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#first half i was about to go feral i had no idea what to do
fanaticsnail · 2 months
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"Good Boy"
Masterlist here
Word count: 3,200+
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Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.
Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.
Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams
Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine
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A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles. 
Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward. 
Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines. 
What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket? 
Because he was a good boy. 
And you always informed him as such.
While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need. 
Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper. 
Well, his exploits at least. 
Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him. 
“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed. 
That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most. 
And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.” 
He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips. 
You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved. 
And you said it. 
You finally said it today. 
His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind. 
Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand. 
“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you. 
“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”
“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find. 
“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”
“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”
He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own. 
“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”
After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words. 
“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either. 
With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence. 
“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound. 
You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return. 
“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?” 
A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet. 
Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for. 
Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step. 
At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him. 
A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude. 
“Good boy.”
From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words. 
“Good boy.”
They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips. 
Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips. 
He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’
Until the day you didn't. 
Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture. 
Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles. 
The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor. 
This was the reason for his intense rage.
After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.  
“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart. 
Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment. 
A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime. 
“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe. 
“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted. 
“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”
“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”
After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles. 
“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”
“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”
“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”
“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”
“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”
Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into. 
“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”
“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye. 
“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”
You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface. 
The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention. 
He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words. 
Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders. 
“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office. 
“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.” 
The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone. 
Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor. 
Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you. 
“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”
“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess. 
He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming. 
“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”
Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat. 
“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”
Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.
“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more. 
“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence. 
“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment. 
He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze. 
Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading. 
He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves. 
Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”
And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile. 
“Good boy.”
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yueebby · 18 days
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Ok so this is a random and weird scenario i thought of after watching some INTERESTING videos on YouTube, I know but I just need to tell someone(it involves lovesick!Gojo- and no this isn’t a request, more like a rant😭)
imagine- it’s summer and all the second year students are sweating and want something cool to eat. Satoru randomly brings in a watermelon and challenges the others to try and open it without any cursed energy or a knife, just pure raw strength. Nobody can do it except him and he laughs a bit before reader crushes the watermelon between her thighs and opens it just like that…IDK Y I THOUGHT OF THIS AND IDK HOW HE WOULD REACT TO THAT BUT I IMAGINE HE WOULD BE RED IN THE FACE AND LIKE ‘me next🙋‍♂️’ IM SRY IM AWARE THIS IS VERY WEIRD😭😭
2:35pm — gojo satoru
synopsis. a certain challenge makes gojo go feral for you
contents. fluff, CRACK, lovesick!gojo, he is (highkey) a pervert, everyone in jujutsu tech is sick of him
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“The one and only Gojo Satoru is here to save the day~” The familiar drawl of a sing-song voice calls over the sound of the dingy fan that you and Shoko were huddling in front of. Both of you were sprawled on a tatami mat with the door wide hoping, hoping to catch a gust of wind.
The grin adorned on his face didn't falter when his only response was three annoyed groans.
“It is way too hot for your antics Gojo,” You look up from the fan to half heartedly glare at the white haired boy in front of you. He stares at you, blue eyes slightly wider than usual before he gulps. You brush it off, knowing that you probably looked like a mess, considering you had just finished training in the sweltering Tokyo heat.
Your usual uniform is long gone, replaced with the dress shirt that you wear below it. Even with the undershirt and your skirt, you’re still suffering from the particularly hot day, skin glowing in the sun as a silent testament.
Gojo is forcibly kicked out of his trance upon Suguru harshly bumping shoulders with him.
“Show them what we got,” Suguru’s smooth voice says. Your eyes follow down to whatever he was referring to.
Without any difficulty, Satoru holds up a large watermelon proudly. Your mouth nearly waters at the sight of the large green fruit. How refreshing!
“Ah you didn’t have to go through the trouble after your mission, Suguru!” You leap from your spot, a bright smile painting itself on your face.
The pleased look on Satoru’s face turns sour. “I was the one that brought the watermelon?” He lifts the large fruit, flexing the muscles that were showcased from his dress shirt being cuffed up to his forearms.
“I should be the one getting the thanks, it was my idea to get it in the first place,” Shoko wraps an arm around your shoulder.
The taller boys in front of you look sheepishly away under her stern gaze.
You wrap an affectionate arm around her, “You’d make a good wife one day Shoko.”
Gojo’s jaw drops incredulously, leaning closer into your face, “What about me? [Name]! Wouldn’t I be a good doting husband too?”
You lean away, flustered at his sudden confrontation. His intense blue orbs never leave your face, expectantly waiting for an answer.
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Shoko snorts, shielding you from his heavy gaze. “Anyways, how are we going to cut this thing? You brought a knife didn’t you?”
There is a long silence shared between the four of you.
You think you see an irk mark appear on Suguru’s forehead.
“I clearly told you to bring a knife from the kitchen,” Suguru snaps his head to his white haired counterpart.
“Must’ve slipped my mind, heh,” Satoru whistles. “We can just break it ourselves, no?”
TEN MINUTES LATER—
“Ready,” Satoru’s smile grows wide. “Go!”
You watch expectantly as Shoko’s hand descends onto the watermelon in a swift chop. To your shock, the watermelon stays unharmed despite the legs of the wooden table below it creaking loudly.
“Wha–?” She furrowed her eyebrows.
Satoru shrugs, “Better stop smoking and start training. You’re falling behind~”
You and Geto have to hold Shoko back from lunging at the smug white haired bastard.
“Next challenger, step up!” Satoru announces.
Fueled with hunger and the desire to get your hands on the juicy watermelon that awaits, you sit down on the cement floor of the school with the watermelon in your lap.
You gently place the fruit in between your thighs, inhaling slowly.
Squish!
The watermelon breaks in half with a crunch.
“Oh,” You blink in shock, surprised that your plan managed to work. “I did it.”
Your joy is short lived when you realize that your legs are sticky as a result of the juices of the fruit. A sheepish smile makes its way onto your lips.
“Gah–?!” Gojo chokes on air as he watches your thighs glisten with the sunlight. Though his mouth is agape, no words seem to escape. He’s nearly certain that the heat rushing throughout his body is not from the sun.
Shoko whistles, squatting down to eye level with your thigh to assess the damage done. She gives your thigh a good squeeze, “Nice legs.”
You’re too flustered to hear Gojo growl from just a couple of feet away at Shoko’s shameless attempt at flirting.
“My face next.”
extras:
- the only reason why satoru forgot to get a knife was because he was practically skipping to you once he got through the gates of jujutsu tech. suguru was nice enough to spare these details from you.
- despite all sorcerers being able to detect cursed energy, gojo satoru is pretty exceptional, being able to mask his cursed energy usage. that, and you were too tired to even notice it. (he lightly coated the watermelon right when each person went up to break it. suguru noticed immediately, but wanted to see how the prank would play out).
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yandere-daydreams · 8 months
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Yan naga neuvillette?
The species is near extinction so scientists want to do what they can to save them.
Neuvillette and Zhongli just fight in their enclosure, so neuvi gets tagged and returned to the wild in hopes he’ll reproduce but humans still check in regularly to see how he’s doing. Cue you, the intern/new person who never expected to see the naga in the wild. Zhongli is the same as ever in his enclosure with constant temperatures, but surprise! Neuvi is having his mating season.
tw - kidnapping, implied breeding, minor violence.
this ask is a little old but i've been thinking about it constantly,,, i love the idea of zhongli being raised in captivity and therefore much more docile and used to being spoiled, whereas neuvillette is just. pure aggression from the moment he's captured onward. he refuses to touch any potential mate his caretakers try to pair him with, constantly attacks maintenance crews and researchers, and more of the project's grant money goes to fixing the damage he's done to his enclosure than, y'know, the project. eventually, he's released back into the wild under supervision, and you (a local cryptid specialist who's had a few brief encounters with him in the past) get brought on to keep an eye on him.
he's been nothing but aggressive and avoidant around humans before, so imagine your surprise when you make your first visit and immediately get grabbed up by a half-feral naga, all fangs and thrashing tails and pulsing, erect twin cocks that he kept so well-hidden in his brief captivity, his caretakers had started to doubt their assumptions about his biological sex. you're stripped of your limited supplies, injected with his paralytic venom, and taken to a nest of furs and shells all while he mutters about how sorry he is for being taken away from you, how he hesitated to act before but now, he knows better than to shy away from his precious little mate. it's not the ideal ending to a research paper, but at least the project was a success, right?
neuvillette's certainly going to be breeding something by the end of the night. it just won't be another naga.
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avoxrising · 6 months
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The Feral One - Prologue
I had an idea for a mini Finnick x reader Tumblr series so I wrote a short prologue to gage y’all’s interest. Lmk if y’all want to see more!
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“I want you guys to forget everything you think you know about the games,” Haymitch states as the District 12 team sits down to eat.
“Last year was child’s play,” Haymitch continues. “This year, you’re dealing with all experienced killers.”
“All right. What does that mean for us?” Peeta asks.
“That means you’re gonna have to have some allies,” he replies.
Peeta starts, “ok I think that if we…”
“Whoop,” Haymitch interrupts. “You’re not the problem.”
“No,” Katniss states as she stares at the pair, seemingly upset that they even suggested allies.
“Look,” Haymitch sighs. “You’re starting at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years.”
“That just puts us higher on their kill list,” Katniss states.
“Do it your own way,” Haymitch tells her. “But I know these people. You go it alone, their first move is going to be to hunt you down. Both of you.”
“Katniss come on,” Peeta sighs.
“How could any of us even trust each other?” she asks.
“It’s not about trust,” Haymitch responds. “It’s about staying alive.”
After the group eats they move to the lounge to watch the recap of the reapings. Haymitch proceeds to give his tributes a rundown of their competition.
“Cashmere and Gloss,” Haymitch states. “Brother and sister, District 1. They won back to back games, capital favorites, lots of sponsors. They will be lethal.”
He clicks to the next clip. “And the other half of the career pack, Brutus and Enobaria.”
“What’s with her teeth?” Katniss asks, noticing the abnormally sharp teeth in her mouth.
“She had them filed into fangs so she could rip peoples throats out,” Haymitch explains.
“She’s committed, I’ll give her that,” Peeta declares. Haymitch moves on to the next clip.
“Wiress and Beetee,” he states. “Not fighters, but brilliant and weird, real tech savvy. He won his games by electrocuting six tributes at once.” The tributes absorb this information as Haymitch moves on to the next clip.
He moves onto the next clip and Katniss speaks out. “Finnick Odair right?”
“Yes, he won his games at 14, youngest, ever, extremely humble,” Haymitch replies.
“You’re kidding,” Katniss gapes.
“Yes, I’m kidding,” Haymitch sighs. “He’s a peacock, a total preener. But he’s the capital’s darling, and they love him here; charming, smart, and very skilled at combat, especially in water.”
“What about weaknesses?” Peeta ask and Haymitch skips back to the escort calling out the female tribute’s name.
“Y/N Y/L/N,” Haymitch states. “Known in the capital as ‘the feral one’, winner of the 69th games”.
Katniss and Peeta shrink deeper into the couch.
“Isn’t she, um, a serial killer?” Peeta stutters.
“Well technically most of the victors are,” Haymitch responds. “But yes, she has killed outside of the games. She’s a deeply misunderstood creature.”
“Why is she Finnick’s weakness?” Katniss asks.
“She was Finnick’s first victor that he mentored,” Haymitch explains. “It’s hard not to get attached to the ones you bring home, especially your first. However, those two are a bit more complicated. I’d says it’s probably more of a… situationship… than an actual relationship but if you mess with either of them I can assure you that you’ll be dead pretty quickly.”
“So we should avoid them,” Peeta states, taking a mental note of Haymitch’s explanation.
“No,” Haymitch states, confusing his tributes. “The best move is to ally with them. They’re your biggest competition in the arena besides the careers, but they’re arguably more reliable and you don’t want to get on her bad side. They call her feral for a reason.”
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writingstoraes · 10 months
Text
hearty meals 🍳
pairing: charles leclerc/fem!chef!reader
type: instagram imagine, social media au
notes: randomly got this idea so decided to do this first lolol lmk what u guys think! also this takes me back to charles cooking pasta and him saying it's still hard 😭
about: the dynamics of a really good chef and charles, who's well-known for being amazingly great at cooking.
charles_leclerc
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liked by pierregasly, landonorris, carlossainz55, and 1,560,394 others
charles_leclerc Sent out dinner invitations thinking only half would accept, here we are in complete attendance 😆 Kidding, it was nice to be with these people for a night!
Props to my amazing girlfriend for preparing the entire meal, from appetizers to dessert and even everyone's round two's. Sorry I'm not of more help, amour 😅
tagged: yourusername
pierregasly No one asked you to host dinner 🤨
charles_leclerc Be glad you got an invitation carlossainz55 Shouldn't have sent him one mate pierregasly I will come for you, Carlos
sainzlover i am once again going feral over 20 men who go broom broom this is so on brand of me
yourusername i'm sorry too actually
charles_leclerc Baby what yourusername i'm kidding, i love you 😘
lewishamilton Thanks for hosting, Y/N and Charles!
yourusername
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liked by landonorris, pierregasly, lilymhe, and 342,103 others
yourusername cooked dinner for like 20+ hungry drivers last night 🍷 totally wiped out but i had such a good time! kudos to charles for being able to chop some parsley last night - he did a mega job :)
landonorris Sorry what were you saying I'm still in a food coma
danielriciardo Loved the food, Y/N! Glad you anticipated I'd be going for round three 😊
yourusername let me know how heidi likes the food i packed for her hahaha heidiberger LOVED it please always cook for us 🙏
carlossainz55 How hard can chopping parsley be
yourusername well it took your teammate a solid 20 minutes so you tell me 😆 charles_leclerc Please don't air out my culinary talents like this
sebastianvettel Thanks for cooking, Y/N! Loved the food a lot. You really exceeded Charles' description of your cooking, so please teach him 🙏
yourusername
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liked by lilymhe, isahernaez, carlabrocker, and 209,239 others
yourusername charles and i made some of whatever this is last night 🍫
landonorris I don't believe in the "Charles and I" part
charles_leclerc That's literally the first two words? yourusername what's not to believe 😊
pierregasly Y/N come on come clean, you did that all by yourself
charles_leclerc I have flour on my face... pierregasly So? You're a mess in the kitchen, dude
sebastianvettel What exactly did Charles do?
yourusername sliced the strawberries and peeled the bananas.... landonorris LMAO KNEW IT carlossainz55 Laughing so hard this is the best day of my life
scuderiaferrari
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liked by charles_leclerc, redbullracing, mercedesamgf1, and 674,293 others
scuderiaferrari A successful team dinner at Maranello all thanks to Chef Y/N and her team! All meals were truly exceptional and best believe everyone left well-fed and satisfied ❤️🧑‍🍳
tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc
charles_leclerc My girl 🤍
yourusername thanks for the opportunity, ferrari! let me know when's the next one 🫡
arthurleclerc I hope Charles took home some of these
rarrigirl PLSSS WHAT ID GIVE TO EAT SOME OF Y/N's CREATIONS
culinaryenthusiast what can she not do omg she can bake too???
yourusername recently added to her instagram story!
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charles_leclerc recently added to his instagram story!
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charles_leclerc
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liked by landonorris, scuderiaferrari, lorenzotl, and 1,842,294 others
charles_leclerc I am not the best cook so if anyone wonders what my participation is in the kitchen, nothing I just stare at the pretty chef and flirt with her every 10 minutes 😆
yourusername you sure are the best at that :]
charles_leclerc I know 😘
landonorris Is that in my kitchen....
yourusername oops landonorris You are so lucky you're my favorite chef
danielricciardo I miss Y/N's food when is the next dinner?
charles_leclerc Next year, probably pierregasly No? We're coming over on Friday
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tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12, @siovhanroy
notes: tysm for reading <3
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kittykattropicanna · 5 months
Note
would you please be able to go into more detail about your prison penpal!simon? why is reader doing it, how did they choose simon (if they had a choice at all), the sorts of letters they exchange? and if they’re any sort of smutty bits for them too? your mechanic au has me absolutely feral beyond words so seeing this made me so excited.
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Omg you’re my first asked AHHHHHH I want to scream thank you so much!!!!! 
Absolutely I can go into detail about PrisonPenPal!Simon :3  I can't get out of my mind how deprived he is argh!!! >:( all this time alone, and now that you're here writing him pretty little letters, he can't imagine life without you :3
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TW: mentions of murder, jail, corruption kink, breading kink, masterbation (Reader & Simon), public masterbation (kinda), smut, not sub!simon but he does cum in his pants, ahhh you're both just so obsessed with each other :3
PrisonPenPal!Simon masterlist
Regular masterlist
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I’ll give you a little back story to why Si actually ended up in jail…
I feel like he retied, left SAS and tried to integrate back into civilian life but failed miserably. He started going out to bars and drinking pretty heavily. The alcohol made him angry, he never was outwardly violent, but everyone could tell he was just a very dark, tortured guy that sat in the back of the bar every night and drank himself stupid. It was like an unwritten rule that nobody bothered him. His a massive guy who’s ex military, if you had half a brain you would leave him alone. 
One night he was leaving the pub and this stupid, stupid 18 year old kid thought it would be funny to try square up to him and impress his friends. 
It didn’t matter how many times they told him to quit it and leave Simon alone, he still trudged up to him with his head held high and chest puffed.  
This kid came up behind Si and punched him in that back of the head. It wasn’t a good punch by any means but it was more then enough to drive Simons drunk brain into utter rage. 
He turned around and punched this kid straight in the head. He went down like a stack of bricks, head making direct impact with the concrete floor, killing him instantly. 
The kid was only 18, he had so much life left to live…..
Of course Si felt absolutely disgusted in himself, he couldn’t believe what he had done. Killed a poor kid who made a stupid decision and ultimately ended his life as well. 
He handed himself over the the police without hesitation. He went quietly and respectfully, cooperated with the police throughout the whole trial, never redirecting blame onto the kid or made it harder then it needed to be. 
He pled guilty for involuntary manslaughter and assault. Gaz, Johnny and Price all pitched in to get him the best defence lawyer humanly possible……ultimately, it worked. Even though the general public was outraged at his light sentence. 
Simons lawyer claimed the punch was in self defence. Someone attacking him from behind also trigged his PTSD resulting in Simon not being able to control his actions in that moment. 
These defences along with him serving in the military for 15+ years and cooperating with the authorities got him 8 years in prison, his sentence was quickly reduced to 4 because of his good behaviour. 
It wasn’t an ideal situation by any means, but it was the best case scenario with the cards he was dealt. 
But lets fast forward to the present….. How did you decide to actually start writing to an inmate? How did you even find out about it?
I have this really cute idea that maybe you were walking through the shopping centre and there was one of those pop up markets that sit in the middle of everything, you know, with the really annoying people that flag you down and you have to awkwardly not make eye contact and walk past them while they’re try and sell you stuff?
Yeah, one of them. This specific stand kinda caught your eye though, It was called “Write An Inmate”
You talked to the guy at the stand about what exactly “Write An Inmate” was and he explained that he was part of the program when he was locked up, how much it helps inmates get through their sentence, helps connect them to the outside world and genuinely just keeps them hopeful. 
First off you were a little hesitant…..speaking to someone who’s in jail because they broke the law sounded a little scary…. 
But hell, its a start of a new year and taking some time out of your day every once in a while to write a short letter to help keep someones hopes up is the least you can do. 
Besides! One of your childhood best friends big brothers went to jail and he wasn’t a bad guy! One of your new years resolutions was to spread more kindness and this is just a perfect way to do so!
Once you got home, you look up the website on the brochure that was given to you and quickly start scrolling through inmates.
They all had profiles with information about them. You couldn’t see what they were in for, but you could see other information like their name, age, date they signed up for the program, time served/time until they get out, amount of letters they have received, a short description of who they are/what they like and a few photos showcasing what they look like. 
You scrolled through a few but they all seemed to have gotten hundreds of letters, you wanted to write someone who wasn’t getting flooded every week with letters, maybe send a letter to someone who could use a pick me up. 
Clicking on the last page you scrolled to the very bottom and click on the last inmate before it even had time to load. 
Once the page opened the name “Simon Riley” appeared on your screen
After looking through his profile a wave of sadness rolled over you 
Name: Simon Riley, most people call me Ghost  Age: 36 Joined: December 26th, 2021 Letters Received: 0 Time served: 3 and a half years  Sentence ends: Year and a half  Description: ex military. I like dogs, big ones not small ones, the outdoors, playing cards and motorcycles. The first thing I want to do when I get out is to eat a steak. 
Attached was three photos. I won’t even lie, they’re definitely dad selfies from different angles HAHAHA they’re such grainy photos too, like they’ve been taken on a 10 year old android. 
Two of the selfies are him with a black balaclava on and the last one was of his face without anything covering it, but again it so grainy you can’t really make his facial features out. 
Simon had joined the program two years ago and hadn't received one letter. You felt horrible, he joined the day after Christmas probably hoping to receive something, anything, but not one person took the time to write him….. 
So obviously Simon was going to be your prisoner pen pal, how could he not be…..
I think the letters start off pretty innocently tbh, you don’t start writing to Simon with the intention of starting any sort of sexual or romantic relationship, it truly is out of the goodness of you’re heart, you sweet girl :(
Simon had totally forgotten about the program honestly, imagine his shock when the prison guard threw him a letter. 
When he frowned and asked who its from the guard just shrugged and said “write an inmate program” and walked off completely unfazed. 
But again, starts out super innocent, things like “I saw that you like big dogs, what’s your favourite breed?” and “what’s your favourite card game? I know how to play blackjack but I’m not very good haha”
I’d like to think you don’t even disclose your gender or name at the start. Keeping everything under lock and key. 
Simon also answers back with pure intentions at first, he has an inkling you may be a women because the hand writing is wayyy to pretty and delicate to come from a man. 
But again! He doesn’t get his hopes up, it could be an old granny for all he knows, but he can’t shake the idea that maybeeeee it could be someone a little more his type, ya know ;)
After a couple weeks of writing letters back and forth you feel like you’re getting to know him a little better. He asks you to call him Simon, not Ghost and he starts writing the cheesiest dad jokes at the bottom of every letter. 
“Two fish are in a tank, one turns to the other and asks “do you know how to drive this thing?” a little army humour for ya’ :)”
His so charming in such a rough and rugged sort of way you know? It sounds silly to say, I mean, you’ve never met him! But the way his handwriting is complete chicken scratch and how he adds little “:)” “:(“ and “>:)” makes you giggle! 
You end up telling him your name and how old you are, I mean, its only fair! You know his name! You definitely didn’t tell him because you wanted to get his mind racing, get him thinking about all the different possibilities, make him fantasize…
Its fair to say you have a little crush on him :( ahhhh its so humiliating! A city girl like you, good job, successful family and a bright future laying in bed every night fucking your pussy with a brand new dildo you bought just so you could imagine Simon, a felon, fucking your little cunt :( 
When Simon sent his letter that week asking for a photo of you, your little crush just got bigger :(
“Its only fair don’t ya’ think? You know what I look like, why don’t ya’ return the favour sweetpea ;)” 
And of course you did!! He asked so politely! 
Putting on your pushup bra, doing your makeup and styling your hair all for him:(((
You get so frustrated because you don’t want to look like you’re trying too hard for him, argh! Its all so embarrassing!! Your such a needy girl >:(
You make sure to push up your tits, your bra helping them spill out over your cute little shirt and giving him a good view of your gorgeous body. 
After an hour of taking photos you finally get the shot you were looking for 
Eyes sparkling, cute little smile on your lips, light hitting your face just right, lacy bra slightly peaking out the top of your shirt just enough that it looks like an accident, beautiful tits sitting right in frame so he can get a good look and the slight curve of your waist visible. 
Its perfect, it look so effortless…..in your eyes at least
When Si received your letter, his cock got hard the second he saw your picture :((((
Since his been locked up he hasn’t been able to jerk off properly >:( 
His balls are so heavy as is, and now he has a photo of you 
He could basically cum in his pants at the thought of holding your waist as you ride him. Using his big callused hands to fuck your pretty pussy onto his aching cock >>:((((((
You’re so put together! nice clothes, from the look of the background, nice apartment, clean bedroom. Just the thought of him corrupting you, fucking his baby into you, making you move into a shitty little apartment while he works and you look after his chubby baby makes his dick start to twitch :3
Before he can stop himself, he cums all in his pants :(
He hasn’t cum properly in years! yet a simple photo of you did it for him in seconds!!! You’re such a nasty minx, you know exactly what you’re doing you dirty girl >>:(
That night he lays under the covers, his cell mate fast asleep on the other side of the room as he slowly pumps his cock to the photo of you.
Eyes closed and head thrown back against the thin pillow, he bites his lip so he doesn’t make any noise. 
You see, playboy magazines get passed around all the time, they’re not hard to find if you know the right people, but it just doesn’t do it for Si!!
Of course they’re beautiful women, there’s no doubt about it, but everything so photoshopped :(
Si likes his women natural. No skin smoothing filters or enhancements from photoshop, he likes his women real 
His so deprived that he cums in record time, his hot load shooting all over your face, the once clean photo now sticky and stained….
He wished he had it in him to be embarrassed, but he just can’t! God, he needs to hear your voice, your picture just isn’t enough anymore….
In his next letter he asks if he could use his monthly call to speak to you……Johnnys just gonna have to wait, they can talk football another time >:(
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Aghhhh, PrisonPenPal!Simon is so fucking cocky it hurtssss, PrisonPenPal!Simon is open for requests so feel free to send them throughhhhh, add to the AU, ask me expand on certain topics, whatever floats your boat >:)
!Disclaimer! - Above is NSFW content - MDNI - If you follow my blog without your age in your bio, you will be blocked - If you are under the age of 18, you are not welcome here, otherwise, enjoy :)
Cat divider sourced by @positively-mine from Pinterest - Pink line divider by @eloquentreverie - MDNI divider by @cafekitsune
Basic blog housekeeping -  fic requests guidelines, boundaries and my rules for minors
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avocado-writing · 1 month
Note
Hey there I hope you’re having a wonderful day, could I make a request for bg3? I’d like to request the crew with a noble barbarian tav, kind of like Godfrey from Elden ring. Normally they are very regal, eloquent, and in control, they might even think they are some knight until they finally let loose. Whether it’s their s/o in danger or a challenging battle, they just go to town, very ‘I have give thee courtesy enough!’.
oh anon, you're very kind to think that I'm a competent enough gamer to have played elden ring. writing these scenarios as if they're seeing you go into a rage for the first time!
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Astarion
Very much an 'oh. oh! oh...' moment for him.
Doesn't want to confess that he's attracted to the way you go feral, but anyone looking at him during battle will see how he is affected.
He already thought you were charming with your eloquence and courtly mannerisms, but this drives him wild. The idea you had this potential thrumming through your veins this whole time is delicious.
He can smell the blood pumping through your veins as you rage and does something for him. If you're together, expect a visit from him that night.
Gale
Loves to engage you in long, thoughtful conversations over tea every night. Did not expect this side to you.
At first he thinks some untowards magic has been cast on you, but then he sees how in control you are even when you're letting loose.
Is flustered and flattered when you make sure he's safe in battle, using your rage to protect his body with yours.
Afterwards when you check he's okay he has to try and hide how much he's blushing as he stammers out an affirmative. Asks you lots of questions about the nature of your rage. Can't stop staring at you when you're in battle...
Wyll
Lets out a little "oh, my!" when you first rage in front of him.
A bit gobsmacked but jumps back into action, quickly helping you fend off whatever enemies have caused your ire.
Is over it remarkably quickly, and takes it in his stride - in camp the two of you discuss court and your respective times in it, laughing at tales of long gone social faux-pas...
And on the battlefield you are a machine cutting down everything in your wake as he uses finesse to dispatch your foes. He thinks you are night and day... but that you are wonderful.
Karlach
Sees you rage for the first time and she lets out a "FUCK YEAH!"
Drops into a rage by your side and the two of you absolutely decimate the battlefield. The gang of mercenaries who came for you never knew what hit them.
After you wipe your brow with an embroidered handkerchief from your pocket and offer her a spare, which she takes and uses (completely destroying it in the process with soot from her engine)
Geeks out with you every day about raging. The two of you discuss battle tecniques and play-wrestle, which more often than not brings down half the camp. She loves it. She thinks you're perfect.
Lae'zel
Never really gave you the time of day before now. She found your elegant manner irritating. Why use honeyed words when you can cut straight to the point?
But then, oh, she sees you rage, and she is enamoured.
That night demands that you tell her why you never said that you could fight like that. You have an argument saying you never felt the need to... it goes on until the two of you calm down and end up sitting well into the night discussing how you grew up as warriors.
She has a respect for you from then on, confident you can look after yourself on the battlefield. More often than not she watches you fight with an appreciative eye.
Shadowheart
Oh, she's thrilled. We know she likes barbarians anyway (see her thirsty dialogue about Karlach) so when you rage in front of her?
She just stares for a bit. It's all she's able to do.
When that staring leaves her vulnerable to attack and you come and defend her, oh, she's gone. She has such a crush on you. If she had one before, it's doubled.
You're always the first one she comes to check on after battle. She likes to lay her hands on your bicep as she's healing you, perhaps feeling the muscle a bit more than is necessary. Her cheeks are always bright pink.
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itshype · 1 year
Text
How I Met Your Brother (DC x DP)
Dan joins the Justice League - not as part of his rehabilitation, but as a reward for doing so well.
Tucker makes the grave mistake of mentioning Dan in front of Jazz. And as an eldest sister myself I would not be happy about an alternate version of my sibling being left completely alone in the world, no support, no family to then be turned into a psychopath. And I would be furious for them to then be imprisoned - not for life but for all time?
However, unlike me, Jazz is the world's foremost authority on ghost psychology. She has Dan out of his Thermos and in a larger enclosure within the week.
Now, a lot of fics have Jazz as a magical therapist who can say a few sentences and make any bad guy cry. Sorry, not today though.
First, they resocialise Dan like a feral cat (solitary confinement does make people get loopy), sitting outside his enclosure and hanging out, doing homework etc. This sort of gets him to figure out emotionally that he's no longer in the timeline where everyone he ever cared about died.
Danny discusses with him how many nightmares he's had over just the idea of losing his entire support network the way Dan did and he can't imagine what he's been through. But no emotions are not, in fact superior to having negative emotions.
After a few months, he decides that he does in fact want to actively try and get better. He goes to a therapist (because family members can't do therapy!!!) who's just unhinged enough to get a kick out of counselling a ghost from an alternate timeline.
There's only one relapse. Clockwork fixed it and they don't talk about it.
A month or so later they let him out of the enclosure for good. They offer to symbolically destroy it but Dan thinks they should keep it just in case.
While Dan's humanity has returned, his actual human half is gone forever. But he's interested in doing something with himself. He can't get a GED, or a degree, or be an astronaut. Maybe something in entertainment?
Tucker makes the grave mistake of mentioning that the Justice League headquarters are in space. Dan isn't as powerful anymore now he's no longer a halfa, but he knows he's handy in a fight. He loves space and due to having them repeatedly and ineffectively implemented against himself - a deep knowledge of international war tactics.
NGL, this isn't where I thought this story was going. But Dan is now an international politics, war policy and foreign affairs expert, I guess.
He helps a fair bit on the team, but his key contributions are his encyclopaedic predictions of how different international communities will react to events. If an out of control meta in Paris takes down the Eiffel Tower, he predicts which countries will immediately 'crack down' on their superpowered citizens - that sort of thing. It's invaluable for their PR team and young meta safety.
He's a friendly guy, doesn't judge anyone for losing control of their powers or going 'too far' on a villain who hurt their friends and family. And he never shuts up about his kid brother who is apparently also his best friend. He briefly mentions a baby sister he's never met and that makes everyone pretty sad.
He doesn't consider this Jazz his sister. He's already had a sister named Jazz and isn't looking for a 1:1 replacement. This Jazz is more like a mum-friend. However, he never had a Danny or an Ellie in his last life.
"My little brother told me about the trick to this level in Doomed 17, want me to explain what you're missing?"
"Sorry, I really can't possess you, even for 'anti mind-control' training. That isn't how overshadowing works, you can't become immune without exposure to ectoplasm in dangerous doses. No, I can't get you some pure ecto, my baby brother would kick my ass to hell."
"Yeah, my baby bro and I both wanted to be astronauts, I died so it's not in the cards for me anymore, but he has a real shot still, we're all rooting for him!"
Most Justice League members think he's a dead eldest brother with living siblings he's still in close contact with.
It's all fun and games until he tries to take a bullet for Batman during an ambush and it's actually an amnesia ray designed to make Batman forget about a specific case until the bad guy can complete his plan.
"I killed you all before, and I will do it again."
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spacedace · 2 months
Text
Got inspired by the below tiktok and the idea of the Rogues killing the Joker in revenge for Jason instead of Bruce and had to write about it.
Here, have probably way too many words (with more to come most likely, this really won't leave me alone) of the Rogue's feelings about Jason's death at the Joker's hands and everything that followed.
(also I know the timeline is a bit screwy, shhh just go with it, we're going on vibes with this one lol)
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Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.
The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart.
A kid could slit your throat as easy as a man grown in a place like their fine city, maybe easier even for those who still fell for the ideal of children being incapable of anything but innocence and sweetness. Children learned from the world around them though, they learned from the savagery that filled their world, the hard scrabble desperate attempts to survive. They learned what dark corners to avoid, which ones were safer to skitter down.
It didn’t mean there weren’t still some rules of decency to be honored though.
Most folks, even those in the circle of the Rogues, largely left kids out of the equation. Crossfire happened of course, hitting busy city centers always meant some kind of collateral. But there wasn’t much that they got out of purposefully hurting kids outside a black mark on their name in most levels of the grungy underbelly of the city and one hell of a big target on their back. Both from the Bat and those criminals in the dark with them that took offense to those kinds of things. They were crooks, but with few exceptions they weren’t complete monsters.
Robin had always held an interesting place in their grungy little ecosystem. Anything to do with the Bat was generally ruled as gloves-off, do what you do without hesitation. And Robin - both of ‘em - had no problem hitting hard and being ruthless. The first one in particular had a feral sort of rage to him that was a terrifying thing to be on the business end of.
But they were still kids.
Defending yourself from any kid swinging on you was fair game, a person had the right to defend themselves. Grabbing up Robin to hold hostage or bait Gotham’s local cryptid, that was all fine and dandy. You could even get away with roughing the kid up a little here and there, so long as you made sure not to go too far and always kept hits to where the kid’s armor was the thickest. No hard and fast written rules, mind, but general rules of thumbs. Lines indistinct due to the shaky ground a child dancing through the night as a vigilante left all of them on, but ones clear enough that you knew when you were at risk of going too far.
Besides, the Robins were good kids. Fucking feral little shits, of course, able to leave you bleeding just as easy from a kick as they were a sharp word. But good kids. Even most the Rogues in the Gallery liked em. It was hard not to be at least a little fond of a gutsy little punk like that.
Though they were all maybe a tad less nervous around Robin II than they were the original.
Robin I had a lot of anger burning in him, a lot of anger in him, but he was still a cheerful boy with a bright attitude that was refreshing in a world so bleak and dark as the one they all lived in. It was up in the air which was scarier about the kid: The smiled he gave when he was about to give a hands on demonstration about how much force a tiny ten year old could put into a kick when they had half a dozen spins shoved into a flip to wind up to 80 miles an hour, or the flash of his teeth when he was demonstrating the knife sharp brilliance of his belief that Batman was only as frightening as Robin was hopeful.
They weren’t sure if he realized that sometimes they felt a helluva lot more hope at the sight of the Bat when the little bird was putting the hurt on them, or if he’d simply folded that fact neatly into his core philosophy without issue.
Robin II on the other hand had this kind of quiet shyness to him - even as he was shouting the most inventive swears ever heard by human ear at someone while he kicked them in the balls hard enough to make ‘em see not just the face of their own god but a few dozen besides. He was just as unhinged as the Robin before him - seemed to be a requirement for the job really - but there was a distinct different in how the two birds flitted about the darkened skyline of the city. Where the first Robin’s smile was as much danger as it was dazzle, a fanged declaration of victory against the dark, Robin II’s was a sunny, stubborn declaration of perseverance. Kid was sassy and smart, and never - ever - flinched away from extending a hand to those he thought in need of it.
Even if the folks he offered that hand to were in the middle of an attack on some fancy Gala or Wayne Enterprises or whatever target of the week it was. Even knowing the offered hand was likely to be slapped away and followed by a right hook. Kid still always tried.
They all knew why.
The Bat was big on offering chances, on rehabilitation rather than damnation. Some of Robin II being the way he was came from the broody cryptid he followed around. But Batman couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for Robin II being the way he was, couldn’t even pretend to be the cause of most of it. Nah, they knew why the little bird was the way he was.
That unmistakable thick accent. That frame that was always a little too thin even as he got older and stronger. That unshakable, headstrong spirit.
Robin II was an Alley Kid.
A true child of Gotham.
Her polluted waters in his veins. Her smoggy air in his lungs. Her shadows clinging to his edges less like a beast looking to swallow a small bird up and more like a protective mother hiding her hatchling. He understood the world most of them came from. The one they all lived in. Knew it in a way anyone who hadn’t been swallowed up by the dark never really could.
Everyone had their favorite, but even those that claimed the first Robin as theirs couldn’t deny that Robin II was someone to be respected. Nor could they deny a fondness for the chain smoking, classic lit referencing, perpetually baby-faced little shit. They’d all had knock out drag out fights with the kid and knew how fucking unhinged the puny motherfucker could be in a fight, but he always tempered it with offers of resources, of a listening ear, of understanding.
He visited them after they’d been arrested sometimes. In Arkham, or Blackgate or wherever else they’d been locked up in after being stopped by the Dynamic Duo. The little bird would make the rounds whenever he had a broken wing or was stuck waiting as the Bat interrogated someone else or for any other reason he wasn’t out flitting about the city skyline at night. He’d bring cookies or snacks and even cigarettes from his own secret stash on the rare occasion, mask unable to hide the furtive glances around to check for the living shadow that was the disapproving Bat.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.
But childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham.
Bad things happened to good kids all the time.
And some of the monsters that lurked in the city’s darkest shadows took the black mark of a kid killer as a point of pride.
Robin II disappeared one day. Just after that piece of shit Garzonas took the fast way down from the top of a tall building. There were a lot of Rogues with doctoral degrees to their names but even those Goons that dropped out of school before they learned to spell their own names could do that math.
The big bad Bat had benched the boy after the fierce little bird had done what any decent member of the criminal underbelly would have. There were those that thought maybe it’d been an accident, that the kid was pulled off duty because of being too upset at unintentionally crossing the heavy line the Bat drew in the sand. Those voices were drowned out pretty quick though.
Sure, Robin II was all about second chances, of doing better, of redemption. But Garzonas had chances to spare and only ever spat in the face of those offering them. Doubled down on being a monster in a way very, very few of the Rogues Gallery would. The kid was a sweetheart, but he wasn’t no push over and there were some things so heinous that there was only one way of handling them. Crime Alley had its own kind of justice system, and when faced with a monster that was beyond even Batman’s jurisdiction, Robin II did what he always did: fell back on his roots.
Or so the rumors said, at least.
That was the thing about Gotham’s seedy underbelly. It was a grimy, wretched nest of vipers and cut-throats, but it was also worse than any beauty parlor when it came to gossip. No one actually knew anything other than that piece of shit motherfucker took a dive while Robin was chasing him and that he’d not been seen on the streets since. But most had a fondness for the kid, and a distaste for the kind of cruelty Garzonas reveled in and there was no proof that Robin hadn’t gone and done the world a favor by drop kicking that barbaric sack of shit off a roof. So as far as most in the Gallery were concerned, the little bird had stepped up and been a hero.
Time passed. Not a lot. But enough. The Bat disappeared too, popping up on an entire other continent in a way that was awfully tempting. Even with other Masks playing baby sitter while the local cryptid was away. Rogues were scrambling to set plans in motion, Goons getting hired en masse, weapons and weird chemicals getting delivered to shady places across Gotham by the truck-full. The criminal underbelly was abuzz with the same excited energy of children the day before a big birthday party.
And then the news came in.
There were people in the dark who made their living finding things out. Knowing things that no one else did or could. Some even specialized, keeping tabs on Batman and Robin better than anyone else in the business were able. And when the information they found wasn’t anything handy to have tucked into a back pocket or a secret they were paid extremely well to keep? They held on to with the same tenacity a sieve clung to water.
Robin II had run off across the globe and ended up in Ethiopia. Something to do with a doctor doing aid work, the same something that had the Bat end up there was the assumption. Kid ran off to handle things himself or was sent on a separate path on purpose for some plan or other the Bat had cooked up on his hunt.
Whatever the reason, the kid crossed paths with the Clown.
Alone.
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham. The city was hard and cruel and she didn’t care about the ages of those that were ground up and spit out in her oily black heart. But Robin II was hers, the child of her heart, an exception to the rule. And besides, most folks - even those in the Rogues Gallery - largely left the purposeful harm of kids out of the equation.
The Joker wasn’t most folks.
And the little bird was a long way away from the protective shadows of his mother city.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. And Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of them from time to time. He was a good kid.
When the news broke, it broke most of them right along with it.
Plans stalled. Schemes ended. Gotham, for an unnervingly quiet stretch of time that neither its civilians or the world at large understood, went still. Crime continued, of course, but the big names weren’t seen. It was only right, by the standards of those that lived their lives in the dark, that they hold off and give the man that fought them all so relentlessly over the past years the time he needed to focus on hunting down the monster that killed his son. He didn’t need the distraction, and they all owed it to Robin II not to interfere while the Bat at last put a final end to the Clown.
And the hellish cryptid would need his full focus on this one. The Joker wasn’t one to take lightly at the best of times, but he’d set himself up neatly in the middle of a nasty bear trap. Ugly and complicated in the way everything with the Clown was. Interference from the CIA, from the UN, from Superman.
Shit went down. People heard about the Bat and the Clown throwing down in a helicopter plummeting from the sky in one hell of a water landing. Big Blue fished Batman out of the drink before he could drown but there’d been no sign of the Joker.
But the Bat would find him.
They all knew the relentless bastard would find him. It was just a matter of time. With the hellish drive of a demon straight from Gotham’s darkest shadows, the Bat would track the grinning, child killing ghoul down and make right the terrible wrong the evil motherfucker had done. Batman would hunt him to the ends of the earth and enact the justice he held up so fiercely. Robin II would have the vengeance the kid so rightly deserved.
It was just a matter of time. So they waited. And waited.
Days.
Weeks.
Months.
The Clown still lived.
The world, impossibly, began to move on. The Bat returned to his lurking in the night, picking off gangs and petty crooks and no-name gangsters as if nothing had happened at all. More vicious, more savage, but failing to turn that rise in brutality into the killing blow against the one figure that so rightly deserved it.
No one knew what was happening. There were rumors and theories, as there always were in the underground. Some thought that it wasn’t the Bat at all back in Gotham but someone else pretending for awhile, looking after his neglected city while he continued his pursuit of the Joker. Other held that it was the Bat but the whole thing was a ploy to draw the Clown out into the open. A pretense at not caring meant to get under the Clown’s skin, make the asshole mad enough to get stupid and sloppy and reveal himself.
That the man simply had given up was beyond comprehension. Beyond what any upstanding Rogue could accept. So it simply couldn’t be true. There was a trick being played. Some brilliant game of 4D chess that none of them had been able to parse out. It’d be revealed in time, and they see the brilliant trap that had been set. The Clown would be lured out, the Bat would put him down for good, and then they’d all at last raise a glass to the little bird that had been shot down far too soon and smoke shitty cigarettes and quote literary masters and mourn the loss one of Gotham’s own true children.
They just had to play along. Stumbling forward back into their usual habits, pretending that it was a choice and not the world just forcibly dragging them along. It’d make sense, eventually. The Bat had a plan. Robin II wasn’t forgotten, his killer not left free to roam and ravage unpunished for what he’d done.
And then one day there was a new bird flitting across the rooftops.
Chasing the Bat’s looming frame like a reverse shadow. Bright flashes of color in contrast to the bleak darkness of Gotham’s grimy nights. Small and thin and young.
Not the first Robin. With his showman bright grin and bloody rage and unwavering belief in the terrifying power of hope. Not the brilliant, vicious little boy that they’d seen grow over the years into the fierce and fearless Nightwing.
Not Robin II either.
Not Gotham’s soft hearted little bruiser with his unshakable belief that people could be better if given the chance, shinning so bright in the dark as he held out a hand that even the Rogues had no choice but to believe right along with him sometimes. Not the tough little songbird they’d never get to see grow up. Unavenged and unhonored. Put in a box and buried in the ground with a name none of them would ever know carved into a stone they’d never be able to visit.
No.
It was a new Robin.
A new child with the R emblazoned upon his chest.
Sharp and quick and young in the way the birds always were when they started flying at the Bat’s side. Every inch of the boy’s tiny frame a tragedy and an insult. One very, very few of Gotham’s vicious underbelly were willing to tolerate.
Childhood was not held universally sacred in the dark streets of Gotham, but there was a damn big difference between holding something sacred and not giving a damn about it at all. There were rules unspoken but understood, a way things were done. Nothing so solid or concrete as a code of conduct, more a collection of time honored traditions. Blood for blood was among the oldest and truest, and the more precious the person taken the more vital and vicious payment was to be made in kind.
The Clown had killed Robin II.
Beaten the kid half to death and then finished the job with a bomb.
Everyone knew he’d done it laughing all the way.
The Bat should have done the same in kind. Done worse. It was justice, it was what was right. You kill a kid you’re marked forever. You kill one so well liked and kill ‘em like that and you’re destined for a cruel and cold death. The Bat had first dibs. It was his kid. It was his right to put an end to that awful laughter and let his son have peace at last.
But he never did.
Nightwing had. For a bit. For a moment.
Robin I, who half the time had scared them all more than the Bat ever could. Dazzling and dizzying and dangerous. Gave back the pain and hurt the Clown had forced upon him with clenched fists and bone shattering hits. They were glad for him, that he was able to beat the monster who had taken his little brother from him to death, that he was able to have such justice.
And then the Bat stepped in.
Revived the fucking Clown.
A slap in the face. The snapping crack of a spine beneath one straw too many. The final, unforgivable insult the man had dared visit upon not just the child taken from him but the entirety of Gotham.
The Rogues and their Goons always had a soft spot for the Robins. Respected their ferocity, admired their moxie, marveled at their ability to keep shining in the dark like they did. Robin II made it especially easy to let fondness bleed out of the city’s dirty criminal underbelly from time to time.
He was a good kid.
He deserved better.
Better than the silence and peace he should be granted in death to be marred by the mad cackles of his killer still running around alive and unpunished. Better than his father giving up, returning to the same old routine as if nothing had happened at all. Better than the Bat snatching up a new bird less than a year later.
Gotham and her Rogues had given the Bat time enough to do what needed to be done.
It was their turn.
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readychilledwine · 8 months
Note
helloooo! had a super random idea that I thought I’d throw your way but if you don’t want to write it, no worries! i know there’s not really dragons in acotar but what if one of the bat boys (whoever you want to write this for) encounters a group of dragons and find an illyrian with them who was raised by dragons. (The dragons think she’s one of them bc she has wings lol) a female who was abandoned by their parents because they wanted a son or something like that. (but now I’m thinking what if she was cassian’s long lost sister or something but in that case obviously she wouldn’t be paired with cassian lol) and she’s basically like half feral and whoever you pair her with is her mate and cannot convince her to go with them to velaris but they figure it out somehow 🥹 and when they finally do she’s just like baffled by simple things like dresses and kitchen utensils and how soft their beds are 😂 and now the night court has a small army of dragons because they listen to her 🤷🏽‍♀️ you can make her an OC if you want!
I can respond to this now that Bound by Fate Part 3 is up and has some traction 🤣 I was going to ask if you got into my Google drive somehow. Kaylee is going to have a similar journey to this only Kaylee's is going to be based on the concept that magic has a price, and the more magic she uses, the bigger the price, where as this journey will be about finding her humanity.
I'm pretty excited about this. Not gonna lie. 💜
Flight Patterns Part 1
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Summary - After years of hushed whispers and leads, Azriel has finally found Cassian's lost sister, Aerilyn. What he found with her was unexpected, though.
Warnings - violence
A/n - Aerilyn is going to be fairly feral for these first few parts. Also, she speaks sindarian (like Lord of the Rings elves sindarian, so translations will be at the end of the chapters)
Part Two Part Three
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Aerilyn stared at the male wrapped in shadows as if she'd never seen another illyrian before. As if she'd never seen another fae before, Azriel thought to himself.
She was beautiful, exactly as he had expected her to be, with her long dark hair cascading into waves behind her, her tanned unmarked skin, the bright burning hazel eyes. She was a softer, smaller, and delicate version of Cassian. 
Azriel approached her slowly, his hands raised in front of him. " I do not want to hurt you. I have been looking for you for a very, very long time." Over 319 years to be exact. With you right under our noses this whole time, he thought bitterly to himself. 
She had been left to die after her wings were taken. Thrown into the Illyrian woods beaten and bloodied before Cassian eventually burnt that Camp to the ground. She was three at the time. How she survived was a mystery, one Azriel knew they'd need to figure out.
She eyed him cautiously, her head tilted to the side before taking a step back and away from him. "I won't hurt you, Aerilyn." Her eyes narrowed, but then she suddenly relaxed. A small smile forming on her face as Azriel felt the ground shaking behind him. 
He felt the warm breath of whatever it was before the deep growl came. His eyes shut slowly at the scent of ember and rot that lingered in the air. He turned slowly, feeling shock set into his system as he sat face to face with a fire Drake. He felt the ground rumble again, then again, and once more. Rhys. I'm going to need help. Now. Drop whatever the fuck you're doing.
Cassian and Rhys appeared beside him instantly. A grumbled, "Cauldron fucking drown me," leaving the generals mouth as they all stood back to back. "Azriel, what the fuck?"
Azriel looked to where Aerilyn stood, her eyes locked on Cassian and her head tilted to the side. "She knows you, Cass. And they're protecting her."  He could tell his brother was avoiding looking at her. Avoiding the pain that'd come from how much she truly looked like their mother. 
Rhysand grabbed their hands. "You have 30 seconds, Cassian or I'm getting us the fuck out of here." 
Cassian glanced at his little sister, his heart tightening in his chest at how small she was. They held eye contact for a moment and he lowered his weapons and held his hands up to her. He took one step and an immediate growl and shift came from the winged beast closest to him. A deep warning not to approach her. "Would she have memories of anything specific? Something special between the two of you?" Rhys asked softly. "I can't get into her head. It's.. it's a mess, Cassian."
Cassian didn't notice the feather light touch in Rhysand's jaw, the way his eyes kept flickering to the female in concern. Azriel had, though. He noted the immediate change in Rhysand's body language. The calm and composed High Lord was struggling to maintain himself.
Azriel would have laughed if there wasn't a black scaled beast staring him down as if he was nothing more than a delicious snack.
Cassian spoke to her softly. "When you were little, you had a little stuffed bunny. His name was Sir Hop." A flicker of recognition went across her face. Cassian took a small step forward. The beast growled softer this time. "I still have him," the soft confession hung in the air. "Rhysand's mom enchanted it. She made sure he'd never stop smelling like you. You could not sleep without him or me. Mom said you just tossed and turned crying constantly if he went missing or I was gone. I always worried about if you were sleeping when our father ripped me from the house." Another tentative step, but no growl chilling the three of them to the core. 
She studied Cassian hard. Stepping close to him until they were but an arms length away. Her brain knew him. It screamed for her to remember him. She didn't understand all of his words, but she knew his voice. His scent. "Come with me," Cassian offered. "Come home with me." 
"Cassian, 5 seconds. If she does not take your hand in 5 seconds, we are done here." Rhys warned as one of the beasts, a lighter Grey monster that seemed to blend into its surroundings leaned closer to the High Lord and growled. 
For whatever reason, this beast wanted him dead. 
"Duar," a feminine voice that reminded Rhysand of finely aged wine, spoke softly. The beast coiled away from him with one last growl. She was so close to Cassian, breathing in the scent of a warm fire and winter winds. 
"You have a freckle on your ribs," Cassian whispered, his hand reaching out to touch right above her heart. "Right here." She allowed him to bring her into him. He held her close as her arms stayed at her side.
Rhys took the chance, his hands shooting for Cassian and Azriel and winnowing them back to the townhouse with heavy breaths. 
The hug was no longer gentle, not as her fight began. Aerilyn kicked, screamed, and fought as Cassian pulled her into the warded house. Madja was there and ready, knowing the girl would need medical attention and an evaluation. 
After watching her land a harsh closed fist onto Rhysand's cheek as he spoke to her, Madja immediately switched what she had planned, grabbing a needle filled with a sedative and shoving it into the illyrian female's arm.
"I'm sorry," Cassian cried as he lowered her to the floor. "I'm so fucking sorry. Shhhh it's okay. It's okay, you're safe." 
His sister fell asleep in his arms, wrapped tight against his body as he rocked her back and forth against his chest. 
Rhysand held his jaw, "She knows s few words and the alphabet. We will need to work on that to communicate with her," he ground out. "She can speak an ancient language I do not even know, but Amren might. Also, she's my fucking mate." 
Cassian watched in silence as Rhysand left the room, went upstairs, and slammed another door shut with a soft click to indicate he had locked it. 
Madja inclined her head to the bed they had ready for her, "Lay her down. I don't need her awake to know how healthy she is or what she needs."
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Duar - "stop/hault"
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squirmhoney · 2 months
Text
HIS MUSE | AEGON TARGARYEN
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Please read all warnings carefully, my fics cover dark topic matters, that may be upsetting to certain readers. Read at your own discretion. Warnings: Dark. Dub son. Oral. Hand Job. Manipulation. Incest. Inexperienced reader. 18+ A/N: This is a request from @phimbkerthinker. I did change it a bit but I hope you like it. Sorry I have only proof read this once.
AS ALWAYS MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
-
“Just like that,” Aegon sighed, biting on his bottom lip as he backed away from your naked form on his bed. 
He knew what he was doing, playing on your adorable little crush on him. But how could he help himself when you were so easy to manipulate into his bed. Under the impression you were his muse for his new venture, that neither of your parents could know about. 
You were staring up at him with those doe eyes, nibbling on the inside of your cheek as you vibrated with nerves. He knew you were wet between your thighs, seeing as you couldn’t stop squeezing and rubbing them together, desperately trying to act subtle. 
“Something wrong?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed with faux concern. 
“It’s just-“ you said, only to shake your head. “It’s nothing, really.” 
“You’re so tense,” he tutted. “Relax.” 
You tried to, really tried, taking a deep inhale and exhale. But your body was so tense and rigid. 
His eyes ran over your body, eyes widening as he suddenly came up with an idea. 
And like a good girl, you ate the idea right up. 
Within a few minutes he managed to persuade himself between your thighs, even though your hand was desperately trying to hide what he wanted to see. 
“Aegon, I don’t know about this,” you whispered, eyes looking over to the door.
“Are you going to help me or not?” He questioned, narrowing his eyes at you. 
You nodded, lifting your hand slowly, dragging a swab of your juicy fluids with it. 
“So pretty,” Aegon hummed, licking his lips at the sight. 
He looked up to your face one more time, chuckling to himself at how your face flushed from the comment, before he dived face forward, not being able to stop himself from getting a taste. 
You were soaked, dripping onto Aegon’s face as soon as his tongue lazily dragged over your folds. It had him tight in his briefs, the taste making him feral as he groaned. 
He felt your thighs tighten around his face and without a second thought, he was gripping them tighter. 
When his tongue finally had enough of teasing you all over, he shoved it in your tight hole. You might have been unsure with what you were doing but your cunt wasn’t, your walls clenching around the muscle with excitement. 
“This doesn’t f-feel rel-relaxing,” you stuttered out, unable to stop yourself from fidgeting so much. 
“It will,” Aegon hummed into you, hand sliding up to your breast. His fingers rolled over your nipple, gently squeezing it, making you sharply inhale. “Trust me.” 
Either you trusted him, or you were too dizzy on the tip of his tongue to do anything about it. 
He believed it was the latter when he spat on your clit, and you moaned for him, gazing down at him with half lidded eyes. 
“Looks like you’re enjoying this,” Aegon grinned, your fluids coating his lips. “Being such a good muse for me, aren’t you niece?” 
There was a gentle hum from you, some sort of an agreement that had Aegon dipping his head down again. The tip of his tongue was done with the teasing, finally finding your sensitive bundle of nerves as it lapped at it. 
Even though Aegon knows your mind must be reeling, he couldn’t stop thinking about how all this was driving him insane. Your whimpers and the obscenely wet noises coming from your cunt filled the room, going straight to his dick. He actually believed he could cum from sending you over the edge, knowing how hard you were probably going to cum on his mouth for the first time. 
The idea of it had him licking at your harder, wanting to really see what would happen. 
Only to have you try to wriggle away from his harsh grip on your thighs, whining about it being… 
“Too much,” you repeated, your legs quivering. “Please, its-“ 
Aegon shoved his thumb into your walls, shutting you up. 
He could tell it was a lot for you though, especially with the way your spongy walls were pulsating around him. If he wasn’t enjoying it so much, he might have actually felt bad. 
It’s his name that’s ripped from the back of your throat as you cum all over his face, making him grin into you as he slurped everything your cunt was able to offer him. Until you were tearing his head away with your hand in his hair, tears spilling out of your eyes. 
“You did so good for me,” he whispered, pressing lingering kisses against your thighs. 
Your breathing was starting to steady, your body becoming slack. 
“See how you’re relaxing now?” Aegon soothed, climbing over your body till he was hovering over you. 
He didn’t realise how messy his face was until you were wiping it away with your hand. He leaned into your touch, with a deep sigh. 
“But now I have a bit of a problem,” he told you while running his so-called problem against your thigh. “I’m going to need your help with my problem.” 
Your eyes looked up at him with an eagerness to please, nodding your head before he even asked his question. 
“You going to help me?” 
“Yes,” you replied ever so quickly. 
He took your hand, pulling it down as it trailed down his stomach. He didn’t even waste time as it reached the waistband of the joggers he was wearing, pushing your hand in the article of clothing. Till you were touching him, hand resting against his cock with so much uncertainty. 
“Are you sure?” Aegon teased, helping your hand as he wrapped it around him. 
“Yes,” you lowly breathed, the tips of your ears turning a crimson red. 
“Stroke it,” he guided you, getting your hand to move around him. “Just like that.” 
Your lips parted as you stared up at him in awe, clearly enjoying how he was reacting to your hand moving against him. You even giggled when he hissed at you squeezing him a bit harder, taking control finally. 
“You find this funny?” 
“I’ve never seen you like this,” you confessed, clearly wanting to see more. 
Your fingers accidentally closed around his tip, before sinking back down again, and the smallest touch against his tip had him gasping. Instinctively you rubbed your thumb against his head again, wanting to have him panting like you had been moments ago. 
Without realising what you were truly doing to him, you had him coating your hand with his cum. He was in a daze above you, white hair tickling your face as he collapsed on top of you. It wasn’t till he was softening against you did your hand stop, pulling it out of his clothing. 
“Did I help you?” You asked, a small smile gracing your lips. 
One that Aegon couldn’t help but kiss softly. 
“You know that you helped me,” Aegon chuckled, lips trailing down your neck. 
“Are you going to paint me now?” You asked.
“Hmm.” Aegon nipped at the skin of your breasts, tongue running along one of your nipples. “I think there’s still more ways we can help each other here first. Don’t you think?”
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alwaysmicado · 6 months
Text
Trouble
5.3k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 5
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Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, D/s dynamic, rough oral (m receiving), spitting, cum eating, leg humping, degradation/praise, humiliation kink, pet names, aftercare, feelings Summary: After you’ve distracted Joel from work with your explicit texts all day, he decides to teach you a lesson.  A/N: Consensual degradation & humiliation – my beloved. This one's for you if you're into unadulterated filth with feelings sprinkled on top hehe. Let me know what you think, I love hearing your thots! 🤍
pt. 1 ・ pt. 2 ・ pt. 3 ・ pt. 4 ・ series masterlist
“You sure you got nothing else to say to me?”
“I’m—sorry?”
“No,” he tilts his head and you see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”
---
“Sneaking out for a hot date?” 
Busted. 
You sigh and turn around to face Kristen’s triumphant grin. Beautiful Kristen. The only person at your job with a bearable personality. 
If you only had Janice from accounting and her incessant yapping about her feral kids, or John from HR and his never-ending tirades against “modern women”, you probably would have burnt down the building already.  
Kristen’s been your lifeline over the past two years at this job. She’s upbeat, fun, a gifted painter and the closest thing to a female friend you have. 
Her only flaw: she’s so nosy it’s not even funny.
After your get-well-fuck with Joel three days ago where he left multiple marks on your neck, you not only plastered a bunch of foundation over the purple reminders of his fever-fueled nipping, you also wore a silk scarf which, in hindsight, was a dumb idea.
The first thing you were welcomed with when you came in that morning was an enthusiastic “You go, girl!” followed by giggling after Kristen saw your unimpressed face. 
You shoot her a half-hearted smile and raise an eyebrow. “Who says it’s a date?” 
Kristen’s grin widens. “Oh, come on! You think I don’t notice the way you giggle at your phone like a lovesick idiot?”
“Oh, shut up,” you protest in mock offense. What the hell is she talking about? You don’t do that. “I got a doctor’s appointment. Nothing hot about that,” you say nonchalantly.
Kristen leans in, lowering her voice dramatically. “A doctor, huh? Do you have an ache only he can cure with his special tool?”
“You’re a pervert, you know that?” 
“Yeah, duh. That’s why you love me,” she chuckles, causing the corners of your own lips to twitch. 
“Well,” she smirks, “I hope the doctor will take the best care of you.” 
You roll your eyes at her teasing, grab your bag and blow her a kiss before heading out. You leave the office with a grin, reveling in the sunshine that greets you when you step out.
The warmth of the day feels refreshing against your skin as you stroll to the parking lot. Your dress, despite being a result of prolonged laundry procrastination, is surprisingly comfortable, allowing you to appreciate the light breeze that rustles its fabric. 
The sun casts a golden hue on the cityscape and you can't help but smile at the small pleasures of life – the sun on your face, a staff meeting getting canceled earlier, finding twenty bucks in an old pair of jeans this morning.
Life is okay at the moment.
Despite work kicking your ass, your mother trying to guilt-trip you into coming “home” and the last hookup you had throwing you out in the middle of the goddamn night because his wife came home from her business trip early.
You’re feeling good. 
One might even say you’re happy.
If only there wasn’t this nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.
You take a deep breath and straighten your shoulders when you see your Uber pull up. Get yourself together. 
The car winds through the city streets, and as you give Joel's address to the driver, you can't help but feel a flutter of anticipation. The engine hums softly as you navigate the familiar turns, presenting the perfect background to lose yourself in a daydream.
As you settle into the comfort of your bed, the world outside fades away. In the gentle embrace of your imagination, you feel a figure appear behind you. Their warmth is a soothing balm, and as they pull you close, a profound sense of security envelops you. The weight of the world, of your being lifts, replaced by the tender reassurance of this ethereal embrace.
In this imagined sanctuary, sleep finds you easily, cradled in the arms of solace. The whispered promise of warmth and safety lingers, allowing dreams to unfold like petals, undisturbed and serene in the soft glow of moonlight.
The notification sound of your phone pulls you back to reality. Glancing at the screen, you see Joel's name. You open the message and involuntarily press your thighs together, your pulse quickening instantly. 
Door’s open. Get naked, then come upstairs.You’re in real trouble, angel.
---
The familiar scent of Joel’s home greets you when you step inside. It smells more like home than your apartment or any other place you’ve lived in since you were a child. Safe, warm, comforting – like its owner. And it’s a surprisingly well-decorated and welcoming home for a bachelor.
So much so that you asked him flat out if he had a wife on your first night together.
You take your shoes off and put your bag on the couch in the living room before heading to the downstairs bathroom to wash your hands and quickly check if you look presentable. Your eyes are a bit swollen from lack of restful sleep, but other than that, you’re good to go.
As you take your dress, bra and panties off, you somewhat fondly remember the last time Joel ordered you to his home because you were sending him filthy texts and photos while you both were at work. 
You spent thirty minutes sitting still on his lap while he worked on his computer, his throbbing cock buried deep inside you. Every time he would shift in his chair a little, you would whimper into the crook of his neck and he would whisper into your ear how well you were doing for him and draw soothing circles on your back with his palm.
You hated and loved every torturous second of it. 
The office door is open when you come upstairs. Your eyes widen when you see Joel sitting at his desk. It’s incredible how handsome he looks. He’s wearing a black t-shirt, blue gym shorts and his glasses as he’s staring at the computer and typing something with his index fingers.
Your heart starts beating faster as you take him in, the domesticity of this scene giving you an unexpectedly warm feeling deep within you. 
“You just gonna stand there and stare at me?” Joel asks with a swivel of his chair, his body now facing yours. He saw you out of the corner of his eye before but now that he’s getting a good look at you, his jaw almost hits the floor.
He will never get used to seeing you naked. 
“God, you’re so much more beautiful in real life,” he murmurs, his pupils blown wide and the admiration in his voice unmistakable.
You give him a satisfied smile as you lean against the doorframe. “I sure hope so,” you tease. 
“Do you know why you’re here, darlin’?” Joel asks with a tilt of his head, his brow slightly furrowed.
“I’m assuming it has something to do with the silly little texts and pics I sent you to brighten up your day,” you say, feigning innocence. “Did you like them?” 
“You really think now’s the time to be a brat, huh?” He chuckles and shakes his head. “Alright, then.” His eyes sparkle dangerously as he sits back in his chair and spreads his legs wider.
“You sure you got nothing else to say to me?”
“I’m—sorry?”
“No,” he tilts his head and you see the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “But you will be when I’m done with you.”
You bite your lip as your eyes focus on the visible bulge in Joel’s shorts, and try to suppress the huge grin that’s threatening to spread across your face. This is exactly what you wanted and you both know it.
“Hands and knees, baby,” Joel orders calmly and puts his hands on his thighs. “C’mere.”
You lower yourself on all fours without hesitation and crawl towards him slowly, making sure to sway your hips and never break eye contact. Joel’s the only person you’d put yourself in such a submissive position for and you revel in the exhilarating feeling it gives you.
Joel keeps his eyes trained on you, subtly rubbing his thighs as you come closer to where he’s needed you all day. His eyes are dark and full of need as he licks his lips and follows the mesmerizing movement of your body. He likes how you, despite your brattiness, know perfectly well where your place is. 
“Look at what you did,” he says, once you’re kneeling on all fours between his spread legs. He palms his throbbing cock over the fabric and your eyes widen a little, your pussy clenching around nothing.
“That's right, baby, you did this. And now you need to take responsibility for your actions.” He gently caresses your cheek, tracing your lips with his thumb.
When he presses on your lower lip, you instinctively open your mouth enough for his finger to slip inside. He presses on your tongue, admiring the feeling and your willingness to submit.
“Look at you,” he chuckles, gently rubbing his cock. “Such a little slut, always wants something in her mouth.”
He moves his thumb further along your tongue, causing you to furrow your brow and gag a little. “You couldn't help yourself, huh, just had to put on a show all day like the needy whore you are.” 
He takes his thumb out of your mouth and pulls his shorts all the way down, letting them fall on the floor next to his chair. His heavy cock flops against his lower belly, causing you to swallow and part your lips instinctively. Joel smirks at your reaction, enjoying the raw need sparkling in your eyes as he strokes himself slowly.
You start squirming, pressing your thighs together to alleviate at least some of the uncomfortable ache between your legs, and let out an almost inaudible whine as Joel continuously strokes up and down his length while looking at you curiously. 
He leans in and tilts your chin up, his dark eyes boring into you.
“That’s it, isn’t it?” He asks softly, feigning concern. He looks from you to his cock and back, raising an eyebrow. “All of this just because you’re a pathetic little cockslut with nothing else in her dumb little head than my cock. Isn’t that right, angel?”
You nod slowly, your lips slightly parted, hypnotized by Joel’s big eyes and filthy words.  
“Use your words, slut,” he growls, gripping the back of your neck to tilt your head up even more. 
“I just—wanted you so bad, I–” 
“Aww, of course you did,” he teases you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Tell me your safeword, angel.” 
He looks into your eyes intently as you say it out loud, then puts a soft kiss on your lips. You whimper when he withdraws, the feeling of his warm lips lingering. 
“Open up,” he orders with a tap of his fingers to your bottom lip. “Stick your tongue out for me.” 
You obey and do as he says, looking into his eyes expectantly. You watch in awe and pure need as the thick glob of saliva makes its way down from Joel’s mouth and lands on the back of your tongue. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel it run down your throat. 
“Swallow.” He gently puts a strand of hair behind your ear as you show him your empty mouth. “Good girl.”
You moan softly at his praise and furrow your brow when your eyes find his cock again. 
“You really want it, huh,” Joel purrs, trailing your neck and chest gently with his hands. When he brushes your nipples, you wince a little, eliciting a low chuckle from him. “Spread your legs, baby. Let me see your little pussy.” 
He sucks in a sharp breath, his cock twitching impatiently when you sit back on your heels and present your glistening folds.
“Fuck me,” he murmurs, tracing your belly all the way down to your mound and stopping right before touching your clit. “Must’ve been uncomfortable to sit in that all day, hm?” 
He gently pulls your lips apart with his thumbs and index fingers, inspecting you closely. “Your little clit is so swollen, baby, does it hurt?” 
“Mhm,” you whine, his touch so close to your neglected bundle of nerves torturing you beyond belief. “It–it hurts so bad, Sir.” 
“Hmm,” he searches your eyes, “and that’s why you thought it was a good idea to send me all those naughty messages?” He spreads your lips apart further, eliciting a long moan from you. “You thought I’d fuck you if you did?”
“Y–yes,” you stammer, your legs trembling, “I’m sor–”
You’re cut off when Joel lets go of your lips and swipes his fingers through your dripping wet folds agonizingly slowly, once, twice, three times, barely brushing your pulsating clit. 
Listening to the noises you make and feeling your hot cunt on his hand is enough to make him almost come, despite his cock not having any contact at the moment. His eyes never leave yours as you whimper desperately, his barely there touch enough to build your long overdue orgasm.
“Go on, angel,” he withdraws his hand and holds his hand up to your lips, “clean up the mess you made.”
He pushes his wet fingers into your mouth, forcing you to suck your own juices off of him. You do so eagerly, sucking and licking his fingers, moaning around them. 
“You would’ve sucked my cock in front of everyone if I had let you, huh.” You let out a desperate moan, feeling your pussy get wetter at the thought. “That’s right, baby,” Joel chuckles. “Show everyone you’re my little cockslut.”
He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, satisfied with the job you did, then grabs your chin hard, his wet fingers pressing into your hot cheeks.
“You want it so bad, baby? Then beg for it.” 
“Please,” you whine. “Please let me suck your cock, please, I–I want your cock so bad—”
“All yours, baby.”
He leans back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head, looking at you through lidded eyes. 
“Fuuuck, that’s it,” Joel groans as you start licking and sucking at his balls, then lightly trace the veins of his cock with your warm tongue, swirling it around the tip, licking up the salty precum. You look at him expectantly as you lick up and down his length, fondling his balls with your hand. 
He smiles at the needy look in your eyes, finding it unbelievably hot that you want to, need to hear his praise so badly even though it’s obvious that everything you do to him is and feels beyond perfect. 
“Good girl,” he says softly, eliciting a little whimper from you. “Now stop teasing and take it.”
You immediately hold him up by the base and take the tip into your mouth, sucking on it eagerly. You take him further, inch by inch, bobbing your head up and down his shaft until he’s nudging the back of your throat. Your eyes well over with tears as you gag around his cock. Joel groans in response, his whole body tensing as he tangles his hands in your hair.
You make a surprised sound when he leans over you and pushes your head down until your nose is rubbing his pubic hair, giving you no chance to move your head. He keeps his length buried deep inside you for a few seconds before pulling you up, a thick string of saliva mixed with precum connecting you two, only to push you right back down.
“Fuck, I love the sounds you make,” Joel pants as you choke and whine loudly. 
He pulls your head back up to let you catch your breath and make sure you’re enjoying yourself as much as he is. He knows from the look in your eyes that you are, but he wants to make sure before you continue. 
“What’s your color, angel?” 
You look at him with bleary eyes, but give him a dazed smile and whisper, “Green.”
Joel nods and caresses your wet cheeks, wiping away some of your tears with his thumbs. 
He traces your swollen lips with the head of his cock, loving the way his precum sticks to them. 
“Breathe through your nose, baby,” he pants. “Can’t have you passing out on me.”
You wrap your lips around his head, swirl your tongue around it, then bob your head again – messily, sloppily, just the way he likes it. 
“Good girl,” he breathes, thrusting his hips to slide in and out of your mouth, smiling at you and petting your hair. “Such a perfect little fleshlight.”
You tremble and moan around him, not entirely sure if his filthy mouth, his groaning, or the fact that he’s using you for his pleasure  is turning you on the most. You just know you love it when he holds your head steady and fucks your mouth roughly, taking what he wants from you, making you gag and choke, saliva and tears running down your cheeks, chin, neck, and body.
You look like a masterpiece. 
“I’m close, baby,” Joel pants, your perfect, wet mouth and the admiration he sees in your big, wet eyes making him tremble every time he thrusts his hips into you. You push him right over the edge when you squeeze his balls hard. 
He comes with a strangled groan, shooting rope after rope of warm cum down your throat and onto your tongue. You welcome it with eager moans, so far gone that you don’t realize what you’re doing until after it’s too late — you swallow it all without his permission.
Fatal mistake. 
Joel grabs you by your hair, pulling you off his pulsating cock, still breathing heavily.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, huh?”
Your eyes widen in shock, your lip quivering. “I–I'm sorry, I–I forgot.”
“You forgot?” Joel sighs and raises his eyebrows. He loosens his grip in your hair and looks at your eyes welling up with tears. You stumble over your words as you keep apologizing over and over again. You’re so perfect like this. 
“What’s your color, baby?” 
“Green, Sir,” you sniffle. “It’s green.”
“Now what am I supposed to do with a fleshlight that doesn’t work right, hm?” He tilts your chin up and rubs it softly with his thumb. “Do you think you deserve to get fucked?”
“I’m—please, I'll be good, I promise,” you choke out through tears and hiccups. “Please, I’ll do anything you want, just please—”
Joel smirks and leans back in his chair. “No need to tell me that, angel. I know you’ll do anything.” He lifts his foot between your thighs, eliciting a small, needy noise from you when he presses it against your swollen cunt.
“You’re so fucking wet, baby. All from being used, hm?”
“Yes, Sir,” you whine, wiping your cheeks and trying your hardest to stay still. “Thank you.”
“Such a pathetic little slut.” He rubs his foot against your folds, and you moan, closing your eyes, your lips trembling, your face hot from embarrassment and arousal. Joel presses harder and you cry out, your hips jerking instinctively. 
“Pathetic enough to hump my leg?”
He snorts when he sees the stunned look on your face. You are definitely startled, but you don't protest. Joel can see a mix of hesitation and need in your eyes, and he understands that he needs to push you.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he says, gently petting your hair, “so you better thank me for letting you come at all.”
He sighs and pulls your head back by your hair when you don’t answer fast enough. 
“Use your words, slut.”
“Th–thank you,” you whimper. “I–I just–” You trail off, too shocked and embarrassed to finish your sentence, your voice trembling as you babble unintelligibly.
You hear Joel say your name and feel him cup your cheeks. “Look at me, sweetheart.”
You sniffle and try to focus on his eyes. “Tell me your color,” he says gently, his deep voice soothing your nerves. 
“Still green,” you breathe, swallowing hard. 
He searches your eyes and nods before sitting back up and extending his leg a little.
“Go on, then.”
You look at the satisfied smirk on his face before taking a deep breath and scooting forward, adjusting yourself against Joel’s leg. Gripping Joel’s thigh for balance, you tilt your hips forward until your clit makes contact with his hairy leg. You shudder at the feeling, a needy little moan escaping your lips. 
Joel’s pupils are so blown, his eyes are completely black now. 
You slowly drag your hips upward and duck your head, embarrassed that you’re actually enjoying this – and that you’re this wet. After slowly rocking your hips up and down a few times, you can’t keep yourself from moaning anymore. It feels to fucking good.
You shift a little and allow yourself to set a pace that will make you come. You nuzzle your face against Joel’s thigh and don’t hold back anymore, rutting against his leg with abandon, chasing your release. 
“That’s it, angel,” Joel purrs, gently brushing a wet strand of hair out of your face. “You’re doing so well for me.”
You rock your hips against his leg over and over again, your brows furrowed, whimpering desperately as you grind your wet folds against Joel’s leg, the friction causing your whole body to shudder.
Joel fucking loves seeing you like this; pliant, obedient, wanting to be good so badly that you’d do anything to please him. Most of all, though, he loves how much you trust him. 
“You’re such a good girl,” he praises, tilting your chin up to look into your glazed over eyes. “My good girl.”
You moan at his words, your fingers digging into the flesh of his thighs, your hips jerking frantically, desperate for release. Joel smiles softly at your reaction, reveling in the fact that he's ruining you for anyone else.
He fucking delights in it.
“That’s right, angel. Keep looking at me with those beautiful eyes.”
You barely hear what he says as your breathing comes out in noisy, deep gasps, too far gone, too overwhelmed to feel embarrassed at fucking yourself on Joel’s leg. There are no thoughts left in your brain, your only focus now is chasing your climax.
“Feels good, huh? Such a spoiled brat, aren’t you,” he taunts, marveling at your blissed out expression and the sheen of sweat glistening on your naked body.
“You think you deserve to come, hm? Even though you’re just a dumb little whore, only good for taking my cock in all her holes?”
That’s almost enough right there to tip you over the edge. 
“Tell me what you are.”
You let out a choked sob, fresh tears making their way down your cheeks. Joel wipes them away with his thumbs as you stutter, “I’m–I’m your dumb little whore, Sir. I’m all yours — please, please–”
He gives you a warm smile as his dark eyes bore into. “Come for me, angel.”
You press your throbbing clit hard against him, humping his leg feverishly until the tension finally snaps and shockwaves grip your whole body, your legs trembling as you moan uncontrollably. Your walls contract around nothing as you collapse onto Joel’s thigh and start sobbing.
It’s all too much right now. 
He immediately draws you into his strong arms, lifting you up and cradling you. “Shh, sweetheart,” he purrs, holding you tight and stroking your hair, “you did so well. Are you alright, hm? You want me to go get you a towel?”
Your eyes widen at the suggestion of him leaving you, causing you to shake your head fervently, your tears flowing freely now as you gradually come down from your high. 
“Shh, it’s okay, baby” he coos, putting soft kisses on the top of your head and rubbing soothing circles on your back. “I’m not going anywhere.” 
You're still naked and Joel wants you to feel comfortable and warm, so he swivels you two towards the couch to snag the blanket and drape it over you. He holds you close, whispering into your hair how well you did and how good you are, intermittently pressing soft kisses on your wet face. 
You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest with each breath, a comforting rhythm that wraps around you like a protective cocoon. The warmth emanating from his body seeps into yours, making you feel calm and protected. 
Joel’s not surprised that you need physical affection and closeness right now, knowing that humiliation is one of the most effective ways to make you fly – and crash.
Falling apart in front of somebody, allowing them to see you in such a raw, uninhibited state, is an incredibly vulnerable act.
Joel is not taking your trust lightly. 
When he sees you wipe your nose with your arm, he swivels you back to his desk and opens the drawer to get you some tissues. Your heart skips a beat when you see what else is inside, but you keep quiet. 
“Was I really good?” You mumble after listening to Joel’s calming heartbeat for a few minutes.
“You were perfect, baby,” he says softly, pressing a tender kiss on the crown of your head. 
“So, can you fuck me now?”
The vibrations of Joel’s chuckles reverberate beneath you, making you laugh yourself. 
“How about we make sure you drink enough and eat something first, hm?”
“Just say that your refractory period is getting longer, old man.” 
“Why, hello,” he laughs and pinches your sides, making you squeal, “the princess is back.” You lift your head to look into his eyes. His beautiful, warm eyes. “You think I’ll fuck you if you keep being a brat, hm?” 
“That’s exactly what I think. Because you always do. Because you love it.” 
“Wow,” he chuckles and shakes his head. “All this just now and you’re still sassing me?”
“Just admit you fucking love it, so we can move on and decide what we wanna have for dinner,” you murmur. 
Joel can’t hold back the beaming smile that’s spreading across his face.
Save for last time, you usually leave shortly after you’ve come down. He’ll sometimes ask if you want to stay a bit, but will never pressure you into doing so – even if it hurts him. 
And it does, sometimes, if he’s being honest. 
“Alright, alright,” he sighs deeply, his smile betraying his mocking tone. “I fucking love it when you’re a little brat and torture me all fucking day, making me sit in a fucking meeting for hours on end with a hard cock, listening to some rich fucks who want me to build some bullshit building for them.” 
You giggle at the description of his day and kiss his dimple. “I really am sorry, you know.”
“No you’re not,” he shakes his head. “Now, what are you in the mood for?”
“Can we, um, can we go eat the fattiest, unhealthiest junk food ever and then wash it down with huge cups of pure sugar, so we’re both gonna have a stomach ache for the next three days?” 
“Have I ever told you you’re perfect before?”
---
You step out of the shower, dry off, wash your face with Joel’s face wash and drink a glass of water. Joel put your bag outside the door when you were in the shower, giving you space to do your thing and going downstairs to take a shower there himself.
You’re kind of tired now, feeling a little burnt out.
You put on your panties and retrieve the comfy gym shorts you were smart enough to bring with you from your bag. They’re the only other clean piece of clothing besides the dress you could find in your drawer this morning.
“Joel?” You shout from the top of the stairs. 
“Yeah?”
“Can I borrow a t-shirt?” 
“Sure, darlin’. Just grab one you like.” 
“Thank you.” 
You smile and make your way to Joel’s bedroom. Opening the drawer, your eyes fall on a white shirt you’ve seen him wear many times. Don’t do it. You sigh defeatedly and lift the shirt up to your face, inhaling the unmistakable scent. 
Then you suddenly remember it. Fuck. You need to make sure. 
You put on the shirt and quickly walk to the office. Taking a deep breath and making sure Joel’s not watching you snoop through his things, you open the drawer. 
The polaroid feels strange in your hand as you lift it to take a closer look. 
It’s one of Tommy, you and Joel in it, from the night Tommy introduced you two. You don’t even remember taking this one, but now that you’re looking at it, you see something. It’s the way you’re smiling.
You turn the photo and read the handwritten note that catches your eye. 
when I met her
You swallow hard and put it back. It doesn’t mean anything. You hung the other polaroid, the one of only you and Joel, up in your apartment and that doesn’t mean anything either—right?
“Babe?” Joel’s voice pulls you back.
You turn around and look at him, startled. “I, uh, was just looking for some batteries. Couldn’t find any though.” 
“I got plenty downstairs,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Come on, let’s go.”
---
You’re sitting in a booth, munching on your burger, intermittently sipping your soda. You don’t even realize you haven’t answered Joel for the third time. 
“Are you sure everything’s okay, sweetheart?” Joel touches your arm, his brow furrowed. You look at his concerned face, his cute little frown, before putting down your burger with a sigh. 
“I, uh,” you start but can’t think of the right words. “I’m just feeling a little off these days, I guess. Work’s been stressful and, um, you–you’re gonna think I’m weird,” you murmur while picking at the fries on your plate. 
“Darlin’,” Joel sighs, taking your hand into his, “you’re the weirdest person I’ve ever met.” He chuckles when he sees your offended face. “And I wouldn’t change a thing.”
He rubs the back of your hand softly and searches your eyes. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 
“It’s, um,” you clear your throat. “Do you ever get this feeling that there’s something looming?”
He tilts his head and looks at you curiously. “I’m not sure I follow, darlin’?”
“Like if you’re happy, do you ever feel like it’s not real, it can’t be real, and there’s something looming? Like there’s something just waiting to fuck everything up?” 
When he doesn’t answer, you avert your gaze and try to withdraw your hand. “I’m sorry, I’m killing the vi–”
“No, sweetheart. Hey, c’mere.” He extends both of his hands to you on the table and you give him yours to hold. “I’m sorry, darlin’,” he murmurs, “your question just caught me off guard a little.”
You softly rub his hand with your right thumb and study his features. He looks gorgeous with his tousled hair and his big cow eyes.
“Look, I know that happiness is hard to accept sometimes because we’re afraid of it not lasting. It may even seem easier to sabotage it preemptively, so we’re not disappointed or don’t get hurt when something bad does happen. And I also know that we sometimes don’t think we even deserve to be happy.”
Bingo. 
“But sweetheart, I need you to understand something,” he squeezes your hands gently, his sincere eyes boring into you.
“If anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.” 
You try your best to blink away the tears that are forming in your eyes.
---
Thank you for reading! 🤍 part 4 || part 6 || series masterlist
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infernalodie · 10 months
Text
𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 (𝐏𝐭.𝟐) || 𝐒𝐚𝐦 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫
“𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺, 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦, 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘎𝘰𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴“
Inspo: Tory Lanez - Best Of You
Pairing: Sam Carpenter x Black!Fem!reader
Summary: In the apex, you had no worries...
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Warnings: Smut, fingering, praise kink, oral (Sam receiving), Dom!Sam, Sub!Reader, just a feral Sam Carpenter.
Part One
Words: 1291
DNI IF YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN 18!
“Just like that, sweetheart~ Yeah. Yeah, yeah, right there.” Sam’s head lulled back, lips parted with faintly whispered praises slipping from her lips. Hips gently rocked on your fingers that trembled inside of her. Ever so often daringly curling and prodding at the spongy spot that left the girl quivering above you.
“Am I doing it right?” You murmured, eyes flickering between her blissed features and your fingers swallowed by her needy entrance that squeezed with each noise you made.
Sam couldn’t help but find your seeking approval adorable. For someone so confident in the first half, you looked about ready to start panicking because you had no idea of what you were doing. And maybe that was because even with you holding control of her pleasure, she still held control.
Not that you had a problem with it either. The feeling of being used in this context had your cunt soaked. Because at the end of the day, this wasn’t for you. This was for her. She’d been craving the idea of using your fingers to bring her that sweet release and you were fine with that.
Sitting up, she placed her hands on either side of your head, caging your vision to fixate on her face–Letting you see every flicker of her eyes rolling back and lips parting to accompany a moan that slipped out. It truly was something to behold. So much so that your free hand had snaked between your legs and took the initiative to rub tight circles to your clit.
The action didn’t go unnoticed by Sam, who grinned widely. “You like watching me fuck myself on your fingers, baby?” She muttered, slightly breathless.
“Y-Yeah.” You didn’t know how to answer such a question and it showed. Too perplexed by the beauty hovering above you.
Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips curled in a drunken smile and her brown skin had a thin layer of sweat. Her lips gyrated, rotating back onto your fingers that curled and scissored–just like she told you. Still, in a position of giving being your first time, you would do it however many times she asked if you got to see her like this.
“So nervous,” she teased, hips seeming to speed up. Catching each flick of your thumb against her clit perfectly and your fingers hitting a particular angle that pressed against the velvety walls that caused her to quiver. “Let loose, baby. I know something inside of you wants to fuck me till I pass out.”
Her outright nature was still something you hadn’t been able to get used to. But her encouragement seemed like it would be enough for you. Or at least, that’s what you were forcing yourself to believe.
Sitting up, you removed your hand from her clit, which forced a whine of disagreement. But you ignored it, pushing down the submissive thoughts and focusing on getting what you wanted. Because such a large part of you wanted to please her, but you weren’t sure how you could. So, you were kinda throwing yourself into the deep end, hoping that you could surprise her and get the upper hand in this situation.
Placing a hand on her chest, you forced her onto her back. She watched with her bottom lip caught between her teeth, excitement flashing in her eyes as you lowered yourself between her legs. Kissing the inside of her thighs with your teeth nipping at the delicate skin. Pulling soft gasps from the girl.
But the moment your tongue flicked her clit, Sam was in heaven. Her head fell to her pillow, eyes fluttering shut as she soaked in the feeling of your fingers fucking her to oblivion.
And her taste was almost a potion to raise the purest element of a human. Lust. The primal and true ingredient was found in the liquid dripping from her cunt and soaking your fingers. It was nothing less than heavenly.
Which is why you were quick to pull your fingers from her cunt and replace them with your tongue. Making Sam’s back arch off the bed, hands reaching above her to grab at the headboard. “Like that, baby! Just like that!” She moaned. “You’re doing so good.”
Her legs curled around your head, forcing your closer than you thought possible. But you didn’t complain. Hands grabbing at her breasts, you kneaded the flesh and continued to drink the potion leaking.
“So fucking good,” you muttered to yourself. “I never want to leave.”
Sam lifted her head and it was the greatest decision she could’ve ever made. You ate away at her greedily, eyes rolling back with shameless moans falling from your lips and flowing through her. And when your eyes refocused, you squinted at her. Sam didn’t need to see to know you were grinning in bliss.
She knew there was a side of you that was foreign to even you. And it was a gift that she could be the one to pull it out of you.
Pressing your thumb to her clit, you rose to your knees. Giving a new sightline for Sam that had her reeling. The moonlight peeked perfectly through the window in beams that broke in long bands. But she could see the glint of your soaked jaw and sable body gently quivering in excitement. With a shadow casting over one side of your face.
The smile on your face was so evident as you ran a hand over her stomach. “I fucking love you, Sam.”
At that point, Sam wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or not. What she did know was that if it was a dream, she won’t ever want to wake up. But feeling the warmth of your hands and your fingers continuing to rub at her clit made her aware of reality.
And despite you being new to this, you were rapidly tugging Sam toward the high she’d been dreaming of for months. Everything about you being lost in her cunt was enough to turn her on. But you eating her like this would be the last meal you would ever have was the final push needed.
Your tongue curled skillfully, gently encouraging her to flutter around it. “O-Oh, fuck!” Sam dug her nails into your scalp, lips parted with the corners curled in a grin. It only faltered slightly when her body began to twitch. The shocks of euphoria came in waves, their effect prolonging the high.
But you gently pinching her tits threw her into hysterics. An almost twisted laugh fell from Sam’s lips as came on your tongue. Legs tensing around your head could very much crack your skull from the pressure. Her back arched off the bed with her moans raising a few octaves before she collapsed. And like she did, you helped her gently descend from the high. Fingers gently caressing her sensitive bud until she was breathing heavily, forearm resting over her eyes.
She laughed, running a hand through your hair. Able to see you doing kitten licks to her clit, sending jolts of euphoria through her. It was adorable. And when she tried to move away, you grunted, hands grabbing at her thighs and keeping her in place. Eyes narrowing, showing your disapproval.
It was hot. Sam exhaled shakily, smiling as she said, “Round 2, huh?”
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bisexualiteaa · 20 days
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would it be alright if you were to write a fluff(maybe smut?) hancock x reader who has adhd who's just overwhelmed with quests and doesn't know which one to do first? Lol please and thank you:)
Of the People, For the People
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John Hancock x ADHD!GN Reader (FLUFF!!)
CW: reader struggles with their ADHD, John thinks it’s cute, cursing, guilt, restlessness, slight OOC Hancock, slight suggestive themes towards the end, fluff, possible grammatical/spelling errors, briefly proof read
AN: as someone with ADHD this ask actually really hit home. It was half the reason why I could never start games like Fallout and Skyrim in the first place was because there are so many things you can do, the idea alone was overwhelming to me because I knew it’s start and never finish just about everything pushed my way. Then the TV series came o it and all that changed upon the simple acquirement of a hyperfixation on the ghoul and thus my love for fallout was born! 😂 I am still rather new to Fallout games, lore and such so please be gentle if I have gotten anything wrong, I’m still doing my best at learning everything I can to write these well and properly! But I hope I did your ask some justice with this Anon! Hope you all enjoy some more love for our Mayor Hancock. 🥰
Tag-list: @expirednukacola
“Ugh, there’s just too much to doooo” you whined as you plopped down onto his bed in the state house, exhausted and sore all over from setting up not one, not two, but three whole settlements in one day. Of course it wouldn’t be a day out in the commonwealth if you hadn’t run into monstrosities along the way or people along the way to other settlements who needed other things from you. For instance, there was someone who needed saved from thinking they were a synth and returned to their parents, other people who needed help getting their settlements started, people who needed you to kill some super mutants, people who needed you to eliminate some feral ghouls some place else, and after that you couldn’t even remember if you tried. Thank goodness for your Pip-Boy keeping track of these things or else you feared you’d never remember it all. There was just so much that others, especially Preston, were asking of you to do out here that it was beginning to become just a bit too overwhelming to take on all at once. You loved that you could be help for people, so unfortunately you never really paid your own wellbeing any mind until now that it was at such a detriment you could hardly even think straight, much less accurately hit a target or properly even speak to someone without sounding like intelligence was your dump stat. You wanted ever so badly to be that light for people who had seemed to lose hope because it’s what you would want others to do for you if you were in need. You lived and breathed by that golden rule taught to you so long ago. Come to think of it, the only person who you’d done everything for last that you could remember was Hancock, which was actually how you two ended up together.
“Being commander of the Minutemen will do that to ya, sunshine” Hancock teased, leaning against the door frame as he looked at you, tiredly splayed out on his bed in amusement, finding it funny that the commander of such a large militia could be so…well, you. Anyone else would likely be overwhelmed with power to the point of paranoia, or the opposite and let it go to their head and break them of the person they once were, but you were still yourself through everything. He admired the way you wanted to help people, the way you helped the poor and needy in the ways he wished the rich would do, but he could tell it was taking a clear toll on your wellbeing in doing so. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time you told someone no, or that you flat out just couldn’t help them because he could see that look in your eyes when someone asked you for help. He saw the sympathy, the pain, saw the way you felt so bad knowing that if you didn’t, they likely wouldn’t make it out in the harsh world of the commonwealth. His heart ached for you in that sense, because he remembers a time when he wanted to help everyone in his town that he could, any way he could, hell it was the whole reason he became the mayor of Goodneighbor in the first place. But just like you, he needed someone to make him realize that you can’t do everything, some things just have to play out and fix themselves on their own. “But I think you need to take a break from it for a day or two, give yourself a chance to recoup. You’re working’ yourself to death and I’m startin’ to get worried” he added, walking into the room to join you and he watched you sit up, looking completely defeated and worried at the idea of not helping others or running things for just a day, let alone two but also at the fact that now he was concerned for you. “But they need me, John. If I don’t help them…what would become of them? What kind of leader would I be to just leave them in shambles? I can’t live with the idea of lives lost because of me…” you said with a guilty tone, clearly torn between the idea of helping yourself or helping others, and the sweet innocence of your good natured personality made him smile softly as he closed the door behind him and sat down next to you on his bed.
“Even heros need a vacation, love. Helping people who won’t make it is wonderful, it’s one of the many things I love about you. But people can just as easily be hurt when they’re guided in the wrong direction because the person directing them isn’t taking care of themselves the way they need to. A good leader needs strength sure, but that strength depletes and needs replenished every now and again, and that’s okay” he said, grabbing your hand in his, squeezing it in the hopes to offer you some level of comfort to assure you his words meant no harm, he simply just wanted you to look out for yourself as much as you looked out for others around you. He knew it got through to you when he heard you exhale an audible deep breath you’d been holding in for so long. “I guess, I just…I don’t know. It feels extra difficult for me because I can never stay focused on just one thing. I get started on one project, then someone comes along and I get so side tracked trying to help them that I forget all about where I started! I probably have twenty of these damn missions at least half started before I dropped them for something else entirely. It’s so frustrating and overwhelming because then they all start to pile up, and then I don’t know where to start!” you explained, making him laugh. Who would have ever guessed his big, fearless commander of the Minutemen, partner was easily sidetracked by their ADHD. But he wouldn’t want you any other way. “Yet you completed everything I asked of you with no issue” he pointed out with a smug grin, making you blush at the realization that he noticed that. “Well…yeah. I did it because I liked you and wanted to get closer to you. I was fixated on it because I wanted it to better my chances of being with you, so to me it wasn’t work. It was just doing something that you, someone I care for, asked me to do, so I did it” you admitted bashfully, making him smile at the wholesome reason you gave him. “That’s so fucking cute” Hancock replied as he put his arm around you, pulling you into his side, making you blush even more before covering your face with your hands. “It’s cute until you realize I killed someone for you” you quipped with a grin once you’d moved your hands away to look at him, making him chuckle at your reply. “Made it even” he joked, referring to when Finn tried to haggle you when you first showed up to Goodneighbor. “Fair enough” you responded as you chuckled, but he could still tell that you hadn’t fully come around to the idea yet, something still had its hold on you but at least you started to open up to the idea.
“C’mon, let’s just take the next couple of days to relax. The settlements will be fine, they run pretty well on their own, I’m sure they can survive a day or two without you. Maybe Nick or Codsworth can run ship while you take the time to yourself” he said, making you lean your head against his shoulder as you contemplated it. “Poor Codsworth, I wouldn’t do that to him. He tended to my house for two hundred years despite the absolute state of decay it was in from the explosions, thinking the family would come back any day and it drove him nearly mad. I could only imagine what running settlements would do to him” you said, making him chuckle. “Okay then how ‘bout Nick? He’s traveled with you long enough, he’s a smart guy, I’m sure he could handle it. I’m sure he’d more than understand that you need some time to yourself to get back that good ol’ fighting spirit” he added. “You think so?” You asked skeptically, making him sling his arm around your waist to hold you close and help ease your nerves the best he could. It was times like these that you wished you had the confidence and aloof attitude Hancock had about just about everything. “I know so. Think about it, you set them up, taught them what they know, they already manage pretty well on their own, they got this! Just lay back and relax for a change!” he said, easing your nerves just a little bit more at the idea. For someone who never wanted a leader to be too comfortable, he really wanted you to be, it was strange yet heart warming to see how much he cared about you and wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. So you finally gave in, maybe a couple of days to relax and do what you wanted to do didn’t sound bad after all. Maybe you could enjoy a couple of drinks one night, or hell, maybe enjoy just sleeping in a bed two nights in a row for a change, give your body a rest from sleeping on the cold hard ground in a sleeping bag. And not have to worry about all the things floating around in your mind that need done. That sounded like heaven to you once you convinced yourself with Hancock’s help that it could really be useful. “Okay, but if I do, I can’t just lay in bed all day. I literally can’t, I’ll go crazy” you said, making him laugh, knowing the way you can’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time just on the regular while you’re on the go. “We don’t have to, these couple of days are for what you wanna do sunshine. Though I wouldn’t mind it of course if we spent all of it in bed, but staying in bed all day doesn’t necessarily mean *just* sleeping, ya know” he said, his voice slipping into that characteristic deep, gravelly suggestive tone with a mischievous grin painting his thin, irradiated lips as he pulled you into his side, making you laugh. “John!” You said, seemingly flabbergasted at his reply, but truthfully you hadn’t expected anything less from him. “Oh you know I love it when you yell my name, keep doin’ it sunshine” he said flirtatiously with that ever recognizable smirk painted across his face as he crawled on top of you on the bed, littering your face and neck with kisses through a shared fit of laughter. Maybe a little break wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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WIBTA for taking my elderly, aggressive cat to a groomer?
My childhood cat is M16 going on 17. I lived with him for 13-14 years, and he’s always been very elegant and pretty. Growing up, he was meticulous about grooming to the point where it became a family in-joke that he was a movie star or a model or something in a past life. But he’s getting older now, and he had a particularly hard summer—in addition to slowly going blind, he escaped the house one night and no one could find him till the next morning, and which point he’d clearly been hit by a car or attacked by an animal. He had a broken leg and was slowly suffocating due to a hole in his lung, but somehow the old bastard pulled through and recovered surprisingly quickly (the vet clinic cheered when my parents gave them the update, it was so sweet).
While I’m beyond grateful that he’s still with us, when I came home for the holidays this year I noticed that he’s looking pretty rough. I keep seeing clumps of dirt (or whatever it is he’s getting into, at one point I swear it was chocolate despite my family NEVER leaving anything like that out where the cats can get into it) in his fur that he’ll just leave there. His back claws in particular look like they’re caked in mystery gunk. I don’t think he’s being neglected or anything, but between the blindness and all the crap he went through with his leg I don’t think he’s been able to keep up and groom himself as thoroughly as he used to. It looks really uncomfortable, especially considering how persnickety he was about keeping clean in the past.
I definitely don’t have the expertise to properly groom him myself, and given how old he is + his recent injury I don’t feel comfortable learning through youtube university and potentially hurting him. Problem is, he’s kind of a monster. He was half feral when we got him, and it shows. He’s sweet most of the time, but can get overstimulated with little warning and tends to bite or scratch when that happens. I don’t think he’s ever bitten anyone outside of the family, but he still makes the vet + vet techs’ lives a living hell when we take him for a checkup unless we drug him first. Even when we DO drug him, if he gets pissed enough he’ll sometimes fight through it and struggle and yowl as if he was 100% lucid. Old age has done nothing to temper this, when he got injured this summer he fought so hard at the clinic that they had to knock him all the way out just to get an x-ray.
It feels negligent to just let him be filthy now that I’ve noticed it, but I also don’t want to put an elderly animal AND an innocent groomer through an unnecessary amount of stress just because I think his paws look icky. *I* think he would be more comfortable if he was nice and clean, but he seems happy and perky so it’s very possible he doesn’t even care. I’ve never taken an animal to a groomer before and I have no idea what the etiquette is.
If tumblr doesn’t think it would be too bad, I’ll bring the idea of getting him professionally groomed up with my parents. If y’all think I’d be an asshole for putting him + a groomer through that, I’ll back off and let him live his best pigpen life.
Pet tax (blind old man in his “thank you for surviving” gift, a brand new heated bed):
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What are these acronyms?
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X Marks the Spot - K.SY
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🏴‍☠️Who; Kwon Soonyoung (Seventeen) x female reader 🏴‍☠️What; Humour. Bestfriends to lovers. I guess some tiny fluff? Adult themes. 🏴‍☠️Wordcount; 5.8k 🏴‍☠️Warnings; Profanity. Party typical alcohol mentions but neither SY nor reader are drinking. Kind of jealous/possessive Soonyoung. Making out in public places. The whole point of this story is Soonyoung in a costume marketed for women, so if that's not your vibe then this story is not for you, friend.
Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.
Summary; You stupidly left the job of buying your costumes for the party down to Soonyoung, and now you're paying for it and have to spend the night watching him dancing in those little shorts initially intended for you.
-2024 Masterlist-
A/N; this is all because I can't get the thought of Soonyoung in the pirate outfit from my "Sexy costumes for Seventeen to wear" post out of my head. made myself feral with that one.
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Completely out of the blue last week, Seungkwan decided to send a message in the group chat that he's throwing a costume party. No reason for it, nothing had happened to warrant a party, he had simply decided he wanted to do it and demanded the entire group be there and in costume.
Soonyoung had, unsurprisingly, already been by your side on our couch watching the latest episode of the drama you two were obsessed with, when the message came through. After the episode you both looked at your phones and Soonyoung immediately started to look for costume ideas excitedly. He soon found and fell in love with a pirate outfit and after showing you it, he said it's part of a couple costume and as besties, you have to match because 'that's what besties do'. In the year you have known Soonyoung, you have never truly said no to him and this was no different.
Though perhaps you should've at least looked at the female half of the matching costume before agreeing instead of blindly trusting your best friend.
Which leads us to here. It's an hour before the party is due to start and Soonyoung has just turned up at your apartment to get ready together just like always. He has the parcel of costumes in his arms and a bright excited grin on his face when he hands it over to you to allow him to remove his shoes.
"I haven't opened it yet," He informs, watching you walk over to the couch to lean the parcel against the arm and open it like you knew he wanted you to. Soonyoung knows you get an odd sense of joy from opening parcels whether or not they're for you so he often brings his orders over or invites you to his apartment to allow you to open them for him.
"So I see," You muse with a little giggle.
Soonyoung appears at your back a moment later, leaning his chin on your shoulder to peer into the bag as you open it. The first costume out is his, packaged in another bag though this is clear revealing the cardboard insert with a picture of a man in the costume on the front. He takes it happily when you offer it and bounces aside to start to open it excitedly.
There's only one more item in the bag, your costume so you take it out, excited about your matching pirate outfits too. Up until you turn the packet over to look at the picture and realise that this truly is not what you expected, especially not from your best friend.
"What the actual fuck, Kwon Soonyoung?!" You demand flabbergasted.
"Uh-oh, the full name," Soonyoung looks up at you in alarm, all sign of joy gone. "Did they send the wrong thing?"
"I hope so because if you saw this on the site and still ordered it, you and I are going to have some issues." You turn the packet to show him the picture on the cardboard insert. A picture of a woman in a tiny pair of high-waisted shorts, if they could even be considered that with fishnet tights underneath. There's an attempt at a white top that honestly could be a lot worse, it's off the shoulder and cropped but it's honestly not as bad as it could be for a female-focused costume, but still far too revealing for your liking. To finish it off, she's wearing a striped bandana on her head with a plastic sword in her hands and you're very certain that the sword alone is the only reason the packet is that big because there's certainly not enough material creating the costume to require such a size bag.
Soonyoung stares at the picture for a second then looks up at you with a confused little pout. "It's a pirate outfit."
"Show me yours," You demand with a sigh. He doesn't hesitate to move over and hand you his costume, still in the packet just about.
There's a clear difference in costumes. The picture on his packet depicts a man in three-quarter length vertically striped trousers and a simple white shirt with an open neckline revealing a thin triangular strip of skin down to his sternum, finished with the same bandana as your costume and a plastic sword. Though, of course, the man's sword is bigger than the woman's sword. Of course, the men get the big boy sword and the women get the toothpick.
"You seriously don't see a problem with this?" You ask, holding the two packets up side by side so that he can see the photos together. Poor, naive Soonyoung looks between the pictures rapidly in a desperate attempt to understand. Yet he winds up just shaking his head as he looks at you with such an innocent expression that you know that he seriously doesn't understand the problem here at all. "Then you can wear this one." You declare, handing him the woman's outfit before turning to stalk off to your bedroom.
"What?!" He sputters, scrambling to follow you down the short corridor. "This is for women!"
"You've said before, clothes have no gender!" You remind, turning at the threshold with a hand on your open door ready to close it and a sweet smile on your face. "If you want to match with me, Soonyoungie, you wear that and I'll wear this."
He stares between you and the packet in his hand for a moment before agreeing with a nod and a simple "okay".
And that right there, is your second mistake.
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When you had told Soonyoung to wear that outfit, you really had not been prepared for how fucking good he'd look in the skimpy little outfit. So now you have to spend the next hours at Seungkwan's bustling apartment pretending that your gaze isn't constantly locating Soonyoung in the dim lighting as he happily dances amongst other costumed bodies.
Sure, you've seen Soonyoung topless before so you know the man has a frankly incredible body usually hidden under the baggy clothes he usually prefers to wear, but the sexy little pirate outfit highlights his strong torso and biceps so well. The cropped top stops at his sternum giving full view of the top half of his defined abs, the bottom half hidden by the high waist of the shorts. And those shorts? They really do not leave a lot to the imagination at all so Soonyoung has spent the entire night so far carefully doing his best to keep the sword strapped around his hips dangling in front of his crotch. You had obligingly given him the bigger sword when you had realised that the 'woman's' sword wasn't exactly wide enough to cover him. Neither of you had made eye contact when you had handed it over without a word because you both knew what it meant and the fact you had obviously seen the bulge of his flaccid dick in the tight shorts.
Which honestly, had only made you wonder how big he was hard, and that was a thought that you usually try to avoid; thinking of your best friend in a sexual situation. Though his pure existence alone makes it very hard.
Kwon Soonyoung doesn't realise how attractive he is and you're kind of grateful about it. Because if that unfairly effortlessly attractive man knows how hot he is, then you know he'll be cocky and dress to show off more often than just for nights out or special occasions, and you would not mentally survive that.
As it is, you're not sure you'll survive the night.
"One day, you two are going to stop being stupid and just fuck it out," Chan comments from your right where he stands in his doctor's outfit; Seungkwan's wearing a matching one somewhere else in the apartment and you really can't tell if it's intentional or not with those two. They're always bickering and acting like they hate each other but they're always the first the other goes to for any reason whatsoever.
"Please make it before the end of summer so I don't lose money," Seungcheol requests from your left, leaning against the wall with you and dressed in a suit just like his own best friend and roommate, wherever she has disappeared to. She's likely with Junhui based on the way the pair have been eyeing each other for the past hour -and since they met really but that's another story entirely.
"You assholes have bets on us fucking?" You gawp in betrayed disbelief at the suited man.
"Yup," Seungcheol confirms shamelessly while Chan tries to sputter out a denial that makes you level the youngest with an unimpressed look. However, it doesn't last because you hear Soonyoung's loud voice even over the music and automatically look over to where your best friend is trying to stop Seokmin from grabbing at his sword. No euphemism even if the plastic is in the right place. "Looks like Seok's going to get further with your boy than you ever have." Seungcheol sniggers. You shove his arm making him laugh harder.
"Swordplay," Chan giggles then wanders off without another word to refill his cup after swallowing the last of its contents.
"Seriously though, you should like, go fuck him," Seungcheol speaks a moment later when Soonyoung has successfully distracted Seokmin by grabbing the younger's hands to make him dance with him. Soonyoung shoots you a world-weary, wide-eyed look that makes you snicker and wave innocently at him.
"You really don't want to lose money, huh."
"It's not even about that, just you two. This has been going on for over a year now; this gross pining shit. Just sit on his dick and ask him on a date, it's not that hard."
"You can't say shit, Cheol."
"Hey, I've fucked her, regularly," he defends with a pout before sipping at his drink.
"Oh yeah, because fucking your best friend who you've been in love with since childhood while encouraging her to go after your friend who she's been mutually eyefucking for the past three months is so much better." You retort sarcastically and give him a look. He can't refute it at all, it's entirely true and he's confided in you enough for you both to know that he's constantly making his own heartbreak worse by continuing to indulge his best friend both in bed and when she comes home and whines over how good Junhui looks.
"We're as bad as each other," he decides after a second.
"Don't lump me with you, I've never fucked him." You scoff and turn back around to naturally locate Soonyoung where he's back to smiling away as he dances with Seokmin and some others.
"You want to,"
"Yeah, I really fucking do," you exhale and swallow down the last of your drink only to frown down into the empty disposable cup. "I need a real drink."
"You know you can't drink around him like this or you will ask to suck his dick." Seungcheol reminds you of the very reason why you're always the designated driver when Soonyoung dresses up.
Because yes, you have come close to getting on your knees in the middle of a club for him. Luckily, Seungcheol had noticed and took you home before you actually acted on the urge to publicly defile your best friend. Unluckily, Seungcheol had noticed and has not failed to mention it at every chance. But at least it's stayed between the two of you.
"At this rate, I'll do it regardless," you mutter, still frowning into your empty cup. "Back in a bit." Seungcheol just grunts to show he heard before you slump off to the kitchen to refill your cup with one of the non-alcoholic beverages lining the counter.
You've barely finished filling your cup when a familiar hand reaches around you and picks it up to start gulping down. Even though you know it's Soonyoung, you still look over your right shoulder where he's chugging down the drink entirely unaware of your thirsty gaze watching the drop of liquid that escapes from the corner of his mouth trail down over his chin and jaw and down his neck to catch on his collar bone. You refrain from leaning in to slurp it up and lick your way up the trail it left all the way to Soonyoung's mouth.
Instead of staring at the way his throat bobs as he swallows down the last drops, you turn back around and wait for him to place the cup down so that you can refill it. And then he grabs it again before you can, making you groan. "Seriously?"
"M'thirsty," he defends barely pulling the cup away and accidentally dribbling some of the liquid from his mouth onto your shoulder. You look at him in disgust. He just grins sweetly and kisses your cheek in a sticky apologetic way before leaning back up to get back to his task of once again, stealing your drink.
At least this time when you've refilled the cup, he doesn't steal it away and lets you actually lift it to your own mouth. You can feel his eyes on you as you drink so you side-eye him questioningly without moving the cup away.
"Are you taking Seungcheol home again?" He asks, stepping closer to you as someone passes too close behind him, his left hand falling to your hip and his right on the counter, sort of caging you in though you know it's unintentional even if you wish it wasn't.
"He can take himself home, he's not drinking tonight," you reply, distracted by the feeling of plastic pressing against you. "Your sword is digging into my ass."
Soonyoung lets go of the counter to tug his sword belt around and lays the toy on the outside of his left thigh leaving him pressed directly against you. You genuinely can't tell if he's even noticed that as he seems to be focused on the conversation judging by the concentrated furrow of his eyebrows. "That's not what I mean and you know it."
"If I know it, wouldn't I respond to what you mean?" You give him a look, puzzled by his own words and hoping he understands that you seem to very much not be having the same conversation here and you are completely unaware of the conversation he's having with you.
"Not when you're both pretending nothing's happening,"
"What?" You nudge him back enough so that you can turn and face him, which admittedly, is not your smartest move when he moves straight back in. He doesn't press against you again but his left foot is between yours as you lean your ass back against the counter. Any closer and his thigh will be very close to pressing to your crotch.
"Come on, I'm your best friend, I think you should at least be honest with me, even if you play ignorant with the others," he frowns and leans heavier onto his right hand on the counter beside your hip, bringing him in closer so that he doesn't have to talk so loudly to be heard over the music. "You two often leave together when we go out. And even though his place is closer than mine, you drop me off first so it's just you two left. I'm not stupid."
"Wait, you think that's so we can go fuck?" You realise with wide eyes.
"It's obvious, you always find each other when we're all together like this and spend the whole fucking night hiding off to the side whispering to each other,"
You can't help but laugh. "Do you all think we're fucking?" He nods. You laugh again. "Oh man, I gotta tell Cheolie this," you start to push off of the counter with every intention of going to find the man knowing he will find it as hilarious as you do, but Soonyoung puts his left hand on your lower stomach to push you back and then he pushes himself against you to pin you there. "Soonyoung,"
"No."
"What? No? No what?"
"I'm not letting you go back to him. You came with me, you're staying with me and leaving with me, no one else." He declares firmly.
You stare up at him trying to decipher what the fuck is actually going on right now, what prompted this sudden conversation and behaviour. Not that Soonyoung has never pinned you before but it's usually playfully as he whines and pouts cutely to get his way, or to just joke around. But he's entirely serious now and looking at you with something kind of dark in his eyes. Admittedly, it's pretty fucking hot. "Are you drunk?" You ask, even if you know he's not; you can't smell any alcohol on him and drunk Soonyoung gets cuddly and clingy, not whatever this is.
"You know I'm not," he places his left hand on the counter on your other side, well and truly caging you in and causing him to lean down a little closer to reach comfortably.
"Then why are you suddenly acting like this?"
"It's not sudden." You give him a look. "Okay, fine, acting on it is but wanting to, that's not sudden. I've wanted to do this for a long time,"
"Then why haven't you?"
"Because I care about you too much," he frowns a little as he takes in your features from up close, gaze catching on your lips for a few seconds before lifting back up to meet your eyes. "There's a bet you know, about us fucking?"
"I just found out." You pull a displeased expression. "Cheol's in on that, you know? He wouldn't bet on us fucking before the end of summer if he's fucking me."
"He is?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise. "They made it sound like he's against the bet, said he's been trying to stop them from always talking me into it,"
"Yeah, no, he just told me to fuck you. He's always telling me to fuck you."
"Oh," He licks his lips as his eyes divert thoughtfully. "Guess I should stop being a dick to him then,"
"You've been a dick to him?" You ask, genuinely surprised. You really haven't noticed Soonyoung acting badly towards Seungcheol at all.
"Mm, I always take his favourite snacks at movie night." You can't help but burst into giggling laughter at his confession.
Of course, the man doesn't have a single genuinely mean bone in his body and would think purposely taking someone's favourite snacks would be a big dick move. You bet he's been feeling kind of guilty about it while no doubt Seungcheol hasn't even noticed.
"What? Why're you laughing?" He pouts at you.
"Oh, Soonie, you're so fucking cute," you coo and cup his cheeks fondly. He smiles a little dopily at the compliment, the same smile he reserves for you and your doting attention on him even if neither of you has noticed that. The rest of your friends have though.
"Nice ass," You hear before Soonyoung's hips jerk into you when he yelps and tries to escape the slap that landed on his ass.
"Hyung!" He complains, looking over his shoulder to pout at Jeonghan as the man appears from behind your best friend.
You really can't tell exactly what Jeonghan is supposed to be, you think it's some kind of anime character, or something kinky. Maybe both. Either way, his costume is a strange mix of faux black leather and shimmery red lacey wings. And he pulls it off unfairly well considering that you know he hadn't been prepared for the party that morning at all.
"What? Don't look at me like I'm disturbing something," Jeonghan scoffs, reaching around you to grab the same big plastic bottle you had been filling your cup from. Though he stops and looks at the way Soonyoung is very much pressed against you. Jeonghan grins after noticing that Soonyoung's crotch is definitely smushed against your upper thigh; something you have been doing your best to ignore yourself because yes you can feel everything through the thin material covering you both. "Or maybe I am." He smirks at you both.
"What are you supposed to be exactly?" You ask in an attempt to change the topic to one that won't kill your last remaining dregs of sanity. Then again, with the things that come out of Yoon Jeonghan's mouth, you could still be rendered insane but for a reason other than feeling your best friend's dick pressed against you.
"No idea just grabbed some shit from Hao's costume closet." Jeonghan shrugs as he looks down at himself. "Kind of think this might be less about his costume designing and more about sex though."
"He's definitely worn that harness while fucking someone." You agree and reach out to hook your finger over the thick horizontal strap over Jeonghan's chest. You're pretty sure it's directly over his nipples, but the slightly sheer tank top he's wearing underneath the harness kind of obscures your view enough that you don't have confirmation.
"Mm, definitely." Jeonghan agrees and smirks at you. "Want to take it home yourself?"
"And take it from you? I wouldn't dare, you look so handsome, Hannie," You coo, playing along with the flirty banter you two have always partaken in. Not because anything has ever happened between you nor will it, you've discussed it plenty of times to make sure you're both on the same page still. But it's just fun to harmlessly flirt.
"Never said I won't be wearing it," he licks his lips and gives you a suggestive look.
"You're not going home with her," Soonyoung argues firmly, crowding up against you further though his gaze is on Jeonghan in warning, so he misses the way your eyes widen and dart down to where Soonyoung is now pressing his crotch against your hip, his own thigh pressing up between your thighs. Jeonghan doesn't miss it though and cackles, taking the bottle and his cup away entirely without another word.
"S-soonyoung," You stammer, hands fluttering at his sides, wanting to push him back for your sanity but you think putting your hands on his exposed skin will just make you pull him closer.
"Do you have to flirt with him all the time?" He frowns at you, entirely unaware of the screaming in your mind, mostly just sounds with the odd yell of the word penis. He'd probably laugh if he heard it, to be honest, just because of the word penis. He wouldn't even realise it's his penis you're mentally screaming about. "And when I'm right here too. Did you forget I'm here or something?"
"No," You choke out.
"Then why- are you okay?" He suddenly realises how wide your eyes are.
"I can feel your dick," You blurt, unable to think of anything else.
He blinks at you for a moment then looks down at where he's pressed against you as if he hasn't even noticed until now. "Oh," he pulls his hips back and his thigh from between yours making you let out a heavy shaky exhale as your body relaxes a little. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"Ha, not the word I'd use."
"What word would you use?" If he was any other man, you'd say the little quirk of his head and innocent eyes locked onto you is fake, just some kind of game, a way to flirt. But it's Soonyoung and you've seen this man miss the most obvious of flirtations since you've known him; the amount of times you or the guys have had to bluntly tell him that someone had been trying to take him home to fuck is frankly absurd. "Stop touching my ass!" His sudden exclamation makes you jump a little while he looks over his shoulder in annoyance, glaring at Seungkwan who's giving him an innocent look.
"I'm very happy that you two are finally doing something about your consistent sexual tension and mutual pining but take it out of my kitchen, please. I don't want to have to burn my home down if you defile my counters." The younger man speaks bluntly with a slightly sweet edge to his words. You can't even see him but you just know that he's got that too sweet smile on his face that always feels more threatening than anything.
"What?" Soonyoung blinks at him, the annoyance of his ass being grabbed melting away. "We're not doing anything."
"Hannie told me you're being possessive and we all know that she likes that so-"
"Hey!" You exclaim offendedly, not because you can argue it, but just more that you're being talked about like you're not there. "She has a name!"
"Well take hyung home and he can moan it for the neighbours to hear." Seungkwan gives you that sweet-threatening smile as he leans around Soonyoung to meet your gaze. "My neighbours don't want to hear it."
"My neighbours won't hear that," you scoff. Soonyoung can't help but frown, he feels like he's just been rejected even though he hadn't even gotten to the point of actually asking to take you home and fuck you like he wants to, like your mutual friends had convinced him you want him to. But your firm dismissal of Seungkwan's words sounds like you putting that boundary securely in place before he can even ask to tumble over it into your arms.
"He's loud-" Seungkwan starts to point out but you're not done talking even if you had taken a quick scoff break.
"I don't live in a cheap-ass building with paper for walls like you do, Kwannie." You finish.
Both men stare at you for a second, Seungkwan at first just blinks in surprise at the fact you're not even disputing the Soonyoung moaning your name part, just whether or not your neighbours will hear. And Soonyoung is full-on gawping at you, mouth open and eyes wide, wondering if this means that boundary even exists between you.
"Does that mean you won't get a noise complaint? Hyung is pretty loud, you know? There's a reason we don't live together anymore."
"I don't know." You reply with a shrug.
"Then go fucking home already and stop humping against my kitchen counter!" Seungkwan grabs Soonyoung by his hips to yank him backwards away from you while the scantily dressed pirate yelps and flails a little at the unexpected action. Then he's shoved towards the kitchen exit while Seungkwan grabs your wrist to tug you along.
You're both too genuinely dumbstruck by Seungkwan's sudden forceful actions to do anything but stumble along until you're both outside of the apartment, shoes in hands and staring in shock at the door that's just been shut in your faces.
"Did we just get kicked out?" You mutter.
Soonyoung nods slowly and then looks at you. "I think we got kicked out for sex."
"Is it still sexile if you're the ones getting kicked out and told to go elsewhere to fuck?" You muse, attention down as you focus on shoving your feet into your shoes, one hand on the wall behind you and the other out in the air pointlessly.
"Uh, reverse sexile?" He offers, dropping his shoes to shove his feet into.
"Sounds like a sex position."
He laughs. "What would that even look like?"
"No idea." You grin at him then figure that well, it seems like you've both been outed enough already seeing as all of your friends have stopped hiding the fact that they expect you to finally have sex, which really implies a mutual attraction. So you suck your bottom lip into your mouth for a second as he frowns down at his shoe that just will not accept his right foot for some reason. "Shall we go find out?"
Immediately, Soonyoung looks up at you with wide eyes. "What?"
"Shall we go find out what reverse sexile looks like?"
"Like…us?"
"Yeah, Soonyoung, us," You confirm with an amused twitch of your lips. "You said you're the only one to go home with me, right?" He nods. "Then let's go home and find out, Young-ah."
"Ye-no, wait." He steps closer and takes your hand gently before you can start walking down the hall to the staircase. His fingers are barely holding onto your own. It's perhaps the most cautious he's ever taken your hand into his. Even the very first time he had boldly laced your fingers together and you had only met ten minutes previously.
"No?" You ask, feeling really kind of stupid all of a sudden. You had been so unusually confident in asking him to go home and fuck you.
"Not because I don't want to because I do seriously, I really want to fuck you." He breathes out, sounding rather affected by the thought alone as he stares at you longingly and holds your hand a little more securely. "I just…I don't want it to wind up like Seungcheol."
"Uh, what about Seungcheol?" You shuffle a little closer while giving him a questioning look.
"Regularly fucking his best friend who has a crush on someone else, while he…while he wants her as more than just company in his bed." The way his expression turns serious and yearning makes your heart start to race a little with hope.
"While he…Are you saying you want more?" You ask quietly.
"Earlier when I said I care about you too much, I meant I care too much to be able to have sex with you if it means nothing. I really fucking like you and I don't want to go home with you like this if you don't feel the same. I can't do that." He shakes his head a little. "As much as I've thought about this, about you and me doing all kinds of kinky shit all over your apartment, and mine when Jihoon isn't there. Or when he is if you're into exhibitionism, I don't know your kinks and I'm pretty sure he wouldn't even notice anyway because he never leaves his fucking room an-" He's rambling at this point, frowning down at your connected hands as he talks.
"Soonyoung." He makes a soft hum of a noise as he looks back up at you with rounded eyes. "We can talk kinks later, I'd really like to get back to the matter of it sounds like you're confessing to me?"
"Oh, right yeah, I guess I am." He chuckles a little and scratches the back of his neck with his free hand. "So uh, yeah, I really like you and uhm, I guess now comes the part where hopefully, you say you like me back but I really don't know if you do because the guys just really said you want to fuck me and-" You cover his mouth with your hand that time to shut up his second bout of nervous rambling.
"I really like you too, Soonie," You confirm softly and giggle at the way his features light up adorably behind your palm. "Can we skip the trial dating bullshit and go straight to being together? I'd like to show you off as my boyfriend," His eyes widen dramatically and then he's nodding rapidly in agreement without dislodging your hand. "You're so cute." You coo and lean in just to press a kiss to the back of your hand over his mouth. He looks utterly betrayed and heartbroken when you lean back. "What?" You play innocent and lower your hand while backing up, lacing your fingers behind your back.
"You can't tease me like that, baby!" He whines, toddling after you and dragging his feet in a sulk as he moves along the carpeted flooring of the hall.
"Tease? Me? Never," You grin at him then stop as your back hits the door to the staircase.
"You are, teased me for the past year. Teasing me now." He continues to mumble away as he nears, though cuts off when you reach out to grab the sword and yank on the plastic to pull him in right up against you. His hands automatically fly up to catch himself on the door above your head while his breath catches in his throat.
"If you're so worried I'm going to keep teasing you, Soonie, you better hurry up and take what you want." You warn in a low voice, chin tilted up so your faces are only inches apart.
Soonyoung groans in the back of his throat before he leans down and seals his lips against yours in a hungry, desperate kiss. He presses his left forearm flat against the door beside your head so that he can firmly hold your jaw with his right hand and tilt you further into him with his thumb pushing on your chin to urge your mouth open wider and deepen the kiss in a manner much too filthy for a public hallway of your friend's apartment building.
"Oh for fucks sake!" The loud voice of the friend in question forces you both apart to peer over Soonyoung's shoulder to where Seungkwan is in the hallway with the cute neighbour he's recently started to date, their hands together and clearly with one intention in mind while sneaking away from his own party. They're standing outside of the neighbour's slightly open door but Seungkwan is staring at you and Soonyoung in disbelief. "I told you to go home! Not get your booty here!"
"Ha, booty, pirate joke." You snigger and Soonyoung giggles, both at your amusement and the pun he honestly hadn't even noticed.
"You two are fucking useless." Seungkwan decides and lets his neighbour tug him into the apartment. "You better be gone before I'm back!"
"90 seconds, right?!" Soonyoung calls as Seungkwan disappears. The younger's head pops back out to glare at the other and flip him a very heartfelt middle finger before the door actually shuts behind him that time. Soonyoung turns to look at you with a mischievous smirk. "Should we go fuck on his bed just to piss him off?"
"As tempting as that sounds, I'd rather only I hear you like that, Soonie," You pout at him cutely. "I'm not very good at sharing my toys, you know."
"Oh, I'm your toy now?" He muses, reaching down to open the door carefully to back you through it with his other arm wrapping around your waist.
"Mm, mine and only mine to play with when I want, right?"
"Yeah, yeah, yours and yours only, baby." He agrees lowly. "And you're mine."
"I am." You confirm and tilt up to kiss him teasingly. "Let's hurry and get home so I can show you everything that now belongs to you."
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A/N; There is more to this but I had to cut it all because it really was me mostly rambling with a sort of hand job thrown in there. The title comes from a conversation in the part I haven't included, by the way. Working title was "Yo ho hoe". But if I continue that part I removed from this, I guess there will be a part 2 as a direct continuation from this and it'll include smut.
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