#Can the poor child catch a break

[hydrachea]

Thinking about how this confirmed Dan Heng and Blade put aside their many many many differences that one time so they could beat up a kid nearly to death. Guys...

#GUYS... #poor kid was just trying to do his job i'm crying #even more hysterical is that the game makes us play as them against him and not as him #we're accessories to the crime. we nearly killed this child ourselves. #(and then we did it again in kafka's quest) #(and again in this event) #(and now we can do it whenever we want in the simulated universe) #what did yanqing DO to get karmic backlash this severe #anyway i can't believe these two (grown ass men) (several centuries old each) (only one of them insane) really nearly killed him #idc about the ethics of almost murdering a kid to be clear i just feel bad for yanqing at this point #like kiddo cannot catch a break #when will he finally get to be a trial character in our party and not an enemy boss #hsr #ray's records

[sacrus]

Bro... q!Roier...

#mans grieving #but likr full on #like this man cannot catch a break #he lost his first child #then his stepson goes missing #then he gets sent do Purgatory but it honestly feels like hell #then he loses his husband #comes back and his stepson is in. coma #hes a shell of a human #hes washed out of basically any happiness #he can barely live with himself #and then he gets another child thrown at him #like what #poor him :(((( #bro.... #:(((((((( #i pove him :((((( #i really hope he gets through it #im prying that either richas quickly recivers or cellbit comes back #or both #qsmp #roier #qsmp roier

[shaisuki]

“c'mere megumi. i know you're tired.”

gojo calls out to him but the boy ignores him and continued to walk.

“he won't satoru. you traumatized him.” you quipped at him.

teleportation is fun and all but not to a fourth-grader megumi who got almost dropped mid-air from the teleportation skill gojo have, only to catch him mid-air before he truly drops.

“i catched him before he fell.” the white-haired male pouts.

“catched him before he fell?” scoffing at him. “he's a child, satoru. think before you do something to him. you almost endangered him with your antics and you can't do whatever you please when you want. you're an ass and you know it.” you spat at him and gojo pouts and he's like a child kneeling down while being scolded.

you crouched down to meet the height of megumi. patting his head and you began to speak in a soft voice. “i'll carry you, okay? i promise no funny business.” drawing a cross in your chest to convince megumi. the poor child is sleepy and fighting the urge to not sleep caused by the earlier wrongdoing of an pre-adult.

deciding to trust you, megumi comes closer to you and puts his arms around your neck before carrying his small body in front of you. your arms tucked under his thighs and it turns to snuggle you. his jaw in your shoulder.

megumi blankly stares at the adult behind you. immature, he thought but his eyes are getting heavy and sleep is calling to him. before his eyes closed he reminds himself not to be carried by that weird man.

it took a few seconds before the child snuggling in you fell asleep. you can tell from the lack of movements of his body and the small snores. patting his back before continuing to walk.

gojo followed you. he felt bad and it was like a punch to him in the gut when you scold him but he likes it. loves it when your cheeks puff and your eyes rolling at him in annoyance.

stopping at a bakery to get a few sweets to satisfy his sweet tooth and for the siblings to eat back home. you continued to walk, enjoying the little peace and quiet before a old lady approached at you three.

“oh my! what a cute family.” the old lady commented and your eye twitched at the comment. giving the lady a smile before briefly bowing.

taken a back at the sudden statement before gojo burst out in a laughter. “she called us a family, (y/n).”

“ha-ha-ha. funny.” you dryly responds to him and adjusting your arm to make megumi comfortably settle in you. the child is completely passed out in your grasp and you can't help but to kiss megumi's wild hair in which megumi groans before going back to sleep.

“aww, come on. i didn't mean it, okay?” gojo whines, blocking your way as he walked backwards to meant he really is sorry.

“okay.” you replied back to him. ���just don't do it again.”

“okay!” he beams up and once again silence filled in the long way of walking.

dusk is beginning to settle down and the sky turns into orange. the sunlight giving it's final rays before the night falls.

“kind of you to take them both, satoru.” you break the silence and gojo hums. thinking about something.

despite gojo's stubbornness and his lack of tact in things, you like that he's willing to help the children to have a roof over their head and spoiled them like it's his own. even preventing megumi to be taken away from his clan and let him have a normal childhood with his sister.

“say, (y/n). what if we adopt them both?” gojo asks you.

“we? and adopt?” gojo nods. waiting for your answer. “i think it's fine. these two will have two guardians to look them over if the other one's not around and in case something's happen to one of us.”

“don't say that, (y/n).”

you raised an eyebrow at him and smiled.

“it's inevitable, satoru. in this line of work we have.” you said to him. referring how dangerous the jujutsu society is and you'll never know what the future may hold.

“i'll protect you. us”" his bright blue eyes peeking through his dark glasses with sincerity. looking at you and megumi sleeping in your arms.

“satoru....” you call him and his eyes full of sincerity.

“that's nice, satoru.” you smile at him but the expression in his face is anticipating something more.

“i know you will, satoru.” and he grins. pressing a tender kiss in your forehead and patting megumi's head. “stop that, sato. you'll wake him up and don't get too sappy with me. it's not you.” he pouts at that but kisses you again.

he can't wait to be with you forever.

#꩜ ⋮ shai's thirst/drabbles⸝⸝ #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x chubby reader #chubby reader #plus size reader #jjk megumi #child megumi #x reader

[tojipie]

˚ ✧ content: first-time parent toji, doctor reader, fluff, brief mentions of injury

“oh— hey! found one more for you down the hall.” a dreaded patient chart is thrust into your arms before you can tell the cheery nurse that your shift is already over. 

“great,” you mutter, tiredly scanning the stack of paperwork as you make your way down the hall. it was way too late for this. 

2-year-old male, already triaged and x-rayed. drove in by his dad about 2 hours ago. nothing too extensive, wouldn’t take more than an hour to get him sent home. 

soft cries greet you at the door to the examination room, a hushed voice— his father— attempting to console the child.

“megs, c'mon. you’re gonna be okay! these are good people.” the older man whispers, sighing as the toddler’s sobs only grow louder.

your knock silences them both, the little boy trying to put on a strong face for you despite the little sniffles wracking his chest. 

the kid is a carbon copy of his dad, donning the same shaggy black hair and big green eyes. the toddler looks up at you hesitantly, long lashes slick with tears.

“see? doctor’s here,” his dad coos, feigning fake excitement as you shut the door behind you. you can hear the quiver in his voice as he says it, anxiety eating away at his composure.

first-time parent you think, cute. always more terrified than the child. always.

“how’s our little trooper doing?” you smile, sympathetic to both their states. the younger boy says nothing, wiping the wetness from his face with his good arm. poor baby.

“fell off his trike in the driveway,” the father explains, shaking his head. he was charming, soft-spoken yet commanding respect. gnarled edges of a scar gracing the side of his mouth.

“can i see? just want to have a better look at the injury site,” you say calmly, snapping on a pair of blue gloves.

“show her where it hurts kiddo,” he asks tenderly, wincing as you take the ice pack off to expose the child’s swollen wrist.  

megumi looks up at you curiously as you examine the injury, exhausted from a mix of pain and sleep deprivation.

 “mama?” he mumbles, idly kicking his feet in his father’s lap.

“no bud not mama.” the older man laughs, clearly embarrassed. you feel your heart twinge just a bit at the adorable show of confusion.  

“no broken skin, the joint is still aligned too.” you say confidently, placing the ice pack back. “likely not a break or a dislocation but i’ll look at the x-rays just so we’re positive, sound good?”

the father nods quietly, hugging his son to his chest.

“his mom was never in the picture, s’ hard handling him alone,” the older man doesn’t follow up on his comment, leaving it at that.

you nod. “i’m sorry.”

“toji,” he mumbles.

“i’m sorry, toji.”

it doesn’t take long for you to go over the blue images. an intact bone stands out against the illuminated wall, not a break thankfully. the stranger catches on soon enough, tension leaving his body at the good news. 

“looks like it’s just a sprain,” you say, pointing to the image. 

“see that kiddo?” he whispers, turning the little boy’s head toward you. “s’ nothing.”

“nofing?” megumi mumbles, clearly too tired to pay attention anymore. shy as a bunny.

“you’re gonna want to ice and elevate for at least the next two days, you should see a full recovery by then but if not i want you to come right back, okay?” you explain.

the father nods, propping his little boy down on the floor as you type out your post-visit instructions.

“say thank you to the pretty doctor megs,” he encourages, chuckling as the little boy waddles over to hug your leg with his good arm. so incredibly tiny. 

pretty huh? you could get used to that.

“fank you.” his sweet voice latches onto your tired heart and melts you from the inside. megumi slumps down against your shoe as sleep takes over, caught under the arms and swept into his dad’s arms in an instant. 

#fushiguro toji x reader #toji fluff #toji x reader fluff #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #toji headcanons #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji imagine #toji fushiguro #zenin toji #dilf toji #jujutsu toji #toji #toji drabbles #jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen headcanons

[joelsgreys]

fall into temptation | three

Post Outbreak Joel Miller x Preacher’s Daughter! Reader

series masterlist l previous chapter

summary: Of all the women to catch Joel Miller’s attention—it just had to be one of the goddamned preacher’s daughters.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. SLIGHT PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION OF READER, mentions of her hair which she can put up into braids as well as her style of clothing. despite the nickname Joel gives her, it does not speak to her body type or size. AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s and Joel is 56). several mentions of religion and religious symbols, reader has a father and two sisters, all who come with names, reader gets put into a a very uncomfortable situation, insecurity, anxiety, Seth is an asshole, protective Joel, he threatens to break someone’s jaw which is a warning in and of itself. SMUT. loss of virginity, reader is inexperienced but not totally clueless, oral (both m and f receiving), risky unprotected p in v sex (please wrap it up), lots of praise and pet names (baby, babygirl, honey, you know, the works), Joel gets a teensy bit rough, creampie, hint of aftercare, ends with a cliffhanger, but also not really if you think about it?

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, NO MENTION OF RACE OR BODY TYPE.

word count: 10k

a/n: it was not my intention to post this on jesus day, but here we are. this took forever and a day considering the second part was posted back in september, but i am so so proud of myself for finally completing a wip i could cry. i did a bulk of the editing while i’ve been sick and in all honesty i probably should have asked someone to beta for me because i think i coughed out like 90% of my brain cells this week, but i think it turned out okay. ish.

Somehow, even over the volume of the live music, you could still hear their hushed, astonished whispers.

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Is that Joel Miller with Pastor John’s daughter?”

“What’s she doing holding his hand?”

“He’s got to be at least twice her fucking age—”

Throat bobbing anxiously, you glanced up at Joel.

His shoulders were squared back, his head held high. 

Solid. Steady.

Joel couldn’t seem to care less about the bewildered stares, the judgment that was being flung his way. Not once did he seem to waver. But you?

Oh, you were already starting to crumble underneath it all, on the verge of falling apart right before everyone’s prying eyes. Shame sat heavily inside of your chest, the weight of the feeling suffocating you, making it harder and harder to breathe as it prevented air from reaching your lungs.

It had nothing to do with Joel. Of course it didn’t. It had all to do with you and with who you were. Their beloved preacher’s sweet, innocent young daughter. 

His youngest daughter. 

Suddenly, the whispers were no longer whispers.

“Oh God, she’s not going home with him, is she?”

“That’s not right! Someone should say something!”

“Pastor John would never allow something like this.”

“Poor thing’s naive—she doesn’t know any better.”

Hot, stubborn tears of frustration glazed over your eyes and threatened to spill. It was as if you were a child who didn’t know any better, a gullible, clueless little girl with nothing in her brain who needed to be rescued—saved from the bad, bad man before he did bad, bad things to her.

Had it been anyone else, no one would have batted an eye. No one would have noticed, let alone cared. But it was you that Joel Miller was leaving the bar with in the middle of the night and it was you whose hand he had clasped in his own. That is what made it wrong. That is why it was a problem.

Everyone’s concerns had nothing to do with him at all, they had everything to do with you. You, you, you. You were the sole reason why it was a problem, the reason why he was being perceived as the Devil himself, horns out as he dragged the poor little unsuspecting angel down to the fires of Hell.

“Joel?” Overwhelmed, you instinctively reached for his arm with your free hand. Cold and trembling, your little fingers curled tightly around his bicep, digging into the firm, bulging muscle through the thick corduroy fabric of his sleeve. You whispered his name again. “Joel—”

“S’alright, babygirl,” he reassured you quietly over his shoulder. He gave your hand a comforting squeeze. “S’alright. Just keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I’ve got you. You just keep on lookin’ right at me, okay?”

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and focused on him. Only him. The broadness of his back and his shoulders. Tufts of hair that curled over the collar of his shirt. Only him. He’s what mattered. He’s all that mattered.

“Almost there,” Joel murmured, squeezing your hand again as the door came into view. “Breathe, baby. We’re almost there. I’ve got you. You’re alright. Ain’t gonna let anythin’ bad happen to you. Promise I’ve got you.”

It wasn’t until his fingers wrapped around the old, brass handle that you finally exhaled the breath you had been holding out in utter relief, though it was very, very short lived. Just as Joel pulled the door open, you felt a hand wrap around your arm. Dry, slender fingers dug into the soft flesh above your elbow as an attempt, and a feeble one at that, was made to tear you out of Joel’s grasp.

The music stopped and the bar fell silent. Everything and everyone came to a sudden standstill, freezing mid dance, mid drink, mid bite, mid gossip.

Shocked, you glanced over your shoulder. “Seth?” you squeaked his name. “What—what are you doing?”

Seth didn’t acknowledge you. His focus was on Joel.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Miller?”

Joel’s anger couldn’t be seen, but it could be felt. So palpable you could have wrapped your fingers around it. It radiated off of him and loomed over the entire bar like an incoming storm cloud. Threatening. Dangerous.

“Where are you taking her?” Seth demanded, his other hand curling around your wrist as he tried, but failed, to snatch you from Joel’s side once more. “Let the girl go! You let her go right now, you hear?”

Caught in between the two men, you nervously turned to look at Joel. Nostrils flared, jaw clenched, seething eyes that did the talking for him. His message was loud and oh so abundantly clear.

If Seth didn't take his hands off you, he wasn’t going to have any hands.

Not after Joel Miller was through with him.

Blazing heat flooded your face. As if it couldn’t possibly get any worse, everyone had now gathered around you to watch the tense encounter, eyes wide, brows raised and jaws practically on the weathered, hardwood floor.

Tommy Miller stood among the crowd, subtly shaking his head, his lips pressed together in a tight, thin line of disapproval as he glowered at his older brother. Would he be looking at Joel like that had it been Esther in your place? If she was the one he was taking home? Would any of this be happening if it was her instead of you?

“Seth.” Uttering his name, you shifted your attention back to him. You sounded calm and collected, despite feeling anything but. Joel’s hand in yours was the only thing keeping you steady and grounded. His touch was the only reason you hadn’t yet spiraled into a state of panic. Clearing your throat lightly, you spoke again and tried your hardest not to waver. “Please let go of me.”

Still fixed on Joel, he spat, “I’ll be damned if I let him take you anywhere.”

“He’s not taking me anywhere, Seth.” Without thinking, the words came tumbling out of your mouth—loud and clear for everyone in that room to hear. “He isn’t forcing me to go with him. I’m making the choice to leave with him. Out of my own volition. Please let go of me.”

Finally, Seth looked at you. His old, worn features were twisted in disbelief. “What?”

You swallowed dryly. Part of you wanted you to shrink away, curl into yourself. Instead, you straightened your posture, forced yourself to stand a little bit taller. Willed yourself to have a backbone for once in your life.

“You heard me,” you said, lifting your chin in defiance. Several onlookers gasped in surprise at your rebellion. Where had this insolence come from? “I’m choosing to leave with Joel. Now, please let go of my arm.”

Behind you, Joel stood silent and still. 

Watching. Observing. Waiting.

He wanted nothing more than to intervene. Rip you out of Seth’s hands and shatter each and every last bone in all ten of his fingers for putting them on you. Had Joel not realized that this was probably the first time in your whole, entire life you’d mustered up the courage to use your voice, he would have easily given into the urge. He wanted to protect you. He needed so badly to protect you. Yet, he knew you weren’t helpless or incapable of standing on your own two feet. He knew you deserved the chance to stand up and speak for yourself after a lifetime of being silenced, a lifetime of being forced to stay in your place, seen but never heard.

“Seth, let go of my arm,” you repeated. It was no longer a polite request. It was a demand.

He scoffed. “Do you honestly think I’m going to let you leave with somebody like him? You think I’m just going to stand back and let him take advantage of you?”

Oh, you hadn’t liked that insinuation, not one bit. 

It caused something inside of you to finally give way.

Snap.

The blood in your veins boiled, ran hot enough to make you feel like you were about to burn from the inside out. “Joel isn’t taking advantage of me! It isn’t like that,” you seethed, furiously. The quiet, well mannered, obedient good girl everyone in Jackson knew was gone. And she could stay gone. In your periphery, you could see Leah elbowing her way through the sea of people to the front of the crowd with an incredulous look plastered on her face. She stood there beside Tommy, who appeared to be just as incredibly bewildered by your outburst. “Don’t treat me like I’m some child who doesn’t know any better! I’m an adult and I’m old enough to make my own choices, okay?”

For a moment, you had forgotten it was Seth standing there in front of you.

“I’m capable of making my own decisions! I don’t need you to dictate my life. I don’t need you to tell me what is and isn’t good for me—controlling what I should and shouldn’t believe in.” Your voice trembled as emotions you’d been suppressing for years bubbled their way up to the surface. Amidst the chaos, you could feel Joel squeeze your hand again, as if silently encouraging you not to lose your nerve. He was your anchor, the only person who could keep your world from capsizing. You knew he wouldn’t let you drown. Not even God, who you had always been forced to believe was your pillar of strength, had ever made you feel this protected. Safe. “I don’t need you to tell me how to live and much less when it’s the end of the world.”

It wasn’t Seth you were addressing.

It was your father.

Your father, who controlled every last thing, from what you would eat to the way that you dressed and how you wore your hair.

Your father, who refused to let you have a mind of your own, who simply could not bear the mere thought of you thinking for yourself.

Your father, whose love felt like shackles, heavy, rusted metal restraints that had been digging into the flesh of your wrists for far, far too long.

“You need to let me go now,” you said, swallowing back the lump in your throat. Once more, you caught Leah from the corner of your eye, your heart lurching in your chest when you noticed her desperately trying to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand. She was the only person in the room who understood how you felt. Her rebelliousness only ever masked the pain of knowing her father’s love came with terms and conditions—and the fear of knowing what would happen if those terms and conditions weren’t met. For several weeks, you’d gotten a taste of what she went through everyday, how her fear of putting her foot down led her to run around in secret and live a double life. “Just let me go.”

Seth firmly shook his head. “No! I’m not letting you go anywhere with him. I don’t know what the hell he did to you, but he’s clearly got you all fucking brainwashed.”

That was fucking enough. Joel stepped in, lowering his voice as he said, “Y’know, I’ve just ‘bout lost count of how many fuckin’ times she’s asked you to let her go now and it’s really startin’ to piss me off.” Raising an eyebrow, he laid his offer out on the table. “Here’s the deal. You let go of her right now and I won’t shatter your fuckin’ jaw into pieces. That seem fair enough to you?”

“No.” Seth gripped your arm even harder, prompting you to let out a little yelp as his nails dug painfully into your skin. Though it’d been accidental and he hadn’t meant to hurt you, it didn’t matter. He’d just set off the ticking time bomb that was Joel Miller.

Furious, Joel snatched a fistful of his shirt with his free hand—the other still held yours. Gentle, despite being mere moments away from beating someone to within an inch of their life.

“Joel! Stop!” Tommy’s voice broke through the tension as he approached. His footsteps were slow—careful and cautious, as if he was afraid to make any kind of sudden movement. “Joel. Hey. C’mon now, let’s not do this, alright? Ain’t gotta handle things this way. We can talk it through. No need for anyone to wind up bleedin’ in the fuckin’ infirmary tonight, so just take a breath and let him go.”

Blatantly ignoring Tommy’s attempt to keep the peace, Joel tugged Seth forward, yanking him closer. “Listen to me and listen to me good ‘cause I ain’t gonna fuckin’ say it again. You’d best take your fuckin’ hands off her right now unless you wanna spend the rest of the night sweepin’ up your teeth off the floor of your own fuckin’ bar,” he threatened, his tone enough to send a chill up anyone’s spine, even your own.

“You wouldn’t dare, Miller.” Somehow, Seth managed to keep a straight face, but you could see it so clearly in his eyes and in the tremble of his lower lip—oh, he was terrified of Joel and rightly so. “Not in front of all these people. Not in front of your brother. That wouldn’t be a smart move considering you’re already on thin fucking ice for what you did to that boy’s face, now would it?”

Joel tugged him closer. “Test me,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Go on. Fuckin’ test me.”

His challenge was immediately met with a pathetic look of defeat. Seth dropped your arm and he was released.

“S’what I fuckin’ thought.” Without another word to the man, Joel whirled around and roughly pulled the door open, leading the way outside. As you both descended the building’s old, creaking wooden steps, you began to shiver and he suddenly remembered he’d left his jacket behind inside the bar. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “C’mere, my little dove,” he murmured as he tucked you against his side for warmth. “I’ve got you.”

The first thing he did was light the fireplace.

“Should start warmin’ you up, sweet girl,” he’d said to you over his shoulder. He tossed a log into the blaze as you sat perched on his couch rubbing your bare arms with your hands. “M’gonna go upstairs and find you a blanket, alright? You stay put.”

“Okay,” you’d mumbled, knowing there was no point in telling him not to fuss over you.

Even with the soft, fleece throw blanket he had draped around your shoulders and the warmth of the flames in front of you, you continued trembling. Subtle, but he’d noticed it, felt it when he had sat down beside you and pulled you close against his side. “Oh baby, you’re still shakin’?” That was when he realized you weren’t cold. Frowning, Joel rose to his feet and disappeared down the hallway. He came back to the living room a minute later with a glass of water in his hand. With a small, labored grunt, he dropped to one knee in front of you and held it out. “Here.”

“No, thank you.” You shook your head. “I’m not thirsty.”

“Maybe not, but I’m kinda worried you could be in a bit of shock, right now,” he stated, the creases in between his brows deepening as he observed you for any other physical signs of distress. Carefully, Joel lifted the glass to your lips, gently coaxing you to take a drink. “C’mon, darlin’. Think you can be a real good girl for me and at least take a couple sips? Hm?”

Sighing softly, you nodded and did as he asked of you, taking a small sip of water. It soothed your dry mouth and throat and you took another one. Maybe you were thirsty after all.

“Little more, now. Little more. That’s it. That’s my good girl.” Once he was satisfied with how much you’d had to drink, Joel set the half empty glass down on the oak coffee table behind him. He turned back to you, placing his large hands on either side of your thighs below the hem of your dress. He started tracing soft, soothing circles into your skin with his thumbs. “M’real proud of you for standin’ up for yourself back there, sweetheart. Took a whole lot of fuckin’ courage to do that, y’know.”

You glanced down at your hands in your lap. “Mhm.”

“Baby. Hey. Look at me.” One of his hands abandoned your leg and he reached up, delicately taking your chin between his thumb and index finger. He tilted your face upwards, his worried gaze meeting your own. “Talk to me. M’right here.”

“That—that was a lot,” you admitted meekly, shoulders sagging as the adrenaline started wearing off and your body slowly came down from the peak hormone rush. “It was a lot.”

Sighing, Joel’s hand fell away from your face. “Yeah, I know it was a lot, babygirl. I know. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“No.” You were quick to cut him off. “Don’t be sorry.”

His chest heaved with another sigh, this one deeper, heavier, bearing the weight of his guilt. “Well I am,” he said. He planted his hands on either side of you on the couch and lightly shook his head. “Didn’t even fuckin’ think twice when I pulled you outta that fuckin’ supply closet and took your hand in front of all those people. I was so fuckin’ hellbent on showin’ everybody you were mine that I didn’t even stop and think ‘bout what all it would mean for you. It was selfish of me. Real fuckin’ selfish. And I’m sorry, little dove.”

“Do you regret it?” you asked, quietly.

Joel chuckled in spite of himself. “M’pretty sure I’m the one who should be askin’ you that question, darlin’,” he remarked. “Tell me. Do you regret it? Do you regret me pullin’ you outta that closet?” He momentarily paused. There was a stutter in his heartbeat when you dropped your gaze away from his, silence your only reply. “Do you regret me takin’ your hand in front of everyone?”

Of course not.

You wanted to be his and you wanted everyone to know it. There was no regret, none. 

Still. 

The consequences that you would undoubtedly have to face in the morning were overwhelming. Daunting.

Surely, by then, your father would know about you and Joel. When he came downstairs right after sunrise and he discovered you weren’t in the kitchen helping Lydia prepare breakfast, he would question where you were and make some kind of remark about how you should not be sleeping in this late. He would tell her just how irresponsible it was for you to ignore your duties and obligations to him and the family. Sloth was one of the seven deadly sins, after all. He would make her trek upstairs and wake you, and when she did, your sister would find your bed empty.

Meanwhile, there would be a knock at the front door.

No stranger to having members of the congregation show up on his doorstep when they were in need, be it of prayer or comfort, your father would answer it only to find someone, not in need of solace, but who felt that it was their responsibility and moral obligation to inform him that they had seen his youngest daughter leaving The Tipsy Bison with Joel Miller in the middle of the night, hand in hand.

He wouldn’t believe them.

“Now, that is simply not true,” he would say, offended that anybody would have the nerve to show up at his door and accuse you of something so vile. “That’s not possible. I know my daughter and she would never do such a thing. It must have been someone else that you saw with him. Someone who looked like her, perhaps.”

Then, Lydia would descend the staircase and tell him you weren’t in your bedroom. “She must have gone up to the main street as soon as she woke up,” she would suggest with a shrug, not yet privy to the events that had taken place the night before at the party you and Leah had snuck off to. She never had to worry about you, the good one. “I did notice we were running pretty low on eggs. Sugar, too. She probably wanted to be the first in line at the pantry to—Papa? What’s the matter?”

The color would drain from your father’s face when the realization slowly sank in. No, you weren’t out on the main street picking up eggs for breakfast and sugar for his tea. You were lying up in Joel Miller’s bed—defiled, impure, and with the curse of Eve on your flesh. Even after dedicating his entire life to making sure you did not stray from the path of righteousness, he had failed. You had fallen into temptation. 

There was a chance he would have mercy on you. All you had to do was beg and plead for his forgiveness—and more importantly, for the forgiveness of God. “Vow to atone for your sins,” your father would say, his gaze fixed on the Holy Bible in his lap. He probably wouldn’t be able to look at you, not after what you had done. “Repent. And swear to me, child, that you will never so much as glance in that man’s direction ever again.”

No. That’s not what you wanted.

You wanted Joel and the freedom to be with him. 

But that freedom came with a high, high price.

You were willing to pay it, but you’d be lying if you said you were prepared to navigate the consequences. Then again, was there really any way for someone to prepare themselves to be shunned by their own father?

“I can take you home,” Joel offered quietly, the sound of his voice taking you out of the future and bringing you back into the present.

“What?”

“I can take you home,” he repeated himself. “I can take you home right now if that’s what you want, sweet girl. Won’t give you any kinda grief ‘bout it.”

Confused, all you could do was stare at him.

“Listen to me, baby. You mean a lot to me. More than I can even begin to explain,” Joel reassured you before any kind of doubt could find its way into your mind. “I want you to stay with me. There’s nothin’ on what’s left of this fuckin’ earth I want more than for you to stay here with me. But what you want matters to me a hell of a lot more than what I want.” He reached up, lightly stroking your cheek with his thumb. “If you decide you wanna go home and go back to your family—back to your old man—then that’s where I’ll take you. Okay?”

Your father would give you an ultimatum. But Joel? He was giving you a choice. And he’d respect that choice.

“I wanna free you from your cage, my little dove. But I think we both know you’ve gotta make the choice to fly outta there on your own.” He lightly swept his thumb over your quivering bottom lip, his eyes meeting yours as he whispered, “Door’s wide open for you. What you do next is all up to you.”

“I’m afraid, Joel,” you confessed. A tear slipped from the corner of your eye and rolled its way down the side of your face. He was quick to wipe it away, along with the others that followed. “I do want out of my cage. I really, really do. But I’m terrified. All I have ever known is my family and my faith. I have never been apart from my father and my sisters.”

His expression softened. “I know you’re scared. Can’t promise you things will be easy, but there is one thing I can promise you.”

“What’s that?” you questioned, then waited with baited breath.

He gingerly cupped your cheek in his large palm. “I’ve got you,” he swore to you, just like he had done so back at the bar. “If you decide to stay, I promise I’ll take real, real good care of you, alright? For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. You won’t ever have to worry ‘bout a thing with me by your side. Swear it on my life.”

Warmth blossomed in your heartspace and finally, you stopped trembling. Lifting a hand, you curled your fingers around his wrist as your gaze fell to his mouth. “Joel?”

“What is it, darlin’ girl?”

“Kiss me. Please.”

With a gentle nod, Joel’s other hand found your hip, the warmth of it seeping through the cotton fabric of your dress. Leaning in, he brushed his lips against yours. It was a chaste thing, soft and innocent until you grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer to you. “Babygirl,” he mumbled against your lips. He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue through your parted lips and into your mouth. He tasted like bold bourbon and citrus beer. There was a faint hint of tobacco too—you recalled him admitting to you one night in the church house that while he wasn’t all that much of a smoker, at least not like he used to be when living in the zones, he would occasionally partake in the habit if he happened to come across a pack of cigarettes while out on patrol, pairing the nicotine with a drink. He tasted delicious. He tasted delicious because he tasted like yours.

You sank back into the worn, supple brown leather of his couch, tugging him forward so he sank in with you. Over you. Releasing your near death grip on his collar, you managed to wedge your hands in between your bodies and began to claw furiously at the buttons of his shirt, your fingers shaking out of pure desperation to feel him. It wasn’t until you were halfway down that he finally noticed what you were doing and leaned back, catching both of your wrists.

“Baby, wait,” he panted, shaking his head. “Don’t think now’s a good time for that—”

“Joel, please,” you pleaded, the intense ache between your thighs almost too much for you to bear. “Please. I want it. I want you.”

“S’been a rough night for you.” Joel’s voice was hoarse—strained, like he was aching just as much, if not more. “You’re real emotional right now. Vulnerable. Last thing I want is to take advantage of you at a time like this.”

You frowned. Had Seth’s words gotten into his head?

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

“Darlin’ I just don’t think we should—”

“Joel, please,” you begged him again. “I was so good for you, was I not? Wasn’t I patient, just like you asked me to be?”

His lips thinned into a tight line. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer. You, his beautiful little temptress of Eden.

“I waited for so long,” you reminded him. “I’ve been so, so good for you. Please, just make me yours already. I don’t want to think about anything else right now. I just want to be with you. Please, Joel. I need you so badly it hurts.”

Christ.

No man could stand it. No man could possibly have the strength to deny you.

With a look of utter defeat, he folded. Before he could say another word or make another move, your greedy mouth was on his, and you kissed him with fervor, with urgency, as you finished the task of unbuttoning his shirt. Pushing it off of his shoulders, the corduroy fabric fell into a crumpled heap behind him, nearly knocking the glass of water off the coffee table. You broke away from him and shamelessly marveled at his mouth watering form—you admired the way miles of smooth, tanned skin stretched over his wide shoulders, broad chest and soft, soft belly. Arousal pooled between your legs and you reached out and raked your fingers down his chest, and over his stomach, going lower and lower, following the trail of coarse, dark hair that led you to his brown leather belt. You clumsily started fumbling with the brass buckle until he caught your hands once more.

“Slow down, my little dove,” he murmured. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.” He stood up and held his hand out to you. Time blurred a bit—maybe it was your nervousness mingled with the eager anticipation of what was to come, but there seemed to be a small gap in your memory, a blank space that spanned from the moment you rose off the couch until the moment you found yourself standing in his bedroom where you were about to answer to the call of the flesh.

Dropping your hand, Joel switched on the lamp on his bedside table and kicked off his boots before taking you into his arms. “C’mere, honey.” He nuzzled your cheek with the tip of his nose as he spoke, the scruff of his beard tickling your cheek. “Couple’a rules, sweet girl. I do somethin’ that you don’t like, you tell me. You want me to stop, you tell me to sto—”

Without waiting for him to finish his sentence, you slowly lowered yourself down onto the floor and knelt at his feet with purpose, as if kneeling before an altar, a sacred, holy space. Though you felt anxious, you were eager to worship. “I haven’t forgotten about what I said earlier tonight,” you cooed, noticing the mild look of surprise on his face. “I said I’d make it up to you and I intend on keeping my word.”

All the blood in his body rushed south to his cock and it strained painfully against the crotch of his jeans. “Baby, I—” Again, he was cut off, only this time by the sound of his own groan when your hand brushed up the front of his thigh and over his growing bulge. He glanced down, his heart thrumming painfully hard against his sternum as he watched you reach for his belt buckle.

With all your might, you willed your hands so as not to tremble. It was self-explanatory, what you were about to do, but your total lack of experience sowed seeds of doubt into your mind—you wanted to make him feel good, just like he had made you feel good outside of the church house during services. Just how you knew he would make you feel tonight.

Hand still over his buckle, you pressed the tenderest of kisses to his bulge through his jeans. Then, turning your head, you rested your cheek on one of his thick, blue denim clad thighs and peered up at him through your eyelashes with a small, nervous smile as you confessed what he already knew. “I’ve never done this before.”

Oh, how sweet and endearing you were. Joel reached down and smoothed your hair back and away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. “S’alright, honey,” he crooned, grazing the silkiness of your cheek with his index finger. “I’ll walk you through it. Teach you how to be a real good girl and suck my cock just the way I like it. That what you want, my little dove?”

His filth made your cunt clench hard around nothing.

Slowly lifting your head off of his thigh, you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and managed a clear, consenting nod as your hands fumbled with his buckle, the clinking sound of metal ringing loudly in your ears. You undid the button on his jeans and pulled down his zipper, your throat drying when you saw the outline of him, his size intimidating even behind the cotton fabric of his faded, black boxer briefs.

With a harsh swallow, you glanced up at him, silently asking him for his permission to continue.

Such a polite little thing, Joel thought to himself. “Go on, sweetheart,” he encouraged.

You tugged his jeans down to the middle of his thighs and hooked your index fingers underneath the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down and freeing his cock. There was a deep, swooping sensation in your belly as you watched it slap up against the lower part of his abdomen. After many nights of sitting in his lap, feeling him through his clothes, grinding your cunt down onto him, you thought you’d at the very least had an idea of what you would be in for, but oh, how wrong you had been. He was so much bigger than you could have imagined, and your stomach swooped again when you realized he was not going to fit. Anywhere.

Licking away the dryness of your lips, you take him in one of your hands, feeling the heaviness of his length in your palm. He was so long and so, so thick.

“Oh fuck,” Joel hissed the curse through gritted teeth, his hips jerking forward involuntarily as your touch sent a charged jolt of electricity shooting up the length of his spine. He looked down at you, his pupils blown wide with arousal. Christ. You hadn’t even done anything to him yet, but seeing you sitting so prettily at his feet was almost enough to make him come on the spot.

Delicately wrapping your hand around him, you found yourself almost in awe at the way your fingertips barely, just barely, touched. The sheer size of his cock dwarfed your hand, and made it seem so much smaller than it really was.

“You’re so big,” you murmured, echoing your thoughts. You licked at your lips again, suddenly feeling ravenous, an appetite that had seemingly come out of nowhere making you salivate. The tip of him was flushed red, slit already glistening—how badly you wanted, needed a taste. Never, ever, did you think you would be down on your knees for anything but prayer, but there you were, starved and desperate to bite into the forbidden fruit.

“What’re you waitin’ for, darlin’ girl?” he croaked.

“Permission,” you replied, sweetly.

“Go right ahead, baby. S’all yours—I’m all yours.”

Yours.

Yours, yours, yours.

Finding your first push of courage, you leaned forward and so carefully swept your tongue along the tip of his length, collecting the slight saltiness leaking from the slit and getting your first delectable taste. With your hand still wrapped firmly around his base, you looked up, your eyes locked on Joel’s face as you flicked your tongue up against the rigid underside of his cock.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Joel groaned, all of the muscles in his stomach already pulling taut when he felt you dragging your tongue in a slow, purposeful lick along the length of him. “Babygirl.”

“Is that good?” you asked him, sounding hopeful. “Am I doing good?”

“Doin’ so, so fuckin’ good for me, sweetheart. Look so fuckin’ pretty down on your knees for me.”

Pleased, you wrapped your mouth around the head of his length, pressing forward and taking him in as far as you possibly could—which, in all fairness, wasn’t very far. At least not as far as you would have liked. Another groan tore itself from the depths of his chest as your plush, plump lips sealed around him, your tongue warm and wet on the underside of his cock. Moving both of your hands to rest on the sides of his thighs, you began to move your head back and forth, following what felt most natural to you. The nerves you initially felt slowly but surely dissipated, vanishing one by one with every curse, every tremble, every sharp breath.

Joel resisted the urge to buck his hips forward, fought the desire to feel himself at the back of your throat. He needed to be gentle, so careful with such an innocent, pliant thing who had much, much to learn. “Sweet little fuckin’ mouth feels so good around my cock, baby, just like I fuckin’ knew it would. Y’think it can take more of me, little dove? Hm?”

You hummed, the vibration intensifying his pleasure.

“Yeah? Y’trust me?”

Your reply came in the form of a muffled, “Mhm.”

Joel reached down and cradled the back of your head in the palm of his hand. He carefully guided you further onto his throbbing length, slowly feeding you one inch at a time. Your fingers dug into the denim of his jeans. He was much more than a mouthful for you, and you could only take about half of him before he hit the back of your throat, prompting you to gag around him. Drool dribbled out from the corners of your mouth and down the sides your chin, dripping onto your lap.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, that’s it. Little more now, honey,” Joel encouraged. He bucked his hips forward, his head slipping further down your throat. Just when you felt like you were about to choke, he pulled out and you tried your hardest not to cough and sputter as you took in a much needed, precious breath of air. He gave you a few seconds or so to finish catching your breath as he shoved his jeans and boxer briefs further down his legs. He stepped out of the articles of clothing and kicked them somewhere off to the aside, standing before you completely bare. “Open up.”

Your absolute devotion to him bred sweet submission, so as worried as you were that you wouldn’t be able to handle it, you nodded obediently and very willingly did as you were told. 

He guided himself right back into your waiting mouth, pressing deeply. You tried to relax your jaw, reminding yourself to breathe in and out through your nose. Tears streamed down the sides of your face as you did your best to forestall another gag. “Little bit more,” he said, thrusting his hips in a slow, steady controlled rhythm. He advanced even further into your mouth—trusting he wouldn’t suffocate you, nor push you too far past your limits, you opened up wider. He moaned, “Yeah, baby. That’s my good girl. That’s my good fuckin’ girl.”

With a bit of newfound confidence, you hollowed your cheeks and sucked him. You swiped your tongue along the thick, prominent vein on the underside of his cock, earning yourself more of his sweet, sweet praise.

“Fuck, yeah, suck me off, sweetheart. This pretty little mouth was fuckin’ made for sin,” he breathed, guiding your head back and forth with a firm, but gentle hand.

You moaned, the noise muffled around his length. Slick soaked through your panties and coated the insides of your thighs. With another moan, you tightly squeezed your legs together, inwardly reminding yourself that patience was a virtue.

Noticing the way you had shifted, Joel moved his hand from the back of your head, lightly curling his fingers around your jaw. He pulled you off of his cock, a loud, lewd popping sound bouncing off the sage green walls of his bedroom. “C’mere, baby.” He grabbed your arms, effortlessly hoisting you up to your feet.

“What’s wrong?” you questioned him worriedly. “Did I do something wrong?”

Chuckling softly, he brushed a finger along the strap of your dress. You could do no wrong, his perfect, perfect girl. “Of course not, sweet girl. You did so fuckin’ good for me,” Joel reassured you, lightly tracing along your collarbone with his finger and making your flesh erupt in goosebumps. He leaned forward and feathered a kiss onto your lips, murmuring against them, “Are you wet, little dove?”

Before you could even process the query and generate some kind of coherent response, he dove his opposite hand between your thighs, cupping your warm heat in his palm. At this, your weak knees buckled, prompting you to reach out and grab onto his arms to hold steady and keep yourself from falling into a helpless heap on the floor.

“Oh, honey. You’re soaked. That what sucking my cock does to you?” he cooed. He peppered another kiss, this one onto the corner of your mouth. His voice lowered another octave. “Poor little thing. She needs me, don’t she? Needs me to take care of her?”

You whimpered. “Yes.”

“Manners, babygirl,” he reminded you, skimming your cheek with his nose. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, please.”

Humming in approval, Joel withdrew his hand from in between your legs and guided you backwards towards his bed. “Sit,” he commanded gently, bidding you to let go of him. “Arms up.”

Reaching for the hem of your dress, he took great care in pulling it over your head, then discarded the vibrant yellow material over his shoulder, leaving you in nothing but your cowboy boots and thin, cotton white panties. Without a word, he knelt before you and pulled off one boot, and then the other, setting them both aside. He hooked two fingers underneath the elastic waistband of your underwear, coaxing you to lift your bottom off of the bed, just long enough for him to pull them down and slide them down your legs. He was so tender in the manner in which he undressed you.

“Fuckin’ beautiful, beautiful girl,” Joel praised. His dark gaze dragged down the length of your body as you sat before him wearing nothing but the delicate, gold chain around your neck. The holy cross nestled between your supple breasts gleamed in the light of the lamp on the nightstand. He would leave it on until your decision was made, set in stone. “My pretty little dove.”

“Joel.” You whimpered his name, hands curling around fistfuls of his dark blue sheets. You were drenched now, in dire need of some relief. If he didn’t touch you where you needed him most, you would surely lose your mind.

Desperate, you leaned back slightly onto his bed and parted your knees, your folds glistening as you showed him just how badly you needed him.

Joel groaned, almost visibly salivating at the sight. The blazing heat in his eyes sent ripples of desire coursing through your body, straight to your throbbing core.

You opened wider. “Please.”

“Christ, babygirl. Already soakin’ the sheets.” Sliding a finger up along the seam of your pussy, he grazed your clit, the touch light, but somehow still enough to make your hips arch off the mattress as white-hot pinpricks of pleasure danced their way up your spine. He lowered his head and leaned in, your sweet scent drawing him in like a moth to a flame. Just when you were about to start pleading him for more, he dipped his face into the apex of your thighs, his mouth finally, finally, meeting your wet heat.

“Oh!” you gasped, your head falling back. “Fuck!”

Against you, his lips curled upwards into a wicked grin. He’d never heard you curse before, not until now.

Joel took his time devouring you, savoring the essence of your cunt with each broad stroke of his tongue. Sealing his lips around your clit, he flicked the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves over and over again, eliciting from you some of the sweetest noises that he had ever heard in his entire life. In preparation for what you both knew was to come, he pushed one finger inside of you, the invasion causing you to fist his sheets even harder. He then slipped in a second finger, groaning in sheer, carnal bliss at how your walls squeezed them, at the mere thought of them squeezing his cock in the same manner. How was it that you felt so much tighter this time around?

“Oh God.”

You shouldn’t be saying His name. Not like this.

Not when something this sinful was being done to you.

Hungrily, Joel lapped at you, curling both of his fingers in an upwards motion to hit the perfect spot. He knew you were close, felt it in the way that you squirmed and writhed. Draping his arm across your hips, he pinned them down onto the bed, holding you still as he chased your high as if it were his own.

“Joel,” you chanted his name over and over again in a fevered prayer. Releasing the sheets, your hands found his hair, tangling themselves in his curls. Your head fell back, and you cursed at the ceiling of his bedroom. “Fuck, fuck, fuck Joel—”

Pushing onto his mouth, you came, moaning his name so loudly you were certain the whole neighborhood was getting an earful.

Joel pulled back, his beard and mustache slicked with your spend. “S’right, honey,” he crooned, his digits still buried to the knuckle as he helped you to ride out your wave of ecstasy. Eventually, when he pulled them out, you tried closing your shaking legs. He tsked and shook his head, wrenching them open further. “No, no, baby. Keep those pretty thighs open for me. Wanna see her.” He admired his work, his cock twitching at the sight of your pussy, swollen and shining, and ready to take him.

Like earlier, there was another brief skip in time.

Mind still in a haze, you hadn’t even realized that he’d risen to his feet and guided you further up onto his bed, not until you were lying on your back with your head on his pillow and he was hovering over you, his hard length brushing against one of your messy, inner thighs when he settled himself between your legs. 

Your heart began to pound in a mingle of both fear and excitement.

Joel’s eyes met yours. His pupils were blown so wide, there was not one, single trace of brown anywhere to be seen. “Y’absolutely sure about this, little dove?”

Your response came without hesitation. “Yes. I’m sure.”

He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw. Your submission was a gift, and he would cherish every last second of your surrender to him, savor it for as long as he possibly could. His lips, soft and warm, skimmed along the column of your throat, leaving a trail of fresh goosebumps in their wake.

If, by some chance, you decided that you wanted to go back to your father and to your faith, Joel didn’t know how he would find it in himself to let you go, not after this. Of course, he would have to let go, though.

The last thing he wanted was to help free you from one cage just to stick you right back into another. While he was no stranger to loss, he had to admit to himself that to lose you would be a knife to whatever was left of his heart.

Shoving the thought out of his mind, he reached down and gripped the base of his cock, pumping it in his fist before running the leaking head along your puffy lips, coating himself in your wetness with the hope it would ease some of the pain you were bound to feel. “Ready, babygirl?” he asked you, lightly teasing your entrance. “Might hurt a bit. M’gonna go slow. Just need you to relax for me, alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’ve got you,” he promised.

You nodded, saying softly, “I know.”

Though he knew he had all of your trust, Joel could still sense your anxiousness. He reached out for your hand, lacing your fingers together with his own as he gingerly pressed forward and eased himself into you, taking the very innocence you had been taught your entire life to preserve, one slow, careful inch at a time.

“Oh—Joel!” You cried loudly at the initial stretch, your pretty face scrunching in discomfort. Tightly slamming your eyes shut, sparks flew behind your eyelids when he finally bottomed out. The burning sting in between your thighs was too overwhelming, almost impossible to cope with. He felt so enormous within you, you could have sworn he was in your belly. Another broken cry fell from your lips and he swallowed it with a comforting kiss.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed against your lips, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, neck, and chest. He wasn’t sure where he found the strength, but he suppressed his urge to thrust. Instead, he dropped his face into the hollow of your neck and waited, giving you the chance to adjust to him. He mumbled against your skin. “Doin’ so good for me, sweet girl. Y’know that? You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me.”

Even in discomfort, you preened at his praise.

He squeezed your hand, and after a minute, he gave an experimental thrust of his hips—and then another and another before he ceased his movement once again. He was so big and you were so deliciously full of him.

Eventually, the pain subsided, and you found yourself asking, no, begging for more. “Move.” Your other hand found itself cupping the side of his face, coaxing him to lift his head and allowing your gazes to meet. Your soft, plush thighs parted further to help accommodate the breadth of his hips. “Please, Joel. I need you to move—I need you to fuck me.”

Surely, you would be the death of him.

He drew his hips back with cautious, tender care, then advanced in the same manner to fill your precious cunt all over again. He did it over and over, your pleasured moans encouraging him to begin picking up the pace. He drove his cock in and out of your weeping pussy, the slapping of flesh against flesh, the lewd, wet squelch of you around him inspiring him to fuck you harder, faster. And the noises you were making?

There was something oh so beautiful about your cries, sweet raptures of submission as you laid there beneath him, all too graciously taking everything he had to give you like the good, good, good girl you were for him.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart,” Joel rasped. “Look at you—look at the way you take my fuckin’ cock, honey.”

And you did.

Glancing down, your gaze fell between your bodies and you watched in awe, openly marveled at the way Joel slid in and out of your cunt, how he knocked hard so deeply inside of you, driving himself as far as he could possibly go.

“Fuck Joel, I’m gonna—” You tried warning him as the pressure in your belly neared its peak, but you tumbled over the edge before you even had the chance to finish your sentence. Arching up off off the bed, you pressed your chest against his, your fingers squeezing his own so hard you feared you might break them.

“That’s it babygirl, let go,” he grunted, speeding up his thrusts. “Squeeze my fuckin’ cock—just like that. Good girl. My perfect, perfect girl.”

You didn’t quite get the chance to let the praise sink in.

Joel pulled himself out of you, and with ease, he flipped you over onto your belly. His hands gripped your hips and pulled them up off the mattress, his fingers moving to firmly knead the fleshiest part of your ass. He leaned over you, the head of his cock nudging at your hole. “Y’think you can handle a little bit more, sweetheart?” he whispered the question into a tumble of messy hair, the delicate scent of the lavender shampoo you used to wash it filling his senses. “Answer me, little dove.”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly with a nod. “I can.”

With a satisfied hum, Joel sank into you, this second stretch not quite as overwhelming at the first, but still intense. “Relax,” he murmured, hunching further over your quivering back. He pressed a kiss onto the top of your head and then leaned down to brace his hands on either side of you. “Need you to be sweet for me just a bit longer, okay, baby?”

“God,” you whimpered when the heaviness of his balls came to rest on your sensitive clit.

It was the second time you’d uttered His name.

Joel almost grinned at the irony. He found his rhythm, groaning in gut-deep satisfaction with each snap of his hips—each smooth stroke in and each smooth stroke out.

“Oh fuck, sweet girl.” Heaven was indeed a real place, and Joel Miller was buried in it to the hilt, right at this very moment.

He was getting closer and closer.

Maybe it was your eagerness to help him reach his own release mingled with the pride you knew you would feel once you did that gave you a second wind, a fresh, new burst of energy. You planted your hands firmly on his pillow. Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you curved your spine and pushed back onto Joel with purpose, meeting his thrusts halfway as you rode his aching length to the satiation that waited for him at the end.

“There’s my girl,” he rasped. “Oh fuckin’ Christ—”

No way he could live his life without you now.

He needed you.

He needed you so much more than you needed him.

Joel slipped an arm around your shoulders, across your chest.

“Oh!” you gasped as he then yanked you back, pulling you flush against him. The rough crash of your back against his chest, combined with the angle in which he was fucking you knocked the wind out of your lungs.

His lips were at the shell of your ear. “Stay,” he panted, his breath hot against your cheekbone. He wrapped his other hand lightly around your throat. Relentless, were his hips now—his movements had become frantic. Desperate. “Stay with me, baby.”

Even as you fought to catch your breath in the position he had you in, you picked up on the fact that he wasn’t asking you of it, nor was he demanding you of it.

He was begging you.

Him, the most feared man in this town. Begging you?

“Joel,” you choked.

“Please, my little dove,” he pleaded, turning your head towards him. His mouth was then on the corner of your own, his beard roughly scratching the soft and delicate flesh of your cheek. “I need you, babygirl. Stay with me. Please, just fuckin’ stay with me.”

Your hands curled around his wrists. “Yes, I’ll stay,” you moaned. “I’m yours, Joel. I’m all yours. I—I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I’ll stay with you.”

A low, guttural sound rumbled through his chest. Joel firmly took hold of your cross, and without so much as a warning, he ripped the chain from around your neck and tossed it somewhere over his shoulder. He heard it land on the hardwood floor with the tiniest, faint clink the moment he spilled into you, ropes of warm release coating your fluttering walls. Curses and groans spilled from his lips and into your neck. Your cunt clutched at his pulsing cock, greedy for every last drop of his spend she could get.  

Once you were filled, you both collapsed beside each other on the bed, heaving to catch a steady breath.

“Y’okay, sweetheart?” Joel managed to ask, his chest still rising and falling rapidly.

Exhausted, all you could do was nod and utter, “Mhm.”

He exhaled an amused huff through his nose. “C’mere.” He reached for you and pulled you against his side. He draped an arm around your shoulders, holding you as close to him as was possible. “Y’did so good, honey.”

Your mouth curled into a small, contented smile.

Several minutes had passed by, and despite telling him that you were too tired to even think about moving, Joel made you get up and use the bathroom, and while you did so, he ran a clean washcloth under warm water. “Here, darlin’. Let me clean you up,” he’d said, his lips meeting your forehead in a loving token of affection before he sank down onto one knee and ran the damp cloth along the insides of your thighs. He took extreme care when he wiped at your swollen folds, knowing you were still sensitive to the touch. “There we go. All done, now.”

Not long after, you were both back in his bed, wrapped up in his sheets.

Yawning, you nuzzled into bare his chest, your eyelids feeling heavier and heavier with each and every second that ticked by. You’d started drifting off when you heard his voice.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?” you answered sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Did you mean what you said?”

“Mean what, Joel?”

There was a brief pause. “Y’know, when you said you’d stay with me.”

Snuggling closer to him, you mumbled, “Mhm. Of course I did.”

“S’not gonna be easy,” Joel murmured into your hair.

“I know.” You yawned. “But I have you.”

“You do. You’ve got me—and I’ve got you, babygirl.”

“Mm. I know that too, Joel.”

You felt him kiss the top of your head and then fell fast asleep in his arms.

The sun bloomed over the Grand Tetons.

Your father would wake soon, that’s to say if he wasn’t up already.

The nerves began to set in.

Joel must have sensed it. “Breathe, baby. S’gonna be okay,” he soothed, squeezing your hand.

With one of his warmer, heavier jackets that normally didn’t see the light of day until winter season draped around your shoulders, the two of you made your way down the road and towards your house. Or better said, towards your father’s house. Because after what you were about to do, that yellow and white cottage would no longer be a place you could call home.

He led you up to the porch. “Y’sure you don’t want me to go in there with you?” he asked, quietly.

You could have laughed. You almost did.

“Do you believe that to be a wise choice?”

“No, I reckon it ain’t the best idea,” Joel admitted with a sigh, raking his free hand through his unkempt, salt and pepper hair. He looked up at the house, then back at you. “Look, little dove. No matter what happens in there, just know that everythin’ will be alright. M’gonna take care of you. For the rest of my life, I’ll take care of you. I’ll try my hardest to be everythin’ you need.”

“You already are, Joel,” you said, your gaze earnest.

His chest swelled with warmth.

Truth be told, Joel didn’t know how he had managed to defy the odds—how he, of all people, had managed to make his way into that sweet, innocent, beautiful little heart of yours, but somehow he did, and he would not take this responsibility lightly.

He brushed your lips with his and promised, “Gonna be waitin’ right here, okay?”

“Okay.” Inhaling deeply, you willed yourself to let go of his hand and took a step back. You then started up the porch steps on wobbling legs. When you made it to the top, you glanced over your shoulder at Joel, who gave you a subtle nod of encouragement. Exhaling slowly, you reached for the knob with trembling fingers and turned it, opening the door. You stepped inside, your heart dropping into your stomach when you saw your father sitting there at the foot of the staircase, as if he’d been waiting for you. He had been waiting for you. Fully dressed, he sat on the second to last step with both hands folded on his bible in his lap, a rosary clutched between them. “Papa?”

He said nothing. Instead, he silently observed you—his eyes glazed over the men’s jacket and the short dress you were underneath it, the disheveled, loose hair and kiss swollen lips. Your holy cross nowhere to be seen.

“Papa.” You swallowed harshly and shifted your weight anxiously from the heel of one boot to the other. “We, um—we really need to have a talk.”

He peered around you, catching a brief glimpse of the man standing outside, waiting for you at the foot of the porch.

He cleared his throat, lightly. “Yes, child. I suppose that we do.”

Nodding tightly, you turned around and slowly closed the door. Joel’s words rang in your mind over and over, giving you the push of strength you knew you would need.

I’ve got you.

divider credit goes to @saradika 🤍

#fic: fall into temptation #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller angst #the last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #post outbreak joel

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | i.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Your hands quake around the bucket of mice as you stand above the terrarium. The bright-skinned creatures inside writhe around, in anticipation of their next meal. You peer inside the metal bucket at the little mice with their cute whiskers and beady eyes. Your heart twinges. They will soon meet their end, courtesy of you. But what else can be done? The snakes need to eat. Because if they were not fed, the colorful reptiles would break through the glass in search of the food they were denied. You used to have nightmares of it as a child. The lab crawling with snakes, their neon scales filling every corner.

Natural order restored as every warm-blooded creature in their vicinity turns into prey. 

You suppress a shudder. While that never happened, you can’t erase the slight chill dancing through your bones whenever you approach the terrarium. 

Other lab assistants have offered to take on the task, noting your discomfort. You’ve turned each of them down. Mother has given you this job ten years ago. A gift, she called it. More of a challenge quite frankly. A way to test your nerves, that she always deemed too delicate. She never expected you to go through with it. “Hippity, hoppity, little one,” she mockingly sang that day as you fidgeted before the ceiling-high glass case filled with snakes to the brim. Their scales were a deep green back then. Nothing like the pink, yellow and blue shades they don today. A plethora of mutations throughout the years has made them what they are now.

You tip the bucket against the edge of the glass case, abandoning the poor rodents to their fates. The reptiles are quick to dive upon them in a heap. The mice’s helpless squeaks reach a peak, piercing your ears until they’re silenced quickly. You watch, stomach tight while the snakes open their maws and swallow the furred animals whole. The spectacle will never sit well with you.

Still, you school your features and steady your heart. Mother’s voice echoes through your head.

Emotions are a weakness. They must be harnessed, contained.

Harnessing your emotions. A feat you could never achieve. One that makes you a failed experiment in Mother’s eyes. A waste of space. A disappointment.

You start climbing down the ladder to gather more mice from their cages. Your insides clutch at the prospect of gently picking them up only to escort them to a sorrowful fate.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted when voices erupt from the other end of the long hall. 

Recognizing them, you freeze. Panic floods your veins. You haste down the ladder, the bucket clattering as you discard it on the floor. 

You scurry inside the nearest office and duck beneath a table.

The voices grow in the lab. You eavesdrop, allowing you to catch snippets of the conversation. They’re discussing Mother’s latest experiments with the Avox subjects. One succumbed to a chromosome translocation with a wolf mutt. The finer details of replacing the subject and what can be learned from the results are discussed in cold, clinical fashion. No regard for what was a human life, now lost, is granted. The Avox was nothing more than a slab of meat meant for slaughter. The slow, barbaric kind.

Ice seeps through your veins. You loathe visiting that room, the one displaying Mother’s human experiments on unfortunate Avoxes. Their beseeching gazes. Their warped pleas parroted by the jabberjays above them. You almost passed out every time you were tasked with monitoring their electrolyte status or switching their intravenous tubes.

Head rising from under the desk, you allow yourself a peek. 

Mother’s here, of course. You recognized her voice right away. Then, there’s…him.

You let your gaze rest on him, never having the chance to observe him like that. Steal a glance from the back of the lecture hall. Get a glimpse of him amidst his crowd of friends, always in his element of course, owning every room he’s in.

Never before did you get to just look at him.

The first thing that strikes you is how beautiful he is. Handsome in that dazzling way the pretty boys in the sappy books smuggled from the Districts your mother berates you for reading are.

She calls them stupid. For you however, they are your only escape from the dismal humdrum of the Capitol. Fictional worlds that shield you from the harshness of reality. Your saving grace.

Platinum locks combed back from his face. Eyes as blue as the sky. Sharp, angular features.

Coriolanus Snow.

Behind the safety of the glass panel, openly admiring him is easier. In fact, you find it almost hard to peel your eyes away.

No wonder half the girls in your cohort can’t stop gushing about him, how there’s an irresistible, slight air of danger hovering around him since his brief time as a peacekeeper. Even Io Jasper noticed it. And Io never notices anything that she can’t wedge between two glass slides and examine under a microscope.

Awe mingles with envy in your chest. This is who your mother chose as her unofficial successor. The worthy, cool-headed apprentice she has yearned for years. She’s been through so many people, each more eager to please and impress than the last. None ever fit. Not even you. Especially not you. Nobody except for him.

No one had ever passed your mother’s crooked tests before Coriolanus Snow came along.

Blue eyes travel upward, the Snow heir seeming to sense the scrutiny upon him.

“Is someone here?” he says, pushing forward.

Your pulse quickens at the sound of Coriolanus Snow’s deep voice, disturbingly close. You crouch to hide from view.

Mother’s exasperated breath reaches you from behind the glass panel.

“Don’t worry. It’s probably my daughter. I’m afraid she’s quite useless,” she says matter-of-factly.

Your heart sinks. Face warm with embarrassment, you shrink beneath the desk. You bring your knees to your chest. Hearing such words shouldn’t affect you. Not after all these years. Yet it does. A pointed reminder that you can never measure up. That you’re a glaring mistake, lucky to even be allowed to wander the halls of the Citadel and be given a semblance of responsibility, however small.

That you’re not enough, will never be enough.

That you should never have been brought into the world.

After getting caught, you file away your embarrassment and make yourself small. Even smaller than usual. It's not too hard. When you aren’t working at the lab, your schedule consists of attending lectures and studying for long hours at the library. It keeps you busy enough to find excuses to skip a few hours at the lab. After all, midterms are only a few weeks away. They require your entire focus. You can’t fail and add more of a shameful stain to Mother’s name.

It’s why you ramped up your studying since the Academy. You were painfully average then, tragically unremarkable, not even ranking high enough to get your own tribute to mentor in the tenth Hunger Games. The shriveling stare she cast upon you the day of the reaping after Dean Highbottom failed to speak your name is burned into your mind forever. That day, you failed Mother again. You swore to yourself to never let it happen again afterwards.

This year, you will study harder, until your eyes fall off if necessary. If you can pass every class with flying colors and perhaps even aim for the valedictorian spot, you can prove Mother that your existence isn’t a complete and utter waste. It might be a lofty goal for you, but you’ve been ranking higher with every test these last few weeks.

For days, your path does not cross Coriolanus Snow’s again. Your peace is maintained. You get to almost forget how piercing his blue eyes were that day, even from behind the glass panel.

Today, you don’t expect things to veer away from your usual routine. You sit in the back of the lecture hall as is your habit. Students pour inside at a sluggish pace while you peruse your notes from the previous class. They barely make sense, even to you. Defense economics has never been your favorite subject, possibly your most hated in fact, and paying attention during Professor Cloudsbane’s class is even more of a challenge. More than once, you dozed off, the complicated concepts struggling to fully sink into your mind.

Keeping up with this class is twice as much work than all the other ones. Even Mother’s bioengineering and military strategy courses do not give you so much grief. Concepts she’s drilled into you since childhood are easier to digest.

Which is why you’re flabbergasted when the results of last week’s test are passed around and you receive yours. In disbelief, you blink at the paper multiple times.

It’s the highest grade you’ve gotten the entire semester. Possibly the highest one in the class. You bask in the private, secret victory. You’re always so behind. You plan on enjoying that tiny moment. You hug the test to your chest, a smile creeping upon your lips.

“So what score did you get?”

Your head whips up, the sudden voice startling you out of your thoughts.

Bright cobalt orbs fill your sight.

You gape in disbelief. Coriolanus Snow.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize he and his group of friends have elected to occupy the seats in the row before yours today. You’re stunned. They’re usually sitting somewhere in the middle of the hall, not quite at the front but close enough so that Clemensia can comfortably harass the professor with a ceaseless string of questions as she’s known to do.

“So?” he asks again. His eyes dart down. “Your grade?”

Your throat knots as you gawk at him. When you don’t reply, he huffs out a laugh and swipes the piece of paper from your hand. You’re too flabbergasted by his actions to even react.

Empty hands hanging before you, you watch him purse his lips as he inspects your paper.

“Hm, top grade. Figured.” His eyes twinkle. “Expected from Dr. Gaul’s daughter, I suppose.”

“You almost had it, Coryo. But she beat you,” Clemensia teases, wiggling her eyebrows. Meanwhile, Ivy Briarose, Clemensia’s close friend, giggles at her comment. 

You steal a glance at his test; he’s holding it next to yours. Surprise surges through you. There’s only half a point between your grade and his. Just half a point…but still. Coriolanus always aces Professor Cloudsbane’s tests. Him getting the top grade is often expected. But this time, the Snow heir falls behind…you. 

You can hardly believe it. A sliver of pride flutters through you. The fruits of your labor are beginning to show.

“If you don’t watch out, she’ll steal the top student spot from you,” Livia chimes in. You can tell the blonde is reveling in this, that strange animosity between her and Coriolanus on full display.

Coriolanus’ jaw ticks, his tight-lipped smile unfaltering as he studies you.

“I suppose she could,” he utters softly. Despite his tranquil expression and the smile pulling his lips, a peculiar unease settles in your bones. You shift in your chair, goosebumps blooming across your flesh.

He hands you your test back without a word. You’re relieved when he turns and the class starts. 

Still, even with his back turned, the weight of his sizzling scrutiny doesn’t part from your skin. 

The class proceeds, the words pouring from your professor’s lips a befuddling heap in your ears as usual. You jot everything down, acutely aware you’ll need several hours if not more than that to decipher everything he said. Your mind already throbs at the prospect. 

You sneak a glance at the row in front of you. It’s mostly filled with the top students, most of them mentors that last year at the Academy. Some of them aren’t even taking notes. Only Coriolanus sporadically does. He appears to have no issue keeping up with this class, unlike you who drowned in the first few minutes.

You’re relieved when the lecture reaches its end. Your mind is on the cusp of overflow. You desperately need a break. 

You pick up your things and rush to the exit. In the hallway, some guy bumps into you from behind, sending the books in your arms flying across the floor. He doesn’t say anything to you and you bend to pick up your books. Tears press behind your eyes. This is nothing. It shouldn’t make you blink back tears. It’s not the first time someone’s treated you like you were invisible. 

“Hey, apologize.” 

Your eyes drift skyward. Stumped, you watch Coriolanus grip the boy who bumped into you by his shoulder. 

“What?” the guy replies, confusion scrunching his features. 

“You bumped into her. I said ‘apologize’,” Coriolanus articulates, as if he were addressing a particularly slow child. When the guy tries to leave, rolling his eyes, the blond squeezes him tighter. Tension flickers in the air. They trade looks and doubts creep on the guy’s face, his face blanching. 

He clears his throat and whirls to you.

“Sorry,” he blurts out.

You shake your head. “It’s fine.”

He turns, likely hoping to leave again, but Coriolanus tuts him, pointing at your books, still scattered across the floor.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he says, arching his brow.

The guy unleashes a sigh but hunkers down to collect all of your books. He gives them to you in a neat pile as you stare at the spectacle, mouth agape.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

He nods and saunters off, avoiding Coriolanus’ eyes.

Coriolanus grabs your hand, helping you to your feet. The pads of his fingers are rougher than you expect, calluses pressing against your soft skin. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you rise. 

You’re not sure what to say, your nerves flaring beneath his stare. But you suppose you should thank him. While you struggle standing up for yourself, he just did it for you. So you mumble the words under your breath and begin heading in the opposite direction.

With his long legs, Coriolanus easily keeps up with your hasty strides. Your heart skips a beat as he falls in step with you.

“I feel strange asking this but…” He leans above your shoulder to whisper, “Are you avoiding me?”

“I-I’m not,” you stammer, your pulse racing with the lie.

The blond chuckles.

“You’re walking awfully fast for someone who’s not avoiding me.”

“I’m just running late to my next class.”

“What about your mom’s lab?” he challenges. “You were hiding from me, weren’t you?”

Your lips tighten. If only he’d drop it. You don’t want to revisit that awkward moment. Everything about it makes your stomach ache.

“I…wasn’t,” you lie, your voice barely above a breath. Your face warms as a smile plays upon Coriolanus’ lips. You halt in your tracks, hugging your books against your chest as you pivot to him. You bashfully meet his gaze. “I was just a little spooked.”

He tilts his head, mirth swimming in his cobalt orbs.

“Spooked? By me? Do I scare you, angel?”

The pet name, uttered like a caress, sets your heart aflutter.

“No,” you mutter. Another lie. And it’s like he’s picked up on it, his soft, pink lips stretching even more.

“It wasn’t nice what she said,” he says abruptly.

You blink in confusion.

“I’m sorry?”

“Dr. Gaul, about you. It wasn’t nice.”

You shrug. “I’m used to it. It’s fine.”

He approaches you. The scent of his pricey cologne engulfs your senses. It’s masculine but the faint scent of roses lingers underneath, as if stubbornly clinging to him.

His voice lowers, his gaze entrapping yours. 

“It’s not fine. You work so hard to make her see you. You’re a good daughter.” You don’t realize his hand’s moved to your face until one of his fingers traces the curve of your cheek. Your heart races at the sudden touch. Coriolanus’ thumb drags down to your chin, his attention landing on your bottom lip. He smiles. “Hard work should be praised, rewarded even.”

Disarmed by his closeness and the strange words rolling off his tongue, you retreat.

You readjust the books between your arms.

“I s-should go. My next class is about to start.”

His words interrupt you.

“Hey, why don’t you have lunch with me and the others today?”

Your stomach clutches. You think about Coriolanus’ usual crowd, a bunch of kids from wealthy, influential families, popular and revered. Clemensia Dovecote. Livia Cardew. Ivy Briarose. Hilarius Heavensbee. Festus Creed. Most of them now hold the admiration of their peers for having survived the chaos the Tenth Hunger Games were.

You’d never fit in with them. In fact, you never did. Coriolanus must know that. Is he trying to punish you for eavesdropping on his conversation with your mother the other day? 

“I-I never talked to any of them,” you answer, panic swelling in your gut.

His brows crumple. “If you don’t talk to anyone, you’ll never make friends.”

“That’s okay. I don’t need friends,” you retaliate.

“It’s always useful, having friends,” he rasps. “The right connections, they can get you far.”

You anxiously roll your bottom lip between your teeth.

“I’m not good at…making conversation.”

“We’re having a conversation now,” he says, laughing.

As you mull over what he just said, a small smile tugs your lips.

“I guess we are.”

His gaze sharpens. “That’s a pretty smile. I’d love to see it more often.”

His low, soft voice sends chills through your spine.

Coriolanus’ long lashes droop as he gauges your expression.

“I’d be disappointed if I didn't see your face, angel.”

You fidget, your eyes sinking to the floor before rising to meet his again.

“I don’t know if that’s okay… for me to show up like that.”

“I’m inviting you, so of course it’s okay.”

He speaks like it’s a given, like whatever he says goes. His confidence unsettles you. 

You fall quiet, weighing your options. There’s something in Coriolanus’ silky voice that makes it hard to say no, but you’d hate being the unwanted guest at the popular kids’ table. 

Still, the expectation on his face makes you not want to let him down. 

“I’m not hearing a yes.”

“Y-Yes,” you stutter belatedly. 

A broad smile spreads on his handsome face.

“Perfect. See you at lunch then, angel.”

As he strolls away, your feet remain glued to the floor, your mind lingering in disbelief of what just occurred. 

#coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #tbosas fanfiction #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

[yanderehsr]

How would yandere Childe, blade, zhongli and Jingyuan punish their darling who repeatedly tried to escape and succeeded once?

Poor little Y/N😔

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapped reader, Violence

Childe: While yes, he does live for the thrill of a good fight and a good chase, he doesn't want that with you. He's wants a domestic life with you where both of you can live happy, the only problem is that he gets jealous easely and chose to kidnap you.

So believe me when I say that Childe does not enjoy having to catch you, when he noticed that you actually managed to escape, he couldn't have ran faster, he never stops running until he sees you again, no matter how many he needs to kill and no matter how many villages is set on fire, he will find you. And when he does he will hug you and apologize.

Why is Childe apologizing? He is just sad that he had to break both of your legs, he didn't want to but he can't have you leaving him again.

"I'm sorry, but this was the best solution, now let me carry you home"

Blade: Oh he is pissed, you are his and you attempt to escape, he can't have that now can he. Just attempted escape is already punished quite harshly with starvation and if you succeeded in escaping then he might have to do something drastic.

It won't take Blade long to hunt you down and when he does catch you he will drag you back home, he will make sure that you can't ever run away again. He is sure you will look just as lovely without your legs.

"Just as I thought, even without them you look just as lovely, now have you learned your lesson"

Zhongli: He gets why you would try to run and he is calm every time, you are not in a relationship and because of his greed he took you, so he doesn't punish you really, that was until he came home to find that you were gone, not trying to escape but gone.

Zhongli may have never panicked as much as he is now, he is out of the door and searching every corner of Liyue until he gets you back and when he does he is as forgiving as always, well he may have chained you down this time, you can never be too cautious.

"I know that you don't like me, but I am sure you will find life much better if you did"

Jing Yuan: Oh how cute you are when you try and run away, as long as you don't succeed he won't punish you, he just finds it adorable, but if you actually escaped, well that is a different story.

There is nowhere you can run from Jing Yuan, it would be a miracle if you even get away from the Luofu, so you can be sure that he will get you back, his punishment is simple. He will place you in a closet, somewhere small where you will feel claustrophobic, you will not be allowed any outside contact not even from Jing Yuan.

And when he can hear you crying, begging to be let out, that you will never try again and that you will accept all his affections, only then will he let you out.

"I am so glad that you won't try again, now how about a hug, I have missed having you in my arms"

#yandere #yandere honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere male #yandere childe #yandere childe x reader #yandere blade #yandere blade x reader #yandere zhongli #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere jing yuan #yandere jing yuan x reader

[comfortless]

Priest!König and succubus!reader perhaps 👀? (Unless you're uncomfortable)

cracking my knuckles… sin??

18+. minors do not interact. this is a little shameless. corruption kink, religion, implied virgin!König, cunnilingus, come eating, a little angst.

It’s rare to find a parishioner in the confessional this late; the church’s doors were always open, their opening and shutting is not what had König stirring from a restless sleep, but the creaking of the old hinges in that little booth certainly had. The priest hurriedly dresses himself in his cassock and makes his way to the opposite end, closing the door behind him as he wearily drags himself to his seat.

“Father,” the voice greets on the other side, so soft and quiet he can hardly hear her at all. Shy, almost. The woman on the other side seems to shift, her movement rustling against the boards of wood that separate them.

“Bless me… I have never made a confession before.”

Not a parishioner, then. A stranger coming under the veil of night… König allows a silence to settle over the confessional for a moment before he produces the holy text and sets it in his lap in preparation to free this poor woman from the sin that binds her.

“Go on then, child,” he encourages, tone mirroring her own. The priest anticipates the usual: admissions of lust, falsehoods, or the common doubts. He has pages dog-eared in his book that list of scriptures for those common problems, the ones he would easily find the words to pray for, to cleanse her soul, to hopefully return to his bed to sleep before morning prayers.

There’s laughter from the other side of the booth, muffled as though an attempt to stifle it beneath her palm had been made. Then, “Father, what if I do not wish to be absolved?”

There had been no preparations made for that, but something in the tone of her voice holds his attention. His side of the booth regains its silence as his brow pinches, determined to piece together some reasoning as to why someone would choose to play some dull prank on him of all people…

“Let me see you.”

Her demand catches him off guard again, but of all things this is hardly strange. Her tone suggests nervousness, a feeling he knows all too well as he wrings his hands and rises with a heavy sigh. The door shuts quietly behind him as he waits for the woman to follow suit. A soft rustling follows his leaving from her side, and when she does step out…

No amount of internal Hail Marys could keep his stare from lingering upon the sight of a woman nude: it isn’t that he hasn’t fantasized before, he would take his lashes and fastings and sit in the quiet of his room to comfort himself with prayer after a weak defeat to his own sins. Still… imagination could not compare to the real thing; he takes note of each soft curve, each dip and line and groove of her. Her breasts are soft, her hips enticing, the length of her legs and what lies between her thighs…

He damns himself the moment his cock twitches to life below the cassock, there’s no slow tensing; only the immediate feeling of feeling horribly confined within his own clothes. He breathes out a drawn out sigh, feigning disinterest when his eyes squeeze shut and he turns his head from her.

“… You need to leave.”

The woman’s lips purse in a small pout when he does will himself to meet her eyes again- just her eyes. No part of him wishes to lose his place in heaven, let alone take advantage of some poor lady who clearly must have lost—

“But you are so lonely… I only want to help,” she whispers, her eyes are wet and pleading, expression only further softening as she gazes up at him with an adoration he hasn’t even seen on his flock.

And those words… something shatters in him, breaks into a thousand tiny pieces when he recounts all of those miserable nights lying in bed alone, imagining a woman as he pulled his cock free and gave himself so many weak, dull orgasms that the skin of it began to sting. If God could forgive him for his weakness then… surely, just once he could allow this.

König sighs again when her hands move to free him of the cassock, but he does not take her wrist to stop her. Even with each hesitant motion, he doesn’t take her wrists into his hands or push her away. He lets her strip him bare, lets her see the way his cock drools at the sight of her and his breath seems to stutter in his chest.

“See? It’s alright,” she coos as she takes his face into her gentle hands. There’s Hell in her eyes, the devil on a forked tongue, but he allows her to guide his face downward, to bring his mouth to her tit, and he feasts upon her. To have his last supper be forbidden fruit… all of the metaphors buzz in his head when his tongue begins to circle her nipple, then the other without her even needing to prompt him.

He could not even begin to describe the sounds she made, like the softest of voices amidst the roaring of a choir in his head, Hell’s wailing and Heaven’s chiming all at once as he licks his way down her sternum, her middle and finds his nose pressed to her mound. Nothing in Heaven could have tasted as sweet as her, no amount of lashing could pull the same shudder from him as he feels course through each knob of his spine when his tongue lathes over her slit, up to the hood of her clit and back.

The sounds of her pleasure only increase further when his grip on her thighs forces her to kneel. He maneuvers her onto her hands and knees to lick her properly, eat her out in ways he had only imagined himself doing before as he grips his weeping manhood in one hand and grips her ass with the other. His tongue sweeps over her in repetition— sloppy, clumsy even as he tries to keep himself from spilling into his palm from her taste and the sight alone.

He gets… curious, flicks his tongue over her other hole too and his fingers move to graze over her clit. She encourages him with soft squeals of pure delight, even draws her hand back to touch herself while he spears his tongue in her hole. If it’s only once, he would be sure to make the most of it.

Lust is not his only sin, because pride wells up deep inside of him the moment she orgasms. He smiles, grins, before he buries his tongue back into her leaking cunt, desperate to consume her, lapping inside, around, over her her until she shivers and whines, saying that it’s far too much.

He doesn’t know how to fuck her properly, admits it sheepishly when she lies back on the floor intent to have her take him in some gentle manner, sweet for her sweet priest. Missionary of all things seemed most blasphemous considering where they are, beneath a holy roof.

So, she opts to climb into his lap, seats herself on his cock in one go. He knows he’s well-endowed, thick and lengthy, and he babbles his concerns about breaking her in a weak string of words. Her cunt is too tight, he feels the way she stretches to accommodate him, each ridge of her walls when she squeezes him… The woman only tosses her head back and laughs, digs her nails into his shoulders as she bounces on his cock with such an easy grace he can’t watch— can’t because he already feels himself beginning to tense, feels the blinding heat spread from the pit of his stomach to pull his balls taut.

He swears he sees the angels right before she pulls off of him, leaves him a trembling, aching mess where the wetness of her own arousal has spilled down to his thighs.

“I want you to pray,” she suggests, sweetly peppering his face in the most chaste of kisses. “Pray you get to finish in me.”

She wants to ruin him, wants drag him down to Hell with her. There are no protests when she bends over to present herself to him; the priest does as she asks in a whisper, pleads for her and when it’s done, his reward in in the form of two words “good boy” and her tight, pulsing heat wrapped around him again.

He doesn’t last long, doesn’t even try to anymore for fear she may decide to leave him high and dry entirely. He ruts into her with a grip on the back of her neck and the plushness of her hip, leans his weight entirely over her as the sounds of impact fill the hollow church. God isn’t watching, but the little succubus below him is so appeased and her favor is all he can care for anymore.

When he comes, he fucks her through it, doesn’t even attempt to slow down as he whines into her ear about how good she feels, how they could get married, have this forever and he will show her the light. Fuck, he would leave the church behind entirely for her if she would just let him feel this every night. His thrusts only slow when he grows soft, when he can’t even keep himself inside of her cunt, slippery with his own seed.

She lies back, spreads her legs and lets him see what he’s done, fingers herself and presses his own come to his lips. She tells him he’s fed her better than anyone else, tells him to have a taste too and he does. He laps at her fingers as desperately as he had her pussy, until she pulls away, wipes his saliva onto her thigh and asks him if he’s ready to sleep.

The bed feels so much warmer with another person present, safer somehow even if he’s never felt himself in any danger… not here. He falls asleep in her embrace, the most blissful sleep he’s ever had. It’s only a shame that he had… because when he wakes in the morning the woman is gone. He misses his prayers searching for her, for even a trace of what occurred between them. There’s no stain on the floor or clothing in the confessional… not even a note to suggest she would return.

He goes back to his sad masturbation sessions, doesn’t even repent for the way he wanders into the confessional after service to fuck his fist and imagine her voice calling to him from the other side. He pictures her body beneath him, thinks of her praise and the way she damned him when he shoots spurts of wasted come against the boards. There’s no love, no woman at his side when he returns to his bed at night, but he has his imagination for that too.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #do not look at me

[withloveajaxx]

so baby let's keep this secret

𓂅 genre: modern! childe, scara, al haitham, xiao x gn! reader

𓂅 warnings: hints of making out in scara's part + childe's part is a hint of suggestive teasing

𓂅 summary: secret relationship with the genshin boys

𓂅 note: this is my first time writing for scara and haitham so,,, apologies if i mischaracterize them or they seem out of character :"D comments on their characterization are greatly appreciated ^^ but yea, that's it hehe, hope u enjoy this fic n have a wonderful day!!

CHILDE

tbf a secret relationship with childe isn't a secret to anyone at all because mans is whipped for you, but we gotta give him some credit for holding himself back from kissing you 24/7.

a "secret" relationship with this man is basically minimalized pda with a huge amount of teasing.

he absolutely loves to be the sole reason why your cheeks get red and you get all flustered in public.

when people ask you what's wrong and you can barely get out a blatant lie, childe already has a smug, yet somehow charming smirk on his face.

he's not good at hiding how whipped he is, but he does surprisingly well hiding his touches from the general eye of the public.

like whenever he's in a restaurant with you, he always makes it a point to sit beside you. he is never sitting anywhere else.

secondly, his hand is always on your thigh or fiddling with your fingers beneath the table. he simply cannot resist touching you in any way.

and finally, if he's being a little bitch… he'll slyly sneak an arm around your waist, squeezing it gently. i can bet my life he's lifting your shirt up slightly to rub your exposed skin to get you all bothered.

he's absolutely ravishing you when you get home though. spoiling you with kisses, cuddles, and anything you ask from him <3

ngl, with how touchy feely he is, i don't think people are gonna take that long to figure out what's going on between you two. the "secret" relationship is unfortunately a 5/10 in terms of success.

SCARAMOUCHE

you cannot tell me this man wouldn't take your relationship to his grave. 10/10 in this secret relationship 💀

unlike childe, he can keep his eyes and his hands off of you in public. he has a lot of self control and no amount of your teasing is going to get him to expose you guys (unless you pull out the tears or some begging then maybe). but like childe… he is absolutely obsessed with you when yall have a little private time.

this is where it gets spicy but i can just imagine scaramouche just reaching his limit from holding himself back from you after a long day, and he's just ready to break when you two are behind closed doors.

after all, he is a man of little patience isn't he? when you two get to his place after a long day, he doesn't even wait for a split second until his lips are slotting themselves against yours for a heated kiss.

he has you pinned against the wall beside the door, one elbow beside your head while the other slides down to rest on your hips.

when he parts the fairly passionate kiss his lips are still hovering dangerously close to yours. he doesn't even take that long to catch his breath, diving in for another kiss until he hears abrupt knocks at his door, and a voice he knows distinctly belonging to childe.

cursing under his breath, he holds a hand over your mouth, making sure you're hidden from the direct line of sight of the door before opening it to reveal the ginger headed man.

"make it quick, dimwit. i was in the middle of doing something," scara hisses venemously, eyes narrowing at childe. poor childe chuckles in nervouseness, scratching the back of his neck. "is that so? sorry, didn't know, maybe i'll come back later."

"yeah, whatever. just scram." and with that, the door is slammed closed and sacra's undivided attention is back on you again.

"c'mon," is all he says, taking your hand in his before leading you to a more secluded space in his apartment where no one and nothing can interrupt him from having his time with you.

ALHAITHAM

i think he'd be pretty good at keeping things lowkey. he acts the same towards everyone with some exceptions to you, so i'd say 10/10.

definitely not touchy in public (nor in private to be honest), but he's definitely into the little moments.

little moments like making eye contact from across the room and sending you the slightest hints of a smile.

or even grazing your pinkies together when your walking side-by-side in thr middle of the campus hallways.

there are bits of physical affection here and there, but the main thing that gives this man away is the quality time and acts of services that he does towards you.

hatiham doesn't spend nearly as much time with others as he does with you. you're always with him whether it be in the library studying, in a coffee shop while he reads a book, or in museums looking around and scuptures and paintings.

it's especially in crowded places like museums and coffee shops where he does small actions of adoration and affection.

like when you guys go on study or book dates, you'll feel his eyes on you when you're trying to write something down or read something.

when you look at him to ask you what's wrong, he's simply staring at you with a soft expression that screams nothing but admiration and love. it's quite endearing really, to see his ears turn the lightest shade of pink afterwards.

"do you need something, haitham?" you ask, the smile he loves so much gracing your features. he gently shakes his head, reaching his hand out on the table to take yours, "no. nothing. i was just admiring you, is all."

XIAO

there's a constant redness of his usually pale cheeks is a dead giveaway to your relationship, and he's pretty protective too so i'd say a 6/10.

whenever you catch xiao staring at you, his cheeks and the tips of his ears immediately burn red, and he whips his head around so fast.

people always notice and his friends always tease him for it, but he can't help such a reaction when what he thinks is the most stunning person is looking right at him.

or whenever he looks around the room to search for you only to find that you're already looking at him… his cheeks are literally on fire.

the adorable glow on his cheeks isn't the only sign he gives though. mind you, this man is very protective over you.

he wants to make sure that absolutely no harm comes in your way, and he'll do anything to make sure of that. he doesn't care if your relationship would be exposed that way, all he cares about is your overall safety and wellbeing.

he's the type of man who pulls you closer to him while you're crossing the street or walking by the road, having his hand on you in some way in case anything happens.

the type of guy who brings random stuff like bandaids, hair ties, and sweets for you just in case you need anything.

he's also constantly asking how you are through text, just in case you need him to do something or in case you need him by your side for whatever reason.

my favourite part about secret relationships with xiao is the kind of dates you'd have. he's definitely the type of man to do homey, indoor dates. he'd build lego bouquets for and with you, he's sit for hours bingeing movies or series you like, relax and read a book with you, or even just nap and cuddle. even though your dates are mostly at home to keep away from the prying eyes of others, he's sure to make it something you'll always love and never regret.

© withloveajaxx 2022. please do not copy, plagarize, or translate in any way.

#iely's writing #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #childe x reader #childe x y/n #childe x you #childe #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x y/n #alhaitham #xiao x reader #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #xiao #01/25/2023

[justanotherarmyfangirl]

In Heat! 1/7

They're in heat, and you smell so hot...

Warning: 18+ smut, dubcon/noncon, hybrid!bts, wolf-hybrid!jungkook x bunny-hybrid!reader, dark yandere, predator/play, corruption, breeding kink

Feral. Jungkook was feral for you.

The wolf hybrid couldn't stop himself from rutting against you as you cried. You should have known better than to walk alone during the full moon. You believed you could make it home before sundown. Poor sweet naive bunny hybrid really thought she could outrun a wolf?

Jungkook could inhale and almost taste your sweetness, your sugary innocence as you sob under him. He holds back his instincts from shattering the bones in your slender wrists, at least for now.

You smelled too good for that, he didn't want to break you and spoil that sweetness about you. He needed to claim you first, he needed it, he felt feverish just hearing you whimper and twist helplessly under him.

You hyperventilate as Jungkook drags your wrists through the dirt, the earth sticking to the wet streaks across your cheeks as he holds your body down, crushing you between him and the ground. You stutter out apologies, pathetic pleas for the wolf to let you go.

But why would Jungkook let go of you now?

You're such a sweet prize that someone else from his pack will most certainly try to take the moment you're without him. No, you were his. His to claim.

Jungkook growls lowly, rips your dress down the middle, exposing your front to him, your nipples hardened in the cool night air, smooth skin that would look so pretty with his bites littered across. He bares his fangs, smiling at the thought.

You scream, choking on your tears, shivering in fright. You thought you were fast, but this beast above you was as quick as lightning, faster than any hybrid you've ever come across. You've never met anyone like him, only heard of rumors, warnings from your parents you should have listened to, a predator that oozed dominance, strength and wickedness. How could you have known?

Jungkook caught you too easily, almost suffocated you when he pounced, your pretty dress soiled and dirt tangled in your hair from your struggle.

You lied frozen in shock and fear when he huffed out loud, growling. A big bad wolf, Jungkook certainly was menacing, with wild hair and heated eyes, he made you feel small. His clawed fingers twist your nipples, pulling as you cry out for help, your palms digging into the earth to steady your shakes. He leans back on his knees, hands touching and groping, claws scratching across your skin in warning,

"Good bunny. You know it's useless to fight me, so be good and turn around for me, yeah?" He pulls at your hips before you can protest.

What choice do you have, but to bare yourself and make it hurt less?

Jungkook takes in your shivering form. He growls lowly, your body was made to be bred, your hips perfect for child-bearing, for gripping when fucking. His sharp claws rip into the seams of your clothes, mounting you quicker than you were prepared for, shoving his cock into you with so much force your legs give out. You scream in pain when he grabs a fistful of your hair, catching your floppy ears in his tight grip too, pushing your head down into leaves and twigs. He yanks your head back with one particularly hard thrust, his brutal pace strong to keep your cries loud.

Despite your pain, your body was hardwired for mating, you were throbbing, stretched around his thick cock. You cried as your cunt clenched around him and pulled him in. He bows his head and inhales your enticing scent, groaning into your neck as his weight drops on you, tongue licking across the sensitive skin under your ear.

You whimper and try not to think about his cock buried inside you, the friction making your body react despite your struggle to stop him.

"You like that, sweet bunny?" he asks, taunting. You shake your head, as much as you can with his fingers digging into your scalp. "Oh, you do." You can hear the delight in his deep rasp.

He chuckles when you whine out, thrusting in faster and harder when you tighten around him. He grabs your wrists again when you try to crawl away, putting you back in place as his hips roll into you deeper. Your rightful place, he thinks.

You are too perfect, and he thinks he might break your legs after this, to keep you with him forever. Jungkook sinks his teeth into the back of your shoulder. You whimper and cry shameful tears, no suiter will want you now, now that you've been used, scented, and marked by a predator.

What will you do?

Your body goes limp, moving back and forth in the stirred up soil as Jungkook fucks you.

The wolf hybrid doesn't need to break your bones after all, he carries you to his den easily without any protest.

This is my first time writing a hybrid story like this I don't know what I'm doing sorry t_t KNJ | KSJ | MYG | JHS | PJM | KTH | JJK | BTS

#jungkook smut #hybrid bts #hybrid jungkook #yandere bts #bts yandere #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #bts imagines

[lunatic-pudge]

Scout, Pyro, Demo, Medic, Sniper, and Spy Relationship Headcanons

Can you tell which ones are my absolute favorite:')

Scout

• Unsurprisingly, it takes him a long time to get over his infatuation of Ms. Pauling (I'm 110% convinced she's a lesbian), so you must be basically a deity to be catching his attention (though he'd the type to flirt with EVERYONE)

• Golden retriever energy, also youngest child energy. Constantly wants to do everything for you but also needs constant attention. He's also used to be getting picked on by the other mercs and his older brothers so he'll be going to you for validation. But he also doesn't want to appear weak so it'll take some time to break through his (fragile) shell.

• Love language: physical touch and acts of services. Will be constantly trying to act like a macho man for you but will also beg to hold your hand. Cuddles are constant. He may not be good at being a handyman, but my gods he's gonna try his darndest. Plz tell him that he did a good job, he's trying his best.

• He's the best person to go to if you wanna go on randon and unexpected adventures. One minute you're both in Teufort, the next your across country at the beach up east coast. Poor thing gets yelled at a lot for just uping and leaving without notice.

• Local snack dealer. Ma is always making sure that he's got sweets on hand. His room has care packages from her with some of the most wholesome letters from her and the box if FILLED to the brim with sweets, treats, and soda

Pyro

• My little baby boo, a wholesome partner who would kill for you. Can get jealous very easily so you might have to hold them back from committing manslaughter.

• Love language: quality time and gift giving. Time with Pyro is time well spent. Constantly just wants to be in the same room with you. They don't do well when you're not around. Also loves to give gifts. Most of their gifts consit of stuffed animals and handmade drawings. Your room will be filled with gifts from this goofball.

• In my opinion, they're a lot more there than people realize. Some days are better than others though. They were literally CEO of an engeneering company! And I believe they made all their weapons to but I could be wrong on that. Homie is definitely reliable when they're having a good day, but on the bad days, just sit and spend time with them. You don't gotta say anything, just knowing your right there beside them is enough conformation to know you'll always be there no matter what.

• You two are little troublemakers. You'll constantly be up to no good with them. It seems like harmless fun, but you've both almost burnt down the base five times just this month!

Demoman

• Probably one of the best lovers you could have out of all the mercs (aside from Engie, they're competing for the number one spot). I'm deducting points cause of the nonstop alcohol consumpution. :(

• But he is a happy goofy dunk so thank gods for that. Always happy to be here. Very attentive, caring, cuddly, overall a good person to date or even just be friends with.

• Cause the constant alcohol ruined a good portion of his memory (and Medic as well), he writes down every little detail of you that he can in a little journal he secretly keeps on his person. Important dates, likes, dislikes, ect. The man has it on file in case of emergencies.

• Love language: gift giving and act of services. He works three jobs and makes over 5 mil a year, he's LOADED. He's gonna buy you the world if you ask. Definitely good at money managing so he never worried at how much gifts cost. He's also gonna try his darndest to help you out with any problems, though it can be a bit hard when you're constantly drunk. Hims trying his best, okay?

• Wants his mom to approve of you but knows how critical she is of him. Poor baby has some self-esteem issuses cause of her so please give him lots of love and support. It's hard when your mom never has anything nice to say about you and compares you to everyone else. It's a neverending struggle. :(

Medic

• You're definitley into weird and questionable people if you like this man, and that means we're best friends now. :D

• He will ask you to help him out with surgeries and organizing his lab. You're hims little nurse. He'd probably (absolutley) be getting you a nurse outfit with his symbol on it.

• He's very much the possessive type. What's his is HIS, no if, ands, buts, or questions about it. Would put a tracker in you so he knows where you are at all times, but someone would have to talk him out of doing it... for now...

• Constantly talks about you to his birds, if any on them ever have babies, he's naming one after you. Would get you a stuffed dove plushie to cuddle with at night when he can't be there with you

• Love language: physical touch and quality time, you're ALWAYS welcomed in his lab, in fact, he expects you to be there with him. Is the type to ask you to grab something and will graze his hands against yours when grabbing it from you. (then give a shit eating smirk afterwards) He'd also be the type to stand VERY close to you, and stand behind you in an intimidating way to keep others from talking to you.

Sniper

• This man is my all time baby boy so I have LOTS to say about him and how much I love him :')

• Is someone who takes a while to get close to, especially in a romantic way. He's just a shy little boy who's used to being alone. But isn't introverted, just has introverted tendencies (you literally see him hanging out with some of the other mercs in Expiration Date)

• Love language: words of affirmations and physical touch, he sucks at verbally saying how he feels about you but will leave cute little love notes around for you to find. He's also VERY touched-starved so he will just flat out lay on top of you if you let him. Loves hearing you say how much you love him, plz just hold his hands and say how much he means to you, he might just cry from it.

• Is also someone who goes on random adventures, but they're usually just out and away from everyone. But I could see him taking you to a zoo or aquarium to look at the animals. But you're not allowed to go to a Humane Society cause you'll be walking out with all the animals they have and raising them like they're your babies,

Spy

• Another gremlin who takes a long time to warm up to you. He's a grumpy old man who's never really been with someone in such a serious light (aside from Scout's Ma)

• Love language: gift giving and words of affirmation, another merc who would buy you the world if you asked. Will only buy you the best of the best and will throw hands with someone if it's not up to his standards. He could go on about his love for you. His words sound like poetry. You'd wake up with a bouquet of roses and one of the most beautiful love letters anyone has ever read.

• Is 50/50 on PDA, he'll wrap an arm around your waist, call you beautiful, and give you a peck on the cheek in front of others but that's about it. Any extreme PDA is to be in private or you're getting a scolding.

• Would definitely help you learn French. He's way more patient with you than anyone else. You've seen him yell and insult every merc a couple times (Scout getting the brunt of it), but he refuses to ever say anything negative about you

• Definitely the bragging type. He'll put you on a pedestal and go on about how gorgeous you are. How you were crafted by gods, and so on. He thinks he's better than everyone else so if you're with him, than you're right up there with him.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #tf2 scout x reader #tf2 pyro #tf2 pyro x reader #tf2 demoman #tf2 demoman x reader #tf2 medic #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 sniper #tf2 sniper x reader #tf2 spy #tf2 spy x reader

[embrose]

General list of my thoughts on the 4.1 Archon quest (not in any particular order):

Yes, Arlecchino, preach! Furina is so bad at her job it's hilarious!

Father is scary, don't trust her for a fucking second...

I really don't like playing these manipulative games with lives on the line

I'm so bad at making hypothesis

This whole fortress feels kinda cult-ish to me...

Neuvillette is so cool, holy shit, and also not subtle, everyone can see you ain't human, hon

That little smile Wriothesley had on his face when Neuvi showed up wasn't subtle either, omg, my heart skipped a beat

Does this guy ever shut up about tea? His boots are so fucking cool tho, I want 'em

Poor Freminet can't catch a break...he's so sweet, tho, precious baby boy

Sigewinne is kinda creepy...

Is it possible to have a long-distance relationship even though you live just 1 kilometre away from each other?

Thanks for all the dragon lore, it's so interesting

Lol both Neuvi and Zhongli got themselves a blue-eyed twink. Though Wrio is more of a twunk

I'm so worried about Childe, who was calling him and where the hell is he...?

It's adorable how grumpy Wrio is about Neuvi not staying for tea

Anyone else think the real hydro archon is just...the oratrice itself?

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin spoilers #genshin 4.1 #4.1 spoilers #neuvillette #genshin neuvillette #wriothesley #genshin wriothesley #sigewinne #genshin sigewinne #zhongli #genshin zhongli #neuvithesley #wriolette #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #genshin the knave #the knave #genshin childe #tartaglia #childe

[dark-and-kawaii]

୨♡୧ 𝓢𝓽𝓾𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓭 ୨♡୧

ᴀꜱᴄᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ/ᴛᴀᴠ

⋆˙⟡♡: ʀᴀᴘʜᴀᴇʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇꜱ ᴏɴ ʜɪꜱ ᴀꜱᴄᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ ꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰɪʟʟꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɴɪᴄᴇʟʏ.

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Belly Bulge | Cumflation | Breeding | Monster Fucking

Ever since Raphael figured out how to control his ascended form you can’t remember the last time your body wasn’t decorated in bruises. Your fragile skin always painted with purple and blue marks now. Today was no different, the devil once again got carried away from how your snug cunt felt around his newly reformed cock.

The beast above you continued to slam his hips into yours, his pace unwavering, and his stamina insatiable compared to his devil and human body. It was a miracle you were still alive to be honest. The way he bullied your cunt always made your head so so foggy, that your loud choked cries were all you could muster. Your salty tears clouding your vision as you sob out from him fucking past your cervix and into your womb.

His thrusts are always so punishing, like he wanted to make sure every inch of your walls and womb knew his shape. Your body was so small compared to his, so small. His large clawed hand gripped around the entirety of your thigh as he yanked you down onto him, his hips grinding harshly into yours. Your pussy making the most vulgar sounds from him fucking you so good.

Eventually the pain turns to pleasure, eventually. The soft mewls you make, “Nhyah~ ♡”, always makes his tail wag like a proud puppy, and the way you beg for more, “Nhey~ N-need s’more~, always makes his tusk scrape against your cheek as he attempts to nuzzle you, his way of praising you for taking him so well and begging for more, unlike Haarlep… You were so devoted him.

Your small hands wrap around the boney tusks that adorn his monstrous face, gripping tightly to bring his horrendous mouth to yours. You can barely even call it a kiss with how his boney face digs into your lips, the sharpness cutting your delicate skin drawing blood. It’s always okay though, that slick tongue of his always laps at the crimson liquid, tasting his cute little mouse, and getting a high off the way your blood tastes.

When Raphael lifts his head the growl that emits from the back of his throat sends a cold shiver down your spine. The way his hellish eyes bore down on your tummy, his eyes fixated on his cock’s imprint through your belly. He can never help himself. The sight always makes him fuck harder and faster into your womb, his grip tightening, his claws sinking deeper into the flesh of your thigh, “N’no! R-Raph~ S’gonna Hng~!!”

The way your stomach bulges from his girth, the way your insides stretch to fit him, the way your tummy bounces every time his hips collide into yours… He’s so greedy for you.

Raphael was such a glutton for you, so desperate, so greedy, so possessive, so needy. He just wanted more of you. You were his. He claimed you and the crown. The hells next on his list… All that was missing was an heir. And you were ripe to breed now, so small, so fertile, so perfect to carry his child in your womb. His tail slamming down next to your near limp body at the thought of you round and struggling to walk. How cute.

Your poor cunt was stretched so deliciously around his girth, your pussy squirting out juices, making an absolute mess on his marble flooring as you reached your high, your body convulsing under him. Your legs weakly kicking out best they could while Raphael fucked you through your orgasm. Your body was shaking, so sensitive. You could barely take anymore, you needed rest, needed him to finish.

His own release was approaching quickly, the knot forming in the base of his shaft, his knot swelling. No matter how many times he tried to shove it in smoothly it never worked, grabbing both your legs forcing you down onto his knot always seemed to work though. His knot always catching the rim of your cunt, stretching your cunt to the point of breaking. And with a loud plop, his knot disappears within you. Your pained sobs filled the air, but it mattered not to him, Raphael would just stick you in his healing bath once he was finished.

His cum flooded your womb, the thick viscous cum painting your insides, and stuffing you full. The way his hips rutted against yours, made you feel as if your womb was gonna rip open. Your tummy was swollen to the brim, the stretch from his cum making you look six months pregnant.

You looked so perfect, your eyes glossed over, your tongue lolled out from your mouth, and the way your drool seeped down your chin… You looked like a wreck, a mess, a toy. A toy just for him to ruin, to love in his own way…

With a deep growl the creature knotted to you began to shift back, the flames that surrounded him revealing his human appearance, Raphael, your lover, your archdevil, your master... He always looked so tired after using his ascended form, his skin always covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and the way his breathing would become labored… It made him look so much more human, so much more fragile, and delicate. So soft.

Your trembling hand lifted, caressing his cheek gently, and with a soft smile you could feel yourself drift off… His voice and chuckle always the last thing you hear, “Rest well, my little mouse.”

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 raphael #tav #raphael the cambion #raphael x tav #raphael bg3 x reader #monster fucker #monster fucking #tw knotting

[decafgrace]

I see everyone talk about Paul but can we talk about Chani and how she always gets the short end of the stick? I haven’t watched Dune pt. 2 yet but I have read the book and all this talk about the movie’s got me thinking about her again. Like poor girl can’t catch a break.

[Dune series spoilers beyond this point]

She literally falls in love with the wrong guy (who actually is a colonizer on her planet) and then her family dies (and Paul almost does), and then her first son is killed as an infant, she marries into a crazy family and gets a super weird crazy sister in law and now is involved in space politics, her people end up going on killing spree in the name of her husband, and then she ends up having to SHARE said husband for political reasons and she has to accept being just a concubine, and then the “actual” wife of her husband gives her contraceptives in secret so she can’t bear a child, and when she finally is able to give birth she she dies, and then later one of her kids ends up becoming an immortal prescient sand worm space dictator while her husband goes blind and disappears into the desert-

#I haven’t read the book in years so hopefully I remember everything right #dune #chani kynes #chani dune #paul and chani

[lazycats-stuff]

Im so sorry ,in advance, its okey to ignore the request Batfam x child here this scenario:

Batfam where on a mission catching some criminals, like usual but then hearing crying noise on the dark alleyways, when Batman or anyone in the batfamily check to see,

When they looked, they saw a crying child with little bit blood on their face , they asked “why are they crying?are you hurt?” or “ are you okey? What happened?”

The child pointed at darkest corners of the alley. they looked where the child was pointing at, they saw two of the parents died

in the same manner like Batman backstory , when the child look up at them still crying , they lift their arms and said “ c-can I-i *sob*have a-a hug?*sob* p-please”

How would the batfamily react? Or what to do to calm the child reader

Oh my poor reader... Bruce would jump in immediately.

Summary: Bruce sees a child in a similar situation like he did many years ago.

Warnings: murder, corpses, Bruce sees himself in (Y/N), protective batboys.

This is an important mission. They have been preparing for this mission for months on end. Endless intel, interrogations, surveilling, scouting the buildings, research on the important members... The entire family was on the verge of killing someone.

Even Bruce was ready to commit murder, despite the strong moral code and despite his self control. They were stretched thin and the moral of the team was down. Bruce didn't think it could ever get so low.

This a breaking low. But none the less, they have persevered and through some teamwork, they got the intel that they needed. That's why they were on the roof top, waiting for a perfect moment to strike. Bruce was ready.

Everyone was tense and waiting in the darkness of the roof top, watching and waiting. Bruce was perched over the edge, ready to go at the moment's notice.

He looked back when he heard gunshots. The others were ready to jump, but Bruce stopped them. It felt off. Bruce looked down and saw it was their target. And a small shadow running. Bruce jumped, knocking the criminal out.

The others spread out, going to the building to check the location out. According to the intel they gathered, the drugs they had been looking for should be here.

Bruce moved into the dark alley listening for any sounds. What he didn't expect to hear was crying. And it didn't sound like it's an adult crying. It sounded like a child crying.

And he was proven right when he saw a child, shaking and sobbing. Bruce could see some blood on his face.

" Hey, are you okay? " Bruce asked softly, trying to see if the child was hurt. The child pointed at the dark corner and Bruce was hesitant at first. He thought that he was going to stop breathing when he saw the dead parents.

They were shot in the chest, one each. It felt all too familiar. Bruce's breath hitched for a moment. This was just like him, all those years ago. He closed his eyes and he calmed down. There was a child that needed him.

He walked back and the child cried harder. He put his hands, flexing his little finger. " Please, I- I need a h-hug, I-I'm scared... "

Bruce picked him out without a word, putting the child's head in the crook of his neck, just to make sure he didn't see anything. He gently patted his back.

" What's your name? " Batman asked, walking towards his sons.

" (Y/N). " The child mumbled, clutching onto Bruce tightly.

Everyone stopped in their tracks when they saw Bruce holding a child. Everyone wanted to ask questions, but they saw that it wasn't the time. They saw that child was under a lot of stress and Bruce softly shook his head.

It was a clear sign of not now. Everyone understood what it meant and they understood that something happened. But it seemed like (Y/N) wasn't hurt.

At least one good thing tonight. If you exclude the drugs and the drug ring they brought down.

" We called Gordon, he is on his way. " Dick said softly, walking up to the child. (Y/N) was still crying, but not as hard as before. He was crying quietly.

Bruce was torn. Does he adopt him? Does he put him at a foster home? What does he do?

One thing was for sure. There wouldn't be any help in the foster home. Or even the orphanage. Wherever he went tonight.

The others knew that sooner or later, Bruce was going to adopt him. Emphasis on the sooner. Maybe even tonight.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batkids

[ticklygiggles]

A/N: lately I've been thinking about how cute Xavier is 🥺 so I decided to write this. Of course I am tagging fabulous @lovelynim because I'm gifting this to her just because I love her MWAH!

This one is heavily inspired by that card where he is in bed shirtless and with bandages, but it's not based on the story of that card!

Also I don't have a title for this one dkdnf it happens

Words: 900+

Sweet, frantic laughter echoed throughout the whole room. A certain hunter was currently losing his head because another certain hunter was straddling his hips and tickling a horribly ticklish spot at the sides of his chest, right underneath his armpits. Your fingers were lethal but gentle against his bare skin, wiggling and digging and vibrating at that spot until Xavier was cackling and nearly crying. The poor man tried to grab your hands, but goodness, his arms stubbornly pressed against his sides in a futile attempt to make you stop, so his hands were quite useless at the moment. 

Xavier tried to get up, he squirmed from side to side and arched his back, he also kicked his legs behind you, but it was all worthless because your fingers seemed to be glued to his sensitive skin, refusing to let him go so you could listen to his beautiful laughter. 

"What do we have here?” You said with rather a happy expression. “Is my cute little Xavier ticklish?"

Xavier shook his head and he tried to hold back his laughter, but a quick vibration of your fingers in that spot made him throw his head back with cackles. "PLEHEASE!” He begged, his face and ears pink. “I dihihihidn’t- ahahahaha!"

"He really is ticklish! Look at that big smile! Wakey wakey, Xav! It's time to get up!” You teased, giggling to yourself as you saw his nose scrunching up and his beautiful smile curling his lips up.

Maybe you were being a little mean at the moment. He had just woken up not even twenty minutes ago and you were torturing him like this– did he deserve it? Probably not, but who would stop you? Certainly not him. 

You chuckled, “You really are extremely ticklish, Xavier. That's too dangerous,” you said with a fake worried voice, grinning down at him. “What will you do if you ever encounter a wanderer that releases tickling gas? You wouldn't be able to make it to the hospital, that is for sure!”

Xavier wrapped his arms around himself and weakly tried to push your hands away from him when he found your wrists, but he didn't have any strength laughing like that. 

“But don't worry, my star,” you continued, wiggling your fingers in. “I’ll definitely get the medicine all the way to where you are! You can count on me for that and more! I'm really good, right?” You giggled as he weakly nodded his head. 

He really looked so pretty laughing like that. Was it the first time you ever saw him like this? It was like watching a child giggle, your heart swelled in your chest and happiness overflowed you. You looked down at him with fond eyes and a warm smile. 

“Oh no, Xavier,” you said over his laughter, playfulness dripping from your words. “I really can't stop… I want to see you laughing forever.”

Xavier shook his head, “I cahahan't laugh fohohorever, I wihihill dihihie! WAHAHAIT!” 

It was easy to quickly pin one of his arms above his head and the other under your knee. You didn't immediately start tickling him, wanting to give him a break for him to catch his breath, but Xavier was laughing and squirming around as if you were attacking him already. 

“What's so funny, Xav? I'm not doing anything, am I?” 

“I- I knohohow, b-buhut it tihickles alreheady!” 

Warmth spread across your cheeks and something akin to thick honey filled your chest. How could he be so adorable like this? You giggled softly, leaning down to kiss his nose. 

“And it's gonna tickle even more!” 

Xavier threw his head back with frantic, loud laughter. He tightly shut his eyes, squeezing little tears of laughter out. His arms pulled, but you were holding him nicely and there was no way to go for him. Scribbling, poking, digging, pinching, you made sure to tickle his exposed underarm as best as you could and he went crazy under your touch, kicking his legs and trying to roll on his side. 

“PLEHEHEASE NOHOHOHO!” 

“Xavier,” you said in a rather serious tone. “This is very important. What technique tickles the most? I'm gonna do them all again, but slower okay? Here it goes!” 

Needless to say, Xavier was unable to say which technique tickled the most. Halfway through that, between squeals and snorts, his laughter became silent and that was your cue to stop. Xavier lay in bed, exhausted and chuckling as if your hands were still searching for that charming laugh of his, but you were lying next to him with your head in your hand, looking at him with that loving smile that always made him blush. 

“I… actually didn't know I was ticklish…,” he admitted sheepishly, looking at you with tender eyes and a smile on his lips. 

You raised both eyebrows, “what? You didn't? Then was I the first person to ever tickle you?” He nodded and you giggled. “It must be my lucky day then! How was it?” 

Xavier hesitated, “Well…” 

“Eek!” 

In a moment, you were facing the ceiling, Xavier straddling you as his fingers found their way under your arms. Your laugh was embarrassingly loud, but you couldn't help it.

“I think I should live the full experience before deciding if I liked it or not. Of course that includes returning the favor. Tell me, is this how you did it? Oh, I forgot that I have to raise your arms, right?”

You definitely asked for this, but it was worth it. After all, him attacking you back didn't erase the fact that he was still ticklish and you still had many other tickle spots to try out!

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace tickling #xavier x reader #xavier #reader #ticklish!Xavier #a bit of #ticklish!Reader #mia's things #mia's fics #even though this is a drabble hehe