going home. That was enough Graves for today...

"ASS-KISSER!"

"BROWN-NOSER!"

Yeah, that was plenty of Graves for today.

Thank you for the ask!<3

[underfvced]

Human! Muzan Kibutsuji Headcanons

SFW | NSFW

• Premise: You are the beloved wife of Muzan Kibutsuji, although it was a arranged marriage your love for Muzan Kibutsuji was real. so what is it exactly like being his wife?

{SFW}

- Muzan always hated the fact that he have a sickness that is almost impossible to cure so he is always mad about it leading to him having such a nasty personality.

- He mostly takes his anger out on his own Servants and his doctor to whom he refer to as 'Fraudulent Doctor'

- In the beginning, Muzan despised you and didn't want to be near you.

- "Why the fuck do I even need a wife? She's as useless as the servants!"

- You dislike his nasty personality but you also understood that he's only mad about his illness that he takes his anger out on others.

- Despite Muzan's cruel words and actions, you have continued to look after him no matter how hard he tries to push you away.

- But as time goes on, Muzan started to appreciate the love and care that he is receiving from you

- And eventually he developed feelings for you

- He'd still be tough on you, but not so tough.

- Sometimes when he notices how tired you are, he wouldn't say cruel words towards you like what he usually does but instead he would be quiet

- In the end, you would notice that he's too quiet so you started asking him questions if he's okay

- He would get mad at you for asking such a question

- "Do I look okay? I have a fucking illness you dumb woman! just shut the fuck up and rest for the day"

- His sentence got you confused, You don't even know whether he's being cruel or nice

- When it comes to drinking medicine, he would make a huge fuss over it saying that it wouldn't even work but when it's you he would just drink it quietly he would still roll his eyes at you though or let out a 'tch' sound

- He only wants YOU to take care of him and refuses to let anyone else to take the spot

- the only time he lets anyone else do it is when you are sick

- since his body is weak he couldn't really take you out on fancy dates

- but sometimes when he feels like having a date with you he would make his servants cook and prepare a romantic table just for the two of you at home

- Muzan's favorite thing to do is to cuddle with you, he won't admit it but he really enjoys your company and touch

- although he wouldn't really ask directly, he would stare deeply into your eyes in silent with a >:| face

- "Do you need anything?"

- "You already know what I want"

- Aside Muzan's nasty personality, he also have a soft personality that only YOU have access to

- When muzan can't sleep at late night, you and him would have a conversation about life and would often be joking around with each other

- "Would you find someone else if I died?"

- "Don't say stuffs like that, You will survive you just have to believe in yourself"

- "Don't be so dramatic Y/N. it's just a what if, I want to hear your honest answer."

- "No, I don't want to... I'd rather stay at your grave for hours!"

- "Just hours?"

- "No, I'll live in your grave"

- "Good"

- That conversation right there is one of the rare moments you have with him since 99% of the time he's an asshole to you and his servants mostly his doctor

- "Y/N, When my illness is gone. I promise to give you the best life you deserve."

{NSFW}

- DICK: 4 soft, 6'5 erected (Length), 6 in girth, curved upward, Veiny, hairy and tip color is ff9999

- He whimpers

- He's more submissive than dominant due to his body being weak

- You are the one who initiates

- His favorite part of sex is his dick getting sucked on by you

- He likes shoving his cock all the way down your throat

- And he thinks that you are really pretty with his cock on your mouth

- "f-fuck y/n. . . You're sucking it so good~"

- Since he has low stamina you are usually the one on top and the sex position you often do is Cowgirl and Reverse cowgirl

- While doing cowgirl his hands would be on your boobs playing with your nipples or sometimes they are just placed at your thighs giving them a squeeze

- If it's reverse cowgirl his hands would be on your hips and just like cow girl they would also be on your thighs

- You would bounce on his cock while he whimpers and begs you for more

- "ah~....ha~ ...pl-please more"

- Seeing muzan beg for more was amusing so you would tease him about it

- "Please what? Use your words my love~"

- He would get annoyed and grunt but greed took over him wanting more and more, he couldn't get enough of you so he would give in to your tease

- "Please Y/N...Please give me more of you"

- "Good boy~"

- And this is where you would bounce faster

- Muzan doesn't really use nicknames in sex because he's not really that sort of a romantic guy so he mostly just calls you by your own name

- And Muzan doesn't want any nicknames from you

- However you threatened that you would stop moving when he doesn't accept the nickname "Good boy" so he had no other choice but to accept the nickname you gave him

- When cumming he prefers to shoot it inside of you, into your mouth or all over your face.

- "Fuck... I'm close"

- If it's inside of you: he would tightly grip on your hips or thighs

- If it's into your mouth: He would ask you to stop bouncing and to suck his dick, after doing so he would have a tight grip on your hair forcing your mouth all the way down while his seed overfilled your mouth

- If it's on your face: He also would ask you to stop bouncing so he could pull out and come in your face, after cumming in your face he would cupped your cheeks admiring the mess he made

- He could only go for 1-2 rounds so if you are left unsatisfied and still wanting more he would just offer you to ride his face

- Poor muzan's dick was so exhausted after just 1 round

- "Seriously woman? Are you fucking trying to drain me?"

- "Please?"

- Muzan's greatest weakness was YOU, he couldn't refuse your request with that cute face of yours

- Too bad his dick was already exhausted so he offers another way to please you

- "Fuck you woman, Just ride my face and after this go kill yourself"

- Aftercare is important in sex but muzan is too weak to move on his own so you have to be the one taking care of him

- After having a warm bath together and putting on some comfy clothes You would bring in some foods for you and Muzan to eat together.

- After eating, Muzan will offer to let you cuddle with him to which you always Accepts and never once have refused.

- "I hate you but I also love you, but I still hate you more"

- "I love you most"

[sincerelyneo]

no judgement | l.mk

“i can be your lover or your shoulder to cry on, you can be whoever you like”

💿now playing: no judgement by niall horan

❯ summary: Mark’s shocked to see you at his front door step crying, but he isn’t surprised. You do this all the time - get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute that asshole dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. And he will. He always does.

❯ pairings: mark x fem!reader (brief mention of yuta)

❯ genre: friends to strangers to lovers? smut, angst

❯ words: 4.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, protected sex, lowkey sub!mark, hookup, rebound sex, glasses kink, big dick mark bc yes, oral sex (m receiving), nipple play, slight begging, yuta is an asshole for the plot, reader is also kinda mean, mentions of cheating (not between mark + y/n), slight unrequited love, use of ‘pretty girl’, reader uses she/her pronouns.

Mark thinks his mind is playing tricks on him. I mean - it would make sense - the last time he’d checked the clock on his desk it was 12:17 am. So, there’s no way the light knocking on his front door is really happening…right? 

He tries to focus on the papers in front of him - a work assignment that was due last week that he’d already managed to get an extension on. He knows his boss will have his balls if he doesn’t have it completed and on his desk by 8:00 am sharp tomorrow (today). 

However, Mark’s fears of premature insanity are put to a quick end this time when the knocking is paired with an unnecessarily loud yelling through his letter box. 

“Mark Lee if you don’t open this door right now, I swear I’ll kick your ass the next time I see you.” 

Now that - the sound of your voice - wasn’t in his imagination. 

You bang harder, clear that you're using a fully clenched fist to make as much noise as possible.  “I’m serious dude, I’ve kicked your ass before, and I’ll do it again. Now open. The. Door.” 

Mark knows he should just ignore you, pretend that he’s sleeping and focus on his work; but, he hasn’t seen you in months, and you are supposed to be his best friend after all. He can’t just leave you out on the street at this hour — he won’t — what sort of friend would he be?

He rises from his desk, removes his glasses, and places them gently on the wooden surface before pinching the bridge of his nose.

You knock (pound) again. 

“‘Alright alright, jeez, I’m coming,” he says, followed by a small curse as he ushers through his hallway to the front door. 

As he swings the door open, he’s almost hit with a nasty sucker punch to the cheek as you simultaneously raise your fist to knock again.

“Woah there, calm down, you’re gonna get me a noise complaint,” he flinches. 

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” you point to the house next door, “That woman has been glaring at me from her window since I got here.” 

Mark peers out of his house, the cold night air nipping at the tips of his ears, and sees his neighbour looking down shaking her head disapprovingly at him. He raises his hand in a feeble apology, with a tight-lipped smile to ease the edge, but it doesn’t, he knows it doesn’t and he knows he’s going to have to do a lot of ass kissing in the morning. 

“Well, Mrs Kim and her husband have just had a baby.” 

He watches you shrug then grimace, “How was I supposed to know that? They didn’t have one the last time I was here.” 

It’s now when Mark takes in the person standing in front of him, a mere silhouette of his childhood best friend. You’re barefoot, which already raises questions in his mind, and a bottle of wine is in your hand. Your hair is dishevelled and mascara smudged under the bottom of your eye – which makes sense since he can see the faded redness from where he knows you’ve been crying. 

 “So, you gonna let me in or what? I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

Well obviously, Mark thinks, you’re wearing nothing but a short black dress, covered by a thin sheer blazer leaving your legs completely bare in the middle of winter. Your teeth chatter and he has to suppress the smile threatening to dance on his lips because it reminds him of when the two of you used to mess around in the snow during winter break back in high school.

But he pushes those memories to the side, just like his front door, as he makes enough room for you to slip into his house. As you step inside, you waste no time making yourself comfortable - old habits die hard you guess - remembering how things used to be.

You remove the blazer you're wearing and walk over to Mark's desk, draping it over the back of his chair. Your eyes fall on the sheets of paper scattered across the surface, partially covered by his glasses. You recall that he had stopped wearing them during junior year, opting for contacts instead - a decision you found disappointing. You had always liked his glasses; they made him look kind of... cute.

“I’m not interrupting you, am I?”

Yes. 

“Nah, not really,” Mark shrugs following in from behind you. 

“Really?” You ask picking up a sheet of paper as you raise an eyebrow, “Marketing campaign for neo gummies, on my desk Monday 8:00 am.”

There’s a smile on your face as you read it because it’s nice to know that the Mark standing in front of you is the same as the one you grew up with. He was always the last person to hand in his college assignments, and school science projects; but don’t get it wrong, he’d always ace them. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ve basically finished it.”

Mark’s lying, and you can easily tell by the way his arm reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. It's a mannerism you've become aware of, noticing how he used to do it when you asked him for his opinions on some of your uglier fashion choices throughout high school. 

“You sure?” You add, “I wouldn’t want you getting in trouble with your boss or anything. Especially now that you live in this fancy-ass townhouse, your mortgage payments must be crazy.”

Mark shakes his head with a smile, reaching for his glasses and putting them back on. “They’re not that crazy…”

You give him a knowing look, his living room alone is practically the size of most apartments in the city. But you didn’t expect anything less from him, he’d always worked hard for everything he had. He graduated with flying colours, found a high-paying job after college, bought a nice house; and you’re sure that one day he’d secure himself a nice girl to live in it with him. 

What you’re trying to say is Mark Lee had something to show for himself, which is more than you can say after you took a more leisurely approach to college. Mark had always worked a little too hard for your liking, or maybe you just worked a little too easy for his. Either way, he’s the one with his life put together and you’re just…standing barefoot in his living room, looking a mess, with a bottle of alcohol in your hand.  

“Well then, since I’m not imposing, how ‘bout a drink?” You suggest, waving the bottle of wine in the air in an attempt to win him over and distract yourself from your own reality. As shitty as it sounds, you come to Mark to escape the chaos of your own life, so dwelling on comparisons isn't something you want to keep doing.

For Mark though, he knows he shouldn't indulge in a drink – after all, the work assignment on his desk is practically begging to be completed. But he's always struggled to say no to you, and he's well aware that you know that too. It's why you're so comfortable knocking on his door in the early hours of the morning when most of the city is asleep; you know he'll always open up for you.

And that’s exactly why he’s heading into his kitchen and rooting through his cabinets until he finds two wine glasses. 

When he comes back into the living room, he finds you standing by the fireplace. It's not unusual, considering you were freezing just moments ago on his doorstep from your attire. However, what catches him off guard is that you're not warming yourself by the fire; instead, you're holding a picture – Mark's favourite one – taken by his parents on the day you got your wisdom teeth removed.

"No way you kept this," you groan, though there's a hint of laughter in your voice.

"Of course I did. You were completely out of it on anaesthesia, going on about marrying Lee Taemin," Mark replies.

You squeeze your eyes shut, remembering the way you sent the hot senior you had a crush on in your freshman year a DM in your high state. “Oh gosh, don’t remind me.”

But truthfully, that's not the sole reason Mark kept that picture, or why he still chooses to display it despite having hundreds of clearer, better ones of the two of you together. He treasures that particular photo because it was the day you told him you loved him – although you never brought it up again. Mark pins it down to you not remembering from the anaesthetic, but that photo, it’s the last slither of hope he has left. 

“Well, I must say, Mark Lee, you have had quite the glow-up since your high school days,” you laugh putting the picture back on the fireplace. 

Mark can't believe his cheeks are warming up as if he were that same teenager – pathetic, he thinks. And he wants to say the same about you, but he hardly recognizes you. You're a completely different person from the girl in the picture, and while he loves you, truly, it doesn't change the fact that you're a mess sitting before him.

To his defence, it's impossible not to notice it; he saw it the moment he opened the door and saw your smudged makeup and raw eyes – you’re defeated. And even though he knows precisely why, he still asks.

 "What are you doing here, Y/N?"

You swallow, “Can’t I just come and see my best friend?”

“No, you can’t.”

His words carry a double-edged sword, both an accusation directed at you and an expression of the hurt he's experienced from your repeated instances of ghosting him over the last few months. 

You begin pouring yourself a generous glass of the wine you brought along. If you were going to have this conversation with him, you weren't about to do it sober.

“Yuta broke up with me.”

And there it is. You always do this –  get a new boyfriend and forget about your childhood best friend. And the minute the asshole in question dumps you, you always want him to pick up the pieces. 

And Mark hadn't forgotten the name Yuta; in fact, it had been seared into his mind ever since you posted a picture with him on your Instagram account, looking all lovey-dovey. And then Mark had gone into full stalker mode – because of course he did – he always did. But the thing with Yuta was that he was one step ahead. One particularly awful day at work, when Mark wanted to check your account, he found himself blocked.

Honestly, Mark doesn’t blame Yuta, he’d be lying if he said all his thoughts about you were completely innocent, but you’d never blocked him over a guy before. He's accustomed to the isolation, the ghosting, and the personality changes that come with you getting a new boyfriend; but being digitally blocked by you was a new low. It's safe to say Mark had already formed his opinion about your new ex-boyfriend: he was definitely an asshole.

"Why did he break up with you?" he asks, not out of genuine concern, but rather out of selfish relief. Still, he knows it's the right thing to do.

“He found someone else, or I found him fucking someone else,” you spit bitterly, “and do you know what? That fucker didn’t even give me a chance to grab my shoes before he kicked me out.”

You take a long gulp from your glass, the liquid burning slightly as it goes down your throat, and then you flop back on the sofa. Your movements are heavy, weighed down by more than just the alcohol in your system. As you sink into the cushions, a wave of emotion crashes over you, threatening to engulf you completely. It's a moment of vulnerability that you've been holding back, and tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. You try to fight them, push down the rising tide of emotions, but it's futile. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he reassures, quickly taking a seat beside you on the sofa and resting a gentle hand on your thigh, where he begins to rub small, soothing circles into your skin, just like he used to do. "You can stay here tonight."

You groan into your hands, you can’t believe you're acting like this – pathetic – and it has you immediately defensive. “Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, so quiet Mark almost misses it.

“Like what?”

“All judgy.”

“When have I ever judged you, Y/N?” he questions, his tone gentle, “I’m always your shoulder to cry on, we’re past the judgement stage,”

"I don't cry that much," you protest weakly.

“Well…” he starts, that teasing look in his eye you love.

In response, you push his chest playfully, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. Because you’ve missed this – missed him.

And that’s the part that always stings the most: how effortlessly you two slip back into each other's company. Despite not speaking for a couple of months, it's like you didn’t lose any time. And perhaps that's why Mark finds it so easy to keep forgiving you, and why you find it so natural to slide in and out of his life and then expect him to mend your broken heart.

Mark grabs the hand you used to push his chest and looks at you seriously but gently, “Seriously, Y/N, you can just be yourself with me, just like it’s always been.”

His words resonate with you, stirring something deep within the pit of your stomach. You meet his gaze with glossy eyes, and in that moment, you feel an overwhelming surge of emotion. Without hesitation, you lean in and press your lips to his. 

It's a tender kiss, soft and sweet just how you expected Mark’s lips to be. And he melts into it just as much as you do, if not more so. It’s like he craves it, like he’s hungry for it. And he is because you – his first-ever crush, the girl he’s been in love with since he could remember – is pressing her lips to his. The teenager in him is jumping up and down right now.

Just as you're about to deepen the kiss, your face bumps into his glasses, causing both of you to pause as they sit askew on his face. Mark blushes and begins to fumble with them, but just as he's about to take them off, your hand wraps around his and stops him.

“Mmmm. Keep ‘em on,” you bite your lip as you reposition them on the bridge of his nose. “I like them.”

“I didn't realize you had a glasses kink,” he teases.

“Neither did I...just like them on you.”

That triggers something inside of him because his tongue lightly sweeps over your bottom lip where he nips it with his teeth. One of his hands reaches up to cup the nape of your neck; the other finds its way to the hem of your dress, intrusive fingers brushing over your bare skin, making you gasp.

He stills.

Did he just fuck this up? Was he reading it wrong?

There’s a fraction of a beat where you just breathe against him, and Mark feels a twinge of self-consciousness. And just when he’s about to apologise, you dive into him and all reservations are thrown out the window as you give him the green light. 

His hand wraps around your waist and he pulls you over his lap to straddle him. It gives him all the access he needs to grab your thighs and lift you up as he stands. He keeps your lips connected as he wraps your legs around his waist, pressing into you just enough to feel the swelling in his crotch. 

If you thought he was hungry for it before, now he’s starving. 

Your arms wrap around his neck, your breasts crushing against his chest. Your hips start to move against him without any control, almost like it’s instinctual. You suck on his tongue and he groans. And God if it isn’t the sexiest sound you’ve ever heard. 

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he says into your mouth, “Are we really doing this?”

You smile against his lips, “We’re doing this.”

You both take that as a confirmation to go harder, kissing like you’ve been starved of each other for years, and Mark supposes you have. His body moulds to yours and you feel his hand wander to your ass making your dress lift as he carries you out of the living room. 

When you see him heading for the staircase you know exactly where his head is at, and when he opens his bedroom door with you still in his arms, you feel wetness pool right between your legs. 

He drops you on the bed so gently and carefully not to hurt you – because even though he’s so goddamn horny right now – he’s still Mark. When your back hits the whites of his sheets it gives you a moment to look at him, his chest is heaving, lips swollen and cheeks flush. His hair is tousled and it makes your blood run cold. 

He looks like pure sex. Hot sex. Good, filthy, all-night-long sex. And you want him, more than you’ve ever wanted any man before in your life.

Mark kneels on the bed in the space between your legs, coming close enough to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, and you wonder if he sees you the same way you see him right now. He brushes your cheek gently with his thumb and you lean into his caress and plant a small kiss against his palm. 

His lips meet yours again as his hands slip between you two. They glide up your leg, to your stomach to under your dress, where he finds you not wearing a bra as your nipples pebble under his rough hands. 

Instinctively, your arms stretch over your head, reluctantly breaking the kiss so he can tug the material off and over you, lips crashing back together as you roll your hips into his with desperation and need. 

Mark groans when he pulls away to look at your naked chest in front of him, it’s a picture he thinks. One that needs to be hung up in an art gallery or some shit – actually now that he thinks about it – he hates the idea of you being on display like that for someone else.

His fingers wind themselves in your hair, a delightful shiver skittering along your body as you soften into his touch. You can’t help but grin suggestively as you look him in the eyes, top teeth holding down on your lower lip as your hands creep low enough to hook into the band of his pyjama bottoms. 

Mark practically whimpers as your hand teases at the elastic, “Please.”

The plea has you smiling wider, knowing exactly what he wants. You remove his bottoms without a second thought, the same time he strips from his t-shirt. His cock springs free, thick and long and straining so eagerly for you. 

You get a thrill knowing you’re the one who’s made him this hard and that makes you want to please him badly. So you do, taking control and flipping him over to be underneath you. He gasps at the motion and then he almost cums untouched at the sight of you kneeling between his legs, lowering yourself down just enough to kiss the tip of his cock.

The teasing touch sends a chill right through him. He leans back on his arms just to see you, eyebrows strained as he concentrates, glasses slightly fogged – he wants to remember exactly what you look like like this. You’re intoxicating, strong enough for him to get drunk on.

“So pretty,” he murmurs under a soft breath and you blush.

You lick your lips, focusing on his cock, flattening your tongue from the base all the way up to his head, where the slit is leaking with pre-cum. You hear him suck in a breath and it makes you smile. 

You like knowing he’s needy, teasing him to ignite small reactions, but continuing to do so would only be hell for you; because right now you want nothing more than to suck on his cock like it’s the last thing you’ll ever taste. 

You wrap your hand around his shaft and don’t waste another second before your mouth is sinking to suck on him. You manage all you can – there’s a lot of him – and use your fingers to move up the length you don’t swallow, stroking him painstakingly slow.   

As you kiss and lick at him, Mark is going mad because it’s your mouth. Your mouth is wet and hot and currently wrapped around him good enough that his thighs have started trembling. 

It’s not long before his hands find your hair and he helps you to slide more of his cock inside, knowing exactly when to stop instead of making you take too much. But he’s big and thick and your mouth barely covers him – which he hates – it feels like a reminder that he’s not made for you. 

The thought has him letting out a growl, which catches you by surprise from the whimpering mess he was seconds ago. The grip he has on your hair tightens. 

“Fuck, Y/N, suck me harder…” The dirty words sound dominant at first, but they trail off as you continue sucking on him, a lot like you’re melting him, and you fucking love that idea. 

The thought of having him be so desperate for you is making you wetter and needier. And it’s that need that has you reaching up to graze his nipples with your fingers. Mark finds the chill of your cold digits distinctive, responding with a mewl that rings between the walls of his room. 

You can't believe such a small touch makes him so…responsive. 

Every tug on his sensitive peak is enough to pull a sound from his pink lips, enough to make him writhe his hips and edge his cock further into your mouth. 

You twist and pinch and watch as Mark’s face twists in the feeling, mouth dropping open to release a stuttered breath. It’s so sensual - so carnal. 

You pull off his cock with a sickening pop, looking up at him with spit-covered lips. “Who would have guessed your nipples would be so sensitive?” 

Your hand stays at a steady pace, stroking him slowly as you speak. Mark shivers from the loss of your warm mouth around him, but there’s still a part of him that’s glad you stopped. But not because he doesn’t want this — he does, so badly — but because he was starting to feel his cock’s overwhelming urge to twitch with his orgasm. And there was no fucking way he was going to cum before he’d even buried himself inside you. 

In a cooling breath, he replies, “Only sensitive for you.” 

Warmth flushes on your face, and the arousal soaking between your legs begs to soak his cock. He’s so cute when he is all red-faced and whiny, eyes closed tightly as his brows knit together. And you suppose his own state of neediness triggers yours. 

“Want you inside of me now, Mark,” you pant, “Need it.” 

“Fuck~” his voice drips like honey as he moans, hands moving to grab at your waist to flip you under him.

You push yourself further up the bed and he crawls after you. It’s only now he realises the lace barrier still on your skin standing between you and his cock. Your panties are dark blue and they look so pretty against your skin.

He leans down, kissing the inside of your knee, letting his fingers slip up your ankle to cradle your smooth calf.

“Sometime tonight,” you tease.

But Mark likes to go slow, he likes to savour in your sight, study your body to remember every detail for his next late-night fantasy. He wants to bask in you being so bare and so ready for him — not your ex-boyfriend — him. 

He skims his hands further up your bare legs until he slides your underwear down and disregards them somewhere on the floor. Then, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, pressing your chests together skin to skin. He likes it like that — being so close and so intimate with you that it's almost raw. 

He reaches into his nightstand and pulls out a condom. You don’t take your eyes off him once as he rips it open with his teeth and rolls it down the entirety of his length. Heat pools in your stomach because this is happening — and that makes your pussy throb. 

He keeps his eyes on yours as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside of you, breathless. You can’t help but sink your head back into the mattress, eyes closing.

“Eyes open.”

You lazily blink them open.

“Eyes always on me pretty girl,” he demands, thrusting into you. 

You’ve never felt anything like him. You feel so full. He’s everywhere. Even your lungs and head are filled with him.

“Taking me so well pretty,” he groans.

His praise has you gushing, whining with the feeling of him stuffing you. It’s not awkward like the first time having sex with someone can be. It feels like you’ve always been doing this.

“You’re okay?” he asks.

He sounds calm, but you can see the restraint that he’s barely holding on to by the tightening in his jaw, and the tension in his brow.

“More than okay. Just fuck me, Mark. Please.”

He brushes his lips over yours and whispers, “Oh I plan to.”

You smile, but it’s quickly gone as he starts to move, fucking you slowly, then quicker and quicker, and harder and faster. The headboard is banging against the wall, surely denting it, and you know if the neighbours weren’t already pissed about your knocking they’d definitely be pissed now. 

And selfishly, you can’t find it in you to give a shit because he’s like a machine, working thrusts into you at all the right angles to elicit sweet moans from your lips. 

You’re panting and groaning like a bitch in heat. Mind fuzzy with euphoria as your flesh slaps loudly together. If college you knew that Mark Lee, your best friend, was about to give you an orgasm she would have laughed in your face. 

But, God, the man can fuck. 

He urges you onto his cock harder, clit rubbing against his pelvic bone, each time your hips connected in powerful thrusts. 

“Oh God, Mark,” you try your best to keep your eyes open, but the pleasure is threatening to consume you. 

“That’s it. Cum on my cock pretty girl. I won’t come until you do.”

The idea makes you want to hold off forever, let him fuck you for hours just to bask in the feeling of your closeness. However, your body disagrees with that sentiment, and suddenly you’re cumming hard. 

“Shit,” he hisses, feeling your walls flutter around his length. 

Mark doesn’t slow down though, he fucks you through your orgasm like a madman, hammering deep to the hilt to chase his high. 

“I’m gonna cum, Y/N…shit…fuck…” He growls a sound so erotic in your ear, you feel like you might cum again.

He sags onto you, his body heavy but not crushing, his skin warm against yours. You touch your fingers to his cheek. 

“I don’t think I can move,” he says, breathless.

“So, don’t.”

The tips of Mark’s ears turn red at the suggestion, but eventually, he figures he needs to move — much to his dismay. He eases out of you, catching hold of the condom and pulling it off his cock. He rolls off of you and out of bed to put it in the trash before he’s back next to you, arms engulfing you in a hug. 

You look up at him and he presses a kiss on your lips before pulling back. “Are you staying?” 

“Do you want me to?”

“I asked first.” He says.

“I’ll stay if you want me to stay.”

Liar.

Mark swallows, “Okay well, I’ll get us breakfast in the morning then, yeah?”

He says it but he knows come the morning you’ll have slipped out in the middle of the night because this isn’t the first time he’s had sex with you. 

Mark has always been your rebound. Yes, he’s your best friend, but he’s also your favourite hookup call when your boyfriend’s being an asshole.

And he knew that when he first heard you knocking on his front door. He knows you'll never change – and strangely, he's content with that, he’s accepted it. Because even though he knows you'll move on again, he doesn't mind keeping your secrets safe until the next time when you want a man to heal your heart.

Because Mark will settle for being a pity fuck if it means he gets to be a constant in your life.

[lottiesgrl]

𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗿𝗵𝗶𝗮𝗻𝗻𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀

cw: canon-typical violence, mentions of stalking, semi-toxic behavior, smut, fingering (r!receiving), face riding (rhiannon receiving), strap-on use (rhiannon receiving), inspired by an ask that i no longer have in my inbox

🗡you'd be lying if you said you hadn't noticed the way rhiannon looked at you when you talked to your mutual coworkers. you were always able to notice it - the nasty looks she shot your way when you spoke with claudia and linus, even if it's over something as mundane as reporting on a missing bike

🗡you're pretty sure she hates you, and you're not sure why. i mean, what could you have done to deserve the way her eyes bore into the back of your head every time you're in a conversation?

🗡so, you vow to try and talk to her, in order to dissuade this "grudge" she has against you. but when you do, it doesn't go at all how you're expecting. the corners of her lips pull into a shy smile every time you approach her desk, her eyes averted and fingers pulling at the hem of her skirt.

🗡around the same time, you start to notice a few things off around the workplace. whenever jeff, that asshole who keeps criticizing your article proposals, says something particularly harsh, he always coincidentally gets caught up on the toilet. you're not sure if it has something to do with the fact that rhiannon is the one handing him his morning coffee each morning with a sickly-sweet smile that you're sure is hiding years of disdain.

🗡and it's not just at your job, either - the sleazy guy on the trolley that always tries to cop a feel each time you pass him hasn't been on since you complained about him to rhiannon, pointedly avoiding eye contact when you notice him on the street as he rushes to take the tube instead. and the woman in your neighborhood who always complains your lawn decorations has been complimenting them more than usual, with a strange expression that you can't quite discern.

🗡if you though rhiannon's jealousy couldn't get any worse than it already can be, you'd be deathly wrong. when the two of you get together, it's like someone flipped a switch, and her jealousy increases tenfold.

🗡it starts out with subtle gestures and touches, innocuous things that you might not have been able to notice if you hadn't already been aware of her possessive tendencies. a hand wrapped around your waist while you're socializing, intertwining your fingers as you walk to work together, and an arm flung over your shoulders when you're at the pub. she always needs to be touching you in some way, and you don't mind one bit.

🗡but as time goes on, she starts to be less subtle. well, at least she thinks she's being subtle. to you, the way she stares daggers into anyone who even remotely flirted with you was anything but inconspicuous.

🗡it's no surprise that she's incredibly insecure, and this is especially true when you're in a relationship with her. to her, the reason she's so possessive is because you're the only person in her life who truly sees her. no one else has cared about her like you, and the thought of someone else stealing you from her is absolutely mortifying.

🗡there have been many instances in which she breaks down to you about her insecurities, and you understand it. in your eyes, she's the most gorgeous girl you've ever seen, and you experience your fair share of jealousy. you run your hands through her hair, something incredibly vulnerable for her that she's allowed you to do, and assure her that you wouldn't want anyone else.

🗡you're more than content to live with rhiannon's possessiveness, even if it means that the men that bother you often end up missing.

nsfw under the cut

🗡when rhiannon gets jealous, more often than not, she gets turned on. really, really turned on. after all, it gives her such a rush to know that people can look at you all they want, but no one will ever be able to have you, to fuck you, like her.

🗡if she notices someone flirting with you while you're out at the bar, she will be dragging you home, desperate to have you all to herself (but not before she approaches the two of you, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your cheek while asking, "babe, who's this?")

🗡sometimes, if the bar is too far or she's feeling especially needy, she'll drag you into the nearest alleyway then and there. you have your reservations, but when she's two fingers deep inside of you whispering that she'll kill anyone who sees the two of you, your inhibitions fly out the window.

🗡whether she's dominant or not depends on the day. some days, she wants to bury her fingers deep inside of you, making you cry out her name until she's wrung multiple orgasms out of you. it gives her such a rush, knowing that you give in so easily and so willingly, all because you're hers. but some days, all she wants is for you to get her off. whether it's guiding your hands to her (absolutely dripping) panties, riding your face, or bouncing on your strap, she needs you to make her cum, and you're more than happy to oblige.

🗡she'll force you to look into her eyes, her grip on your chin tightening and wrenching your face up to look at her if you dare to break eye contact for even a second. "look at me", she growls, bottom lip between her teeth as you bring her closer to the edge. she wants - no, needs - you to see her, because you're the only one who can. you see her.

🗡aftercare with her after jealous sex is always so soft, pressing soft kisses to her forehead as the two of you lie in bed panting. you reassure her that you're hers, forever and always, and you can see the way a smile forms on her face at your words.

🗡you're hers. forever. and she'll always make sure of that.

[guppybibi]

Ditzy Princess

𖦹 pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x fem!reader

𖦹 word count: 2019

𖦹 content: mild cursing, childhood friends to lovers (eventually..) , denial, she fell first but he fell harder, reader is oikawa’s little sister, reader’s brain is a lil empty, but she's a strong woman nonetheless!!

𖦹notes: i have so many wips..but hajime my Filipino king AUGHH (im gaslighting myself shh)

✧. ┊    Part 1

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Being Oikawa Tooru’s little sister meant that you were equally as insufferable as him, debatably even more than him according to Iwaizumi. Iwa wouldn't go as far to say he disliked you, despite you being 2 years younger than Oikawa, the three of you still grew up together and developed a pretty strong bond. Oikawa had his moments, being the seemingly arrogant and egotistical person he is. Iwa was aware Tooru had some issues with his self esteem and was helping him in his own way. But in your case, nothing was backing you up. You really were just a crybaby diva, wailing as her big brother comes to save her. It really didn't start off so bad, after all you were a child who needed guidance and protection. He expected you to just grow out of it, news flash—you didn't.

Now that you're in your first year in Seijoh, he couldn't avoid you at all no matter how hard he tried. Being a headache must be in the genes, I guess. But you weren't worth putting up with, so he just started distancing himself away from you. Sure, sometimes you would barge into the gym, interrupting their practice to go to your doting brother. Which pissed him off, obviously. Though it was hard to tell since he always had a scowl on his face no matter the situation. Oh and by sometimes, he means every single day–unless you were absent or something.

Unfortunately for him, Oikawa wasn’t present today due to getting a nasty cold. Normally he’d make fun of Oikawa, along with the rest of the Seijoh four but he remembers that you’re present and that he would be your temporary savior while your brother is gone. It didn’t help that today in particular was a pretty stressful one, and as if the Gods above cursed him, a bunch of assholes picked on you for being the ‘uglier’ sibling. A bunch of envious little liars.

Naturally, it was your first instinct to go to annoy him. Your muffled cries could already be heard before you've even entered the gym, which made Hajime groan in annoyance as he muttered a random curse under his breath. And as if on cue, the metal door of the gym slides open; unveiling a very much messed up you.

Your mascara all smudged across your pretty face, fat tears staining it. Your subtly pink lips all wobbly as you make your way to Iwaizumi, knowing your brother wasn't here. At this point, this was basically a daily routine for the team, they didn't complain though. You coming in here and taking their captain and or ace meant they had an opportunity to take a break.

“ ‘Zumi! T-they were being so mean to me again, I didn't do anything wrong!” You cry out as you approach the ace with a pout on your face. ‘Pathetic..’ He thinks to himself, you were more than capable enough to defend yourself. (Verbally, at least. Physically is a different story.) “It's not my fault I don't look exactly like Oikawa! And I can't do anything about it, why pick on me for it?!” You continue, wiping away a tear from your glossy eyes.

Hajime couldn't even say anything in response, this wasn't the first time you came to him after someone bullied you for whatever reason. It was a sad thing to happen to you, but did you really have to go to him or your big brother every single time? What if they're not there for you? What will you do then? Still his good conscience couldn't just leave you sobbing like that, your doting brother wouldn't be happy about it.

Placing a rough calloused hand on your trembling shoulder, as an attempt to comfort you he starts speaking. “And what did you say to them after?” He asks, it was a completely normal question, you knew that. But you were used to just..constant coddling, no other questions asked–just instantly tending to you. “I..Nothing? I mean, maybe what they're saying is true..it still hurts though..” You reply, earning a nod from your older brother's friend. You had a point there, but you should still stick up for yourself! You had to learn, plus he didn't want to keep playing as your knight in shining armor when the two of you are pushing your thirties.

“Did you want to say something back to them?” He questions, raising a brow. You could be doing this for shits and giggles for all he knows, maybe this was a plan you and Oikawa had or something. “Well um, kind of?..” Even that answer somehow made sense, coming from a ditz like you–he didn't really expect much. “So can you or can you not defend yourself?” He asked yet again with a gruff voice, watching intently as he saw you shake your head. Okay, cool. You aren't doing this just to piss him off, that's a start.

“I could teach you, if you want to.” You blink once, twice. “Teach me how to..fight for myself?” You never considered it, you were just used to your big brother being there for you. No matter how serious or stupid it was, he’d be there in a flash. He nodded, crossing his arms as you thought about it. Your brother wouldn't always be here, today was proof of it. The same goes for Hajime, who knows where he's going after high school?

“I..think that’ll be nice actually.” And those were the words that started your tutoring sessions. You were incredibly nervous the first few times, like the personification of an earthquake. You did soon manage to get the hang of it, being able to defend yourself against your bullies unless it was really necessary for your brother and or him to step in.

To be honest, Oikawa was pretty opposed to the idea at first. Saying to his best friend that teaching her all of this ‘nonsense’ wasn't needed since he’ll always be there for her anyway. (What Oikawa didn't know is that Iwa was doing future him a favor, I mean–he didn't know he was going to Argentina!)

And so ‘Operation: Teach Y/N How to Defend Herself’ was successful. It had been like years ago at this point, barely remembered by you two like some distant memory. You didn't piss him off that much anymore, though he did have little to no contact with you; only getting updates through Oikawa.

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When he went to Irvine, California for personal matters he was aware of you being there as well since you went to visit and stayed at your grandparents. The chances of you two meeting were slim but fate had to play its part too! Now the both of you were sitting side by side, having a cup of ice cream as you catched up on your lives.

He told you about the meeting he just had with Takashi, some stuff about sports science and his personal life and whatnot. While you told him about life here in the States, being taken care of by your overbearing grandparents and stuff. You were a lot more mature than what Hajime had remembered, still a scatterbrain though. Though something comes up, leaving Hajime at some random bench while he taps away on his phone after you exchanged him your number. Saving it and putting in ‘Puny Princess’, it was stupid–he knew it was as he chuckled to himself.

No matter how fully grown you are, you’ll always be that spoiled little brat who seeks her dear knight in shining armor's protection.

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He was flying back to Japan soon, and he wanted nothing more but to cancel his flight and stay here–with you. Highschooler Iwaizumi would be laughing his ass off right now, any chance to get away from you was a blessing. He’d get on that plane like he's being chased by the police. He thought about it a lot, was it because you were less of a pain in the ass? Nope, that couldn't be the case because you still were. Sure, you didn't exactly need Prince Charming anymore which made you considerably much more bearable but it felt like there was something more to it. Why won’t life just tell him instead of forcing him to dig through a bunch of dirt in his mind?

Maybe he simply got used to being around you, to be fair–he’s been with you through thick and thin after all. Yup, that's what it was. No need to manually crank the gears in his brain anymore, this was totally it. Would he admit he had a teensy weensy little crush on you when you two were kids? God no, and that doesn't matter! I mean, that was like a decade ago–he doubts that mattered right now in any shape or form.

Well the first stage of grief was denial, he’ll work his way up. You, on the other hand, have fully accepted this stupid happy crush you got on Iwaizumi. Even your big brother knew about it, well you were pretty much an open book. Hey, your brother’s words–not mine. The way your cherubic cheeks would heat up when Hajime helped you up when you got yourself stuck in the mud, it was painstakingly obvious that you had liked him ever since.

You and your big brother had a heart to heart talk about back in middle school actually, it sits there playing constantly at the back of your mind.

It was midnight and Oikawa had come home late, you noticed he had been practicing overtime these days which worried you quite a bit but you knew Hajime was there to keep him grounded. So that's how the two of you ended up at 1AM, your brother silently eating his late cold dinner while you accompanied him.

“Did ‘Zumi practice late with you..?” You questioned, breaking the growing silence in the room. In response, he nodded and let out a dry chuckle. “Mhm, you haven't spoken a word since I got home and when you decide to speak it's about Iwa-chan? Do you not care about your dear big brother anymore?” He asks, dramatically feigning hurt as he places a hand on his chest.

He didn't miss how your lips went and formed a thin line, trying your best not to crack a smile. “Cmon, don't lie to your big brother–you like Iwa, don't you?” He teases, trying to get it out of you like he's sipping the very last drop out of the milk carton. “Maybe just a little..” You mumble, finding it just a little bit embarrassing that out of all the fish in the never ending sea, you manage to have feelings for your brother's best friend. “Hm..well I guess if you were to pick someone to marry I’d honestly prefer Iwa y’know?” You almost choke on your own spit upon hearing his words, blushing furiously. “E-eh?! Marry?! It's too early for that!” You exclaim, while your brother starts laughing like a hyena.

His words were very much true though, he trusted Iwa–so much so that if he had the chance to pick the person you’ll marry, he'd choose Hajime with no hesitation.

You roll around in your soft bed, unable to sleep as Iwaizumi’s face keeps flashing in your mind like a broken record. Wanting nothing more than to scream into your pillow, but your grandparents sleeping soundly in the other room prevented you from doing so. You wondered if you would ever go back to Japan, it seemed like your brother wouldn't after hearing him recently renounce his citizenship but it's not like you were going to follow in his footsteps. You've never felt this homesick before, stupid Iwaizumi–it's his fault for coming here unannounced. You thought your delicate heart moved on from this childish crush of yours after not seeing him in a couple of years, looks like it bounced back after meeting up with him again though..

Well, at least you had some form of communication with him after you gave him your number. That was temporarily enough for you.

[darylsfavoritegirl]

Hey guys!

Summary: This takes place in Alexandria era. There is a welcoming party thrown for the new group. Daryl doesn't come because of his complicated relationship with Y/n but once he stops by the party, he sees Y/n being all flirty and nasty with Spencer lol and Daryl gets superrr jeaolus only for him and y/n to end up arguing like crazyyy and kinda make a scene at the party (?). Daryl and y/n are like friends with benefits??? but it's complicated :/ and this is like a moment where Daryl realizes y/n is more than somebody he happens to share a bed with now and then.

Also they are not DATING. they're just fucking now and then with no strings attached. no emotions involved (atleast that's what they agreed to without ever talking) so this isn't cheating!!!

Warnings: mentions of rape. Spencer being an asshole and trying to take advantage of drunk Y/n. Daryl punching Spencer. Suggestive content. Lemme know if there is more!

this is more of a fancy welcoming party than that of in the show. they aren't gonna show up with jeans and stuff!

Y/n ran her fingers through her body, looking at the her reflection on the mirror with dilated pupils; not being able to take her eyes off of herself. She got all dolled up, her hair and make up done. She was wearing an alluring, ostentatious dress that was hugging her curves flawlessly which was given to her from a lovely woman in Alexandria. Y/n's head was slightly tilted as she kept eyeing herself.

"Ugh I can't even remember the last time I wore a dress." Rosita complained. Y/n looked over at her and gently grinned.

"I know right." Y/n said "Me neither." she added.

Y/n kept leering at her reflection when her eyes caught Maggie entering the room with a charming dress and a pleasant smile on her face. Y/n turned to her and slowly reached for her purse that was on the nightstand.

"Y'all ready?" Maggie queried.

"Almost." Rosita responded back with an enthusiastic undertone. It was true they went through hell to get where they are at this moment. They all knew that. They were all suffering in agony. These thoughts kept pondering Y/n's head when she heard the door being shut loudly from downstairs.

"Daryl's home." Maggie uttered while cautiously leering at Y/n. Nobody exactly knew what went down between them but it was clear as day that something did. They were distant from eachother, barely even talking. Everyone knew they weren't romantic in any sense but some kind of relationship beyond just friends or teammates formed itself between them back in the prison. They were top secret. Even the ones that know what they once were, couldn't dare to talk about it; like Maggie.

"He is not coming to the party?" Rosita mumbled under her breath to kill the peculiar silence.

"I don't think so." Maggie huffed after taking a deep breath, her eyes still roaming Y/n's movements. She took a deep breath again

"You should come downstairs if you're all done. We will be goin' in 10-15 minutes." She spoke after she checked y/n for the last time.

She left the room. Rosita looked over at y/n for a brief moment. She barely knew anyone but she could sense there was something wrong, though, she remained silent.

"Uhh, I need to go to bathroom for something. I'll meet you downstairs." She said in a hurry as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the bathroom.

Y/n sighed audibly. She felt as if her track of thought was transparent and they could sense everything. She didn't know if Daryl was still downstairs and hoped that he wouldn't be. She gazed at her reflection for a brief moment and left the room.

••••••

Y/n saw Daryl as she stepped in downstairs. He was in the kitchen, a beer bottle on the kitchen counter. His hair was messy and greasy. His hands were on the kitchen counter. He was looking at the door, his back facing Y/n. He turned his head lightly as soon as he felt someone's presence. Y/n couldn't help but leer at his eyes exactly like he did. He may have checked Y/n from head to toe for a second or so, not showing any kind of affection nor admiration in his eyes or his body language. He made his way to the couch, put the beer bottle on the coffee table and started cleaning his filthy arrows with the cloth that was always in his jean pockets.

Y/n was almost feeling embarrased being infront of him like this. A sexy mini black dress, her hair and make-up done. She was incompetently trying to cover her legs with the purse. She was normally wearing even shorter shorts due to humid and the heat of the south and it wasn't like Daryl hadn't already seen every inch of her body but this, for some reason, felt different. A part of her sinked in sorrow because Y/n knew she couldn't have an intimate night tonight like many other nights with Daryl. "He is acting foolish." She got hot inside of her head. When was she ever gonna wear a dress like this and look like this again? And yet, there he was, missing such a fancy oppurtinity that he could've participated with her, show up with her. Hell, maybe that would keep jerks like Spencer away. It was play pretend. She knew that. The people that took them knew that, however shamming the old world wasn't immoral. Y/n didn't mind the elegance of the event, she cared for Daryl beyond that even if she didn't want to admit it but there was no harm for these type of things here and there. She was almost arguing with herself inside of her head. Y/n could feel herself getting sweaty already in that 6 inch dress. Thankfully, her saviors have been Glenn and Rick that ringed the door bell. She almost ran to the door, Daryl followed her with his eyes but turned back to working on his crossbow right after. Rosita and Maggie came downstairs as Y/n welcomed Rick and Glenn inside. They were gonna meet the others in the party. Glenn rushed over to Maggie, gave her a soft kiss on the lips. Rick couldn't help but look at the ladies with enchanted eyes

"You all look gorgeous tonight." He uttered confidently. There was no denying that he could be flirty.

He leered at Daryl and his smile faded away quickly.

"Your not comin' to the party?" he huffed. One could tell he already knew the answer by his tone. Everyone, including Y/n turned to Daryl. He shrugged his shoulders" 'M fine." He said then took a sip of his beer "Might stop ba later." he grunted.

"You better." Rick spoke in a daring tone as he frowned lightly. Daryl made a "Mhmm." sound and looked at his beer bottle for a moment and went back to continue the tense eye contact they had already formed. Daryl didn't seem bothered at all, not breaking the eye contact with Rick.

Daryl's eyes locked on Y/n's for a brief second before he got up, grabbed his beer and crossbow and went upstairs.

"And I thought I did a good speech about first impressions." Rick huffed under his breath, not hiding his frustration even a little.

Glenn looked at him with a knowing look as they lead the ladies to the door.

•••••••••

At the party, Y/n started helping with the beverages. She gave a proud look to Rosita as she came closer to her.

"Reminds me of old days you know." Y/n spoke as she watched Rosita coming closer.

"What do you mean?" Rosita asked.

Y/n was tipsy. She lightly hit her forehead with her fingers

"You don't know right? I was a barmaiden before all this." Y/n shouted as it could be hard for Rosita to hear her because of loud music. She never loved the job but anyone would miss anything from the past nowadays.

"That's good." Rosita expressed, with a fond smile on her face. She was only growing to love y/n's energy more.

Y/n didn't have to prepare beverages, she wasn't asked to. She only did it because it was taking her off of Daryl. Rosita sat one of the stools infront of her. She was watching people have fun when she saw Spencer approach them from the corner of her eyes.

Spencer approached y/n with a ludicrous smile bearing his face. Y/n instantly stopped what she was doing and looked at him with seductive eyes. She got drunk enough to not care about anything, anyone and after all her thing with Daryl have only been about sexual intercourse, nothing more. For the moment, that felt like a done deal too. No could blame her for wanting look for more. Rosita kept watching them for a minute or so when she decided to leave those two alone.

It was evident that Spencer was a bit intoxicated too if not as much as Y/n. He offered her hand to y/n for her to get out of the bar, she gently accepted his hand. Spencer placed his hands on y/n's waist as she looked at him with tempting eyes.

"You look gorgeous tonight." Spencer spoke. His voice was sloppy, even a little bit alcohol could make him talk funny. On the other hand, Y/n was too wasted to see that. She kept looking at his eyes with those seductive eyes of her. She didn't need to speak. Her eyes would do the job for her most of the time.

"You wanna dance?" Y/n whispered into Spencer's ear. She almost fell into his arms because she had to be on her tiptoes to reach him. He caught y/n and laughed it off.

"Yeah. S-sure." He said in a hectic tone. Spencer held y/n hand and led her to a corner. Y/n couldn't care less how far she'd go. She looked into Spencer's eyes with a fierce, alluring look before placing her hands on his chest. Spencer smirking lightly as he replaced his hands on her waist. They danced in that position for a moment, getting closer with each passing second and snuggling into one another. Their bodies were touching eachother passionately. They could feel eachother's breaths on their skin. Y/n wrapped her hands around Spencer more and went further with her sensual actions. Spencer could feel himself getting dizzy both because of alcohol and how far Y/n was going and grinding herself against him. He would whisper into her hear.

"You're so beautiful."

"Yeah just like that."

Y/n couldn't hear him, she was using him in a sense. She just went further and further with her suggestive moves that would drive any man out there crazy. They were lucky everybody was dancing, otherwise everyone would talk about them and give them disapproved looks. On the other hand, Spencer was fantasizing about taking Y/n to his place, spend a fabulous night. Y/n was wasted anyway, Spencer relieved himself. He wasn't gonna get ignored by her like always. Even at that point, he couldn't believe Y/n was all over him, grinding her ass against him so harshly yet so gently.

"Oh no." Maggie uttered silently as she pulled her arms that were grabbing Glenn on the shoulder softly. She scowled. Glenn took a deep breath, his annoyance growing thicker.

"For the millionth time Maggie, let Y/n have her fun. She is a grown woman." He sighed, obviously giving up. Glenn made out there was no way he could stop Maggie worrying about Y/n.

"No." Maggie said in concern. She softly pointed a spot behind Glenn with her head, her uneasy eyes widening a little bit more with each second. Glenn's eyes followed her gaze and he fixed his leer at Daryl and mildly huffed under his breath

"Fuck. He's been moody all week, right?"

"And he was drinking when we left." Maggie uttered.

They were both perturbed about what might happen.

"Look we step in if something happens, OK?" Glenn gently said to Maggie, trying his best to give her assurance.

"No need to get him all worked up." Glenn was trying to persuade Maggie to stay out of it unless a scene broke out at the party. Maggie nodded, slowly wrapping her hands around Glenn and smiling at once.

••••••••••

Daryl sat down on one of the stools that were lined up front of the bar, looking around to find a familiar face. He sighed at the failure of finding no one that he knew. This party wasn't for him. It reminded him the days where Merle and his friends would force him go downtown to hang out aimlessly in nightclubs, bars; hitting on every single girl that would catch their eyes regardless if they had someone with them. He hadn't really meet anyone yet. He was going on runs without any prearrangments and without letting anybody know, all alone. He asked for a scotch. His mind was busy. He thought guzzling one beer after another and working on his crossbow would engage his mind nevertheless, that failed.

He took a sip from his drink when he narrowed his eyes slightly at something. He thought he must've been hallucinating or mistake her for someone but it was clear as day. Y/n was dancing with Spencer and it was safe to say that it wasn't a cute, typical dance. They were all over eachother as if their bodies were glued. Y/n's hair was tangled and messy from the heat or who knows, from how long she had been dancing. She wasn't breaking the tense eye contact with Spencer. She was touching his face and giggling erotically at the same time. She would turn now and then and grind her entire body harshly against Spencer's for a brief moment in a seductive way. Her already-mini dress would fold everytime she did that. Spencer's hand would run through the front of her thighs. He would stroke Y/n's arms, hair, waist, anything. He would touch and caress every part of Y/n's body and Y/n didn't seem to mind.

Daryl's mind twitched at this scene. He didn't move. He wasn't fully drunk but his mind was growing more and more lethargic. He couldn't think clear. He felt a sense of jeaolusy, but did he have a right to feel that way? He had been avoiding her for weeks and so had she. Did he lose her completely? Did he ever have her entirely to himself? Was she trying to take revenge? Did it look like revenge or was she actually enjoying this? Didn't Y/n once say she liked the attention she was receiving from men when she was working as a barmaiden? Didn't she like to play with them like toys only for them to tip her more?

A heavy feeling of insecurity washed all over Daryl. It was crystal clear that Y/n was bewitching, almost way too bewitching. It wasn't like he never appreciated her beauty. The days he would wake up next to her and watch her chest going up and down lighly and admiring her beauty were countless. Maybe he should've made it more plain. He couldn't. A lump in his throat formed itself when he would think of the wall between them that he created. He couldn't be more. He didn't even know if he wanted to. He never had to worry about someone else back in the prison. There was only them and no one else. Spencer have been boldly flirting with Y/n ever since they got here. Daryl never could've foreseen that it would end like this. Y/n never responded back to Spencer after all.

Daryl's knuckles were turning whiter around his drink everytime he would fix his eyes on them. The sensation of jeaolusy and insecurity were no longer there. He was furious, bitter. All he wanted to do was to punch Spencer in the face. His glare growing more stern with each second, yet he couldn't get himself to get up and go over there. He was breathing fire. He examined Y/n's face, movements. He wanted to despise her but he horribly failed. He could just sit there and torture himself with this view, perhaps he deserved it. He notioned he deserved to torment himself with any way he could. Though he never would've want the torturer to be someone he deeply cared about in deep down. His eyes were hurting.

"Wanna go to my place?" Spencer whispered into Y/n's ear. "This place is getting boring." He added. Y/n gazed at him with puppy eyes before responding "Sure." She was wasted. She could barely even walk. Spencer smirked at her. It was not a pure smirk.

Daryl's eyes darted away to other people in the party for a second and went back to staring Spencer. He has acknowledged Spencer's intentions. He left his drink on the long thin table, he got up and slowly started walking towards them. He couldn't understand why Y/n hadn't see him until then. He knew what he had to do. He was gonna convince Y/n to come with him one way or another.

He got closer to them, he firmly grabbed Y/n by the hand and drew her to himself. She almost fell over him. "Daryl." she said in a tone above whisper. He stared into Spencer eyes in a stern manner and turned back to y/n

"Yer comin' with me." He stated. Y/n pulled her hand to herself and howled

"The hell I'm not." She was drunk yet strong.

"He was 'bout to leave with me man." Spencer spoke in a haggard tone. His tone indicated that he was irascible. Spencer's hand took place between Daryl and Y/n implying that Daryl couldn't touch her.

"She 's drunk, don' ya see that " Daryl grunted. He kept looking at Spencer, waiting for a respond.

"She can rest at my place." He grinned ludicrously.

Daryl could feel his blood boiling. He felt as if this Spencer guy was only trying to get under his skin. "And yer gon' let her sleep just like tha' " He huffed in a sarcastic fashion. He couldn't even believe he was still speaking with him. He looked over Y/n.

"Come on y/n. wer leavin' "

Y/n was sleepy. She clattered a "Mmm" sound as she let herself lean onto Daryl. She couldn't even focus on one thing anymore. Daryl held her by the waist and started making his way to the entrance when Spencer cut him.

"And your gonna let that mess sleep, huh?"

He pointed at Y/n by raising his eyebrows. That ludicrous smirk hadn't faded a bit. He was crossing the line. He was being stupid.

"Don't you think I haven't noticed the way you look at her."

Daryl kept looking at him without saying a word. He then spoke, gritting his teeth.

"Yea wanna do this here man?" He was giving Spencer one last chance so that he doesn't get beaten up. Spencer once again looked foolish, not understanding what he could've meant by that. Daryl was waiting for a response, he never got it but Spencer was not getting out of the way neither.

Y/n wasn't that sleepy at that point. She noticed Daryl's hands on her and freed herself from his grip and simply sat on one of the stools. She grabbed her hand to her head, whimpering in pain while she slowly massaged her temples.

Spencer looked at her with a knowing look. That was it. That was the last straw. Daryl looked over Y/n for a moment before jumping Spencer and punching him on the face with all his power. Spencer fell down and immediatly covered his face with his hand, his blood started oozing from his nose to the floor. He tumbled into some of the people there as he fell, which all screamed consecutively to the scene infront of their eyes. He had a huge ego built in himself that he didn't believe anyone would dare to touch Deanna's son, especially in a place like this; in an event like this. He leered at Daryl with confounded eyes.

Y/n turned to her back after hearing everyone scream. Her gaze shifted to Daryl after she saw Spencer lying on the floor with blood oozing everywhere. Y/n didn't say a word, neither did Daryl. However she had an uneasy look on her face. Daryl looked at her with stern eyes, not saying anything. He couldn't believe she was still where she was, not moving; not coming next to him. He was virtually disheartened.

"Fuck this." He grunted before looking at Spencer for the last time. He walked out from the scene. Y/n's eyes followed his every move when Rick arrived

"What happened?" He asked with curious eyes.

Y/n got up from the stool and sighed

"Daryl happened." She took one last glare to Spencer who was looking at y/n aswell. Y/n couldn't make out what his gaze meant. He wasn't angry, disappointed nor shocked.

Rick tried to grab her by the arm however she left the area somehow.

She scurried out. Her eyes scrutinizing the whole yard looking for Daryl. Y/n walked in a rush for a while when she saw him near the perimeter where people were taking patrols. He turned to her. He was enraged. Y/n had never seen him like this before. He was slightly trembling like he had just crashed into something. He tried to control his panting as he cried out

"If yer here to blame me, don't."

Y/n was taken aback by his cold manner. His "don't" sounded as if he was pleading. Yet she didn't step back. Maybe it was the intoxication, maybe it was the bottled up emotions she had been keeping inside of her for weeks but she didn't step back.

"Who else is there to blame besides you, Daryl" she uttered.

"You started off by ruining everyone's mood back at the house to punch Spencer on the face in the middle of a party." She shouted.

Some of the guards were staring down at them, looking fed up with the noisy party music, people throwing up here and there and now these two.

"A party that was thrown for us." Y/n added. She wasn't lightening the harsh, accusing tone in her voice even a little.

"I don' give a dam' 'bout the party." He uttered, swinging his arm at Y/n.

"You may not care," Y/n said, her voice started to tremble

"But the others do." She ended her sentence.

"It actually matters for some of us to survive in some place that's safe and liveable."

"Hell with all of 'em." He spoke.

There was a brief silence before he grunted

"Funny yea still think this 's all 'bout this damn place." His voice was slightly tall.

"Ya didn't see how he was droolin' all over ya." He looked at y/n. He was still, however his mood lied heavily on Y/n's words.

"Fuck you and Spencer. I was having fun." She emphasized on her words. Her frustration was growing bigger

"Ya callin' that fun? Grindin' yer body against some dude?"

"Yes, I call that fun Daryl. Have a problem with that?" She sighed at his sight.

Daryl stayed silent. He knew y/n was trying to get a reaction out of him. Both of them caught their breaths when Daryl spoke

"Yer so clueless, aren't ya?"

"Yer doin' it on purpose." He laughed it off while shaking his head. Y/n couldn't find something to say. She focused on her breathing, tried to calm herself down. Her heart was beating like it was trying to get out of her chest. She could hear her pulse's banging in her ears.

"He wouldva raped yea 'n yea wouldn't even know."

Y/n narrowed her eyes keenly at his statement.

"You ar- y-you." She was stuttering. She didn't know what to say. She just looked at Daryl. Her eyes got watery, she sobered up right there. Daryl fought back thinking she had something more to say in contrast.

"What? Yea thought he was fixin' to take yea in his place to feed yea a bowl of steamin' soup?" He grunted. He didn't care if he was being bitter. He didn't care if it would cause him to lose y/n entirely. He just knew he had to speak on what he saw tonight. Their eyes were still locked up on eachother when Daryl's eyes shifted something else behind Y/n. Y/n followed his gaze only to see Rick and Maggie coming towards them. The rest of their people were lined up infront of the door, watching them.

"Enough." Rick shouted as he got closer.

Both of their eyes were fixated on Rick.

FOOTNOTE

hey guys!! omg the duties i been ignoring to write these are crazy (no complains whatsoever im into this lol) i initially planned writing this even longer and a bit different (daryl practically dragging y/n to the house and y/n puking etc and it would end in a soft way?? like them cuddling and kissing etc and they would acknowledge eachothers povs etc but it would be a whole damn novel by itself and ive been impatient posting this so idk maybe a sequel??) also ive noticed its impossible to avoid daryl getting ooc now and then.. i yield... sometimes he is gonna feel ooc.. and there is nothing i can do🥹🥹

lemme know your thoughts!! love yall

[olderthannetfic]

https://www.tumblr.com/olderthannetfic/765221485179731968/writing-about-my-favorite-characters-as?source=share

I'm really sorry to hear you're going through this, anon. I'm even sadder that it's not an uncommon story.

As another trans writer (trans woman, in my case) that's stumbled into other people eviscerating her works for "fetishizing" and being "het in f/f's clothing" I really sympathize with you, dude. The way I look at it is that you cannot try alter who you are for these people. They will always find a way to dislike you because you are their ideological enemy. They dislike seeing trans men in what they see as their ship tags, not yours, so they will always find something they view as a flaw and flog you for it until you either conform or leave.

I've had a similar experience to yours, though not a literal thread dedicated to me. Ouch. I write f/f and sometimes that features non-op/pre-op trans characters because I am personally non-op after many years on E, and I'm always astounded by how it obviously upsets people that otherwise claim to be progressive. I also tag things extensively and I even include some terminology clarifications at the beginning of smut fics so that everyone knows what they're getting into. It doesn't matter to them. It'll never matter to them what you or I do, so why bother trying to coddle them?

There are readers that like my works, but after walking into a fandom Discord's NSFW fic channel, I saw how many people assume that my fics are written by a cis person or the fabled Dirty Fetishizer. It's one thing to intellectually know this happens and another to see your own work - something that you as a trans person created to talk about some part of yourself - ripped apart as this nasty tripe that no "real" trans person would write or read.

To make matters worse, I saw all that after I went through a rather nasty spate of transphobic anons when the fandom was very young. It was so tiring. I was exhausted. Seeing virulent hate in the real world and then having it thrown in my face for writing characters in a way that people disagreed with was just too much for me.

My way of dealing with this was disengaging from my own fandom, turning off anons on tumblr, and blocking anyone I even felt slightly annoyed by just in case it boiled over into something else. It sucks, but it's how I continue to have fun with writing for my ships. I basically never go into my ship tags on Tumblr now, I curate whose fics I read carefully, and I only hang out in one Discord server that's very small. I still read and comment on others' works when I have the mental bandwidth for it, but I avoid most other writers, especially those I don't know just in case they're part of that -phobe segment, and keep the most vocally unpleasant authors permanently muted for my own sake.

Frankly, it is what it is, as thought terminating as that phrase can be, and I gave up trying with these people/this fandom. You could keep trying to interact with the greater fandom, but you should block the assholes that disregarded your lived experience for your own mental health.

It's an isolating process for sure, but that's why I supplemented it with seeking out other fandom friends, most of whom are trans. Maybe we disagree with headcanons, and in a lot of cases we're polar opposites, but we all stick together because otherwise we're all thrown into isolation. That, and I always try to focus on the folks that do like what I write.

--

[seventeenpins]

triptych - pt i

pairing: tommy miller x joel miller x f!reader

word count: 2.5k

summary: after a shitty day, you go to a shitty bar to decompress. you're not in the mood to chat with anyone, but the man who sits at the bar beside you has other ideas. after a surprisingly nice night, you go back to his place only to discover he lives with his brother who happens to be an old flame of yours.

warnings: okay this part is a little suggestive but not really at all filthy (that'll come in part 2), reader comes off as an asshole but really she's just having a bad day, drinking, weed smoking, lil bit of grinding, intoxication with intention to fuck whilst under the influence but they're all into it, reader gets horny cos tommy has a cool lighter ????, no actual sex (yet), innuendo

a/n: thank you for the input both on my recent poll and in response to nb characters in future fic! i'm working on a couple of pieces but decided i'd first start with the poll winner: joel + tommy + reader threesome. there are so many great threesome fics already out there, so thanks for taking the time to read my humble offering to the genre. additional things -- there's no significant age gap. tommy is 25, reader is 29 and joel is 31 (or thereabouts, with that general spacing). sarah (referenced but not seen) is 8. part two is gonna get freaky af, and i'm always happy to hear about what nasty shit people wanna see in fic.

check out part ii

the lighting is low and the music is loud, the bass pulsing through the dive bar. It’s not a nice place, this bar, the floors and counters perpetually sticky in a way that makes you feel unreasonably grimy, but the drinks are cheap and strong.

you’re nursing a jack and coke, your third of the night, and you’re relaxing into the dizzying buzz when you feel the presence of a body scooting into the barstool next to yours.

please don’t try to talk to me, you silently will, just let me have one night of peace, please universe-

“what’s a pretty girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” 

fuck

you don’t try to hold back your eyeroll at the cliche and make a show of knocking back the rest of your drink before responding, making no effort to look at the person next to you.

“until about thirty seconds ago, I was enjoying my drink,” you pause for emphasis, "by myself."

the bartender picks up your empty and you nod at him when he asks if you want another.

much to your annoyance, your rudeness doesn’t seem to dissuade your unwanted neighbor at all. he just chuckles. 

“bad day, huh?” he asks, and you nod. 

“yeah, me too,” he agrees, and you can feel his eyes on you as you start sipping. you can feel his hesitation before he speaks again, but you can just feel he's gonna blow right past it. "so, you wanna talk about your bad day? he asks.

"nope," you tell him, "you're not my therapist. you're just some... guy who wants to bother a woman who is very clearly trying to drink alone."

he lets out a sigh.

"look," he says, "i am sorry that i'm bothering you, and if you'd like me to leave, i won't say another word. i guess you just looked, like, genuinely lonely, and that shit fuckin sucks."

you soften at his words, and turn to look at him for the first time as he backs off and starts to get up.

"i'm sorry," you say, "i'm being an asshole."

he snorts, and smiles at you, a little abashed. you take him in. he's tall, with dark hair and dark eyes and, much to your chagrin, a really beautiful smile. he's a little freckled, and wearing a button-up that's rolled up his admittedly gorgeous and muscled forearms, and it's open and you can see the shape of his chest through his undershirt, and your stomach does a little flip.

"it's okay," you tell him, "stay. tell me all about your shitty day."

you smile, encouraging, and he sits down again.

it's an hour later, or maybe two, and you're not quite sure how many drinks you've had, nor how many he's had, but you're definitely on some side of drunk. you're leaning into the man, who's introduced himself as tommy and smells very nice (kinda musky and a little sweaty but in the nicest way and you wish there was a not-weird way to sniff his goddamn armpits but that's pretty inarguably weird.)

you find out you went to the same high school, but you were a few years ahead of him. probably caught one or two of the years my brother was there, though he told you, and you wondered if you'd ever met him.

when you asked if he had any weed, he grinned, very kindly insists he cover all of your drinks (for being a nuisance earlier in the night, please let me make it up to you, hon-) and leads you by the hand through the back of the building to the alleyway.

as alleyways go, this one is pretty nice. it's dark by now, but colorful graffiti covers the walls and though it's not an 'official' mural, you love it dearly and consider it a favorite.

tommy digs in a jacket pocket and produces a slightly-smushed-but-still-fat joint, and holds it out to you. you put it between your lips, and draw back, looking him up and down.

he pulls out a lighter--an oddly old fashioned sort of style that you really didn't anticipate from him. you'd expect a plastic gas station lighter, or even a naked lady bic instead of something that looked antique and well-maintained.

the casual way he interacted with this object he'd clearly taken such care of was, strangely, a massive fucking turn on.

when he'd first sat down, you were certain he was some sort of frat boy asshole. but after he'd told you about his shitty day (in which he ended up being 'slightly electrocuted' and received an absolute lambasting from his 'asshole of a boss big brother' about 'safety measures or some such') then he'd listened to you tell him about the promotion you were just passed over for. he reassured you when you went back and forth about whether you were justified in being frustrated because maybe you weren't that good, and isn't that as good a reason to drink as any? he was kind and patient, but also flirty and confident. and that stupid fucking lighter. in a split second you create a whole backstory. the lighter was his grandfathers, from the turn of the century. he took care of it his whole life, and then tommy's dad took care of it, and then tommy, and he keeps it polished and filled and the wick in good condition--

this may not be the weirdest thing you've ever been turned on by before. probably. but a lighter, really?

and with all of that together, you realised it didn't matter if your little backstory wasn't even slightly true, cos it was weirdly stylish and unexpected and it looked really nice in his big, lovely, veiny, calloused hands.

you needed to fuck this man.

"what'cha lookin' at me like that for?" he asks, and you feel a blush rise on your cheeks, but you gather your confidence and tip your chin up, pointing the end of the joint directly towards him, and he sparks the lighter, shielding the flame from the wind.

when the joint's lit you take a deep hit and hold it for a moment, eyes closed, before you exhale. you're about to pass the joint to him before you get another idea. you inhale deeply again, and then grab him by the collar and pull him towards you.

tommy melts instantly, drawing towards you and capturing your lips in a kiss. it's deep and hot and you can feel yourself getting wet, and then you feel a little bit dizzy and pull back and exhale the smoke into his mouth. he breathes you in and practically moans.

he's beautiful, moving from being silhouetted by the light of the street lamps to being hit with an iridescent glow that makes him look angelic.

you pass the joint to him. hits it. passes it back-

it's a minute before you say another word, and then before you can say it, he beats you to the punch-- "wanna come back to my place?"

after what was probably only five minutes (but feels like an hour) of waiting, you're in the back of a cab straddling tommy. you're not usually this brazen, but you're a little bit crossfaded, dizzy and loose, savoring the feeling the motion of the car, tommy pressing kisses down your throat, the windows rolled down, your hair whipping between both of you in a way that would usually annoy you but is now just an additional sensation that you could get lost in. you let out a small moan when you feel his hands grip your hips and rock you towards him, and his cock is hard and thick in his jeans. you don't realise the cab has stopped by the time you get to his place, and the driver coughs loudly and the two of you break apart.

tommy nods at the house on the left of the car and you both hop out and head over to it. tommy fumbles with his keys as you make your way to the porch but before he can find the right one, you press him up against the door and kiss him again. he growls, dropping the keychain altogether, running a hand down your back and feeling the curves of your body, grabbing at your ass, running his hand between your legs and feeling the dampness at the crotch of your pants.

"jesus christ, girlie," he huffs, and you're about to kiss him again, when you see the house illuminated around you, tommy's and your shadows black against the door, and suddenly, two loud honks of a car horn.

you jump a foot in the air, and tommy shouts fuck with a not insignificant amount of frustration. the car that's just pulled into the drive goes silent. the lights go off, and then you see a broad figure getting out of the car and slamming the door.

you turn to tommy, wide-eyed. "are we-" and you're not sure how to ask what you wanna ask, "are we about to get murdered?"

tommy chuckles, but he still looks pissed off. "nah, sweetheart. that's just my asshole big brother. who wasn't meant to be at home tonight!" he shouts the last part as his brother comes into view, clearly trying to start something, and it almost makes you laugh at how immediately this otherwise charming man goes into petty sibling mode.

but then the approaching man is illuminated by the porch light, and your jaw drops.

"joel fucking miller?" you ask, and you're pretty sure he'd be saying your name like that, too, if he hadn't temporarily lost the ability to speak.

"are you-?" he asks.

"i'm-?" you say.

tommy looks between you two, brow furrowed. "i take it y'all know each other?" he asks, and joel makes a strangled sound while you snort out a laugh.

"sure do," you smile, and look at tommy. "but any chance we could go inside? my feet are killing me."

they both nod and joel unlocks the door, while tommy scrambles on the ground to find his keys.

when you're seated, you get to the story.

"i had the biggest crush on him in high school. senior year, he asked me to prom and we had a great time." joel smiles a little, eyes crinkling in a way they never did when he was younger and it makes you hungry in a way you can't articulate. god he's been aging well.

"but then joel graduated, and i had a couple more years of high school. we took a break for a while, i'd moved out of town for a year, but we went on a couple dates after i graduated and moved back."

tommy looks between you two, and you're glad he doesn't look jealous or upset or anything, cos even though he would have no right, you've absolutely dealt with men like that plenty before. instead, though, he doesn't look mad or frustrated. you can't for the life of you parse the expression on his face. at all. more than anything, he looks amused.

"so, what happened?" tommy asks.

"he found out he got his ex pregnant." you shrug.

you'd be lying if you said it hadn't wrecked you for a while when it'd happened. you made more than a couple mix tapes with truly tragic heartbreak songs, and you had been sad that the possibility of trying this with joel after years of teenage heartache had been ripped out from under you, but you honestly hadn't thought about it for a while. more than anything, you reckon it speaks to his character that he made sure to stay with the mother of his child and do the right thing raising her.

"her name's sarah, right? and how's your wife?"

joel makes a pained expression, and tommy winces.

"ah. 'fraid she left years ago. sarah was still a baby." there's an awkward silence, but then he smiles a dazzling smile, "and sarah's doin great. she's turnin' nine this year and she's top of her class. never thought a kid o' mine could turn out so fuckin' bright. thought i was gonna fuck her up only havin' me around, and her uncle tommy o' course, but damn that girl makes me real proud."

you smile, and you're genuinely glad for him.

"speaking of-" tommy says, and you can swear joel preemptively rolls his eyes, "you said you weren't gonna be home tonight."

"i said i'd be gone for some of tonight. it's already two in the morning. sarah's over at mom's, but i've got work early. she's gonna take care of her all day, and now i won't have to get up at the asscrack of dawn to get to the site on time."

"ah-" tommy says, "well shit."

you're all silent for another moment, and then as if a switch has flipped you realise how fuckin weird this entire situation is.

"so, uh-" joel says, cos now he's somehow become the leader of the conversation, "i take it i've interrupted, so let me get out of your hair. and. i'm gonna go crash in sarah's bedroom, tommy, so i'll... be. at the otherendofthehallway"

you had never seen joel miller so awkward and flustered and you can't help but giggle a little, and joel narrows his eyes at you, but then he cracks a smile, too, and then the three of you are laughing so hard you have to wipe a tear from your eye.

you fall into a silence again, but it's not uncomfortable this time. you need a moment to yourself, though. among other things, if you could tell your nineteen year old self that you're at the home of joel miller, after making out with his incredibly hot brother, and now you're just sitting around with them, you'd be baffled.

"mind if i grab a glass of water?" you ask, and tommy stands to get you one, but you stop him. "don't worry, i've got it. are the ones on the dish rack alright? do you boys have beer? can i grab anything for you?"

"thanks, sweetheart," tommy calls, "there's a pitcher for water in the fridge, and we'd both take a beer. help yourself to one too, if ya like."

you fill up your glass full of water, pop a bottle opener into your pocket, and grab three bottles of beer by their necks in your spare hand. you place them down on the coffee table and open each bottle but take a big gulp of your water before you start on your beer.

when you look up, tommy and joel are communicating in what you can only assume is a sibling-specific language of small head shakes and narrowed eyes, and then finally a brief, firm, synchronized nod.

they both turn to face you, and there's a bit of a weird energy but you're not not into it.

"what's up?" you ask, and tommy looks at joel, and joel nods, and then tommy looks back at you.

"now-" tommy starts

joel cuts him off before he can say anything of substance-- "and we don't want you to feel pressured, sweetheart, the choice is yours, and if you'd like- either or both of us to fuck off, just say the word, yeah?"

you nod slowly.

"but we have a proposition for you, honey," tommy finishes.

you look between them. they're both standing sitting there, a bit bashful, and it's fuckin endearing. two men that you'd use confidence as a descriptor for each of them. very different siblings, both in looks and in personality, but their eyes are the same and you can see a delicious darkness burning in each.

"how would ya like to fuck us both?" tommy asks, and your heart skips a beat.

they don't need to ask you twice. you do your best to hold back your grin.

"fuck yes".

[candyredmusings]

Bioshock Splicer Starters

Assortment of dialogue taken from the a from two types of Splicers in the first Bioshock game; Baby Jane and the Breadwinner

Other Bioshock Splicer starters: TBA [Dr. Grossman & Lady Smith] [Pigskin & Rosebud] [Toasty & Waders]

Baby Jane

Get away from my face! Not on my face!"

"Oh! Oh, God damn it!"

"Look at yourself! And you would do it too!"

"Talentless?! BORING?!"

"You don't deserve this!"

"I'm a star, not you!"

"You're jealous, jealous!"

"Why did you cut me?! Why?!"

"You did this to me! You!"

"I deserve it, you fuck!"

"Give me the part, you bastard!"

"Off. My. Stage! GET OFF!"

"Stop ogling me!"

"You're making me lose my place! STOP IT!"

"No, it's not perfect, AGAIN!"

"He's standing in the wrong place!"

"Get your FAT. HANDS. AWAY FROM ME!"

"Just say something, goddammit!"

"What's that? Is it him?!"

"I smell something nasty."

"Is that someone naughty?"

"Honey? Is that you…?"

"I heard that!"

"It hurts, it hurts…"

"Why did you…?"

"I'm sorry… We can do it together!"

"DARLING! I'M HOME EARLY!"

"I don't- I don't wanna- I don't wanna hear this… I- [Whimpering] I don't want to hear this…"

"Pretend you're not interested. They like that."

"Have it your way, you sleaze!"

"Well, that was good drama."

"Get a girl all bothered… for NOTHIN'!"

"That gets a girl's blood flowing."

"I'll be better next time! Please?! Don't go!"

"When we do meet, it's gonna be so nasty!"

"He's gone! They always leave…"

"When I murder you I'm gonna put your body in a dress!"

"My god, there's so much blood!"

"Aw, Jesus, what did you do to me?!"

"I'm NOT. DEALING WITH THIS!"

"No… No No No. Wha- What's- What's that? Oh, no no, no…"

"In the theater, a woman gets used to attention."

"She was up for the part as well, but then they found her in a salt pond."

"I was gonna be famous… now look at this dump!"

"Who needs to make it on Broadway? When you can make it here."

"What's the matter with me…? I'm pretty enough!"

"Hey fella'! Don't 'cha wanna take a walk with me?"

"Come on, baby! You told me you was gonna take care of me! Were you lying…?"

"I used to be beautiful. What happened to me?!"

"Why are you making this so hard for me?!"

"C'mere and say that to my face, you slimey bastard!"

"You wanna play with me?"

"Hello? Did you come to talk to me?"

"I can be nice if I want to…"

"Next time, work on your timing."

"Oh, and we were just getting to the best bit!"

"Tell me you love me! Go on, say it!"

"Just pretend, you imbecile!"

"You ruined me!"

"No one touches me! No one!"

"You won't touch me again!"

"Someone shou- should do this for me, someone should be doing this for me!"

Breadwinner

"Get out of my territory!"

"Amateur! Fuckin' amateur!"

"I'm top dog, you shit!"

"GET OUTA MY FUCKIN' OFFICE!"

"You come to my town?! To MY TOWN?!"

"You're a nobody! Nobody!"

"Who the hell is that?"

"Yeah? Well, you're fired! Ya got that?"

"I was right, I tell ya. I was right, god damn it."

"Come on. Gimme a break!"

"Come on. Just let me explain, will ya?"

 "I'm too busy for this shit."

"Waste of my goddamn time."

"This isn't makin' me time OR money!"

"Goddammit, I'm bleeding!"

"Ahh. Ahh yeah, finally some service! Woo!"

"What happened to this thing?"

"Ha, it's my lucky day!"

"She should not have come here."

"Ah, a man can start a business down here, yeah. Now now, it's- it's not too late. I'll get to it."

"It's just a bad quarter. Naw, that's all. Yeah, market'll come back, huh? Yeah! Everything'll be fine. Yeah, it'll all be fine… Augh."

"I just gotta wait out the down cycle. I'm a success… I'm a fuckin' success!"

"I ain't afraid of failure… cause I ain'ts gonna fail!"

"These assholes don't get it. I'm a winner!"

"Came here to get rich… ain't gonna leave 'till I do!"

"Came down here with a dream… That dream's gonna happen."

"Aw, come on… they're gonna kill me if I lose you!"

"That's it? We're done?"

"You think that I'm dumb? Sure, sure, why not? You keep on thinkin' that."

"You think I wouldn't notice if you just waltzed in here? Huh?"

"I'll tell you what: I'll pay you to stay alive next time. How's that for a deal, you shit head."

"I earned this! Me!"

"You give it to me, you hear?"

"Just open your mouth."

"Ah, whose fault is this?"

"Look at this dump! Nothing left but nothing!"

[highinmiamiii]

KNOW IT DONT COME IN A SHOT GLASS PART2

18+ billy butcher x supe!reader

author’s note: hello my fellow freaky weird girls this is pretty nasty, i hope u all enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it. as i mentioned before this is probably my first time trying to write any kind of fic since like middle school. this is slightly inspired by butcher and maeve scene in s3, but with reader, and better because it’s inspired by Rehab by Amy Winehouse ;)

(CW: mentions of addiction, alcohol relapse, breaking sobriety, smut, PIV, unprotected PIV, f!receiving oral, breeding if u squint, language)

pls lmk if i missed anything

The next thing you knew, you’re sprawled out woozily on the couch, having taken off your sweater leaving you in your tight-fitted black tank top, 4 drinks deep into the horrible fucking idea that was breaking your sobriety with Billy Butcher.

Butcher leans against the couch, a glass of the authentic Russian vodka he had brought back from their mission to find Soldier Boy held between his fingers while he twirls the drink in it, looking intensely at it. Even though this isn’t the first time you’re helping Butcher and his team, you still haven't gained Butcher's complete trust. At least half an hour has passed with the both of you drinking, barely even speaking before Butcher had gone on a rant about supes and why they were ‘The World’s Greatest Cunts’. “I done it all…Coke, Smack, Meth, E…nothin’ quite like this..” Butcher says, analyzing the small tube of V

“Jeez-“ You say huffing at his admission to having done pretty much every drug you’d ever heard of. Butcher sighs and runs his hands over his face, leaning back on the couch as he says “Nobody should have that kind of power. Not even me. Every single one of them has to go, including you" He leans in closer to you, his eyes never leaving the small tube of V. "But I'll be damned if I let someone like you slip through my fingers." His voice is low and dangerous, hinting at the thoughts swirling around in his mind as his eyes flick up and down your body.

You furrow your eyebrows, taking a swig from your glass as you try to decipher what the hell that was supposed to mean. You chuckle softly “You’re an asshole, I’m going out of my way and risking my life to help you, but you really just want me gone too” You roll your eyes and cross one of your legs over the other sinking further back into the couch. “I respect it, Really, your eyes are on the prize, I get it.” You say teasingly before taking another sip from your glass and sliding it across the coffee table. His voice is rough and serious as he looks at you directly, he leaves his glass on the table after finishing the last drop that was left in it. leaning forward and resting my arms on my legs as i let out a deep sigh. there’s a beat before i slowly tilt my head up towards Butcher as i look into his eyes deeply. "What I want and what's right aren't always the same thing," he says, his gaze unwavering. He leans in even closer to you, close enough that you can feel his breath on your skin. "You're clever, I'll give you that.”

“What exactly is that supposed to mean, Butcher?” You roll your eyes, once again, your vision a little fuzzy and your thoughts a little cloudly now. Butcher tsks and tilts his head over to you “Means that you, with your little superhero complex and your 'doing what's right' attitude, could be a liability. But... at the same time, you're the only one who seems to see beyond the surface of all this fuckin’ blimey shite." he says, his voice low and husky. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing against your thigh, sending shivers down your spine. "You drive me mad, woman.” He says with his lips slightly parted, eyes wide as he looks into your eyes “But that doesn't change my mission." Butcher clears his throat and reaches for the glass on the table, to pour himself another glass.

Your eyes search around his face, taking in those pouty parted lips, the scruffy, slightly greying beard and his wide glassy eyes, you take a deep breath and slowly lean closer before grabbing his entire face and breaking the distance between the two of you as your lips smash together in a searing kiss, Butcher let’s out a muffled protest. A flicker of surprise flashes across his face, quickly replaced by a scalding intensity as he deepens the kiss, his hand snaking around your waist.

A few seconds go by before he pulls away and shakes his head, looking down before looking up into your eyes and standing up, the look behind his eyes showing a thousand words…or rather, these specific ones:

‘What the fuck was that??????’

You scoff in annoyance and sit up, running your hands over your thighs before getting up off the couch and looking at him. You cross your arms over your chest and avert your gaze to the side “What? Still think you’re too good for me, s’that it?” You say, taking a few steps closer to him, looking up at his face. You raise an eyebrow, that was the easiest way to convince Butcher to do just about anything, any self-loathing asshole for that matter. Make it seem like there is no lower low.

A flash of annoyance flickers in his eyes, but then he sees right through your little game. With a smirk playing on his lips, he steps closer to you, towering over you. He looks down at you with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, his lips quirking into a smirk. "Too good for you? Darling, I'm not the one playing dress-up in some fantasy world." He says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You laugh in his face “That’s real fuckin’ rich, isn’t it? Considering I didn’t have a choice to be like this, you’re the one fuckin’ playing fantasy. You live it for what, 24 Hours? You’ll never fucking know what it’s like, Butcher.” You slowly get more riled up as the rant progresses, backing him up into a wall until your forearm is just under his neck. Pinning him up against the wall, he was strong of course, but no match for a supe, especially as wasted as he was right now.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, but the flash of annoyance quickly returns. He smirks again, his hands coming up to grab onto your forearm. "You're right, darlin'. I'll never know what it's like to be a fucking sick ultra-cunt supe freak” He smirks, fucking smirks like the smug cocky bastard he is, knowing he’s just adding insult to injury right now.

You squint, your eyebrows knit together in frustration as you sneer at him, pushing back even harder now. You use most of your force now as he strains under you, holding him down effortlessly with your strength.

“Fuck. You.” You whisper into his ear slowly enunciating each and every syllable. His smirk fades, replaced by a look of genuine surprise. He tries to push back, but it's a futile effort against your superior strength. "Jesus-alright, alright... I get it," he says, his voice strained, breath hot against your ear. His body tenses under yours, a spark of defiance flickering in his eyes. The smug look on his face returns, but his eyes are still a little wide with caution. "You’re a big fucking superhero. Congratulations. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo, sweetheart." He sneers again, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He tries to push off from the wall, but you don't budge an inch. "Let go of me, damn it.” he says.

But even as he struggles, a thrill runs through him, his cock slightly kicking up in the confines of the rough denim on his body. You surrender, letting your arm fall, but your knee is now beginning to nudge just between his legs. "oi, easy there, love," he says through a hiss as your knee nudges into the now sensitive, growing bulge in his jeans. "You don't want to start something you can't fucking finish." Yet his words falter as he watches your knee press tighter against the growing bulge in his pants, his breath catching. He swallows hard as his back meets the cool bricks once more, unable to break free from the intensity in your eyes, and the persistent nudge of your knee into his growing hardness. He clears his throat and tries to maintain some semblance of control. Trying to keep his voice steady even as his heart pounds in his chest and you invade his personal space again, he stammers, eyes darting between yours.

His back is now fully against the wall, your knee remaining unmoving between his legs as he starts to squirm. You reach out and grab his face with one hand, leaning in and practically devouring his mouth with a fervor and hunger that was difficult to understand for yourself. He was such a piece of shit, what the hell were you doing? Butcher's initial instinct is to push you away, but he finds himself caught in that fiery gaze and the taste of your lips. He responds eagerly, his hand reaching out to grip your hip possessively. The irony of this moment does not escape him, but neither does it stop him. The kiss is sloppy and messy, desperate and breathy before you let your gaurd down, your strength faltering in hopes that butcher will take some control here as you sigh breathily into his open mouth. Sensing your surrender, his ego swells. His free hand slides up from your hip to your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepens the kiss.

His tongue explores your mouth boldly, hungrily; it's been a long time since someone has challenged him like this. Butcher grips your waist tightly and flips you both over roughly so that now your back is against the wall and he’s the one pushed up against you. He desperately attacks your neck with his mouth, suckling and biting all over your collarbone. You gasp softly at the searing feeling of his lips devouring your skin like he’d never seen a woman in his damn life. His hand sneaks down your back onto the swell of your ass, giving it a tight, rough squeeze as your hand tangles itself in his hair, giving it a sharp tug before pushing him down onto his knees in front of you roughly. Butcher groans into your neck, the sound muffled and needy as you pull his hair, he drops to his knees without hesitation, his hands immediately going for the waistband of your pants. He attempts to yank them down in one go and growls in frustration when they won’t budge, his big clumsy thick hands struggling to get the button open. You snicker under your breath softly, looking down at him as he struggles “Really?” Butcher stops his struggling and tilts his head back to look up at you, his light eyes shining with a mixture of annoyance and pure unfiltered lust. He smirks ear-to-ear before reaching up and yanking the button of your jeans off, the fabric ripping easily under the force of his strong hands.

You gasp, biting your lip to stifle a chuckle as you look down at him, lips parted and eyes wide in shock “Did you just fucking rip my jeans-“ “-And now they're coming off," he finishes gruffly, his hands gripping the waistband of your now-open pants and dragging them down your legs, taking your sheer black lace underwear with them. He leans forward and nuzzles his face into your thighs, inhaling deeply before looking up at you from between your legs. You smirk “you’re a fucking pussy, y’know, for someone who advertises himself as some hard ruthless badass- psssh, i mean, on your fucking knees in front of me, between a supes thighs, really? s’pretty pathetic” You scoff and grip the back of his hair tightly once more.

He growls in frustration at your words, his eyes flashing with anger as he grips the backs of your thighs and yanks you forward, forcing you to straddle his face.

He buries his face in your center, his tongue darting out to taste you. He groans in pleasure, the sound vibrating through you as he begins to devour you eagerly. He laps at your folds, his tongue sliding through your slickness and tasting every inch of you. He sucks on your clit, drawing it between his lips and teasing it with the tip of his tongue before plunging his tongue deep inside of you. You gasp, letting go of his hair as he has your thighs around his head. You throw your head back in a breathy sigh as he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before with his tongue “O-oh my god..” You roll your hips slightly, basically riding his fucking face for a second. His cock is almost leaking through his jeans when he feels you do that. The feel of your hips grinding down on his face is enough to make him lose control. He grips your thighs tighter, holding you in place as he eats you out with wild abandon. He growls around your pussy, the vibrations making you tremble. He continues to feast on you, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he holds you in place. His arousal is palpable, the thick bulge of his cock straining against the denim as he loses himself in your taste.

Your legs are shivering at this point, hair is sticking to your face with a sheen of sweat over your body “B-butcher-“ You moan sweetly, rolling your hips once more and burying your hand in his hair again. The feeling of his beard scratching between your thighs was enough to make your mind go numb. The fact that you were both the drunkest you’d ever been for a period of time was of course, not helping. Everything felt so fucking good, it was like you were buzzing with pleasure everywhere Butcher touched you. The bruising grip of his finger on your ass and thighs, the smooth silky, yet rough glide of his tongue through your slick folds and in and out of your tight creamy cunt. He groans into you, the vibrations only adding to the symphony of sensations assaulting your body. His grip on your thigh tightens, pulling you impossibly closer as he suckles and flicks his tongue rapidly at your clit, bringing you right to the edge. “Jes-Jesus Christ-“ Your legs are trembling and your entire body is on fire, the pleasure is so fucking intense, you’re so close, everything is going right. Until Butcher stops. He fucking stops. He pulls away, leaving you aching and empty, his lips and chin glistening with your juices. “Not so fast, luv. Not bloody done ‘ere yet" He rises to his feet, his erection straining against his jeans. You look at him in complete disbelief and rage “Are you- Are you fucking kidding me?? I was about to-“ You sneer at him and grab him by his ridiculous fucking Hawaiian shirt

He doesn't flinch under your grip, meeting your anger with a cold, calculating gaze. "I know exactly what you were about to, love. And trust me, it ain’t happenin’ till I bloody say so." He plucks your hands off his shirt, his touch rough and possessive. God he was so fucking annoying. “You’re so fucking annoying.” you roll your eyes.

“Oh yeah? s’that right, darling?” His hand moves a stray hair out of your face before picking you up and carrying you over to a nearby desk, he sits you up on the edge, moving whatever paperwork was there to the side and beginning to unbutton his shirt. “Fuck you, I’m not waiting.” You sneer, quickly sliding your arm across the desk and wiping every last paper, trinket, file, ashtray etc. off the desk and onto the floor. You sit up and grab butcher by the shirt again, flipping you both over and pushing him down so he’s laying down with his back against the desk. You pop the buttons of his shirt off by ripping it open for a little bit of payback for your jeans. You straddle his waist, huffing and panting heavily as you look down at him before continuing to make out with him, just this time as you gently grind up against his crotch. He moans into your mouth as you grind against him, the friction of your wet heat against his erection through his jeans almost unbearable. His hands find your hips, gripping tight as he breaks the kiss, gasping for air. "Fuuuck, you're a feisty one, aint ya?” You reach for his belt, trying to unbuckle his while continuing to grind down on him and make out with him. He groans as you unbuckle his belt, her eyes darkening with desire. He wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer and deepening the kiss. "Gonna let me feel that tight super-cunt, eh?" he growls, nipping at your bottom lip. You scoff “Ew- what the fuck- don’t- don’t call it that-“

You snicker as you unbutton his dark jeans and tug them down his thighs, trying to catch your breath before continuing further.

He grunts, his cock springing free as you lower his navy boxers. It's so incredibly hard and thick, a vein that you almost think you can see throbbing running down the thick shaft, the tip already glistening with precum. "What do you want me to call it then, love? Your pretty little pussy?"

You shake your head no and make a disgusted face.

He smirks, his eyes roving over your body hungrily. "Your delectable, succulent, irresistible cunt?" He reaches up to cup your breast, thumb teasing the hardened nipple through your top. "Or maybe your divine, heavenly, fuck-tight pussy?"

“Okay, okay! stop, please. i’m begging you. let’s just stop referring to it all together” You bury your head in your hands, slightly snickering but also absolutely appalled at the strange

pussy-naming creativity of William Butcher. He laughs, ruffling your hair before pulling your hands away from your face. He chuckles, his hand moving from your breast to your waist. He pulls you closer, nuzzling your neck. "Alright, love. No more pussy talk." He nips at your earlobe, then starts trailing kisses down your neck and shoulder. You reach for his leaking, rock-hard, veiny, thick cock, running your thumb over the tip ever so gently. He shudders, his hips bucking slightly as your thumb teases the sensitive head. A low, rumbling moan escapes him. "Christ, that feels good." He reaches for your hand, guiding it to stroke him fully, his length pulsing in your grip. You give the thick pulsing shaft a soft squeeze with each pump of your fist, your thumb continuing to brush his sensitive leaking tip. You bite your lip looking down at him as you continue to pump his cock. He throws his head back, eyes clenched shut, his teeth gritted as he groans deeply. His eyes snap open, meeting yours with a heated gaze. He reaches up, grabbing your wrist to still your hand around his cock. "Look at me," he commands, his voice low and rough. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your knuckles. “I-I want it. Please.” you whisper. “Want what, love?” Butcher tilts his head acting clueless as he runs his hands up and down your waist, admiring every inch of your body. “Now is not the fucking time to act stupid if your cock isn’t inside of me in the next two minutes i swear to god Butc-“ the wind is smacked out of your lungs as he sheaths into your tight cunt with one sudden thrust, you yelp almost silently as you look down at him your lips parted in a pout and brows knitted together in a mixture of pain and pleasure. His face contorts with pleasure as he buries himself to the hilt, his thick, calloused hands gripping your hips possessively "Ah, there it is," he growls, his voice strained as he holds still, buried to the hilt inside you. "Look at you, taking my cock so deep." He leans in, nipping at your lower lip. "You're so bloody tight, love.” Your legs feel like jelly all of a sudden as you bury your head in his neck letting out a soft quiet muffled whimper, the tip of him was nudging against that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back so deliciously. It was rare guys ever even managed to hit that spot one during sex for you, Butcher had barely just slipped in and he was already pushing so tight up against it that you were out of breath. "Fuck, you're lovely," he groans, feeling your walls quiver and flutter around his cock. He tightens his grip on your waist, pulling you down harder onto him as he begins to rock his hips up in a slow rhythm. "Look at me, love.” You’re panting heavily as your already fucked out gaze meets his gorgeous devilishly handsome eyes “Mmmh, p-please” You throw your head back as he fucks up into you, even though you were on top, if you even tried to move right now you would probably collapse from how good this felt, how fucking full he was making you feel. "You want me to fuck you harder, is that it?" he growls, his voice rumbling against your chest as he picks up the pace. You whine “Fuck..No-Ye- I-“ You wrap your arms around his bare back thrusting your hips up to meet his thrusts as you whimper “Butcher- Jesus- I- fuck..” The pleasure thrumming through your body is so fucking intense, he was so so so deep, so thick, filling you to the very brim you felt like you were out of breath more and more with each thrust. Digging your nails into the skin of his back and scratching at it as you begin to slowly bounce your hips on his cock. "Ah fuck," he grunts, feeling your nails dig into his flesh, the pain only spurring him on further. He bucks his hips up into you roughly, matching the bounce of your hips. The filthy sound of your skin, slapping against each other fills the room, mixing with the sweet sounds of pleasure spilling from your lips that was beginning to drive Billy to absolute madness.

"You're driving me fucking crazy, you know that?" he pants, his voice strained as he pushes harder into you. His fingers dig into your hips, gripping tightly as he tries to keep himself from losing control completely.

“I-I’m close Butcher-“ You gasp out softly, gripping his shoulder tighter, your nails leaving little red crescent mark dents in his back. "Bloody hell, you better not come until I tell you to," he hisses, his cock twitching inside you. "I'm not done with you yet, love." He grips your hips harder, his fingers bruising as he pounds into you with renewed vigor. You whine throwing your head back “Mmmmmh- P-please…why..” "Because I say so, that's why," he grunts, his face contorted in a mask of pleasure and exertion. "You'll do as I say when we're like this, you hear me?"

"Oi, I said, do ya fuckin’ hear me" he says, his voice strained. He watches as your breasts bounce with each movement, the sight eliciting a primal instinct within him. You nod softly biting your lip as your panting grows heavier “Please…mmphh…Butcher” you sigh.

"Christ, you're a sight for sore eyes," he grunts, leaning forward to take one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. You groan in frustration and pleasure, so desperate to finish, and so sick of his bullshit teasing. Your hand snakes between both of your bodies, reaching between your legs as you dip your fingers into your slick, puffy folds, trying to get any sort of friction against your throbbing delicate clit. Butcher smirks at your frustration, raising an eyebrow. He grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from your clit and holding it above your head. "I told you, I'm in charge here." You pout, grinding your hips down in a desperate attempt to get a sliver of friction back where you needed it most “Fuck you” You sneer “Stop. I-I needa cum Butcher please” You whine, pouting and looking up at him with those wide doe eyes. "What's the magic word?" he teases, his voice low and sultry.

It’s moments like these that make you want to slap the smug ridiculous fucking accent right out of him. You squint at him, grinding your teeth together. His grin doesn't falter as he leans down to whisper in your ear. "Come on then, y’can have what you want...when you say please." He punctuates each word with a gentle bite, his stubble scratching against your cheek. Your hands make their way back up to his hair, giving it a gentle pull before moaning a desperate “Please” into his mouth, you kiss him hungrily, trying to fight his grip stilling your hips from moving up and down. He smirks against your lips at the sound of that single word, pleased with your desperation. Butcher loosens his grip slightly but doesn't let go completely - just enough to let your hips squirm and move in small motions against him. Butcher's thumb finds your swollen clit, circling it slowly as you whimper and writhe beneath him. He groans at the sensation of your wet heat, the way your body yields to his touch. "Christ, you're soaked," he mutters, rubbing your clit with increasing pressure. Butcher's cock continues to slip and slide inside you, stretching your entrance before plunging deep and pulling all the way back out again. His wrist twists, pointer and middle finger rubbing against your swollen clit in a come-hither motion that has you gasping and crying out. Letting out a ‘humph’, Butcher thrusts into you harder, he can feel your muscles tightening around him, your breath hitching as you edge closer and closer to release. "Come on, love," He continues to pound into you with increasing intensity, his fingers never leaving your clit, rubbing and circling in a maddening rhythm that has your legs giving out deeming you unable to continue riding him, and your back arching. He leans down to bite and suck at your neck as he fucks up into you harder, his fingers pinching and rolling your clit in time with his deep thrusts, the combination of the dirty talk, the bite of pain and pleasure, the slick friction of your slick warm cunt clenching around his cock and pulling him in deeper, all building to a cacophony of your whimpers and soft moans muffled into his neck, combined with his deep groans and shaky breaths. You were both just about to fucking explode with pleasure as your legs trembled insistently, your walls clamping around him tightly, practically choking his poor cock. "Blimey... that's it... fucking squeeze my cock with that sweet cunt of yours," He grunts, his lips finding yours in a bruising, desperate kiss. His hips buck wildly against yours, fucking deeper into you as he chases his climax. “A-alright then, Doll- come on- I’m gonna-“ He taps your ass gently trying to signal for you to get off of him before he came. You bite your lip and smirk planting your hand on his chest for leverage before taking a deep breath and starting to bounce up and down once again. His hands slide up your waist trying to still your movements “Y’little fuckin’ brat…” He groans, gripping your hips tightly as you continue to bounce on his cock. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to hold off his orgasm, but he’s helpless under you.

You throw your head back, gripping his shoulder tightly and digging your nails into it as your climax approaches, your tight slick walls fluttering around him. The feeling almost suffocating Butcher as you continue to ride him with intense fervor, chasing your orgasm. Your tits are bouncing wildly as your face contorts into a loud whimpered moan of his name, your pussy squeezing him in so tight as you cream around him, gasping for air as your legs shiver, your entire body on fire that it sets off his own orgasm.

With a final deep thrust, his cock buried to the hilt inside your throbbing pussy, he explodes. His orgasm ripping through him with a roar. Pumping the white-hot spurts of his cum into you as he fills you up, painting your inner walls with a reckless abandon. His whole body shudders and trembles with the force of his orgasm, leaving him breathless. He opens his eyes to look at you, admiration shining in their depths. You desperately try to catch your breath, your brain slightly fuzzy of the feeling of his sticky spend dripping out of you right now. You look into his eyes and immediately feel your cheeks begin to flush in a little bit of post orgasm clarity. He watches you, his chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath. The intensity of your orgasm was almost overwhelming, and he grins at you as he sees the slight dazed look in your eyes. "Fuckin' hell, you're incredible."

He runs his hand down your bare arm looking into your face as his other hand slides down your waist, helping you up off his cock. You bite your lip softly and cross your arms over your chest. He keeps his hand on your waist, guiding you off of him gently as he props himself up on his elbow. His other hand gently trails down your arm, feeling the goosebumps forming under his fingers. You look around the room, spotting your panties on the floor, picking them up and slipping your legs back into them as you throw your tank top back over your torso. You walk over to the couch again, settling into it “Got a cig?” You ask. He watches you as you slip back into your panties and throw on your tank top. The way your breasts move under the fabric as you walk across the room is mesmerizing. When you ask for a cigarette, he grins and fumbles through his pockets before sighing deeply as he feels an empty box “Fucking bollocks…I got bugger-all, fresh out, doll” He runs his fingers through his hair before picking up his boxers and stepping back into them “You wouldn’t mind coming with me to nick a pack, eh?” He looks you up and down before continuing looking around the room for the rest of his clothes. You sit up and chuckle

“Well- I don’t typically go to the store in my underwear, If only I had pants to wear… Oh, that’s right.” You say, tone dripping with sarcasm and bitterness at the loss of your favorite pair of jeans.

[necrotic-nephilim]

Give me your most controversial dc opinions!!!

HA YES GLADLY I WOULD LOVE TO (added a read more because i had a lot of words oopsie)

The Titans Tower Incident was in character for Jason Todd. at worst, it's a *bit* over-dramatic and a little cringey, but if you consider his actions, his motivations, and what he *actually* does, i honestly don't think it's OOC for him. he's just kind of a dramatic asshole in that era and i stand by that comic. the issue isn't the comic itself, it's how people interpret it.

i think the DC fandom, specifically the Batfamily fandom, really likes to claim to be progressive for brownie points, but then will have the one token woman that everyone decides is acceptable to hate. like, it's one thing if you dislike Carrie Kelley, i get it. Frank Miller isn't a great writer of women and she can be a lack of a character in the original Dark Knight Returns. but if you go out of your way making constant edits and posts shitting on her, it's *weird*. especially when most of the people shitting on her haven't even consumed her source, and their reasons for disliking her can apply to any other Robin, especially Tim. but as long as you put say, Steph or Cass on a pedestal, you can talk on and on about how you want to kill Carrie for the crime of existing. it feels like acceptable misogyny. i also think this extends to writers. if you put say, Gail Simone on a pedestal, you're free to blame everything under the sun on Devin Grayson. (to be clear i think you can and should hate Devin Grayson for a lot of things, but most rumors about her are untrue and if you look at every badly written comic and go "sounds like something Devin Grayson would write" that's really weird bc everything she's done, men like Chuck Dixon, Tom King, Tom Taylor, Marv Wolfman, etc have done in tenfold.) like, misogyny = bad unless it's That One Woman We've All Agreed To Hate. it's weird and i keep noticing it. and no one seems to unpack it. (i mostly see this on TikTok, not Tumblr tbf)

i don't care if you ship BruDick or not, but it's not weird for canon content to imply or state Dick had a crush on Bruce when he was first taken in. even in canon where Dick sees Bruce as a "father figure" in the most generous sense, that bond took years to build and when Dick was freshly orphaned, he *had* the memory of loving parents and didn't want Bruce to fill that role. you don't have to ship BruDick, you don't even have to like batcest, but if you're vitriolic toward just the idea that "hey maybe a young kid on the cusp of puberty might have some weird feelings to work out about the canonically very attractive mysterious playboy who took him in before seeing him as family because that bond took years to build" is nasty and terrible and wrong to you, you don't like the Batfamily, you just like the nuclear "neat" version of it in your head

the Batfamily characters are *all* too hypercompetent. like all of them are just *too* good at what they do that in order to write them in interesting arcs together, you have to willingly make some of them OOC in order to not immediately have the Problem wrapped up. i get it, Bruce is the greatest detective, Tim is wicked smart, Jason's a heavy hitting brawler, but we've reached a point where all of these characters have so many buffs they're not *fun* anymore. especially not in a group setting where you need to justify them needing each other's help. and even worse-so when they interact outside of the Gotham, you end up making every non-Batfam character seem useless just to make the Batfamily look cool. it's exhausting. i want to see these characters lose fights, look stupid, and not be the best for once. they're all getting so good they're just kind of. boring. which is the worst sin for a character, IMO.

i think we should go like. a good year of all Justice League-related teams not having a single Bat on the roster. just as a cleanse so *someone else* can shine. i get why non-Batfam DC fans are sick of the Batfamily bc jesus. it's oversaturation of the market.

power scaling "who would win" fights are fucking boring and i don't care. that's the least interesting thing about the fandom. you're missing the point of all of these characters if you only care about who could win a brawl. also it's just a stupid debate because the answer will *always* be: whoever the author of the comic wants to win.

the Batfamily is too damn big. i love every single one of them do not get me wrong. i'd die for the little niche characters who are likely never going to be relevant again like Julia Pennyworth or Kate Spencer. but it's too fucking big at this point. it's insisted to us that these characters are family but like. half of them have barely existed on the same page together more than once. it's ridiculous and it cannot sustain itself. none of these characters are allowed proper shine because they'll just get dropped for the next new shiny character. i think Maps Mizoguchi is a cool lil lady, but i know in my soul in like. three years she will fade into comics limbo and we'll have a new shiny character to fawn over. it's a brutal cycle bc DC doesn't know how to give any of these characters follow through, just wants to wave around cool new concepts.

both Under The Red Hood and Death In The Family are mediocre adaptations and strip the most important emotional elements of Jason's story from the plot. you can't properly adapt Jason's death if you leave his mother out of it. like they're phenomenal movies as their own pieces of media, but they lack the necessary emotional weight for Jason.

on the note of adaptations: the Young Justice cartoon is i think the best case study of "how do you react to a piece of media that's amazing on it's own, but is a fucking horrible adaptation?" because like, i can't discredit it. it's a good show. but it's a bad adaptation and i think people using it as an entry point for DC can make their views of certain characters and teams *very* warped. the Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey movie falls into a similar vein for me. if that movie was it's own thing with original characters, it'd likely be a top five movie for me. but because it's *such a fucking bad adaptation* i can't help but hate it for brutalizing the characters and the general concept of the BoP. it should've been a Gotham Sirens movie, and Young Justice should've been a Teen Titans show. and sure, adaptations don't owe us accuracy, but they have negative effects on the comics when they gain popularity. so i struggle to like Young Justice bc of how badly it's affected certain characters.

also on the note of adaptations: the best adaptation of how comic media operates is the Sandman tv show. adapting comics to tv shows or movies is difficult bc comic arcs don't operate the way show/movie arcs do, but the Sandman show proves it's absolutely doable to adapt the storytelling style while still making the typical adjustments you need for an adaptation.

DC needs more Deaf representation. in most areas, DC either matches Marvel or outperforms Marvel with representation of marginalized identities, but it's fucking tragic we have no deal Deaf rep in DC whereas Marvel has quite a few to pick from. this one is personal bc i'm Deaf but it does fuck me up the only option we have is a side character from Tim Drake: Robin who doesn't appear anywhere else and isn't a great character overall. DC i'm in your walls.

on the note of representation, if i see one more person say Titans had "perfect casting" while in the same breath admitting Dick was whitewashed, you are weird and i dislike you. it's really fucking weird that whitewashing is permissable to this fandom if the actor cast/fancast is hot. Dick should've been a Roma actor. Damian should not be fancast as a white actor. it's the bare minimum.

i have so many more but i will end with this especially controversial one: Dan Mora's art is overhyped. that man has the worst same face syndrome i've ever seen and i will not lie half the time i can't tell which Robin he's drawing. his art is technically gorgeous and it's so pretty to look at, but begging for every comic series to be drawn by him is boring and terrible. the art style of a comic reflects it's genre. wanting all comic art to look like Dan Mora's art is sucking the style out of comics. i miss art styles like Todd Nauck's that clearly reflected the genre of the comic.

i lied i have one more i'm REALLY passionate about: Tim's vigilante name after Red Robin should not be bird-themed. naming him Sparrow or Cardinal is *just* as bad as naming him Red Robin longterm. they're *just* as derivative and they *sound* cool but don't hold any real unique identity for Tim outside of Robin. like it baffles me we all agree he needs to move on from Robin and then decided "let's name him Robin Lite". if he has a bird name, it should be Jackdaw so at the very least, he's not red anymore. and Jackdaw could be a fun callback to Drake, in that it uses part of Tim's real name (his middle name, Jackson) while standing out a bit. but if i really had creative control i'd give him a completely unique name. if it has to be Batfamily related, Gray Ghost. but in my head, his name should be Conspiracy. i could write a lengthy meta on why and tbh it is based in my love for the Question and wanting Tim to have a similar detective noir-esque gritty solo, but i genuinely don't think he should be Cardinal or Sparrow. those names only continue his identity issues of being trapped as either Robin or a Robin knockoff.

[seriousbrat]

Never said she hated James or that she was a gold digger. I do believe she loved him. But I also believe that part of the reason she was attracted to him and to the prospect of marrying James was the fact he was a rich pureblood and through him she could gain a more stable identity/community in a world where she probably felt like she didn't belong. This attraction and class appeal of James also probably made her downplay or ignore his faults and his previous actions towards Snape and others - that's why I called her pretty shallow and a social climber. She saw Snape being miserable for years, yet she still married James and why? Because he didn't use dark magic, appealed to her ego and a desire for safety and stability. She justified her attraction with her black and white morals, selfish interest and grew to like James more - despite him being an entitled arrogant asshole who she saw tormenting her ex friend for years. That tells me a lot about her. There simply must have been a reason why she married such a jerk with a bullying history. And I'm not calling James evil btw. And no not all 20 year olds have babies during a war. She jumped straight to a relationship, got married after a year - reckless, and had a baby year later - immature. And no you cannot be a kind saint while surrounding yourself with shitty people. I believe all the characters in this era were shitty, some more, some less. Most of them had good intentions for sure, Lily included, but she was not like the way you talk about her. Because she was close to pretty nasty people. James was a dick, Sirius was a less evil Bellatrix, Remus was an enabler and I don't even like talking about Peter. Snape had such a shit life that it's impossible to not be shitty in his situation, Petunia was a complete jerk and you actually think that Lily - the person that was moving in circles with these people - was a kind, feminist, role model? That's why I do not like this potrayal. Not only it doesn't make sense with the knowledge we have about her but it is also kind of sexist to reduce her to a kindred spirit who can do no wrong and has the best of intentions. Btw I'm not saying you are completely wrong, after all we do not know her canon personality, I'm just arguing with how I see her and why. I prefer this more negative perception because it makes her more human in my mind. I also do read and enjoy your fic, because even if I do not agree with the way you see these characters, I can enjoy different versions of them from time to time.

Okay, I debated whether to respond to this, honestly-- the thing is you're just not going to convince me that this is a fair and good-faith assessment of Lily's character and not generally quite callous and unforgiving.

You didn't literally use the term 'gold digger,' but you assumed (and have now doubled down on that assumption) that there could be no other primary reason other than money and status for why she was attracted to James and married him. Sorry girl but that is calling her a gold digger even if you didn't use the actual term.

This attraction and class appeal of James also probably made her downplay or ignore his faults and his previous actions towards Snape and others

"probably" based on what lmao. Look sorry but I just think it's so obvious that this is rooted in your own beliefs about women, subconscious though they may be. Even if we say for argument's sake that James never improved his behaviour and had no redeeming qualities that might make him attractive to a woman, women marry dickheads all the time lmao. And not all or even most of those dickheads are wealthy. Like this is such a ridiculous and ungenerous assumption, on many levels.

Snape had such a shit life that it's impossible to not be shitty in his situation

I already posted this bit (because it's very funny) but I'll say it clearly: LMAO. This is absolutely so indicative of your biases and I don't think you can even see it. Wah wah wah, what a poor misunderstood baby 🥺🥺🥺Yeah Snape was so tragic and tortured that he just couldn't help joining a fascist organisation bent on the destruction of people like Lily. But Lily can only have married a man who was a bully in school because she was shallow and opportunistic. Give me a break lmfao

Petunia was a complete jerk and you actually think that Lily - the person that was moving in circles with these people - was a kind, feminist, role model?

If Lily is at fault for the actions of everyone around her, what on earth is Snape for 'moving in circles' with murderers and sadists and racists and fascists etc etc? Oh, I forgot, Snape can't help it bc everyone was so mean to him 🥺 so it makes him just a 'less evil Bellatrix' not in control of his own shittiness, whereas Lily is for some reason even at fault for the actions of her SISTER even though people can't choose who they're related to. hahahaa. Can't you see how this is wildly unfair???

I've never said Lily was a 'saint' or a 'feminist role model.' Lmao. If you can't see how a woman can be generally a kind and good person without being some sort of unrealistic flawless saint, that's honestly your own issue. If you prefer a 'negative' portrayal of a woman because that makes her more 'human' (read: realistic) to you, idk what to tell you. People just thinking a woman is a good person isn't an inferior read on a character than yours haha, (nor is it 'kind of sexist' LOL but nice try) like have you never met a kind woman irl? Sorry about that, but it's not my problem.

Look, I'm glad you've read my fic, thank you, and that you're at least open to other interpretations of Lily. However I honestly think that yours needs some serious self-reflection. Ordinarily I'd say that you know, it might not be my business nor is it productive to get on people's cases for simply disagreeing with my interpretations of a character, but you did bring this ridiculous and misogynistic take into my inbox. Like feel free to continue unfairly hating Lily on your own blog basically lol.

[fasthqsav]

「 ₊ ☆ ﾟ kathryn newton, cis woman, she/her 」 INCOMING TEXT: omg hv u met SAVANNAH GRADY of the NARIZA BOIS yet ? they’re one of the crew’s street racer n actually go by PEACH. the twenty five y/o is typically seen hanging arnd body. allegedly they’re frm fort valley, georgia n hv been w/ the crew for THREE YEARS. wtvr. just watch out for them, k ? ttyl ! 「 ₊ ☆ﾟ sarah, 28, she/her, est 」

trigger warning for brief mentions of anxiety, emotional abuse, parental neglect, violence

INTERVIEW

tell the story behind your alias.

"peach," savannah spoke. "not sure if the accent gives it away, but i grew up in the middle of fuckin' nowhere in the south...pretty rural part of georgia," she explains. "when i first started workin' with the bois, my accent was the first thing that stuck out with the rest of the crew. so peach, like georgia peach. but, also like princess peach from super mario bro's and mario kart. i can see the resemblance, y'know....blonde hair and bangs. rosalina is my new favorite character to play though. i don't mind the nickname though, i've been called way worse."

you're often seen around body - what does a typical visit look like for you?

“body's? considering that i work there, most of the time i’m there because it’s for a shift of mine,” she admitted with a giggle. “even when i'm not working, i like to stop by there once or twice a week. i've been working there for a few years now so i'm close with a lot of the girls. i gotta make sure no assholes are giving them problems."

when  did  your  first  realize  you  had  a  passion  for  cars  /  racing?

"well, i kinda grew up around cars. i have fond memories of helping my grandpa fix up some of his old pickup trucks that he loved to restore as a hobby of his. we did together as a way to bond and get closer. i also had a job back home at a shop, " savannah explains some of her past living with her grandparents. "but i think my passion really started after i've seen my first few official races with the cars i've worked on. it was hard work but it felt so satisfying to see all that hard work pay off for a win."

CHARACTERIZATION

character inspirations.

peyton sawyer (one tree hill), jennifer swallows (lisa frankenstein), lane kim (gilmore girls)

playlist.

gypsy - fleetwood mac

one of those girls - avril lavigne

helena - my chemical romance

mini bio.

savannah grew up and spent the bulk of her childhood/teenage years in georgia.

the grady family grew up on a small family farm, with your typical farm animals and crops. her mother was part of a very strict and religious upbringing. this meant going to church multiple times a week, praying before every meal, volunteering in the local community, and not falling victim to anything secular. on paper, they seemed like the perfect 'white picket fence' family in their rural town.

unfortunately, savannah's mother got involved with a guy who was quite the opposite of her and a bad influence towards her. young and dumb and in love, she'd become pregnant at seventeen, her parents not approving of the situation and strongly pushing their daughter towards putting her child up for adoption. their reasoning? they wanted their daughter to have a bright and successful future and raising a baby too? that would simply be too much in their eyes.

determined to prove them wrong, her mom would be stubborn as a mule and opt out of signing off on any adoption papers. an explosive fight would result due to this, causing many nasty words to be thrown towards all family members and her mother packing up her belongings and getting the hell out. done with the toxicity of the grady family dynamic, she would rather struggle her way through motherhood than be forced to be around her parents any longer.

moving a few hours away from fort valley, the young couple would try their absolute hardest to raise little savannah. the stresses of being broke and having no other support would lead to their relationship crashing and burning by the time savannah was four.

that is when savannah would begin living with just her mother. things for the two of them would only grow more difficult, but sav's mom would vow that she wouldn’t leave her side. 

 it was not out of the ordinary for them to frequently be evicted from whatever apartment or duplex they were living at, being forced to flee for temporary housing. savannah had many different “definitions” of home. this often would vary from a friend’s place, homeless shelter, or whatever beater card they had. in spite of their struggles, she never fully resented her parents, knowing that they always were trying to provide for her the best they could.

savannah was seven years old when her mother would lose custody of her. it was shortly after her birthday, a memory that would forever be ingrained in her mind. savannah and her mom had been living in a motel room for the past few months. It had been paradise in comparison to the shelter that they had been staying at. they had lucked out, her mom getting a job as a housekeeper there, the owner learning about their situation and taking pity on them. he'd agree to offer them discounted rent if she’d promise to not be disruptive. It seemed like a perfect opportunity for them to get back on their feet and try to get a little more ahead. 

in order to make some extra income, savannah's mom had gotten a second job a few nights a week as a waitress at an overnight diner. through her work, she’d start to become involved with a regular. he was a bit of a seedy individual, someone that would ultimately be a very negative influence on her. 

one night, her mother invited her boyfriend over to their motel to spend the night, savannah being watched by someone a few rooms down. she would get extremely under the influence, inviting a few other "friends" of theirs, resulting in their motel room getting destroyed and causing a hell of a scene. the police were called and her mom was arrested. the courts would deem her unfit to continue raising little savannah, full custody being placed with her grandparents.

savannah and her grandparent's relationship was rather rough from the get-go. she was angry and confused with her new living situation, not wanting to live with someone she’d never met before. she was desperately missing her mom, not quite at an age where she could understand why she’d been arrested. so , it wasn’t much of a shock when savannah gave them hell from the start.

savannah always struggled with breaking out her shell and making friends, mostly due to moving around so much. her grandparents tried their best with introducing her to many groups within their community (their church, girl scouts, 4-h club, etc)....anything to try to help savannah blossom and try to ease the transition to her new living situation. she would manage to make a few friends, people would most likely took some pity on her. but, she would found more comfort with her own company. her biggest comfort? music. it all started when she was nine and hearing rumors by fleetwood mac on her classmate's cd player. after hearing gold dust woman, savannah commented on the song and saying she enjoyed it. her classmate let her borrow a few of her other cd's and sav felt like she was discovering gold. there was no turning back, she wanted to learn more, discover more music. this started her journey of discovering more artists/bands, the first taste of rebellion. at the same time, she felt like she was living a double life since this wasn't music they played at church?

as savannah transitioned into her pre-teen years, her rebellion and bad habits only grew. she would find her confidence and comfort with hanging out with the small crowd of misfits of peach county high. the misfits being the goths/punk/burnout kids aka the the people that didn't fall into any other so called 'cliques'.

secular music was not the only thing she was doing behind her grandparent's back. she was also sneaking cigarettes, weed, booze, and skimpy clothing to wear on her late night adventures. hiding them all in a loose floor board of her bedroom, there was no going back.

at fourteen and fifteen years old she was spending late nights sneaking off and causing chaos. chain smoking cigarettes, shop lifting, finishing off full bottles of vodka, and god knows what else. savannah knew deep down that none of these things were good to do, but she was so desperate for a place to fit in and be accepted that she was heavily influenced to do these things. half the time her grandparents didn’t know where was and it made them worried sick.

her reckless behavior would only fuel their negative relationship but she didn't care. this was the root cause for the standard occurrence of them having heated verbal arguments, causing savannah to be temporarily kicked out and being forced to couch surf with her friend group. her grandparents wanted better for savannah, trying to hold her accountable and not have a future like her mom.

when she was seventeen, she got into a nasty fight with another girl at a club while she was extremely drunk and under the influence. the fight resulted in the girl being hospitalized with a serious blow to her head. sav was sent to juvie for a year and a half due to the fight and other charges that were caught up on her.

flash forward 1.5 years, she is released from juvie and put on probation. with nowhere else to go, she had no choice but to move back in with grandparents. even though they are not proud of her past actions, they let her move back in but not without their own rules for her to obey.

she picks up a job at the local mechanic shop in town at the front desk. it's nothing fancy but it is something to keep her busy and get cash in her pocket. she had managed to get her GED while locked up, so college was an option but something that wasn't on her radar.

by the time she is twenty one, she has managed to save up enough money to feel like she can be on her own. only having only known georgia, savannah craves somewhere else she can start fresh and have more 'wordly' experiences. so, she finds herself moving down to miami without much of a plan but she'll figure it out.

found a shitty but cheap apartment not far from her bartending job at body's....eventually moving up to becoming a dancer there after being there for around a year.

she started out with the nariza bois as a mechanic, her knowledge of cars from her previous mechanic job and helping fix cars with her grandpa making it a natural fit. she felt comfortable in that position.

most recently transitioned to becoming a racer and though she had her own self doubts if the choice was right, the pure adrenaline and confidence boost it has provided her is priceless. every time she goes out on a race, it brings her back to her teenage years, her thirst for excitement and rebellion never quite leaving her.

other hc's / fun facts.

she has a THICK southern accent <33

keeps her ipod nano charged at ALL times and her playlist is hella chaotic....but mostly ranges from classic rock / emo / alternative

drives a refurbished 60's mercury comet convertible (decked out w purple interior and purple and blue stars painted on the exterior ) .... it is nicknamed the hearse mobile gjrkgjkrj

an extrovert introvert. she gets along with the bois but def has her own inner circle of friends that she feels herself more comfortable with. once you get to know her more and she feels comfy in your presence, she'll open up and be more of her weird self

is a CRANKY bitch if she does not have her morning cigarette and redbull combo

her favorite games to play are mario kart or guitar hero

her favorite candy is sour patch kids

constantly missing her alarm

she is very much a night owl.....please do not make her wake up early </3

#CERTIFIED WEIRDO ..... people in high school thought she was a witch/vampire because of her she did her hair and makeup fekjfjrkgj

her style is very....interesting....it's a mix between punk/whimsigoth/emo???? she thrifts most of her clothing to try to make her own style unique to herself. she draws inspo from stevie nicks, avril lavigne, and joan jett.

speaking of avril....she LOVES her !! currently has hot pink streaks in her hair because avril has them

she has LOTS of tattoos....mostly random stick n' poke one's that she has let her fellow mechanic besties draw on her

wanted connections. ( some ideas can be found here )

the bois member whom she met that introduced her to the crew and got her a position as a mechanic - this can be open to an import model/fellow mechanic/racer - perhaps she helped fix up your muses car and they were impressed with her knowledge of cars???

someone from the prowlers that she has BEEF with - can be one-sided or mutual

a prowlers member who talks shit about her and her hearse mobile and thinks she's a shitty racer <3

a bois member who is her designated passenger during races

bad influence

unlikely friendship

drinking/smoking buds

friends with benefits - current or former

former flings

big brother / little sister friendship

platonic soulmates/besties .... i beg

concert/music buddies ..... sav luvs to go to concerts and jam out

BOI MECHANIC BESTIES!!!!! she luvs her mechanics very much

a boi mechanic that she might have mentored when they first joined/took under her wing?

a boi mechanic that she might have iffy terms with bc they're salty she moved to being a racer?

CO-WORKERS AT BODY!!! i would love co-workers that she vibes with and some that she hates :)))

former clients of her's at body

CURRENT clients at body's ;)))

a body co-worker who acts like a work momma to her

anything else tbh !! always down to brainstorm and think of plots !

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None mostly. Goldfish slander, some minor injuries resulting from clumsiness, mentions of events from the show. Layla is here! We stan a healthy, happy divorced couple in this house >=\

A/N: There will be multiple chapters like these in this series, mostly dialogue and filler to help facilitate plot.

Taglist: @shirukitsune @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @bad4amficideas

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

Chapter 4:

Old, Unhappy, Far-Off Things

"You guys can't keep doing this." Layla said over the phone.

"I know, I know." Marc sighed, running his hands through his hair. He haphazardly sprinkled some fish flakes into the tank to feed the ever chubby goldfish; looking at the glass to see Steven's reflection staring back at him, a frown creasing his features.

(Marc, you're going to make 'em pop!) Steven scolded.

"Well, how am I supposed to know how much to feed three goldfish?" Marc groaned.

"Steven told you the fish were gonna explode, eh?" Layla laughed softly.

"Yeah. Almost exactly that. I swear, I've never met a man who needs an emotional support fish." He replied, holding the phone between his shoulder and ear, screwing the lid back onto the tiny container of nasty-smelling flakes.

(How dare you! Gus and his friends are members of this family! You're going to hurt their feelings!) Steven said, absolutely aghast at Marc's summary of how the little aquatic creatures fit into their lives.

(The other two don't even have names yet, hermanito.) Jake finally piped in, coming to co-front to see what all the fuss was about.

"But seriously, Marc. You have to take it easy. Just tell Khonshu to shove off and ignore his bony ass for a few days!" Layla sighed. Though they weren't married or intimate anymore, Layla still cared deeply for "her boys"; even Jake, to a point. Even if she didn't fully trust him, he was a part of Marc and Steven. Part of their system. She knew Jake was the protector. She knew that he was only violent when he absolutely had to be.

Or when Khonshu sent him after fresh targets. She still didn't like that.

"You think I haven't tried that?" Marc flopped onto the sofa, his hand resting over his face as he sighed.

"He's a god, Layla. It's not so easy to just say no."

"Taweret doesn't seem to have a problem with boundaries." She pointed out.

"Because Taweret is a big softie, Layla. She literally mothers you." Marc retorted with a grunt.

"Well… she is the goddess of motherhood. One of them, anyway." Layla conceded.

"And Khonshu is the god of being a tall, harping asshole who refuses to let me rest." Marc leaned back, closing his eyes as the leather on the sofa softly groaned under his weight.

"You think we like working for him, still? We don't. We need the suit, and people need to be kept safe..."

"Have you considered just… giving it all up? Telling Khonshu you're done? Just hang up the cape?" Layla hummed.

Marc could feel Steven and Jake fade into the background of the headspace, leaving him alone to his conversation with Layla, not enjoying the current topic at all. And it would be smarter to prevent a possible argument between Jake and Marc, right now. They had enough headaches.

"I already tried that, remember? Khonshu just used Jake before we knew he was here and had him kill Harrow."

"Right…"

"And besides…" Marc said, conspiratorially. "...I think he already has his sights set on another person to be a Moon Knight. And I don't know who it is, but I know he's going to hold it over my head. Steven, Jake and I would rather be dead than let some poor, innocent person see the shit we have."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"Okay… You obviously need a mental health break. Anyplace in particular you can go to get away from everything?"

"Well… there is one place. A little shop Steven found that's nearby." Marc replied.

"Is it a bookstore?" Layla laughed.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is." Marc chuckled. "Some woman runs it. American, if you can believe that. Apparently the store was her aunt's or something and she inherited it from her when she died. Steven's built a bit of a rapport with her. Me too. Kinda. She also sells stuff like coffee, tea, snacks… kind of like a one-person cafe."

"She runs it alone?"

"Yeah, impressive actually. But, it's not always safe, I saw that the other day." Marc nodeed.

"Oh? What happened?" Layla asked, wholly invested now. They had a friend? She likely didn't know about their DID, but Marc, and by that extension Steven, and possibly Jake having friends was a win in Layla's book.

"Some abusive drunk ran in after his girlfriend. Apparently she hid his girlfriend in her flat upstairs when she came in covered with bruises and freaking out." Marc said, smiling a bit at remembering your tenacity and urge to protect somebody you didn't even know. Even Jake respected you after that. And Jake respects very few people.

But it proves you were a protector, like he was. Not to the same extent, but close.

"Sounds like a good person."

"She seems like one. I just hope she doesn't get herself into trouble with anymore–ah!" Marc hissed, dropping the phone and waving his hand in the air as pain whipped through his fingertips.

"Shit!" He cursed, picking up the phone again with his other hand. He glared at the red marks appearing in his palm.

"Marc? Are you okay? What happened?" Layla asked, her voice just a hair above worried.

"Yeah, just my fucking hands again. Last week it was my shins." He grunted.

"So either you're getting old," Layla teased. "Or a certain someone hurt themselves again."

"Yeah, just wish they'd quit it. It's really inconvenient."

"That's a bit hypocritical, don't you think?"

"What?" Marc asked, his brow furrowing as he watched the burning red marks blossom on his skin. Pretty, almost, if you were into that sort of messed-up body art.

"Marc, please don't tell me you haven't considered that every time you got hurt, your soulmate felt those pains, too?" Layla deadpanned with a sigh, most likely pinching the bridge of her nose. He could picture it now. She was probably pacing in the kitchen of her flat in Cairo; the sun illuminating her figure, making her curls glow in an amber light, highlighting her jaw as she frowned.

But the thought she triggered in his mind sent a stone dropping into his gullet. Had he really not considered that? He thought that maybe, being Moon Knight would… would dull the pains, or maybe negate them entirely. Or… was he just stupid and didn't put them into consideration?

If they can feel his pain, and he can feel theirs... what about when he…

But sometimes it felt redundant to think about and worry for someone he never met, but at the same time…

"Fuck." Marc hissed, wiping at his face.

"Oh, my gods! You haven't been careful at all have you?" Layla gasped.

"I…"

"Marc! You and the other two need to get it together and take it easy. You think you don't understand things? Imagine how your soulmate feels. They're probably going about their normal daily routines and feel it when you get shot! Oh gods, what about when we were in Egypt and you got impaled?" Layla murmured. "Gods, I almost forgot about… what about when you died? I don't even want to imagine what they felt."

Marc dropped back into the cushions staring blankly at the ceiling. She voiced the very thing he himself was hesitant to mention.

"I… I forgot about that, too." Marc said, his voice almost flat.

"I imagine they must have been confused when their mark reappeared."

"Fuck…" Marc groaned, feeling exhaustion suddenly creep into his body. But then, he jerked, gripping the back of his head. "Damn it!"

"Another pain?" Layla mused.

"God–yeah. Right in the back of my head." Marc grunted.

"Yikes. Your soulmate must not be having a good day." Layla chuckled.

"Whoever they are, they're accident-prone as all hell!" He grumbled, pouting as he rubbed the fresh sore spot.

"Pot callin' kettle, Maaaarc." Layla sang softly over the phone.

"Yeah, yeah. You sound like Steven."

"Good."

"Ugh, please don't say that." Marc said, a smirk cracking his mask of discomfort. "He's already nagging me."

"Okay, okay…" Layla quieted for a moment. "Hey, Marc?"

"Yeah?"

"I might take a trip to London. Maybe if I'm there, Taweret and I can run interference for you to give you a break." Layla suggested.

"Layla… You don't–"

"Already looking at plane tickets." She interrupted.

"Of course you are." Marc smiled. That was one of the things he loved about Layla when they first met. He was drawn to her. Her snark, her determination…

"Yeah. I'll pack a bag and hop the flight that leaves in a few hours."

"Wow, okay." Marc said, his eyes widening. "You're serious about this?"

"Who else is going to babysit you three and get Khonshu off your back if me and the Hippo Mama don't?" Layla jabbed playfully.

"Oh my god, you do not call her that." Marc snorted, shaking his head.

"She thinks it's a cute nickname. And she agrees with my plan, so…"

"Oh great. You two gonna just harp me and remind me to take my vitamins, too?"

"I mean, if we have to…"

"Ugh. You're impossible."

"But that's why everyone loves me!" Layla laughed.

"Sure, sure. And Layla?" Marc asked, looking at the mark on his wrist, a soft fond look in his eyes. It was blooming today, the rose.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem, Marc. Go hang at that bookstore and get a coffee or something, yeah?"

🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒🌒

You hurried up the stairs and rushed to your oven, frantically cursing with each step as you hauled yourself up the stairs and into your flat.

You practically ripped the oven door open, coughing as smoke filled your nostrils as the burned pastries greeted you.

"Damn it!" You whine, slipping your oven mitt on and grabbing the small pan with one hand.

Your phone started ringing and you spun on your heels to glare at the offending object secured to the wall.

"Oh, shut up, you–"

You felt the pan tip when you turned, the blackened treats threatening to fall to the floor, and without thinking you reached out with you other, unprotected hand and gripped it, before making a sharp yelp and throwing the pan onto the counter with a loud bang, blowing air over your burning and blistering hand.

"Shit, shit, shit!" You hiss, turning to your sink and hitting the tap for some cold water. The stinging subsided, if only minutely.

The phone rang incessantly again.

You dropped your shoulders and rolled your eyes with a groan, and pulled away from the soothing coldness of your tap.

But, of course, as your natural "luck" would have it… You trailed water onto your floor, and slipped into it, cracking the back of your head on the tile. Not hard enough to knock you out, no, but it was just enough to hurt, and leave a rather nasty bump.

So. There you lay, flat on your back, water still flushing into the drain of your sink, smoke detector now going off, and your house telephone ringing impertinently.

"I didn't do anything! Why're you guys always giving me the short end of the stick?" You shout at nothing in particular; maybe whatever gods could hear your lamentations and rueful words.

For extra effect, you flipped the bird with your uninjured hand.

Yeah.

Fate was a funny thing, all right.

Chapter 5: Link