#god the things i would let this man do to me

[munsonsmixtapes]

First Time

Find part two here!

virgin!Eddie x experienced!fem!reader

since smut won the poll, heres what I came up with!

summary: you hook up with a very inexperienced Eddie in a club bathroom

cw: MDNI 18+ smut (p in v) oral (m receiving) Eddie receives a handjob

The club was very overcrowded with dancing bodies covering the dance floor. You had a drink in your hand and were dancing the night away without a care in the world. By that time in the night, you usually had someone to take home, but you came up empty handed. Nobody looked good. They were all either drunk off their asses or definitely looked like they’d slip something into your drink when you weren’t looking.

You scanned the place one last time, deciding that if you didn’t find anyone, you’d just go home by yourself, your only company being your fingers and vibrator. They did the job just fine, but sometimes you just didn’t want to fall asleep alone.

You noticed a table that was to the far left. Four men were sitting at it, laughing their asses off about something while sipping from their drinks. Your eyes locked on the one with curly hair, deciding that he was the one. He was so pretty and definitely your type. As you got closer, you could see that he had a beard which made you even more attracted to him.

You could practically imagine his beard scraping your chin and above your top lip as he kissed you roughly, his fingers digging into your hips as he tried to pull you closer.

As you approached the table, you noticed the small silver hoop looped through the right side of his nose. You loved men with piercings, finding them to be very attractive. Everyone at the table but him looked your way, all curious as to who you were going to talk to.

“Hey handsome,” you greeted but he still wasn’t making eye contact with you, almost as if he was avoiding it. The Black guy sitting next to him nudged his shoulder and he turned in his direction, only for his friend to point to you.

“Me?” He seemed confused as he pointed at himself, his eyebrows furrowing.

“You are handsome, aren’t you?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow as he got all flustered. God, he was adorable.

“I mean, I guess so,” he shrugged. You loved a modest man. Too many of them had a lot of confidence for being so mediocre.

“What’s your name?” His own name completely faded from his brain. Women didn’t usually talk to him, especially not super hot women such as yourself.

“Eddie,” the guy on the other side of him answered for him. For whatever reason, the name suited him. He looked like an Eddie.

“Well, Eddie, do you want to dance with me?” Dance? Eddie could do that to save his life, but since such a beautiful woman was asking, he had no choice but to say yes.

“He’d love to,” the same guy answered for him and pushed him up from his seat. You weren’t going to dance with him if he didn’t want to. Consent was very important and only wanted to do things with people if they were really enthusiastic about it. And that went for both inside and outside the bedroom.

“Would you?” You asked, wanting to make sure.

“I really would,” he nodded furiously and stood up from his chair, taking the hand that you were offering him.

You pulled Eddie out on the dance floor and he was quick to turn to his friends in panic. He had no idea what he was doing, but they all just gave him a reassuring thumbs up.

He liked the way your hand felt in his, all soft and warm. He let you lead him through all of the drunk, dancing bodies on the floor, just happy to be there. He tried his best to keep up with how fast your legs were moving. There was no way that he was losing you in the crowd. He could barely handle going to clubs with his friends, let alone by himself.

This whole thing was so overstimulating; the lights, the loud music and the people yelling over the loud music. Eddie hated it, but he only went because his friends liked it. While they danced, he sat at the table, throwing back glasses of whiskey like they were going out of style.

But there he was, actually getting his ass out onto the floor because you had asked him. He had denied so many invitations because he was afraid of looking stupid or being made fun of which had just been a product of not being desired in his youth. He was the freak, a loser, a person who just wasn’t worth anyone’s time. So why did he think that he was worth yours?

You stopped in the center of the floor and turned your back to him, taking no time to grind your ass on his dick to the beat of the pop song that was blasting through the speakers. Eddie had no idea what he was doing, but he was loving whatever was going on.

You grabbed his hands that were still by his side and guided him to rest them on your waist. You moved to the music together and Eddie could already feel his dick getting hard at the feelings of your ass grinding against his crotch.

If you noticed, you didn’t say anything. You turned around as the song chance and draped your arms around his shoulders. Eddie’s hands ended up on your ass when you moved in his arms and quickly slid his hands up to your back, thinking that it was a safe place for them.

“You’re quite the dancer, Eddie,” you smiled and he was grateful that you couldn’t see his blush in the terrible club lighting. He knew you were lying but he appreciated the compliment. He couldn’t dance to save his life and was sure that you agreed.

“Oh, am I?” He sounded so unsure and you thought it was refreshing that a man as attractive as him had no idea how good he was at anything.

“Definitely,” you nodded then leaned closer, your lips right by your ear. “You know, I can take care of that little problem in your pants if you’d like.” He felt a shiver run down his spine at both your breath and thinking about you “taking care” of his boner.

The thought made him kind of nervous. He didn’t have any sexual experience, hell, he hadn’t even kissed anyone since Josie Geller when he was thirteen and that hadn’t really counted. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had offers, he’d had many, but his insecurity always got the best of him. He was just convinced that it was all a prank and was quick to shut it down, not wanting to fall for anything like that again. He had had enough tin high school.

But for some reason, he has fully believed that you were being genuine. He could see the look in your eyes; it was excited and full of lust. You had to be telling the truth. Either that, or you were just a really good actress and he didn’t think that was the case.

“I would love that.” His words came out breathy and rushed and he hoped that you couldn’t see how desperate he was for you to help him with his little problem.

You took him by the hand and the two of you made a beeline for the bathroom. Eddie was almost giggling while you kept it cool. You had had your fair share of bathroom sex while he hadn’t had sex period. It was almost funny how opposite you were.

You pushed the women’s bathroom door open and checked to make sure no one else was in there before pushing him into one of the stalls. Eddie pressed his hands against the walls so he wouldn’t fall into the toilet while you locked the door and turned around to face him, your eyes lighting up as you took him in.

He was so hot even in the dark of the bathroom stall with the way his messy, curly hair that you just wanted to run your hands through, giving it a tug as pounded into you. Your gaze moved to his pretty pink lips and you could see that they were a bit chapped but you hardly minded. You just needed to feel them on yours.

You leaned forward, but Eddie put his hand on your shoulder to stop you. He took a deep breath before licking his lips, preparing himself to tell you the truth. He felt he owed that to you.

“Before we start anything, I should tell you that I’m a virgin.” Your eyes widened, now feeling guilty for pulling him into the stall. You pulled your hands away, backing up to the door, trying your best to give him space in the small area.

“Oh my god, I-I had no idea.” You put your hands up to your face to cover it, but Eddie quickly pulled them away.

“How could you have known?” Eddie wasn’t going to blame you for something you didn’t know. He just wanted you to be aware of the situation before you continued.

“We don’t-we don’t have to-”

“But I want to.” Even though Eddie didn’t know you, he still felt like he could trust you, not getting a single feeling in his gut like he had all the other times women approached him. It just felt right being there with you and he was hoping you felt the same.

“You do?” You wanted to be one hundred percent certain before you continued, wanting him to be absolutely sure that it was what he wanted.

“So badly. I mean,” his snapped to his still very hard dick and your gaze followed. “Still want to take care of it for me?”

“You’re sure you want to lose it to a stranger?” Eddie stepped closer to you so that you were chest to chest. He looked at you, taking in all your features and now that he was looking at you up close, he could confirm that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen and couldn’t have been more honored to have you take his virginity.

“I’m sure.” He gave you a nod and you slowly moved your arms to wrap around his neck while his went to your waist. You slowly inched your face towards his, capturing his bottom lip between your two.

He was quick to respond, mimicking your actions, hoping that he was as good at it as you were. He honestly had no idea what he was doing, but he was confident that you’d teach him, showing him exactly what he needed to do so he was fully prepared for next time.

The kiss slowly progressed to hot and heavy as you swiped your tongue along Eddie’s bottom lip. He opened up and let his tangle with yours, a whimper escaping from the back of his throat as he did so. His eyes widened at the noise and he pulled away, covering his mouth with his hand.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” you told him softly. “Make as much noise as you want. And actually, I found that really hot.” Even though first times could be awkward for some, you wanted Eddie’s to be memorable for him. Something he could look back on positively and not in embarrassment.

“Oh.” His cheeks burned at your compliment and you thought it was adorable how you could make him blush so easily.

“Wanna make it again?” Eddie thought for a moment and decided that he did, especially since you thought it sounded hot.

“I do, actually,” he nodded and your lips were back on his in a second. You licked into his mouth once again and he let out another whimper, not holding it back this time. You felt your cunt getting wet at hearing the noise and you slow moved your hand down his chest, stopping right when it got to his belt buckle.

You pulled away and looked at him for permission. He nodded his head furiously, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth and you slowly unbuckled his belt, giving him plenty of time to back out if he wanted to. You pulled down his pants and let them his the tops of his shoes before shimmying his underwear down his legs. You let out a gasp at how big he was, feeling honored that you were the first one that he was going to let touch it.

“Wow,” you said, looking back up at his eyes. “You really are huge, aren’t you? I’m going to consider myself grateful that you’re going to let me take care of it.”

“Wouldn’t want it to be anyone else, to be honest.”

Beads of pre were falling from the head and you looked around for your purse that had fallen to the floor at some point. You pulled out a small bottle of lube and put some in one of your hands before letting it and your purse to fall back to the floor.

You stepped forward and grabbed hold of Eddie’s dick, moving your hand up and down the shaft slowly to test the waters to see if he liked it. His hands moved to hold on to the wall as he threw his head back. A moan fell from his lips and you were convinced that you hadn’t heard anything hotter.

You continued to pump, making your movements harder and faster at his commands, wanting him to be in control and tell you what he wanted. Moan after moan fell from his lips and now you felt like he was ready for more.

“Can I suck you off?” You asked, your hand slowing down, but still moving at a good pace. Eddie still had his head titled backwards, his eyes closed and you felt yourself getting even more wet at seeing him like that, coming undone from your touch.

“God, please,” he groaned and you slowly dropped to your knees.

Your hand wrapped around the base and you took him into your mouth giving his dick a suck while your tongue swirled around the head. Eddie’s hands pressed flat against the stall as he threw his head back even more at the pleasure he was experiencing. God, this was so much better than using his hand.

“Shit,” he moaned, his breath becoming heavy. He closed his eyes, trying hard to prevent his knees from buckling. “Fuck.”

You continued to suck, taking all of him into your mouth, ignoring the fact that your eyes were watering, desperate to give him the best head of his life. Your tongue swiped along to tip another time as you sucked the hardest you could, eliciting the prettiest sounds from Eddie.

For the finale, you stood up and gently pulled down on his chin to force him to look at you. His eyes opened and he watched you swallow, feeling his knees buckle as you did so. God, you were so fucking hot.

“Fuck,” he moaned and pulled you into a kiss, his beard scratching roughly at your skin as he took what he wanted from you, you happy to be pliant under his touch. His hands moved down to your pants and you let him unbutton them, pushing them down so they hit your ankles and you kicked them off, leaving them in a small pile next to you.

“Is that all for me?” Eddie asked, his lips parting as he stared down at the wet patch that had dampened your underwear.

“And only for you,” you winked. “You think you’re ready to get inside me?”

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life,” he breathed.

You pulled a condom from your purse and opened it before sliding it onto his cock. Once he was all set, you stepped forward, helping him line up with your pussy. He then slowly entered you, the two of you letting out moans as he did so.

He grabbed onto your waist and slowly pumped in and out of you, trying to feel it out for himself. You moaned as he pumped, closing your eyes in pleasure as you grabbed onto his neck.

“Am I doing this right?” He asked, unsure and you just moaned in response.

“Oh, Eddie.”

He began to moved a little faster which elicited more moans from you as you wound your hands into his hair, giving it tug after tug. You both moved together, feeling nothing but pleasure as he began to pound into you.

“Just like that, baby, yeah,” you whined and Eddie continued, feeling super confident about his movements, knowing that you’d let him know if you didn’t like something.

Sex was far better than he thought it was going to be, but he was sure that it was all because of you. You had been nothing but sweet and kind and made him feel like a king. How was he going to have sex with anyone else when his first time was practically perfect.

“Oh my god, I think I’m gonna-” he cut himself off as he reached his climax, suddenly feeling embarrassed that it had happened so quick.

“That’s right, honey,” you told him. “Let it out. You’re doing so well.”

“But I finished.” You honestly couldn’t have cared less how quickly he had finished. That just meant that you could have gone for round two that much faster if he was up for it.

“That’s okay,” you assured him as he pulled out. “Do you wanna…take this back to my place? I think it’d be more preferable to being here.”

“I’d love to go back to your place.” He pulled the condom off of his cock and tied it off before disposing of it. He then pulled up his underwear and pants before buckling his belt.

“Do you want to call a cab while I clean myself up here?” You asked and Eddie just nodded silently. You both shuffled around the stall so he could get to the door. You pressed a lingering kiss to his lips before he opened the door. He then stepped out and pulled out his phone to call the cab company while you took a piss then cleaned yourself up.

You were confident that you had just had the best sex of your life. Who knew that a virgin knew exactly how to make you cum as opposed to men who slept around all the time? Maybe it was because he was actually interested in pleasing you.

As Eddie ordered the cab, he couldn’t help but let the images of you orgasming flash in his head. It was the hottest thing hearing you moan like that and he was looking forward to hearing it again and again even after the night was over. Maybe if he played his cards right, you’d invite him over again.

You exited the bathroom as Eddie hung up the phone and placed your lips on his, pulling him in for a sweet kiss that has been the exact opposite of the last one you had given him.

“C’mon,” you reached for his hand once you pulled away. “Let get out of here.” He put his hand in yours and you led him out of the bathroom and through the club, confident that you’d make his second time even better than the first.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #virgin!eddie munson #experienced!reader #virgin!eddie munson x experienced!reader

[dante-mightdie]

just saw the price drama this morning + simon 'never felt the warm touch of a woman' riley and just had a thought👊

reader is ofc hesitant, but doesn't feel too threatened because as intimidating as he appears to be, he's just so—him. a bit better than price.

to me after reading it, he seems like the acts of service kinda guy or actions instead of words🤷🏽‍♀️

probably the latter.

in the end I feel like she'd just see him as this clingy overgrown touchy puppy.

like like, he just grabs her for another bath in the river and she goes "are we gonna bath again?" no response "ah, we are"

DNJSHSJA

simon takes REALLY good care of her, after all, she's a gift to him from the gods, right?

god I just want him 😡 let me nurture him and take care of him (he could literally kill me with his bare hands)

c/w: none really, mentions of groping, scars

he’ll never admit it, but he was terribly lonely before he found you. the main reason he’s so quiet is not because of the years of torture and trauma that he endured (well, partly) but because he just never had a reason to speak. who would he be speaking to?

sometimes he hurts you, never on purpose and never seriously. he’s just a big man who forgets his own strength so please don’t hold it against him. he doesn’t know how to ask you to do things so he just manhandles you into it instead

and when I said he’s never felt the warm touch of a woman, I meant it. it isn’t even necessarily sexual when he grabs your breasts at night, you’re just so warm and soft so he wants to touch you :( please let him

you can touch him too, if you want to. he won’t stop you when you trace the litany of scars scattered over his body. until your fingers dance a bit too close to a large jagged one on his ribcage, then he just tightly grips your wrist and moves your hand back to his chest

he makes you feel safe. hugging you tighter to his chest when he feels you trembling to the sounds of wolves howling near his hut. even though you haven’t known him long, you’re strangely aware that this big brute won’t let any harm come to you

#mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #viking!simon

[katiexpunk]

Scarlet Haze - Part 2

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader | W/C: ~6.2K | Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Series Summary: Life in the QZ was fairly predictable. That was, until Joel Miller showed up on your doorstep covered in blood. Since then, you've helped him more times than you can count. Now it's his turn to return the favor.

Series Warnings: SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. SEX POLLEN. Set in the TLOU universe in the Boston QZ. Buckle the fuck up for a lot of filthy, feral smut. Check chapter warnings for specifics. This series will follow them through current day.

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Blood. Sexual tension. Bloody knuckles/wounded Joel. Flirting. Alcohol. Male masturbation. Voyeurism. Pearl Jam. Drug-seeking behavior. Medical references. Crying. Hallucinations similar to a drug high. Euphoria. Damsel in distress trope. Pet names. Praise kink. Begging. Unprotected P in V. Oral (female receiving). Fingering. Use of daddy. Age gap (make it your own!). No use of Y/N. Reader has no physical descriptions. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Surprise! It's here early (probably the only time you'll be glad something came early). Part 2 as part of my contribution to @morallyinept's Flora and Fauna Challenge. Part 3 coming 5/19.

Part 1 | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

“And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.” ― Stephen Chbosky

Joel Miller is a bad man. 

It wasn’t always this way – there was a time when he thought he was good, kind even, a gentleman through and through, just like his momma raised him to be. 

But those days are long gone. Nowadays, the things he does are far from decent.

What he’s doing right now tops the list.

He should avoid it. He knows he should. 

Whatever this feeling is, it’s entirely alien to him—like a cocktail of a thousand potent drugs coursing through his veins, igniting an instinctive physical response. His heart pounds furiously, and a searing heat prickles his skin. He feels lightheaded, probably from the blood rushing anywhere and everywhere except for his brain. 

He tries to reason with himself that he can wait— he should wait. Wait for you to wake up, do your typical doctor business, pull out a magic pill or some bullshit, and you’ll both be well on your way. 

He should wait. A good man would wait. 

But then you started whimpering. 

Fucking whimpering. 

It was soft, just a whisper; he almost second-guessed it, but then you said his name clear as day, drawing him closer to the edge of control.

“Joel, please,” you moan, spread out on the dusty sheets, lost in a daydream he wishes he was part of, totally unaware of your actions.

He palms himself through his denim, hips titled forward as he sits on a wood chair that he’s not all too convinced can bear his weight after years of abandonment, but he could give two shits about that right now. 

“Yes, oh god, yes, just like that,” you moan again, your hand inching closer to your center, chasing friction of any kind. He wonders if you’re wet right now, how sweet you must taste. 

Fuck it. 

If he's destined for hell, he might as well make it worth the trip.

He unhooks his belt and yanks down his zipper, forcefully pulling his pants down to bunch around the muscular expanse of his thighs

Heavy cock in hand, he takes a second to admire it. It’s a fat, healthy one with a little curve to the left and a prominent vein running up the side. He’s a blessed man – in this regard, anyway. 

He rises to full attention, and his hand rises with it, thick, strong fingers just about meeting his thumb as they curl around him. He savors the first proper stroke, the shift from teasing to relief. 

He’s so fucking hard. He’s not sure he’s ever been this hard. 

His skin feels like velvet wrapped around steel. Even at the end of the world, hell, even before it, he’s not sure touching himself has ever felt like this. 

As the edges of his vision begin to soften and blur, he focuses on you. He empties his mind into thoughts of you and only you – how good you’d feel, your tight cunt wrapped around him, creaming on him as you chant his name like a prayer. 

Fuck.

His head falls back to lean against the wall, eyes tightly shut, his hand still working as he conjures up images of you bent over for him as he watches his cock slide in and out of your wet heat. 

It feels like his whole system has been turned on, his body flooded with adrenaline, the frantic thud of his pulse in his ears now palpable against his palm, too.

Just then, you blink open your eyes, and the remnants of your daydream evaporate like a mist in the morning sun. For a moment, you’re unsure where you are, the room spinning gently in your haze. 

The last thing you remember is being in the flower field with him, and now you’re on a bed that hasn’t seen a warm body in over a decade. How did he? 

You drop the thought when you feel the air, thick with a heavy, sweet scent that tugs at the edges of your consciousness. You feel hot, every nerve ending tingling uncomfortably. Breathing feels difficult, each breath deep and labored. It’s as if your lungs are struggling under a heavy weight, a need you can’t quite pinpoint. 

Your gaze slowly shifts from the ceiling to the corner of the room, and that's when you spot him. 

Sunlight streams through the grime-streaked windows, casting beams that light up the swirling dust in the air. As your eyes adjust, the details come into sharp focus, cutting through the haze in your mind like a knife. 

Oh. He’s — 

 You must still be dreaming; you must. There’s no way this is happening. 

Your stomach flutters and flips, enough physical proof that you see what you think you do.

You take a moment to admire him, his cock, the glistening precum that’s gathered at the tip of it, the soft groans coming from his chest. The way his thick neck is angeled back perfectly presents his Adam's apple and the nape of his throat. 

You adjust to prop yourself up slightly. 

"Joel," you coo, his name dripping from your lips like nectar from a flower. 

He pauses at the sound of your voice, and time suspends for a moment. If he weren’t so fucked out, he might think to stop what he’s doing, might even feel embarrassed that he was caught. 

But right now, part of him wants you to watch. When he tilts his head up, you’re staring at him with a look he can’t quite place, but holy fuck, you’re beautiful. 

Seeing your own lust-filled eyes, knowing you're watching what he’s doing to himself, consumes him. 

“See what you do to me,” he groans, holding your stare as he fucks his fist, jaw slack and balls tight. 

It’s so intense. He’s intense. 

“Wanna see you,” he rasps, and you’re more than happy to oblige.

You work to undo the buttons of your jeans, desperate to touch yourself – dazed and dizzy. 

You haven’t even touched him and you’re already cock drunk, tipsy with the need to touch him. You can’t stop it, not even if you tried. It feels like this moment was always meant to happen, and everything in life—the good and the bad — has led up to it. 

Feeling a sudden surge of boldness, you stand to walk over to him, but the floor rushes up unexpectedly. As gravity claims you, a different kind of pull—a magnetic force you've felt since the night you met him—lingers in your mind. 

You think you hear him call your name as the ceiling swirls into shades of red, patterns like a kaleidoscope painted behind your lids, and you’re living that night again before you can be sure. 

++++

Boston QZ, Fall 2022

The bar's dim lights hardly penetrate the thick air and despair that seems to stick to everything inside the QZ. You shove open the heavy metal door and step inside. The noise—a mix of wood chairs scraping against the ground and low conversations—briefly spikes before settling as the door thuds shut behind you. 

It's been a long, tough shift at the clinic, leaving you feeling bone tired.

The bar—if you can even call it that—has a worn appeal. As your eyes get used to the dimness, you head straight for the counter. 

The bartender, a middle-aged guy with a scar trailing down his cheek like a tear track, gives you a quick nod in greeting. “Hey, Tom,” you greet him with a tired smile. “I’ll have a chardonnay.”

Tom chuckles, wiping down a glass with a rag that has seen better days. 

“Doc,” he nods. “Best I can do is beer. Got a fresh batch that’s more hops than rust this time.”

“Sold,” you laugh, settling onto a stool and pushing him one of your ration cards. “Make it a cold one, if you can remember what cold feels like.”

Your eyes drift across the bar as Tom turns to fetch your drink. That’s when you notice him—a rugged man nursing a beer, his presence almost as worn as the leather jacket hugging his broad shoulders. 

His knuckles are raw, the skin split, and a dark bruise blooms around his left eye. It’s an impressive shiner that catches your attention more than it probably should.

You lean slightly on the bar, the wood cool under your arms, and a half-smile forms on your lips when you catch his eye. “You really should have someone check that out,” you say, nodding toward his hand, the flirtation in your voice unmistakable.

His eyes assess you momentarily, weighing your words, maybe even your presence here talking to him.

He curls his right hand into a fist, the skin tight and pale over the knuckles. “This?” His voice, rough as gravel, carries a hint of nonchalance. “It’ll heal eventually.” As he speaks, his words stretch out with a slow Southern drawl, wrapped in a weariness you can almost touch.

“Must have been quite the fight,” you remark, accepting the beer Tom slides in front of you. “Or a really stubborn door.” 

A trace of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“Something like that.”

“You know,” you continue, sipping the beer and finding it surprisingly not terrible, “I’m pretty good with stitches and less good with doors. If you ever need a hand…”

His dark eyes flick back to you, pausing on your lips, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You sip your drink, the corners of your lips twitching upward slightly. Turning to face him fully, you let your eyes roam over his features, openly appreciating the chisel of his jaw and the facial hair that covers it. He’s handsome. 

He doesn’t ask for your name, but the silence feels like an invitation. Leaning a bit closer, you raise an eyebrow playfully. "And you are?" your voice lilts at the end, lingering on the anticipation.

"Joel Miller," he says, his voice a deep rumble that cuts through the bar noise. His handshake is firm but careful as if he's mindful not to hurt despite the roughness of his hands.

"Joel Miller—I like that," you reply, holding his gaze a little longer than necessary, your hand still clasped in his. You gently turn his hand to inspect the battered knuckles, not having to work hard to imagine the sting you know he feels.

A shout from across the bar catches your attention; your friends are waving you over. You turn towards them, but he continues to look at you. When you turn back to him, he drops your hand quickly, almost like you burned him.

"Well, Joel Miller, I guess I'll see you around," you say with a hint of promise.

He nods, “Maybe so.” 

As you walk away, you feel his thoughtful, dark, and hungry eyes still fixed on you. 

The intensity of his stare sends a shiver down your spine as you move toward the laughter and warmth of your friends waiting at a table near the back.

You feel the pull of curiosity that makes you want to look back, but you don’t. 

++++

Later that week, you’re pulling a late night at the clinic. 

"Fuck," you moan, bringing your hands to your temples and rubbing them slightly. You're exhausted. When are you not?

You don't have a clock in the clinic, but you know it's probably close to curfew. Every cell in your body tells you to go home, but you ignore it. At least you have the peeling paint and the constant drip from a leaky faucet to keep you company.

You’re restocking a shelf in the lobby when the front door slams open violently. A man staggers in, his eyes bloodshot, clothes tattered, and reeking of what you don’t even want to know. You straighten up and quickly reach into your coat pocket, your grip finding a scalpel from earlier. Using your thumb, you work to remove the cap and position it between your fingers should you need to use it.

"I need some meds," he growls, slamming his fists down on the reception desk. "The strong stuff, now!"

"Sir, I need you to calm down," you say, trying to keep your voice even despite the adrenaline surge. "I can help, but first, you need to tell me what's wrong."

"Listen here you little bitch, I don’t need advice; I need fucking pills!" he bellows, his voice echoing off the walls. Suddenly, he lunges over the counter, grabbing your arm with a firm grip. 

You struggle to pull away, but he’s too strong. You try your scalpel, but he slaps it away. Panic spikes as he twists your arm behind your back and slams you against the counter. Pain shoots through your shoulder, sharp and blinding.

Just then, the door to the clinic bursts open with a force that makes the entire room shake. You barely have time to register the figure rushing in, his movements fast and determined.

And then you see him. 

Joel Miller. 

His expression is set in a hard line, eyes pinpointing the man pinning you down. Without a word, he grabs the man by the collar and yanks him away from you. The man flails, trying to swing at Joel, but he’s too quick, too angry. He lands a solid punch to the man's jaw, sending him reeling backward into one of the shelves. 

"You okay?" he asks, turning to you with concern etched on his face. His hands are still clenched into fists.

Breathing heavily, you nod, rubbing your bruised arm. The pain is sharp, and you know you'll be feeling it tomorrow, but you’re relieved to be free from the man's grasp. 

"I think so?" you manage to say, trying to steady your voice as you back away from the counter to put some distance between yourself and the now-groaning figure on the floor.

Joel’s eyes find the man as he slowly picks himself up, giving him a warning glare that promises more if he tries anything again. "Come in here again, and I’ll make sure a broken jaw is the least of your worries," he threatens. Is he always this intense? The man, clutching his jaw and mumbling curses, stumbles out of the clinic.

Once gone, Joel turns back to you, his expression softening. "Let me look at your arm," he says, gently taking it in his hands, his touch careful as he examines the bruising.

“Playing doctor today, are we?" you tease with a smirk.

Joel's chuckle rumbles low and warm, melting some of the tension from your shoulders.

"I'm not, but you could've fooled me," he replies, his touch light as he examines your arm. His eyes hold a soft concern that seems at odds with his typically rugged exterior. 

“Didn’t know you were a doctor.” 

"Do a lot of women at the bar tell you they’re good at giving stitches?" you quip, watching his reaction.

“Alright, smartass, point taken," he teases, releasing your arm. You gently massage the sore skin.

"How did you know I was in trouble?" 

Joel leans against the counter, his brow set as he watches you rub your arm. 

"Let's just say I've got good instincts.”

"Instincts, huh?" You say, stepping closer. "I suppose next you’ll say that it was just my luck that you happened to wander by when you did?” 

His eyes lock with yours.

"I think you're lucky I came when I did," he agrees, his tone serious now.

"Yeah," you agree, a wave of gratitude washing over you. The clinic is suddenly quiet, and you both look at each other momentarily. Everything suddenly feels heavy.

“Too bad there’s no lottery anymore—I could've used some of that luck earlier,” you joke. Stupid.

Joel shakes his head, eyes still scanning your face, perhaps looking for injuries you hadn't mentioned. 

"Really, you should be more careful," he chides. "It’s not safe to be out here alone this close to curfew."

"I usually manage fine," you assert, trying not to let his concern make you feel like you can't handle your job. "Tonight was just... unexpected."

"Doesn't mean it won't happen again. You should think about having someone here with you during late shifts," Joel suggests, his voice low and insistent.

You consider his words, knowing he's right, but it’s also not like people in the QZ are lining up to care for people who aren’t themselves.

Joel seems to read your mind. "Just promise me you'll be careful," he says, stepping back, giving you space. His eyes still hold that fierce protective glint.

"I promise.”

Joel nods once, satisfied. "Good.”

You give him another small smile and think he sees the thank you behind it. 

He nods again, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer before he turns to leave. As he walks towards the door, you watch him go, feeling a mix of emotions—appreciation, relief, and that same magnetic pull from last night. 

“Joel?” you call out, halting his steps. “You like whiskey?” 

Joel turns, a curious arch lifting his brow as he shifts from his reserved demeanor. 

"Yeah, I like whiskey," he replies. "Why, you offering?"

A playful smile dances on your lips.

"Maybe I am," you say, considering for a moment. "How about a thank-you drink? My place isn't far."

For a moment, Joel just looks at you, assessing. 

"Lead the way, Doc,” he says, his voice carrying a warmth you haven’t heard before.

++++ 

You unlock the door to your unit, stepping aside to let him in. "Make yourself comfortable," you say, gesturing vaguely towards the living room. Joel nods and walks through the threshold. As he passes, you notice that he smells slightly sweet and smoky, with a rich, woody undertone. 

He takes a seat on the worn couch that’s a carry over from the 80’s, it creaks under his weight. He settles back, his knees spreading wide, and makes himself at home.

Heading into the kitchen, you rummage through the cabinets before finding an old bottle of whiskey. You don’t own any glasses. 

You call out to Joel, "I hope you don’t mind sharing with me." You unscrew the cap, take a swig directly from the bottle, and feel the warm burn of the alcohol as it slides down your throat.

You cough. “It's not great, but it’s the best I’ve got.”  

Carrying the bottle back to the living room, you pass it to Joel with a playful wink. "Your turn," you say, watching him take his swig with an approving nod. He takes a moment to assess the bottle; not bad for decade-old Tennessee whiskey. 

As he drinks, you walk over to a shelf cluttered with various knickknacks and pull out an old battery-powered CD player. Rifling through the modest stack of CDs you’ve traded more ration cards for than you care to admit, you pull out the one you're after and slide it into the player. 

As the first chords of Pearl Jam's "Alive" reverberate through the room, Joel's head swivels, his eyes lighting up with recognition. "Holy shit. Pearl Jam?" he says, his voice tinged with surprise.

"You know ‘em?" you respond, settling beside him on the couch.

He looks at you with a you’ve got to be serious look.

“Yeah, darlin’, I know ‘em. Pretty sure I was listening to them before you were even born.” 

“Oh please,” you laugh, gently elbowing him in the ribs as you snatch the whiskey bottle back. “I’m not that young.” “Pretty sure I’m old enough to be your daddy,” he looks at you. You’re not sure who moved closer, you or him. You feel the solid warmth of his thigh pressed firmly against yours, sending a spark through you.

You turn and look up at him through your lashes.

“Is that what you want to be?” You feel a little thrill as you watch his pupils dilate, and his jaw tightens. 

You take another swig from the bottle, and his eyes linger on your lips and the shine from the amber liquid on them. “My daddy,” you emphasize the word daddy with a suggestive tone. His hands flex on his thighs. You can tell he’s holding back, trying to maintain composure. He blushes a little; you notice. 

Your words hang in the air. You decide to go easy on him. For now. 

“I’m just fucking with you; that’s not really my thing,” you lie. You take another sip from the bottle, and you feel the alcohol coursing through your veins, your cheeks warming from the combination of the whiskey and his burning gaze. Your muscles feel a little gooey, and your bones feel lighter. 

“All yours, cowboy,” you say, passing him the bottle. His left-hand kitten kisses yours as he grabs it, and even though it was just a brief touch, you still feel it afterward. You bring your free hand to his resting on his thigh. His knuckles have started to heal, but scabs still linger. 

“You gonna tell me how you got this for real this time?” Your fingers gently explore the rough texture of his skin, tracing the prominent veins that stand out beneath. He clenches his hand into a fist, looking at you with an intensity that suggests you don’t want to know. 

"Alright Miller, keep your secrets then," you murmur playfully, leaning in so your side body is pressed against his arm. You gently pluck the bottle from his grasp and set it aside on the table. Sliding onto his lap, you straddle him, your thighs framing his sides.

“Wh – what are you doin’?”

"If you won't tell me, the least you can do is kiss me," you suggest, your fingers weaving through his hair, using it to tilt him up to look at you. His eyes flicker to your lips, and his hand cradles your face as you inch nearer. His thumb brushes softly across your bottom lip, sending a shiver down your spine. His touch wanders, trailing from your neck to your waist, each movement charged with tension.

Suddenly, he shifts, flipping you onto your back with a smooth motion. Your back hits the cushions and a small oof escapes your lungs. Your thighs are still bracketing him. The pressure of his hips against your center makes your insides flutter.

“You’re a needy little thing, arentcha?” 

Mhmm, you moan, cupping his face, trying to pull him closer to you. The hardness you feel pressed up on your hips makes you a little desperate. 

God, you’re perfect, he thinks. So warm and willing, making it so easy for him. 

You’ve been fairly obvious in your flirting with him. He hasn’t been with a woman in a while, but he sure as shit wasn’t born yesterday. A voice in his mind tells him this might be the liquor talking, not you. Or worse, he thinks you might feel like you owe him something for helping you out earlier. 

He wants you, but not like this. 

"I think you're a little drunk, darlin'," he whispers, his voice low and teasing. He leans in, his breath warm against your skin, noses so close they touch. 

“So what if I am?” you giggle. 

“Kiss me, Miller.” His eyes fall to your lips.

You close your eyes, expecting a kiss, but instead, he plants a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I should go," he murmurs, pulling away and standing up. "Get some sleep," he adds, his voice mingling with the music. Before you can reach for him, he's out the door, leaving you wet, tipsy, and confused. 

By the time Joel returned to his unit, the ache in his jeans was almost too much to bear. 

He fucked his hand twice that night, once to the thought of how you felt on top of him, your hips rocking into his, and the other to the thought of what your lips might feel like pressed against his. 

He wanted to kiss you. He wants to kiss you. 

And while his cock might have other thoughts on the matter, he’s never been one to take advantage. Joel knows he’s a bad man, but he’s not bad enough to do that to you. 

He’s done many hard things, but walking away from you at that moment might be near the top of the list. 

++++ 

You feel his fingers on your forearm, gently tracing up and down on the skin there when you open your eyes. He’s sitting on the bed next to you. His voice, a heavy mix of concern and warmth now, steadies your spinning world. You try and sit up. What the actual fuck is happening? Wasn’t he…just?

"Hey, take it easy," Joel murmurs, guiding you gently back against the pillows.

As you settle, the dizzying spin of the room slows, and you're met with Joel's intense stare. He's studying you, his eyes flickering with a mixture of unease and something deeper, something unspoken. 

"You okay?" His voice is a soft murmur, barely rising above the whistle from the broken window across the room.

You nod, but your heart feels like it’s going to pound out of your chest —not just from the disorienting fall, but from the closeness of him. The magnetic pull you've felt since the beginning is more palpable now, impossible to ignore. You blink away the last clouds of your dizziness and focus on him. His shirt clings to him, damp with sweat; his usually neat hair begins to curl at the edges, and there's a tightness in his expression that mirrors the pain you feel.

You’re aching, not in your muscles or bones; no, it’s deeper than that. It's like the pull of a wave threatening to take you under tow. 

"Yeah, just,” you sigh. “Joel, I feel so weird," you manage to say, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m so hot,” you say, and admitting it out loud overwhelms you.

“I know, baby, me too,” Joel responds softly, his hand brushing lightly over your shoulder,

He’s so sweet and tender. The nickname lingers in your mind and plays on a loop. 

Baby. Baby. 

Warmth spreads up from your chest, a burning sensation that lodges behind your ribcage, familiar yet overwhelming. Tears start to prick your eyes, and before you can hold them back, they stream down your face.

You're crying now, not just from the discomfort but from everything—the closeness, the concern in his voice, the way he keeps calling you baby, and the deep ache it all stirs within you.

“Stupid fucking flower,” you say through your tears. 

“What’s that now?” 

“In the field—the flower, the colorful one I showed you. I didn’t know what it was at first, but then I remembered reading about it in a book about herbal remedies.”

“And you think this flower has something to do with what’s wrong with us right now?” he questions. 

“I don’t remember what it’s called, but I remember reading a warning about it –” 

He doesn’t say anything; he just looks at you, patiently waiting for you to finish your thought. 

“The flower,” you sniffle. “Well, the sap and pollen of the flower, I should say, have some strange side effects if ingested or put into the bloodstream…” 

“Go on, baby.” 

There it is again. Baby. 

“It causes extreme arousal, light-headedness, and a shit ton of other things I don’t remember.” 

“Oh. Well, that explains –” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off, already knowing what he wanted to say. You use the back of your hand to wipe away some moisture from your face, but there’s no point; you still feel the tears falling. You close your eyes and try to will the discomfort from your mind. 

“It's okay, darlin'," he murmurs, "I’m here. We'll just let it run its course, alright?" His arms envelop you, drawing you tightly against the solid warmth of his chest. Gently, he cradles the curve of your head in his hand, the rhythm of his heartbeat steady against your ear. You open your eyes, and through your wet vision, you look down and see that he’s still hard. 

“Joel, I –”  his hand floats to the column of your neck, holding you to look at him.

“What do you need, baby?” 

“I need you to fuck me.” 

Shit. No going back now.

“I can’t do that. We’re not in the right state of mind. I don’t want to take advan–” 

“Joel, please,” you say through your tears. 

He looks at you like he’s at war with his mind and body; your desperate doe eyes stare back at him. 

His cock twitches.

He’s been in pain ever since you hit the floor. He couldn’t bring himself to finish after you passed out again. How could he? He was too worried about you. Every fiber of his being was screaming to cum, but the concern he held for you overrode it all. 

“Joel, I’m begging you,” you plead.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, yeah—yes. Joel, I need you,” you respond quickly, already moving to drag the unbuttoned jeans off your body. He’s still unmoving, and his body feels like molasses—viscous and sluggish. You’ve rid yourself of your shirt when you command his attention again, “Joel!” 

“Fuck, yeah – okay,” he takes off his shirt, and you help him with his buckle. He undoes his jeans once more while you make quick work of removing your bra and underwear, leaving yourself bare in front of him.

“Lay back, baby, need to taste you.” You do as he says, letting your knees fall to the sides until you’re spread open for him. He comes to his knees on the bed, the mattress groaning under his weight. 

“God damn, darlin’ — could cum just from lookin’ at you like this,” he says, stroking his cock. You thought he was big when you saw him in the corner, but seeing him this close, really seeing him, is another story. 

He collapses onto his stomach between your legs, his breath warm against your skin. Gently, he presses his lips to the tender flesh of your inner thigh, delivering a playful nip that sends a shiver through you.

“Wanna taste you – you have no idea how bad I want to taste you,” he groans as he breathes in your scent, the tip of his aquiline nose bumps against your clit. You’re so keyed up already, a dripping mess for him, your aching clit just begging for a bit of attention. 

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. He clamps his eyes shut and groans. “So fuckin’ sweet, baby.”

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He plants a soft kiss on the top of your mound and then gently parts his lips, allowing his tongue to lick through your dripping folds. 

“Please,” You cry, with one hand gripping the worn fabric of the bedspread and one tugging on his messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth. 

“I’ll take care of you, baby, don’t worry, ‘m here,” he whispers before returning his attention to you.

Your vision fills with glittering spots while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, you think, but you can’t be sure; your sense of time is fully warped. 

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their death grip on the fabric. You feel your peak approaching. It feels different, like euphoria injected straight into your veins. 

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick fingers into your wet heat.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he mumbles against your skin. He picks up his pace and then adds another finger, one your greedy cunt happily accepts. He hooks them slightly so they’re pressing against the spongey spot inside you that you can never seem to reach yourself. 

“Come on, baby. Wanna feel you.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, and then tension inside you releases all at once, snaps, and hurtles you into another dimension.

As if the cosmos has poured all its beauty into a single moment, the wave of your orgasm breaks—an explosion of white light, pure and cleansing, sweeping away all that came before, cooling the fire raging inside of you.

Joel works you through it, his fingers keeping a steady rhythm as you come down, coated in a gentle rain of shimmering particles, bathed in a serene and growing peace, and you catch your breath. 

“I’ve–I’ve never felt anything like that,” you pant, “That was amazing.”

“It was pretty pretty to watch, too,” he tells you, rising between your legs. His hand comes to his cock again, holding it by the base. He’s furiously hard, the tip of him drooling, the color of it a deep, rich shade of violet.

“I need you, baby, so fuckin’ bad,” he tells you, voice wrecked. 

You spread your legs open a little wider for him, bringing your hands to your knees, spreading your glistening cunt open for him. 

“She’s all yours,” you coo, and he’s on you. He arranges himself above you, his forearms taking the brunt of his weight, yet the impressive heft of him presses down, enveloping you in his presence. His broadness looms, an expansive canopy; he eclipses your view, and all that exists in this moment is him. You wrap your fingers around his midsection, and he lines the tip of himself up with your wet and waiting hole. 

“You’re mine,” he tells you like it’s a fact, not a statement, as he pushes his hips forward and buries his cock deep inside of you. He pauses, giving you a moment to adjust. There’s a dull sting, but it quickly dissipates as he pulls out of you slowly and then thrusts forward again. The slow drag of his cock against your walls, the tip of it kissing your cervix, sends you into a frenzy. 

“Faster – ah shit, harder –” you moan and he begins to ravage you without mercy, kissing and nipping at the razor edge of your jaw, the tip of your chin. Your moans are muffled against his skin, cries of pleasure that rise in pitch with each thrust forward. 

“Mmm, you’re so warm,” he huffs and moans above you as he fucks away at your tight core. “Feels so good, not gonna last long like this. Tight little pussy’s choking me too good.” 

The familiar, odd sensation washes over you again, that strange mix of feeling both insubstantial and overwhelmingly heavy. It's as if you're simultaneously a feather, drifting weightlessly, and a boulder, rooted deeply and immovably. This feeling lifts and anchors you, leaving you floating between reality and a dreamlike state.

You focus on the feeling of his thrusts.

Back and forth. 

In and out. 

Back and forth. 

In and out. 

You’re drunk off it, off him.  

He snakes his hand behind your body to grab your ass for extra leverage, allowing him to slam into you harder, his hips thrusting against yours. The thatch of dark hair at the base of him rubs up against your swollen clit.  You feel like you’re getting fucked into near unconsciousness, your eyes heavy and half-lidded. 

“Joel,” you moan, your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m so close, oh my god, please.”

Joel’s eyes roll shut as you wrap your arms and legs around him tightly, holding on for dear life as he fucks you like a man possessed.

“That’s it baby, beg for it,” he tells you, and you do.

“Pleasepleaseplease,” you cry out, “Daddy, please.”

“Jesus, fuck,” Joel groans as he feels your walls clamp down on him, your orgasm gripping you like a fever.

“Good fucking girl,” he praises. 

Tears once again stream from your face, this time from pleasure, as he splits you open even more. 

He repositions, bringing your knees to your chest, holding them together with his strong arms as he continues to push in and out of you. 

The tension builds, a gathering storm within him. Every nerve seems to tighten, coil, ready to spring. His world narrows and blurs until there’s only you and the tight feel of your pussy around him. 

“Gonna come,” he tells you, and his thrusts slow.

His breath catches, and he quickly pulls out of you. Then, the release comes— your legs fall to the sides again, and a spray of his cum lands on you, hot thick ropes of it drooling from his cock. 

He’s floored by relief, pleasure radiating through his body. It's like watching the sky split open with light after a storm—vivid, raw, and beautifully clear. 

The aftermath is quiet, a soft descent back into himself, marked by a satisfying stillness. 

He drops to the bed beside you, and you both stare at the ceiling, breathless, nothing but prey ensnared in a web of desire.  He looks at you, his deep brown eyes now soft and satisfied.

“So…Daddy, huh?”

Part 3 - Coming 5/19

A/N Continued: Okay ngl, I am down so bad for these two. If you are, too, I would really appreciate a comment or a reblog. Your feedback and interaction really are so special to me. Tags: @syd-djarin @endlessthxxghts @thereaperisabitch @caramilena @promptly-mercy @alex-does-art-things @swankyorange @ayishahislost @bensonispunk @doblasftcisco @lizlil @pigeonmama @sullyselena @deansimpalagirl @theelectricmind @pedropascalsbbg @laramc-02 @elegantduckturtle @rainbow12346 @senoratess @eff4freddie @auteurdelabre @yxtkiwiyxt @javipispunk @reedrchards @miller-n-morgan @sawymredfox @casa-boiardi @punkshort @pastawench @survivingandenduring @aspecialgreenie @puduvallee @moel-jiller @sheepdogchick3

#joel miller smut #joel miler x fem!reader #joel miller x reader #sex pollen #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedrostories #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #jettsflora&faunachallenge

[phantomrose96]

Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 2

(Sham Sacrifice: Chapter 1)

Chapter 2, because @ciestess voiced an idea that absolutely consumed my entire mind and I could not rest until I made this

...

Danny’s eyes tracked the swing of gunfire raining bullets across the horizon. Tucker reloaded, crouched, dodged left and pivoted, another blast of bullet confetti launched through a gaggle of zombie heads. He tossed the magazine and reloaded. Click. Ching. Danny flinched when a zombie smashed a hammer clean through Tucker’s head.

 “God. Fucking…” Tucker pulled out of his hunch. He unclamped his fingers from his controller like bug legs unfurling. He extended the controller to Danny, bouncing it in his grip. “Your turn.”

“Huh?” Danny asked, as if he hadn’t been watching Tucker’s game the whole time.

“You. You’re up. I died.”

Danny accepted the controller, reloaded the screen, and jogged about a hundred feet forward before the first horde of zombies took him out football-style from the left. The death screen rolled.

“Oops,” Danny said.

“Not your best work.” And Tucker took the controller back. Tucker shot a few spare glances to Danny while the level restart loaded in. “Is it Vlad?”

“No. Well, yes,” Danny answered, flopping back into his normal position on the Foley attic armchair. Tucker’s mom had planned to toss it ages ago, before it became Danny’s chair. “But at least he left when my parents went all zombie mode into the basement.” Danny picked absently at the scabs of leather flaking from the armrest. “It was just weird.”

“I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s definitely not the first time your dad’s gotten some math wrong,” Tucker said. “He blows up like three things a week doesn’t he?”

“He does. But he doesn’t care when he gets that math wrong. This one was like I broke something important.” Danny’s expression soured, and he picked a leather flake clean off the chair. “Vlad did, I mean.”

“Does any of the math actually work?” Sam offered from Tucker’s desk. She leaned an elbow around the back of his chair, head tilted to Danny. A pencil dangled from her loose fingers, nib-half worn to the History of an Invention report she was actually working on. Tucker had half-assed his earlier in the day about the palm pilot. Danny had not done his. “Like, it’s all crackpot theory, right? Do ghosts even follow math?”

“I think they follow some math. It’s not magic that makes the ecto-bazookas work, or the Fenton-phones work, or—well the thermos DIDN’T work—until I made it work.”

The unspoken thing Danny had been not-quite-saying hung in the air. He said it this time.

“So I’m wondering if I did it. Like the Fenton thermos. And now maybe they’re gonna do the math all over and realize the missing piece of the equation is one half-ghost son.”

“Well the order is backwards, for starters,” Sam said. “Thermos worked because you pumped ghost-energy into it. How would you have done that to the portal? You were human when you walked in.”

“Sam’s right. What do you think you brought to the table exactly? Button-slapping abilities?” Tucker loaded up the next level. “It was their portal, and their math, and it worked. There’s a million-billion kinds of math and they probably just forgot one thing.”

Tucker took a headshot and died. Mechanically, he handed the controller back to Danny.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Ask Vlad. He’s got a portal.”

“Like Vlad’s gonna tell me.”

“Just promise to be his diligent little son minion or whatever. He’s easy. Wait, let me do the next level. You know I like the cyberpunk levels.”

“It’s not your turn,” Danny said, reeling the controller just out of Tucker’s wiggling grasp.

“I’ll let you do two in a row for your next turn.”

Danny knocked Tucker away, distracted just long enough for a zombie cyberbeam to launch from the horizon and take him out through the head.

The screen washed sepia. Danny stared at it. You died.

…

Danny hadn’t really meant to stay the night at Tucker’s place. They’d just gotten really far in Man vs. Zombie, and Sam had gone home, and Danny was just resting his eyes between his turns with the controller.

So when he woke to the bright strip of sunlight beaming into his eyes through the attic skylight, his first thought was Fuck.

He was awake, here, morning, school. Fuck he had not actually done his History of Invention report, despite the stupid amount of grief it had already caused him this weekend. He pulled his face out of the armrest, now pineapple-patterned from the decaying leather, and pawed for his phone fallen on the floor. If it was still early enough, he could maybe still afford to desperately half-ass something before sixth period science.

He flipped his phone open. A text from Jazz. “Don’t come home. Make up an excuse.”

“…Fuck,” Danny whispered, through the sensation of his heart launching itself into his throat.

He scrambled upright, whole body shaking at the mercy of adrenaline shock so soon after being pulled from dead sleep. His mouth was dry, teeth unbrushed, wearing his old clothes from yesterday, report not done, Don’t come home, Don’t come home, Don’t come home.

They knew. He’d fucked it up. Somehow they knew. The math. Something. And it had to be with guns blazing, because Jazz would not send that text if they’d taken the “We accept you” angle.

Were they coming for him? On their way here? Tracking by his phone? Did they like Mrs. Foley enough to not SWAT-slam her against the wall when she opened the door for them so they could come capture the ghost pretending to be their son?

Fuck.

Danny was upright. Danny was standing. Danny was shaking. Danny wasn’t actually sure what the next thing was he was supposed to do.

Tucker’s ball of blankets rustled from the couch. “Mmph?” he asked, articulately.

“I have to. Go deal with my parents, I think,” Danny said, because any plan felt a little better than no plan. “I think they know.”  

Danny was a ghost. Danny was gone. Tucker sat upright, alone, blinking himself awake. He was staring at the You Died sepia screen still displayed on monitor, now burnt into the plasma of the tv.

…

Danny paused with his human hand slick on the Fenton front door. The gears in his mind turned as his plan quickly unraveled into no-plan. He had no plan, right? What was his plan? Handle this Man vs Zombie style—open the front door ready to dodge wide, because both zombies and parents liked to camp behind closed doors with bazookas at the ready?

“—absolutely absurd, and entirely unscientific, with no probability of being true. It goes against everything we know about neurology.”

Oh, Jazz. Was Jazz enough of a bazooka-deterrent? Probably not. Knowing his parents.

Danny turned the knob. His heart hammered. If bazookas, dodge left.

The first thing he noticed was in fact the no-bazookas. It was what he was most looking for. And so it was Jazz’s expression he did not notice until second—whites of her eyes wide, snapped to Danny, with a look that would be accusatory if worry hadn’t won that battle. Her cheeks were pale. Her hair was unbrushed.

He noticed his parents third. Compulsively, he rocked back onto his right foot, still outside the doorway, still outside the threshold of the Fenton family household.

Seeing his parents tired was of absolutely no shock-value to Danny. It was at least a twice-per-month tradition to see them haul themselves up from the basement sweaty and glaze-eyed at 7am, babbling excitement about some new ecto-spectral-hoozy-whatsits whose concept had shimmed into their minds at 8pm and now existed, fully operational, 11 nonstop hours later.

So it wasn’t the exhaustion on their face. It wasn’t the stagnant smell of sweat or the paleness of their faces or the stains on their clothes.

It was the way they looked at him. Like their whole world had fallen apart with his foot passing over the doorstep.

“Danny,” Jazz said, choked, a break in the silence. “Things are…! A little weird here. So maybe, if you wanna just get to school, I’ll finish clearing up—there’s a misunderstanding Mom and Dad have with their math. I am state finalist in Math League and have been studying college-level calculus in preparation for school applications so I’ve offered to help them fix their math, or prove to them—”

“Danny,” Maddie said, an echo of Jazz, but it felt worse. Danny scanned her hands for anything pointed enough to be a weapon. They were empty. “Danny can I just ask you something honestly, just quickly? Jazz is right. I’m just trying to clear up an issue with our math. And I won’t be mad. Whatever the answer is, I won’t be mad. I just want an honest answer.”

She stepped closer. Danny fought the urge to match her with a step backwards. Her eyes roved over him in a starved way, looking for something.

“Were you there when the portal turned on?” she asked.

“No, I wasn’t,” Danny answered. He wasn’t sure what to do with his face to make it look convincing. “It just. It needed some time to boot up, or something, right? That’s what you two said.”

“That was our guess ,but we don’t really know. The security tapes are wiped. We tried to make them EMF-resilient but a very, very strong blast of EMF could still corrupt them.”

“Yeah. I mean the portal’s gonna do that, right? When it turned on? Ripping open the Ghost Zone that’s—gotta be huge EMF.” Danny’s focus bounced between his mother’s eyes. “Just a guess. I really don’t know. I was in bed, already, whenever the portal started working.”

Left eye. Right eye. Why was she looking at him like that? Like she was sad. Was this part a trick? Make Danny let his guard down, go hey Mom need a hug? and that’s when the bazooka-whipping starts? It made his ribs feel scratchy. Stop looking at me like that.

“Have you felt anything weird at all, since the portal started working? Any gaps in your memory? Any parts of you that don’t feel right? Is there any part of you that feels like it’s changed in a way you can’t explain?”

She reached a hand out. Danny instinctively recoiled.

“Uh, yeah. They taught us about this in health class. They call it ‘puberty’ there.”

“Danny,” Jack said, and his voice was scratchy from disuse, from a long and uncharacteristic amount of time spent not speaking. “Did you die in the machine?”

A beat. A moment. Like when the zombie sends a hammer through your head.

“I’M alive!” Danny declared with a crack in his voice, with hands slammed to his chest. “Look at me. What are you talking about?”

“It’s the only math that works,” Jack continued, his words like chalk, his voice too dead. He looked too much at Danny. “If one of you two walked into the portal, and died in it. And I don’t think it was Jazz.”

This was bad. This was weird. Danny had ghost powers, sure. ‘They can’t kill me I’m already dead,’ was a funny joke sometimes. But it was funny as a joke. He was a ghost sham, really. A faker, a LARPer, whatever Tucker had called it. He was a human who was just kind of a freak now. More of a freak than he already was. He looked dead, for someone who was super-duper still alive.

He’d buried that worry, already. They weren’t allowed to bring it back.

“Look… at me!” Danny continued, mouth dry. He threw his arms wide. “Look how super alive I am! I’m awake! Using energy! Eating food and sleeping with my human body. I’ve got flesh and blood and bones and stuff! I’m not a ghost-expert but ghosts don’t have that.”

This was weird. This made Danny feel like something was scratching to get free from inside his rib cage. It twisted his entrails. Sure Tucker and Sam had thought he was dead, for those first horrible few minutes, but then he changed back to a human and the nightmare ended there. Jazz never called him dead. The ghosts called him freak and halfa and whelp, but never ‘one of them.’ That was his whole thing: being different from the ghosts who became ghosts by something so normal as dying.

He was not dead.

“If you died in the portal, your ghost wouldn’t have been ripped out of your body. It would have been allowed to stay, and then you’d be…” Jack hesitated. “I don’t know what you’d be, but you wouldn’t be alive.”

“Dad,” Jazz said, and she stood herself bodily between Danny and Jack. “What an absolutely messed up out-of-line thing to say to your son! You don’t know that! Dad you’re tired, and just because you weren’t able to solve your math problem in one night doesn’t mean you get to treat Danny like this! I said I’d help you with your math! Now apologize to Danny.”

Jazz looked over her shoulder to Danny, her expression falling at the sight of Danny’s face.

Danny backed up over the door threshold. He shook his head. “I’m not comfortable with this. This is weird. I’m gonna go to school now.”

“Danny, I promise they’re just—”

Danny turned on heel. No backpack, no change of clothes. He took to the street without a single school supply and moved, and moved.

It was supposed to be guns-blazing. Molecule by molecule. Headshot you died. He’d prepared for that this whole time, in the shower, in his dreams, in his daydreams in class. He’d duck and dodge and explain himself over and over until they understood him.

Danny wasn’t sure he was capable of explaining himself anymore.

…

Danny knocked the heavy iron knocker. He was in ghost form, as a threat. He wondered if he still smelled like yesterday’s sweat now that he wasn’t wearing yesterday’s clothes. Now he was wearing the clothes he died in.

No one answered the door. Danny phased himself in.

“Vlad!” he called, and his words echoed along the slope of the two elaborate winding staircases that twirled and met at the top like caduceus. Gold-plated banisters. A security camera buried somewhere in the ceiling, no doubt.

Danny phased into the library. His eyes roved the three stories of bookshelves wrapping the perimeter like a sheath. Gaudy. Audacious. Like Vlad would ever read that much. Danny racked his brain because some something in here was the secret to opening Vlad’s laboratory. Jazz had told him. Some gold something to be touched, and pressed down, or pushed up? Or it opened to a button. Or a keypad, maybe.

Danny spat a curse. He was being stupid. He was frazzled. He wasn’t thinking straight.

He dove into the floor below. Intangibility was the only key he needed.

The sheetrock was cold, even when he wasn’t touching it. The darkness was so piercing it made static jump in his vision, some weird trick of the brain Jazz had explained where, in the absence of all light, the brain hallucinates its own. It came with a sensation of pressure against his eyeballs, and a complete disorientation of direction, and he simply just kept going down.

Danny emerged into a wash of cold air. Cold like metal was cold. The low lights of dials and clicking machines were bright to his eyes previously dunked into the pitchest nothing. He drank it in, eyes grateful for light no matter how little, inner ear grateful for orientation that had left his head swimming and his stomach tight.

His feet tapped down to the stone ground, and the air that breezed past him was chilled.

“Vlad!” Danny called again.

Nothing.

He moved by the floor lighting, which ran in trim along the perimeter of the laboratory rooms. It lit things from beneath, made machines gaunt and specimens into sharp geometries of darkness and flesh. It made the Fenton lab feel warm in a way Danny had never considered it warm.

His feet clacked. His breath puffed.

“Vlad!”

He followed light, followed a wash of green miasma percolating from some far room and catching on the particulate of water and dust that disturbed with the air currents. Danny disturbed it too, walking through, wearing its shade of green which his shadow robbed from the wall behind him.

“Vlad. I swear to god Vlad.”

He crossed the threshold of the portal room, where the dusting of green ambience became a medallion wash of golden-green coating, painting every surface of the room. The Fenton lab was one single expansive room, portal anchored into the far wall and facing all the dead and empty air in front of it. This was different. A much smaller room, walled on all sides save for the simple doorway, and each surface reflected the color back deeper and heavier. It was like a fishtank in the wall of an aquarium lit radiant aqua-blue by all the lights within, but green instead, pure ecto-green.

Danny approached the open portal. He stared into its placid swirls, mesmerized, and scared of it, in a way he hadn’t previously felt about the portal in the Fenton basement.

“Ah, seems the cat is a good mouser after all, it dragged you in my boy.” The words came sing-song. They came spine-shivering for Danny, who felt them like hot breath on his shoulder and reeled back, pivoted, fire crackling to life in his palms.

Vlad stood at the doorway, a solid 20 steps from Danny.

“Vlad.”

“So I’ve been hearing.”

“I need you to explain the portal.”

“Ah, I see you’ve spoken to your parents.” Vlad stepped in, washed in the ecto-green which muddied his ruby red eyes. He held his hands behind his back, cape trailing, a smirk on his fanged face. “Last I heard they weren’t taking the news very well.”

“What news. What did you tell them?”

“Me? Nothing. In fact, very kindly for your sake I even tried to drive them away from the answer but… We know how stubborn your parents can be.”

“What answer?”

“That you’re dead, Daniel.”

Shock washed like ice down Danny’s spine. It sent prickles like spider legs across his skin.

“Well, I suppose there’s still chance for some doubt. It could be Jazz. She could take the fall for you, if there’s any benefit to that at all.”

“I’m a halfa. We are halfas,” Danny said.

“A silly made up word by a silly child,” Vlad mused, and the light smile left his lips. “We are dead.”

“I’m not dead,” and Danny’s words were small, and they were childish.

“You are. I am. Embrace it. It’s nicer this way.” Vlad took a few steps closer, lionously tall in his saunter, feet clacking the ground. “It’s very freeing. After you’ve died already what is there left to fear?”

“I’m alive.”

“You’re a dead body with its soul still stuffed inside it like a Christmas goose. A lot of things in your body don’t work anymore, but ghosts don’t work right anyway and it is, for all its defiance of nature, a perfectly symbiotic relationship.” Vlad’s smile brushed his lips again, warm. “It’s nice to share this with you. Isn’t it nice to share things with people?”

Danny’s heart was beating too fast in his chest, and it was a human heart, a human beat. “I’m not dead,” he declared.

“Your wounds heal quickly because the ghost piloting you only needs to remember form. It stacks cells back into place and calls it good. You’ll endure fatal injuries as you no doubt have many times in your fights, but they’re trivial because physical trauma is not what kills a ghost. It’s what creates one. You’ll necrotize in places but it’s okay, because you’ll carry on, and it will bother you only if you let it bother you, if you’re too sentimental about the puppet you’re still inside.” Vlad closed in closer, neck craning to appraise Danny. “Ghosts love a facsimile of life so you will keep your heart pumping, your lungs breathing. You’ll eat and you’ll sleep but you’ll find you won’t perish if you don’t. It just won’t be a good time if you want to keep occupying your flesh form. Take better care of it. You won’t get another.”

“You’re psychotic. And you’re wrong.”

“I have all the math to prove it.” Vlad leered from over Danny’s shoulder. He circled the boy, knocking Danny’s balance, who still on a hair trigger stood ready to fight. The light from the ghost portal painted Vlad’s face like the phases of the moon as he moved. “Did your parents explain that part to you properly?”

“No, because they didn’t get the math right.”

“Oh they’ve gotten it right. This time. It only took them two decades longer than it took me.” The portal rolled like static, and its fizzling pattern crashed like an ocean wave across Vlad’s cape. “No amount of man-made power is sufficient to drag the entire fabric of the Ghost Zone up against our own, tear a hole through it, and anchor it to a stable frame. It requires something with a pull on the Ghost Zone, a strong pull, and that thing is a human life at the moment of an extraordinarily violent death.”

Danny backed a step away from the portal, from Vlad, but the walls boxed him in. He swam in its green light.

“You stepped in and you turned the portal on, that’s what you thought, right, Daniel? Pressed a careless button on the inside and now here we are. Silly parents for not finding that button first.” Vlad’s face hardened. “No. Jack and Maddie knew about the button. Maddie explained it to me over the phone. What engineer designing and building their own portal would forget the location of the on button? They’d pressed it from the outside. It didn’t work. And so you pressing the button was not the important part. It was you dying to the electrocution that clicked everything right into place. And while your ghost should have been torn from your lifeless corpse and pulled to the Ghost Zone you instead pulled the Ghost Zone here. Your ghost got to stay put. You opened the portal. You became the undead freak you are. And now we’re here.”

Danny’s eyes bounced between Vlad’s. His cheeks felt hot, like he was enduring an accusation of wrongdoing. And he had none of the knowledge to refute what was being said.

“You’re messing with me. You’re wrong,” Danny shot back. He thrust an arm out, drenched in the fog of the portal. “If the portal needs a person to die in it then explain your portal! Are you so casual about it? You killed someone? You’re admitting to murder and you think I won’t do anything about it?”

Anger flashed like a storm across Vlad’s face. His aura swelled, pressing down with a pressure on Danny as Vlad halted and cast his shadow clear across Danny, coating the back wall. “The killing of other people with the wanton carelessness of half-baked machines is the domain of Jack and Jack alone. I’ve brought no such harm onto anyone else.”

“Then how do you have this portal?”

“This portal? This portal that I’ve had for 20 years? Which I opened when I solved the piece of Jack’s broken math that he was never able to solve until this morning?” Vlad stalked closer, hunched, imposing. Danny stepped back. “My boy Daniel you’ve had it so easy. You had it so simple. A truly clean break. So clean so lucky. A single lethal dose of electricity and it was already over. I’m jealous. You never even suffered.”

Vlad stepped closer, striking distance, arm extended. Danny flinched, but Vlad only swept his cape around, clenched in his fist, and pivoted to approach the portal.

“Put out of your misery before it even started.” Vlad slammed his fist against the portal rim, and the explosive metallic clang bounced through the rooms. His laugh belted out. “I should have been so lucky.”

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A sophomore in college. A man actively in the midst of sabotaging his social life to chase a woman who was already deeply in love with Vlad’s best friend who he hated more every day. He wasn’t sure what he ever enjoyed about Jack’s bumbling ineptitude, or his loudness, his brashness, his poor social skills, his bad breath, his mullet. Maybe Vlad had gravitated to Jack because deep down he loved how superior it made him feel to surround himself with the likes of Jack Fenton… And now, he hated how enraged it made him to watch Maddie’s eyes skip past his to focus on Jack Fucking Fenton again and again and again and again.

But surely there was hope still. Surely it was a matter of time before the rose-tinted glasses fell away and Maddie saw bumbling and inept and every such word in the basket when she looked at Jack. There’d come the day she tested the waters with Vlad to complain about one of Jack’s little quirks, and they’d find solace together in all the things Vlad was that Jack wasn’t, and all the things Vlad had that Jack didn’t. And he’d be gone, back to bumble elsewhere, and it would be just them.

The day didn’t come. It wouldn’t come. And maybe Vlad needed to change himself for Maddie. If he listened to her and Jack’s ghost ramblings, if he could put Jack in his place and solve the things Maddie couldn’t, it would show her. She’d understand.

Because that was the thing about Jack. His math was never right. Enduring Calculus 1 with Jack was all it took to prove this to Vlad. How many times he’d caught a single error on a single line for Jack, like a dropped stitch that would unravel the whole sweater. Every problem, without exception. Jack only passed on his homework grade with Vlad’s help. On his tests, he failed.

So Vlad was staring at Jack’s equation, full of bogus math, which Vlad knew was wrong because Jack had penned it, and Vlad had not yet fixed it himself.

“I’m telling you Jack, it won’t work.”

“Bogus V-man it totally will!”

It wouldn’t. But Vlad wouldn’t fix it for him. Not yet. Vlad would let Jack embarrass himself first, fully in front of Maddie, watching on, judging. Vlad would solve it for her. After. Once Jack had made a fool of himself for the hundredth time since college began.

He leaned in to study the portal frame. The gears were turning in his head already. He didn’t hear the whir of the power source catch.

…

19. Vlad Masters was 19. A tube ran down his nose and into his lungs, supplying oxygen for lungs which were failed by a diaphragm sloughing itself away. He was poisoned from the outside-in. Irradiated by ecto-energy none of the nurses or doctors could fully understand. It damaged his DNA. First obvious in the skin of his face where the blisters of his ecto-acne drained and sloughed. “Acne” was the wrong word. An unkind word. They were boils where the blast had cooked his skin, microwaved his cells. The skin on his body blackened over time. Organs decayed. Vlad Master read a lot about radiation sickness. He knew everything he had to expect.

Jack and Maddie had stopped visiting. They were dating now. It was on their last visit they’d told him, and Vlad hadn’t taken it well, and he’d perhaps burned a few bridges with the words he chose. It was deserved. Considering what Jack did to him.

He’d found the error in Jack’s math, by the way. Errors, but all the rest paled in impact compared to the lambda. The ecto-energy. The necessary ecto-potential to pull the Ghost Zone here. How stupid. How idiotic. For Vlad to die to a machine so botched in its construction.

When Vlad was released from the hospital, it was not because they’d cured him. It had been because there is a certain cruelty in making a 19-year-old live the last of his days bedded down in a white-walled room with just his books, his equations, and no one coming to visit anymore.

He was released with bedrest instructions. Vlad did not heed them. In his beater car, every cell of his body aching, he drove. At the materials lab, he disconnected his oxygen tank and moved through the lab space with the tube dangling loose from his nostril. No one was Vlad Masters’ friend. No one cared to stare long at his ugly boil-ridden face. No one stopped him as he hauled sheet metal, and supports, and bolts and wiring and resistors and power tools, checked out with a valid student ID, from the lab. The lab inventory room would not be seeing these back.

It was a prep bunker, buried beneath a vast lot of empty Wisconsin land, that Vlad hauled his materials. He and Jack had discovered it as freshmen. Poked through its bowels with flashlights and quipped and laughed over how eerie it was. Deep beneath the sheetrock, boxy rooms carved out of walls of stone. Shelf upon shelf of dusty canned foods, and shotguns sealed in cases fastened to the walls. The locks had rusted with water damage.

His arms ached until they throbbed, dragging beams of metal across the stone floor, scratching chalk-mark stains into the ground. His skin sloughed, inflamed, burning to the touch. Vlad didn’t bother to rest, because these injuries would never heal anyway. He hauled, and welded, and wired up his circuitry and resistors with a care and caution Jack would never have bothered to practice. He checked it against his math by flashlight. He took naps on the cold stone floor and woke with deep purple bruises on every part of his body that had pressed against the ground.

His appetite left him. His lungs filled with mucus. The boils on his face had spread down to his chest, his shoulders. The touch of his shirt chafed them, so he worked without one, a figure of skeletal rib ridges jutting from tight skin that bloomed with the projection of his shadow against stone walls.

He knew why Jack’s math was wrong.

A silly mistake. A stupid mistake. Anyone with half a mind for the paranormal should have realized the Ghost Zone was not so easily at your beck and call. Not without chumming the water with something it would rise to feast on.

And in that violent death, what would happen to the ghost? It would stay, wouldn’t it? If it successfully anchored the Ghost Zone to the portal it stood inside, then by definition the ghost would stay?

And was that death? Yes, in a way. But it was a death one would get to keep living. As opposed to the death Vlad was headed for, whose coldness and finality scared Vlad more than anything he could put to words.

He’d fixed the oxygen tank back to himself. He couldn’t work without it, hauling it about on a little dolly with him, back and forth, while he fetched and affixed the last of the plating he needed to craft the frame of his silent soulless portal.

He’d stolen a generator from the sports storage shed. It was meant to be enough to power the portable stadium lights they hauled onto the fields for late games, an absolute obelisk meant to cast light across an entire football field.

Surely, it contained enough power to kill one simple human.

Vlad fixed the last bolt in place. Jumper cables clamped generator to portal wiring. It was a pure skeleton. A paltry thing, like the bones of something already picked clean. Built in haste, sloppy, by a 19-year-old whose fingers were too inflamed to clutch a wrench any longer.

He could have asked Jack for help. Maddie. But he wouldn’t let them have this. They had to solve the portal on their own. They didn’t get to know his hard work. They did not get to save him.

Vlad would save himself.

A ghost anchored to a body. What was that? What monster was that?

Vlad moved. He coughed mucus from his lungs. It made it hard to breathe. So he moved slowly, and crouched, bony jutting angles, painted blotchy purple, all bruises and skin, sloughing away.

He crouched, because the portal he’d constructed was not large enough to hold him standing up. He bowed inside it, a small thing, a pathetic man of little life. He wheezed. He hurt. His eyes burned.

And he held in his hands the remote to flip the generator switch, and connect the circuit, and bring to life the math Vlad had so kindly corrected out from under Jack’s grip.

Vlad did not. Because throwing the switch would kill him.

Deep in his animal brain, his dying brain, he knew this intimately. It filled him with a drowning fear like paralysis. He did not want to die.

He would die if he did nothing.

It would be this one throwing of the switch which could save him. Which would burst the portal to life right through his heart. Electrocute it out of its rhythm, slaughter him like a pig on spot and… maybe… hopefully… drag the Ghost Zone here. And whatever he was, dead, would stay.

And whatever he was, dead, would be better than this.

Vlad held the remote in his clammy hands.

And from within the humming skeleton of his portal, his fingers caressed the on button.

…

The portal sung its happy contentment, mused in its healthy green aura, staining all the slabs of rock wall. Danny swiveled his head, recognizing now the bunker this had been before it had been a laboratory.

“I’ve harmed no one, Daniel,” Vlad concluded, his voice too measured for the horrors it had spilled forth. Too calm against the blossoming terror its words had wrought across Danny’s face. “I opened the portal to save myself. You’re lucky, Daniel. It was because of my fast thinking that your father is not a murderer. I took that honor from him.” Vlad’s head tilted to the side, suddenly sympathetic. “Although, you’ve maybe made the title whole for him.”

Vlad reached out, Danny shot away.

“Dad didn’t kill me,” he choked. “I did this to myself.”

“How lucky Jack is, to always dodge responsibility for his actions.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t. If you believed me, you’d have to accept you’re not wriggling out of this. There’s no denial you can bring home to your parents. If you believe me, then this is reality.” Vlad smiled, a playful glint to his fangs. “I suppose I should have more sympathy. I quite like being this way. It is so much nicer than wasting away to death, like I was. But you. You were healthy before this. This killed you, and it didn’t save you from anything.” Vlad cocked his head. “Such tragic fates, both of us, due to the carelessness of Jack Fenton.”

Danny shook his head. His heart beat—his human heart beat—all too fast in his throat. It made him sick. It made him feel like the walls were closing in around him. This was Vlad’s doing. Vlad’s trap. Vlad’s prison he’d been forced to join.

"That's not true. I'm not like you."

“Of course not,” Vlad said, sweetly. “How sweet denial is. Deny it if you like. Call me a liar. But if you ever want to come to terms with what your father did to you, consider coming to me. I understand you in a way no one else will.”

Danny gave no response. He gave no acknowledgement of Vlad’s words. He took to the air, phased himself up through the sheetrock that had been packed atop the doomsday prepper bunker. Up through the mansion, which had been built atop the portal beneath it, and not the other way around. Into the open sky, he breathed fresh air not stagnant and damp beneath the ground, bathed in light pure white from the sun and not tainted green like the bowels underneath him.

And he flew back toward the portal that made him, leaving Vlad with the portal from which he’d made himself.

...

(inspiration post from @ciestess)

#sham sacrifice #danny phantom #dp #dp fanfiction #vlad masters #danny fenton #YELLS AND THROWS THIS AT YOU #ive been spinning around like a top on this idea #tw: suicidal ideation

[mrsparrasblog]

You're losing me pt.2

pt. 1 pt.3

TW: mention of rape, unprotected sex, drinking, blood, violence, angst

The liquor on his tongue didn’t even burn anymore; too much was already in his system, trying to wash down the events of this day. You were the love of his life, the woman he wanted to marry, even though he didn’t know how it would be legal for you to marry all of them. And now, he lost you. The worst part? He can't even remember how it happened. He felt so disgusted in himself in so many ways—disgusted for breaking your heart. God, your look, how you tried to keep your tears in check, broke him. And then his whole body felt disgusted; it felt like a layer of dirt he couldn’t wash away. He scrubbed and scrubbed, but it didn’t go away; the shame still lingered. It felt like someone had taken something from him, but it was his own fault. He must have said yes and bought those drinks. It was his own fault, he told himself over and over again. Normally, he would talk about this kind of stuff with you; you always knew what to say. But you hated him.

"‚‘nother on’," he said to the barkeeper. This was probably his sixth. Johnny knew how he could handle alcohol; he was never that pissed before to not remember a thing. And there she was, the medic, sitting down next to him.

"Hey, Johnny," she smiled brightly, like she didn’t have any worry in her life.

"I ken a dinnae whit yesterday happened bit tis ne'er aff tae happen again."

"Come on, you enjoyed it yesterday."

"I dinnae remember yesterday."

"What a shame."

He stood up, throwing some pounds on the table, wanting to leave, but she stopped him. "Come on, Johnny. I'll help you forget, make you feel at peace again."

"No."

"Then please, let me invite you for a drink as an apology," she smiled sweetly, pushing the drink towards me. Wait, how had she a drink prepared if she sat only for a minute next to me?

"No."

"Please, a drink won't kill you."

"I said no."

"Just one sip, Johnny, and I'll make you feel good how she never could."

"How come ye're sae persistent fur me tae dram this drink?"

"You're silly, Johnny. I'm just being nice," she looked panicked - weird.

While many people thought of him as someone who is just a silly guy who isn’t able to think properly, you told him all over again that he was so smart, smarter than all of them, if someone would just give him the chance to show. And right now, his brain implanted a sick thought on him. "Dinnae tell me ye put something in mah drink."

Her eyes widened. "Of course not," she mumbled.

"Don't lie to me," his hand immediately went to her throat , choking the truth out of her.

"Knockout drugs," she whispered. She was fighting for air as I let her go; the men in the pub already stood up trying to save the poor woman from getting abused by a man.

"You raped me." His shock hit deep; he always thought something like that wouldn’t happen to him. He was strong and able to protect himself. He was the guy who killed people, the youngest man in the SAS, the guy who beat up an officer because he touched a civi. But now, he was the victim.

"Have fun proving it. No one will believe that a tiny girl like me raped the big bad soldier," she laughed, and screamed for help. "Help, this man doesn’t take no for an answer," He was kicked out of the pub; his face was bloody from all the beating.

All he wanted was to reach you, ask your advice, be in the comfort of your arms, telling him all over again how he is a good man, how he is worth everything and not a dirty soldier. But you didn’t pick up; he came to the realization quickly; that no one would believe him.

**Soap:** Please tell me we used a condom.

**Medic:** ;)

Fuck.

————————————————————————————————-

4 am and you still couldn’t sleep; your head was full of thoughts. Why were you not good enough? Why did he do it? So, you made a thing your friends would kill you for. Calling John, you weren’t sure if he would pick up, but he did.

"What's wrong, love?" Source of habit, he thought.

"Why did you do this, John?" you sobbed.

"I didn't mean for it to happen; it was an accident."

"Then why didn't you say sorry?"

"Love."

"Don't fucking call me love. You cheated on me, and you didn't say sorry. You didn't run after me, you didn't apologize," your sobs broke his heart.

"I'm sorry; it was an accident."

"An accident is making a typo, not sticking your dick in a whore."

"I—"

"I hate you, John. I hate you so much," and you hung up. This wasn’t what you expected. Why doesn’t he feel guilty? Why are you not good enough? Why didn’t Simon say something? Why didn’t Kyle come here? Of course, you broke up, but why don’t they care?

If you only knew how Kyle was, blood-covered in the hospital, too many rookies in his way. How Simon was trying desperately to find Soap to see he didn't drink himself to death, and then he would come to you, he told him self all over again. And how the captain didn't leave his office, not even for food.

And how Soap went into John's office, trying to explain to him the truth, only to see a disarranged office, hands covered in blood after he tried to pick up the liquor he smashed at his wall. He never saw his captain so vulnerable, and if Soap didn’t know better, he would have sworn he saw tears.

"Captain, I—"

"You did already enough, MacTavish. Let me have at least one day to mourn over the loss of the love of my fucking life."

"Captain—"

"LEAVE," and he did, he crawled into his bed, knowing he lost everything in a day, the love of his life, his best friend Kyle, his captain, his pride, and safety, and not even Ghost was there.

#cod #cod mw2 #cod x reader #call of duty #captain john price #john price #tf 141 x reader #cod mwii #tf 141 #simon ghost riley #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #soapghost #soap cod #soap x reader #141 #ghoap #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #captain john price smut #task force 141 #tf141 #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader

[wh1msic4alwasab1]

𝐄𝐮𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐮𝐬 ദ്ദ

synopsis: relaxing bath w/husband ajax

tags: bath sex, praise, nipple play, creampie, penetration

wrd cnt: 0.8k

a/n: ajax is a FAMILY man, i’ll die on this hill

“Yeah and what after that?” Ajax asked, wanting to hear more about your day. His hand soothed over a portion of your thigh, spreading the soapy water across your warm skin as you sat inbetween his legs. The aroma of eucalyptus and rose in the air.

“I think I would have died if it I had to work overtime, thankfully though someone was there so I could go home.” You sighed as you closed your eyes. Ajax gently kissed your head from behind you.

“That sounds really stressful, glad you’re home now.” He smiled as he moved his hands up to your breasts, rubbing them softly before pinching your nipples. “You know, maybe you don’t even need to work at all. I can support us both.” He smirked as he leaned back against the side of the tub and watched your face change into one of pure lust. “How does that sound?” He asked as he saw your mouth drop open in excitement.

“I-I could consider that…” You whispersd as you leaned back into his chest.

“Yeah?” He whispered, both his hands now massaging your breast with the warm, scented bath water. “I can help you relax everyday then, you won’t have a thing to worry about.” He said, as he kissed the nape of your neck.

“Mhm...” You moaned as he trailed his hands down to massage your thigh. He ran his hands along the inside of your thigh, sending chills through your entire body. “Fuck...” You gasped when he finally reached your core, running his middle finger between your lips.

“Please...” You begged, throwing your head back to rest on the crook of his neck, atop his shoulder.

Ajax chuckled as he parted your legs, putting one of them up and above the bathtub wall.

“Of course, princess. Anything you want.” He replied, leaning forward to kiss down your neck before meeting your lips. He pressed his against yours as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. He explored every inch of your mouth with his tongue.

“Ajax...” You whimpered as he began to rub circles around your clit. He grinned at your reaction, loving how much you enjoyed this. His fingers danced across your sensitive area, teasing you until you begged for more. “Please, please...” You moaned, arching your back as he continued to tease you.

“Please what baby? Use your words. Just like you were doing before hmm?” He teased, one hand pinching your nipple and the other toying with your slit.

“Make me feel good…” You mumbled out, but he wasn’t going to embarrass you any further.

Ajax pulled you closer to him, turning you around and pulling your chest against his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding onto your hips tightly. He kissed down your neck, sucking on your collarbone as he felt your wetness inside you.

“Feeling better yet?” He teased as he spread your legs apart and settled himself in between them.

“No...” You pouted, feeling empty without his touch.

“You will soon, I promise.” He teased again, slowly inserting himself inside of you, letting your walls adjust to him before he began thrusting into you. He groaned in pleasure as he felt your walls tighten around him.

“Ajax!” You screamed as he hit your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh fuck!” You moaned as you felt yourself start to climax once more.

“Come for me… all over my cock, yeah pretty girl?.” He grunted as he slammed into you again, picking up his pace. You couldn’t hold back anymore, coming all over him.

“Yes! Of fuck-, oh god, yes….” You screamed as your walls clenched around his member, milking him for all he was worth. He growled in pleasure as he felt you tighten around him.

“You like that, princess? You like my cock inside of you?” He asked as he picked up his pace even more.

“Yes! Yes, fuck! Please don’t stop!” You cried out, reaching up to grip the edge of the bathtub. He laughed at your response.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t stop anytime soon.” He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him even tighter. “gonna to fuck you until you can’t walk anymore.” He grunted as he slammed into you once more. “then to fuck you some more.” He grunted as he kept slamming into you.

“Oohhh fuck!” He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him even tighter.

“Ajax- I’m gonna come!” You cried out as he fucked you faster and harder.

“Good girl. Good girl….take it all. Take my cum deep inside of yeah?.” He grunted as he felt you squeeze around him even tighter. He felt his balls tighten up as he got ready to spill inside of you. He grunted as he slammed into you once more, hitting your g-spot again, squeezing you tight.

Feel better now?

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

#jo’s posts #genshin smut #childe tartaglia ajax #childe smut #genshin childe #childe tartagalia #tartagalia genshin impact #tartaglia smut #tartaglia x reader #genshin tartagalia #tartaglia #ajax smut

[anothermansjeans]

I just think it would be so sweet youtuber!reader and Spencer recording a skincare video, being silly with face masks and the whole thing (obviously normally he just washes his face with water before bed but the reader is in the process of changing that)

oh my god this was going one place and then i took it somewhere else LMAO but i love this sm! thanks for sending it in 🫶

cw: fluff, menace spencer at it again, soooooooo sweet it will give you a toothache

wc: 1k

youtuber!reader masterlist

++

“You ready, babe?”

Spencer looked down at the vanity adorned with various products, giving you a small nod before looking between you and the camera. Ever since watching Spencer just rinse his face off with water one morning about a week ago, you've been brewing up the idea of a skincare routine video to get him in the groove of taking his skin health seriously. For a man who loves to tell you what products (or lack of products) aren't helping your skin, he sure did little to make sure his routine was up to his standards.

“Okay! Hello, lovelies! Today I’m with Spencer,” you gestured over to him, “and we are going to be doing my nighttime skincare routine! Spence, would you mind sharing with the audience your skincare routine?”

He furrowed his brows and looked over to you, “a routine is a sequence of actions regularly followed, like a fixed program. I don't have procedures I go through so I wouldn't classify it as a routine.”

“Okay,” you tried to maintain your giggles, “then tell them what you usually do for your skin before you go to bed.”

“Well,” he began, looking back at the cameras and talking with his hands, “Sometimes, if I feel as though my pores had excreted more oil than normal and Y/N’s face wash is out, I'd use that, but more times than not, she's in bed before me so I’ll just use water.”

A pout formed on your face as you looked at the camera. “Terrible, I know.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway,” you gently placed a hand on his arm, the action soothing him while simultaneously letting him know you meant no harm, “we’re going to fix that. Today, I’ll not only be showing you my routine, but also getting Spencer to do it with me!”

The video went on without a hitch. You started with a cleanser and then went into an exfoliator. Now, you had your container of clay mask sitting in front of the two of you. “Now we’re on the third step. This mask cleans pores, brightens skins, and detoxifies skin,” you look up from reading the jar to see a contemplative look on Spencer’s face. “You good, Spence?”

“Yes, yes, I just don't know how I would go about putting it on my face.”

With soft eyes, you gently opened the lid and scooped a small clump of the mask onto your finger. “I’ll put yours on for you, okay?”

He smiled and gave a nod before you swiped your finger down his cheek, spreading out what you had into a thin layer. “This feels nice,” he said, closing his eyes and letting out a soft hum.

“It’s supposed to.” The moment felt very domestic, and you couldn't wait for the time where you'd do this without the camera. The serenity of the moment was cut short though, when you went to scoop more of the mask onto your finger and the jar started to slip from your grasp. The shock of it almost falling sent one of your hands flying up, which caused whatever clay you had on your hand to fling onto Spencer’s unsuspecting face.

You registered the gasp he elicited when you stabilized the jar on the vanity, and when looking over at Spencer, you saw the splatter of clay painted across his face. “I am–” you started to laugh, but used your clean hand to cover your mouth, “I am so sorry, baby.”

“No, no, it’s okay.” His thin smile was giving mixed signals, but you assumed nothing of it when he changed to topic. “Could I take a look at the ingredients?”

Giving a quick nod, you didn't take notice of how quick he grabbed the mask and swooped his fingers in. Not a second later, you felt the cool substance flung across your face. All you did was blink at him– him, and his shit-eating grin– before folding your lips in and letting out a hum. “Spencer…”

His face slowly morphed into one of concern, “I don't know why I thought that was okay. Y/N, I’m sorry. We can clean this up and–” and a big splat sound echoed in the room and Spencer promptly shut his mouth when a lump of the mask landed on his forehead and began to drip down the bridge of his nose. Your laugh caused a fire to light in his eyes, and he once again grabbed the jar. “Oh, I see how it is.”

“You started a war, Spence.” When he aimed his fire, you stood up and ran over to your bed, grabbing a pillowcase. “You wouldn't target one of our very expensive pillowcases?”

“You're the one sacrificing it!” He flung the clay, and you used the pillow to block the blow. At the amount on the pillow, your eyes widened with humor, “That’s almost the entire jar!”

Laughing, Spencer stalked forward with another handful of the mask. “I’ll buy you more,” he said, cornering you before smearing his hand all down your face.

Your gasping giggles filled the room, and Spencer leaned his forehead down onto yours as you both calmed down. “This video has gone off track.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle, a big contrast from the chaotic clay war from moments ago.

“Don't. I’m having more fun than anticipated.” Your arms made their way around his neck, gently carding your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. Yeah, you still had the clay mask all over your hands, but you were over one-hundred percent sure the two of you would be taking a shower in less than five minutes.

“You didn't anticipate having fun with me while doing skincare?” His eyes held a playful glint.

Gently pulling his head down so that your lips grazed his, you whispered, “I always anticipate having fun with you, Dr. Reid.” And with that, he captured your lips with his, the face mask smearing all over your faces without a care in the world. The video was the last thing on your mind… you'll continue it at a later time.

++

youtuber!reader taglist: @im-a-ghost666 @lyd14k4y @happiestcat @hauntedtv13 @obi-wansgirl

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

#I LOVE LOVE LOVE THEM! #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #youtuber!reader

[anisangeldust]

Blind faith 𝜗𝜚⋆

Summary: it’s not an obsession. It’s a need.

Pairing: young President!coriolanus x maid fem!reader

Warnings: misogyny, stalking, Coriolanus’ fucked up mind, mentions of violence, forced sexualization, masturbation (m), non-con, somiphillia, p in v, normal bipolar behavior from Coriolanus, borderline domestic abuse.

A/N: False God series pt 1! Enjoy!

The aroma of coffee and mildew ridden books danced around the confines of Coriolanus’ office; the large, dark oak desk piled high with important paperwork and other such tedious documents that ate at his soul. Many bad decisions had led him to the thoughts he was having at the moment, ones that made him want to peel his skin off and lay in a pool of his own blood.

He should be happy—he should be, but he wasn’t, and it was his own goddamn fault. Any woman in Panem, his pick of the best, and he chose the one that, in his opinion, was so immeasurably insufferable that she was better off in a grave somewhere. But alas, Livia Cardew was an important person, so she ended up with the rock on her finger. She’d be the one in a months time to wear white and be proclaimed his beloved. At least she wasn’t putrid to gaze upon.

Layered on top was the stress of finding a new maid. The old one died right before Ravenstill stepped down from the position, and Coriolanus was just now getting around to replacing her. In his option, the least Livia could do was her duties as a woman and clean, but he’d never dare to let his tongue slip and ruin this important engagement, not after he’d worked so hard to get back up to the top.

Sometimes he was bewildered at how someone who graduated the same year as him at the academy could be so dim witted, did he truly not see how little she brought to society until she moved in? The thought of someone like her as First Lady of such a great nation made the hairs on the back of Coriolanus’ neck stand up. But he dug his grave, and now he was mere weeks from laying in it.

——

Dinner with Livia was as dull as usual. Coriolanus felt it would take a miracle for her to hold a genuinely intellectual conversation, she’d always tilt her head and giggle like a toddler, or drawl on about some useless capitol gossip; things Coriolanus had no patience for. The sound of his voice was nails on a chalk board, and his patience for her was wearing thin already.

“I’m hiring a new maid, I think it’s best.” He says coldly to whatever useless but of information his fiancée was babbling about. He was hoping perhaps she’d give insight, or best case scenario she’d offer to clean instead, but he should’ve known better.

“Sounds great, I’ve noticed that it’s been a bit dusty around here” Livia giggled, her laughter making it impossible for Coriolanus to want to do anything but hit her over the head with a candlestick.

That night, the feeling of arms shaking around him was what greeted him in bed. “Coriolanus..” a familiar scratching voice cooed into his ear. He knew what she wanted before she said it, and it was the only thing he’d been pushing back hard on. Sex.

“Really Livia? I’m tired” he grumbled and pulled her off of him, her touch lingering like a disease.

“Please? I’ll just blow you then, I just want something Coriolanus! We’re getting married soon and we haven’t done anything!” She was right, he didn’t what to was the thing, but the way a woman was begging to get him off appealed to the human desire in his DNA. He was a man after all, and it was his right to receive pleasure.

“Fine, I’ll let you blow me. But that’s it.” He grunted and sat up, pulling the covered off of his body and grabbing her, roughly forcing her to her knees on the side of the bed. Coriolanus grumbled something incoherent and yanked down his boxers, his dick was barely hard, so he jerked it a few times before grabbing his otherwise useless fiancées jaw and forcing her mouth onto his cock.

“Is that what you wanted yeah? Slut.” He hissed and took a right hold of her hair. He figured he could get used to this, at least she was mediocre at something, and maybe over time he’d start to enjoy it more. He fucked all the frustration he felt with her into her throat, not caring at all about the hot tears streaming down her cheeks, or the gagging sounds she was eliciting as his fat tip bullied the back of her abused throat.

Cumming down Livias throat, he groaned and pulled his cock out of her mouth. Slapping her reddened face with his softening dick. “Swallow it bitch” he commanded and stood up, pulling up his pajama pants and climbing right back into bed, not caring at all what Livias doing as long as she’s quiet, not a single positive thought about her crosses his mind before he’s pulled into the clutches of sleep.

——

Coriolanus had barely skimmed the applications for maid, picking the one he felt was most suitable, young, semi-important family, and good enough looking, that’s all that Coriolanus needed to be honest. Perhaps she could be someone else to take his anger out on, it’s just a woman after all, they’re replaceable.

The young president was looking out of his big windows when a poised knock and slight creek of the door caught his attention, it was his assistant, Basil. “Sir? The maid that you hired is here to meet you per your request.” He politely reminded.

“Thank you Basil. Send her here please.” Coriolanus replied and sat down at his large desk, leaning back and waiting to simply hire whatever young woman he had employed and get in with his day.

The rhythmic clack clack clack of heals down the hall was both intriguing and confusing for Coriolanus, Livia didn’t walk like that, perhaps this maid wasn’t a lost cause, and oh was he correct. You opened the door gently and walked in, the aura you carried was that of a divine presence, you looked so young, so corruptible, and Coriolanus couldn’t help but salivate at the thought of destroying that youthful innocence.

He could tell you had made yourself considerably more presentable for this meeting.. your lips were rosy and your hair was long and shiny. The simple but elegant dress you wore was simply too much, Coriolanus found himself wanting to bend this new aphrodisiac of a stranger over his desk, but he refrained for the sake of professionalism.

“You must be Y/N, nice to meet you. Since I’m employing you, you may call me Coriolanus. I also have a-“ he almost chucked in the word “-Fiancée, her name is Livia. Any questions? I’m a very busy man.” He said as he propped his legs up on his desk to hide his growing boner.

“Not at all, thank you Mr. President” your voice was intoxicating, the sweetest drug, and Coriolanus decided right there that he would stop at nothing to indulge in it. He almost corrected the you as you called him by his title and not his name, but the way you said ‘Mr President’ almost made him cum in his pants. A crude and disgusting idea flashed through his mind.

“Perfect. Well, it’s customary for the maids to wear clothes of a traditional French maid, I expect your measurements by tomorrow so I can have your work uniform made as soon as possible.” He was lying through his teeth, but he needed an excuse to know more about you, and a uniform he could make slutty was the perfect way he could be exposed to the newfound object of his desires more easily.

“I understand President Snow, I’ll have them in by tomorrow” you were shaking visibly, Coriolanus surmised it was due to the kind of job working for the president had to offer, or perhaps he himself is an intimidating presence.

“Wonderful. You’ll start work next Monday. I’ll get you aquatinted with the rest of the staff, and of course with Livia as well” He leaned back and almost scoffed at the name. Who was she to you? She’d never hold a candle to your beauty, to your obedience.

“Wonderful, thank you for your time Mr. President.” You stood up and didn’t even take a step before a deep command left the politicians throat.

“Call me Coriolanus.” It wasn’t a question, a mere suggestion. It was a command, one he expected you to follow.

“Yes of course, sorry sir-Coriolanus!” You were visibly flustered as you left his office, and he didn’t even try to hide that his eyes were glued to your round ass as you walked away.

——

A maid for the president, that was your job now, only to keep the house clean. It was easy right? That reassurance swirled around your head like milk in a bowl, the president was surprisingly kind, and surprisingly hot. But right now your job was to the clean the mansion, and after a brief introduction with his other staff, you went to one of the wings and looked out for where he said your uniform would be.

On a table in a small lounge was a small bouquet of flowers, a bag that looked of a luxury clothing store, and a card addressed to you. Upon opening the box inside the bag, you were greeted with a typical maids outfit yes; but it seemed much sexier than you would’ve thought would be appropriate. But who are you to say ‘no’ to the president?

The card was short, telling you what parts to clean and parts to avoid, where all the cleaning stuff resided, and how to reach Coriolanus if need be. Along with the information was a key to the mansion, and a keycard for anything that may be restricted (and not so subtle warnings annoy what would happen if either privileges were to be abused) With all said and done, you went and changed to start on your work day.

——

“Who are you?” An entitled voice said from behind you, her tone like someone who just witnessed a person puke. You stopped dusting for a moment and turned around, this lady looked at you like something on the bottom of her boot.

“Hello ma’am, I’m Y/N. Coriolanus hired me as a maid, you must be his fiancée Livia, I’m honored to meet you.” Your reply was kind, despite the obvious lack of kindness from this stranger whose house you were cleaning.

“Oh, my bad, I didn’t realize you’d be so.. provocative” she snarled and rolled his eyes at you. Reaching one of her hands out and knocking over a small vase of flowers, the glass cracking and water spilling. “Oops!” She taunted smirked. “Well? Aren’t you supposed to be cleaning?” She jeered and giggled, walking away as you sighed in both defeat at her actions, and relief that she was going already.

——

To say Coriolanus was fuming would be a severe understatement. What was supposed to be a perfect opportunity to spy on his new eye-candy of a maid in her perfectly pornographic outfit was soiled by his entitled brat of a fiancée. Looking at her made him ill, how could she? How dare she? Her actions were only solidifying her spot on his shit list, as to which she was a repeat offender.

The aftermath made it slightly better, the image of you on your hands and knees, sweeping up broken glass, made Coriolanus harder than he had ever been. And he may or not have snapped a few pictures of you bend over various surfaces.

The young president say in his bed much past after he usually would go to sleep, Livia passed out next him. He slowly palmed his boxers to the thought of you and your outfit, imagining that he was pushing you against the table and fucking your tight cunt.

“f—oh fuck..” he sucked in air as he began to tease his tip with his thumb, thinking about how he’d wrap his veiny hand around your throat and use you like a fleshlight, fucking you hard fast with his fat cock. He imagined how it would feel if you were riding him, fat ass in his grip and tits on perfect display he stroked up and down his dick as the image become more real, the want for your little pussy became unbearable. Coriolanus almost came when he imagined not even stepping you of your maid outfit, simply cumming inside and forcing you to clean while his seed pooled in your cunt.

Close to orgasm and pathetically desperate to cum in a warm pussy, Coriolanus ripped the blankets off of his sleeping fiancée. She wouldn’t care, at least he didn’t care if she did, and a clean tear of her panties granted him access to her, surprisingly wet, pussy.

It was easier to imagine it was you, the darkness and ability to shiver her face in a pillow really helped. He eased his fat tip inside her sleeping pussy, and began to sloppily thrust; not caring about anything but finishing.

“Coriolanus..?” A sleepy voice murmured, only to be taken breathless by a slap.

“Shut the fuck up you slutty bitch, let me use your pussy, fuck! And- then you can sleep-!” He grunted through sloppy thrusts and lewd squelches. His large hand went up to her mouth, allowing her no room to talk or complain.

Coriolanus came quickly to the thought of being buried in your pussy. The image of his milky cum dropping girl your puffy lips, coating your clit with his cream. He quickly pulled out of the pliant body of his fiancée and took his hand of her mouth. He rolled over and the strongest wave of clarity hit his system.

How the fuck was he going to survive being around you?

Taglist!

@daenerysqueenofhearts @caramelandvenus @yoursrosie @wearemadeofstardust0 @kay-lla @mrsriddlenott @sleekervae @ianales @qoopeeya

#anisangeldust #angels yapping #tom blyth #coriolanus snow #⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚angel #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow smut #false god series #false god #president snow #coriolanus snow x female!reader #coriolanus smut #coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus x y/n #maid!reader

[romanticintheory]

HI I JUST READ YOUR "SIMON BETRAY YOU" AND YOU KNOW WHATTTT IT HURTS SOO GOOD OMG THANKS FOR MAKING THATT SJWISHWBSHSJSBWJSBWBS

...

and.. maybe can you write for a part two? pleaseee🥺

HIII TYSM IM SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED!!! here's a pt 2! i am very sick at the moment, though, so this might be a bunch of gibberish (i sincerely apologize if so). hope you like it <3

simon riley betrays you pt. 2

simon "ghost" riley x reader || pt. 1 || masterlist

☆ ☆ ☆

-miraculously, they let you go.

-you half expected someone to drag you out of the car with the barrel of a gun pressed against your temple with the intent to fire, but no. after a few excruciatingly long hours alone with your arms and legs bound, someone new came to cut your ties and let you loose.

-maybe they were just bad at their job, you thought. after all, why would they let you, essentially a witness, go free without any repercussions?

-a few years pass. you try to move on, but its impossible when your entire world was shattered in one night.

-you never heard back from your father since then, but that wasn't the thing that hurt the most. you couldn't go a single day without thinking about the sting of betrayal. any happy moment you had was spent comparing the time you felt that same feeling with him, before anything in the world was wrong to you.

-what's worse, there was something telling you that you shouldn't tell anyone about it even if you wanted to. a voice in your head kept telling you that maybe, maybe they're keeping you on a leash. maybe someone was watching you at this very moment ready to take you out the moment you spilled your experiences.

-in a way, your fears are confirmed when you meet simon again miles away from the last place you lived. you had moved for this exact reason; you never wanted to see his face for as long as you lived.

-it happens when you're walking alone in the street. you moved to this area specifically because you heard it was quieter and, more importantly, safer. but how much of that could you escape, really?

-your attacker approaches you as you're making your walk home from work, a kind of confidence on his face that makes the common individual want to roll their eyes.

-"what's a sweet thing like you doing out alone at night, huh?" he asks, his footsteps staggered like he's had one too many drinks.

-you give him the usual speel of, "oh, my friends are waiting for me... yeah, i've got a boyfriend. haha, i'm okay, no need to accompany me, thanks."

-your soft attempts at rejection only seem to agitate him, because next thing you know he's stepping toward you and putting a hand on your arm with a bone-crushing grip.

-"c'mon jus' let me-"

-his voice is cut off by the sound of a loud thud and the stranger's yelp of pain. it takes you a second, but you realize the defense on your behalf came from beside you.

-oh, thank god.

-you and your now injured attacker now adjust your gazes to sit on the silent newcomer. just like that, your settled sense of dread has come back and increased tenfold.

-there he was, with that stupid mask over his face and his hands curled into fists for preparation of what he was going to do next if the man didn't scurry off.

-"you'll leave," he says darkly under subtle pants, as if he ran before coming to your rescue. "if you know what's good for you."

-the stranger wastes no time in running off into the night, leaving you with your worst nightmare.

-for a while, you both stare at each other like you can't believe the other is real. it takes everything in you not to cry or beg him for answers. no, after everything you worked for, you're not going to throw away everything you built in the past few years to recover from him just to throw it all away now... right?

-"why are you here?" you ask coldly. "come to finish the job?"

-although your eyes were icy and your questions came with a rigid tone, there was genuine fear in your question. what if the soldier that untied you wasn't supposed to? what if you were supposed to be dead all those years ago?

-"no. never."

-even though he knows the reason why, his heart still hurts at the thought of you believing he'd just up and kill you like that.

-"really? that's rich," you scoff, except you're terrible at hiding the tremble in your breath and the tremors traveling through your body.

-spotting your growing fear, he scrambles for something, anything, to make you fear him less.

-"i was worried, that's all. after that night," he pauses, eventually deciding to skip the details of what he did to your father. "i didn't know where you went. thought i could just get over it, but i guess i just knew i needed to check in on you just in case."

-you resist the urge to roll you eyes. "right. you're back again to 'check in on me'? to come back and meddle in my life again?" you're struggling to keep your tears back as they form in your eyes. "you've already taken so much. how selfish can you be?"

-he stares at you for a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket and taking out a gold watch that belonged to your dad.

-"i'm sorry about your father, but you have to understand that he-"

-"not that, simon. it was never that," you push his hand away and the offer that came with it. his eyes became confused. "i mean you. it's always been you. you just come into my life telling me you love me, that you want to be with me so much and then just take that all away? and you never even bothered to tell me it was a lie, just let me get tied up by some stranger to be left alone and scared!"

-there's a new look in simon's eyes at your words, but it's hard to decipher them from behind the mask.

-"it wasn't a lie," he says slowly, lowering the hand with the watch in it back to his side.

-"oh, please." the trembling has not died down in the slightest. "i bet you're still mad that worker of yours took pity on me and let me leave before you could do anything about it. like i said, back to finish the job."

-your eyes are now trained on the ground. there was a conflicted feeling in your body at the moment. on one hand, this was the man that let you get tied up and left in a car while he "handled" your father. on the other, this was the man you loved. the one who was kind to your ever desire, who always understood you in ways you never knew possible.

-"i told them to let you go," he finally manages.

-"what?"

"i..." he hesitates. "i told my captain that if i was going to give them your father's location, they were to let you go no questions asked when the whole ordeal was over with." and it was true. he hated even imagining poor you, being interrogated by his colleagues in an isolated, barren room. you had been through enough.

-and even if you had been a part of your father's scheme, there was a part of simon that loved you too much to care (though he'd never admit it to himself).

-it was a good thing price trusted his judgment. he didn't know what he would've done had he said no.

-the tears are now streaming down your face and you can do nothing to stop it. it all felt like so much. you were so, so confused. if he did love you, why did you feel this way? how much of this could you trust?

-cautiously, he goes to wipe the tears away from your face, murmuring a quiet, "hate it when you cry." for a second, it was a familiar feeling. you felt like you were back in your shared flat with simon while having a breakdown over life's struggles. in moments like those, you never would have expectated that life's struggles could take the form of simon himself.

-you can't help but lean into his touch. maybe you were insane for allowing him to touch you like this, but you wanted nothing more than to let him into your life again. the resolve you worked so hard to build was crumbling away the longer you spent with him.

-"the reason it took so long for me to find you..." he's holding your face in his hands, now. "for so long, i thought i ought to leave you alone. i know i should. i wasn't lying about when i said i was worried if you were still alive, but," he swallows the lump in his throat before continuing. "i also miss you. 'nd i know, 's incredibly selfish of me after everything i've done to you, but i can't help it."

-one of his hands leaves your face to slide the mask and balaclava off his face. there he was again, his aged brown eyes and soft jawline, the sides of his face littered with small scars you still remember to this day.

-"i'll make it up to you," he whispers. "anything you ask, i'll answer. about my past, your father, anything. you ask me to get you something, i'll have it for you wrapped all nice 'nd pretty. hell, i'll get on my knees and pray to you if you order me to, love."

-it was like your nightmare turned into a fantasy, having him here begging for your forgiveness.

-"anything you want, i want to give to you. jus' let me be a little selfish, too."

-you bite your lip as you think it over. you know the correct answer would be a clear, hard no, but you can't bring yourself to do it. not after all those nights wishing he was encasing you in his arms again, whispering all the things he adored about you as you drifted off into sleep.

-as much as you shouldn't be believing him, you do.

-"...anything?" you ask hesitantly, and it takes everything in simon not to pull you in close and never let go.

-again. no, he needs to be sure he won't scare you off again.

-"anything," he promises, fingertips tracing the edge of your jawline.

-"okay," you agree, the tears finally having stopped flowing. happiness does not even begin to describe what simon was feeling. "for starters, you can walk me home."

-with the watch long forgotten and broken on the edge of the sidewalk, he holds your face for a bit longer before letting go. eventually, he offers his arm to you and you take it.

-there's a part of him that mourns the years lost that he could've had with you. maybe, if he came to you sooner, he wouldn't have to be so careful about being around you, now. but, no, these were the consequences of his actions.

-at the very least, you were still giving him a second chance, and he was intent on not fucking it up this time.

#call of duty imagine #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod imagine #cod mw x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost imagine #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x you #cod angst #call of duty angst #simon riley angst #ghost angst #rarawrites

[gtgbabie0]

-Cowboy!Remus Lupin x Reader

{You’re the preachers daughter but God be damned he just can’t keep away even if it’s to see you for just a small moment.}

Cowboy Remus, you have saved lives. Enjoy lovelies 💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

The sunset casts over the horizon, painting the clouds in the prettiest colours, a pinky-orangey mixture swirling throughout the sky. It makes for a beautiful sight as Remus makes his way through the plains on his brown Spanish Mustang, a loyal horse that’s been with him through thick and thin.

He knows where he’ll end up, back at your father’s small ranch house despite the tiny part of his mind that screams at him to turn around. Your father would shoot him, he reckons, he might be a man of faith but you’re his little girl.

With a soft groan, he runs his hand through his horse's mane as he trots across the trodden grass. He continues on the path to your ranch, excitement bubbling up inside him as your house comes into his line of sight.

Remus knows that you’ll be alone, this isn’t the first time he’s been here, sneaking around like some damn outlaw. He knows your father is off in town doing his daily sermons that last for hours. He can’t help but smirk at the idea of getting a moment alone with you… his sweetheart. Even if it’s fleeting.

He’s tying his horse to the hitching post just by the white fencing of your house when you come rushing over to him with a joyous expression. That sweet smile of yours is enough to make anyone fall to their knees. Remus nods to you, taking off his hat as he holds it to his chest.

“Thought you’d forgotten about me.” You say, giggling softly. You lean over the fencing as he walks over to you, hooking his hat on the white wood.

He shakes his head, and his calloused palm grazes your cheek as he brushes your hair behind your ear. “How could I forget ‘bout you?” He asks with a grin, admiring the soft cotton dress you’re wearing and the way the fabric ripples through the wind.

It was true, there wasn’t a world where Remus could ever forget about you, your soft skin and pretty eyes are practically engraved into his mind and heart. That’s why he’s here, standing in front of you despite his better judgment and the fact he knows that your father, deep down, would never approve of him dating you.

The smell of the outdoors and firewood lingers on his sun-kissed skin. You’re hit with it as he leans down slightly to press a soft kiss against your cheek.

“Have you eaten yet?… and I mean a good meal.” Your question makes his heart swell with love and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ve eaten sweetheart.” He promises, pressing his thumb against your chin, he tilts your head upwards to look at him as he steps closer to you with his other hand resting against your hip.

You nod, wrapping your arms around his waist before slipping your hands into his back pockets. A habit you’ve picked up on from him. He smirks down at you.

“Are you coming in?” God, the way his mind spins with that question and how badly he wants to say ‘yes’ and stay with you.

“Can’t stay for long, baby. James and Sirius are expecting me down at the Saloon.” He tells you, soothing his thumb along your jaw as you pout up at him with a look of disappointment in your eyes.

“Oh, come on now.” He chuckles, pressing a sweet kiss to your pouty lips. “Don’t give me that face, pretty thing. you know why I can’t stay.”

Remus presses another kiss to your lips as your expression softens. “He’s gonna find out one day.” You’ve got a point, one day Remus will have to bite the bullet and fish out a neat suit to meet your strict father.

“Hmm… not if I steal ya away first.” He teases, enjoying the way you roll your eyes slightly with a huff. He tugs you closer to him by your hips. “Promise, one day I’ll let ya introduce me to him.” He says, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he takes in the scent of your flowery perfume.

You decide to trust him, after all, he’s never once lied to you before. Remus just isn’t the type, he’s a man that values trust and he’d never take yours for granted.

“Why’d you come all the way out here then?” Your question makes him lift his head up from your shoulder, his eyebrow-raising with a playful look.

“Just wanted to see your pretty face.” He states simply as if it was the most obvious thing in the whole world. “I don’t need an excuse to come and see ya do I?”

You shake your head, looking up at him. “No… I’m glad you came, I’ve missed you.” There it goes again, your words make his chest bloom with a warmth that leaves a sickly sweet taste in his mouth.

“Missed you too baby.” He whispers, his fingers fiddling with the dainty golden cross that sits against your collarbones. He knows your father will be back soon, he should get going but at the same time, he can’t seem to pull himself away.

Remus takes your hands in his own, glancing over to his horse before looking back down to you. “You wanna go riding with me tomorrow?” He asks, hope gleaming in his honeyed eyes.

The excitement in your expression is truly a sight he’ll never get bored of. “Of course, I’ll wait for you after breakfast.” You tell him and he hums in agreement, picking his hat up and fixing it on his head.

“Better get some sleep then, I’ll be here early.” He smiles, caressing your warm cheek with his thumb. He tilts his hat up slightly so he can lean down and press a loving kiss to your lips that tapers off into small pecks.

“I will love you, cowpoke.” You whisper against his lips, shying away from him ever so slightly as he trails his lips along your jaw to your cheek, he grins against your soft skin.

“Love you too.” He whispers, fixing his hat once more.

He kisses your forehead before walking over to his horse, unhitching him from the post before saddling up. With a wave he clicks his tongue and his horse is off, carrying him away from the ranch, leaving only a promise of returning tomorrow.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

-Art by @/sophithil on twt

#cowboy remus lupin #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fic #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin one shot #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus x reader #remus x y/n #remus x you #remus fic #remus imagine #remus fanfic #remus fluff #the marauders #the marauders era #the marauders imagine #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fic #the marauders fluff #the marauders x reader #the marauders x you #the marauders x y/n #marauders era

[diorsluv]

casual , part 11

“ but we’re ”

series m. list previous chapter next chapter

( socialmedia!au )

yourusername

liked by luca.fantilli, rutgermcgroarty, and 111,103 others

yourusername ur favs are back 😈😈

tagged: luca.fantilli, rutgermcgroarty, markestapa, edwards.73, vivianliu

view all comments

username10 aww this is my fav type of post

username1 BUBBLES

→ vivianliu my fav powerpuff girl 🫧

→ yourusername buttercup 4EVAAAA

_alexturcotte 1/3 of these pics have some sort of suffocation going on… are you guys okay

→ yourusername it’s only 2 pics

→ _alexturcotte out of 6

→ yourusername turcs stop mathing please

→ _alexturcotte whats 9+10

→ colecaufield OH OH I KNOW THIS ONE

→ trevorzegras 21!!!!!!

username46 wheres my girl vivi 😔😔

→ yourusername shoe pic!

username21 the chaos is so endearing

_quinnhughes i thought u said vivian wasn’t going with u guys

→ yourusername SHE WENT ON A DATE 😏😏😏

→ yourusername but she didn’t tell us where it was so we went to subway and her big back was there w her pookie

→ jackhughes first date at subway 😬

→ vivianliu hey no it was our SECOND date

→ _quinnhughes second date at subway 😬😬

→ yourusername quinny dont act like u could do any better 💀

→ _quinnhughes i could

→ vivianliu oh 🥴🥴

→ yourusername EW

trevorzegras you need to invite me

→ yourusername no

→ trevorzegras why

→ yourusername ur icky 🤢🤢

→ trevorzegras 😒

username39 when do i get a friend group like this 😕

→ username14 have three hot, talented, very social brothers in the nhl with two that went to umich

markestapa ngl that card game was fire

→ yourusername thats what she said?? 😭

→ _quinnhughes that’s not how the joke works stupid

→ yourusername its the name of the game dummy

→ _quinnhughes oh

→ markestapa LMFAO

luca.fantilli we never hang out anymore 😔

→ yourusername YES WE DO

→ rutgermcgroarty luca’s right we never see u in the light of day

→ yourusername i’m at urs more than i’m at my own apartment guys

→ luca.fantilli u dont give us attention

→ yourusername 🫤🫤

→ luca.fantilli UR ALWAYS W UR DAMN BoyfRiEnD

→ rutgermcgroarty REAL WE WERE THE BOY FRIENDS BEFORE YOU GOT YOUR BOYFRIEND

→ yourusername you’re both so needyyy 🙄

rutgermcgroarty you have no good photos of me do you…

→ yourusername I DO

→ rutgermcgroarty prove it

→ yourusername no can do!!

adamfantilli the shoe game is fire

→ yourusername 🔥🔥🔥

→ adamfantilli 🥶🥶🥶

→ luca.fantilli 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

→ rutgermcgroarty 🥱🥱🥱

→ dylanduke25 😴😴😴

username71 it’s so cute how ur always together

edwards.73 stop teaming up with rut when we play card games

→ yourusername but you and i always compete against each other

→ yourusername it’s like.. our thing 😟

→ edwards.73 well maybe i wanna change our thing

→ luca.fantilli not possible bro u can’t change a “thing”

username93 luca, rut n mark r dressed up as powerpuff girls like TELL ME IM WRONG

lhughes_06 i don’t like this horsing around mess

→ yourusername stop speaking like an old man for the love of god you’re TWENTY.

→ lhughes_06 respect your elders

→ yourusername oh lukey it’s funny that you think i would

mackie.samo i shouldn’t have left i miss you

→ yourusername AW MACK STOP

→ yourusername we miss you too ☹️

rutgermcgroarty

liked by colecaufield, yourusername, and 100,004 others

rutgermcgroarty its national best friend day look its my best friend

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername it’s not national best friend day 😑

→ rutgermcgroarty then its my national best friend day

→ yourusername we live in the same country. two blocks away from each other.

→ rutgermcgroarty its an appreciation post 😕

→ yourusername rut sweetie i know u appreciate me u tell me every day

→ rutgermcgroarty NO I DONT

→ yourusername okay you show me every day

→ rutgermcgroarty WHY WONT U LET ME APPRECIATE U

→ yourusername p sure the boyfriend’s gonna get mad 😖😖😖😖😖😖

→ rutgermcgroarty whats stopping him from posting an appreciation post

adamfantilli ok whats the likelihood of him actually posting an appreciation post LMFAOO

→ rutgermcgroarty 0.0001%

username29 ooooo the bf’s getting called out

username27 AWW THE CREEPER HATS

username18 minecraft besties so aesthetic

→ yourusername girl he’s horrible he built an obsidian dick in my survival house

→ username6 oh……..

→ username30 😧

markestapa the way she’s barely at your shoulders LMAOOO

→ yourusername HEY NO I WAS CROUCHING

→ rutgermcgroarty stop trying to save face we know how tall you are

→ yourusername no one online knows my height they’ll never know if i’m lying or not 🤨🤨

→ mackie.samo you’re actually 7’6 yourusername

→ dylanduke25 or maybe she’s 4’6 💀

username14 guys what if the bf posts her but it isn’t ethan

→ username68 i’d cry

luca.fantilli best friends but u dont even have pics of her 🙄

→ rutgermcgroarty real best friends got no pics of each other 😔😔

→ luca.fantilli i have pics of u???

→ rutgermcgroarty but we’re men

→ yourusername isnt it supposed to be the other way around??

edwards.73 ik what ur tryna do

→ rutgermcgroarty do u tho?

_alexturcotte deliberate beef (?)

→ rutgermcgroarty perchance.

→ markestapa you can’t just say perchance.

→ mackie.samo you can’t just say perchance!

→ dylanduke25 YOU CAN’T JUST SAY PERCHANCE.

→ adamfantilli YOU CAN’T JUST SAY PERCHANCE!

→ luca.fantilli YOU 🫵 CAN’T ❌ JUST 😓 SAY 🗣️ PERCHANCE 🤷‍♂️

→ yourusername god what is this nonsense

lhughes_06 mhm 🤨

→ rutgermcgroarty i thought u supported my aspirations

→ lhughes_06 mhmm 🤨🤨

username45 are u trying to make ethan jealous

username89 one day they’re gonna get into an actual fist fight

next chapter notes ) so… i was going back over old chapters of feather and i realized they used to be SO short??? like why did i suddenly start making everything longer but for the sake of the plot and my sanity i’m ACTUALLY going to be reverting to my old ways this time (not lying!!!!) and it’ll be easier for me to get chapters out 😭

tags: @dancerbailey3 @hughesfein @loveforaugust @alwaysclassyeagle @love4ldr @inhoodmood @bunting58 @crazycat-ladys-blog @smoooore @bunbunbl0gs @lilasianmeat

#ethan edwards #ethan edwards fanfic #ethan edwards fic #ethan edwards x y/n #ethan edwards x reader #luke hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes #mark estapa #dylan duke #mackie samoskevich #trevor zegras #alex turcotte #cole caufield #adam fantilli #luca fantilli #rutger mcgroarty

[thefrogdalorian]

I think on this fine Saturday afternoon it's a good opportunity to take a breather and remember that there are really no ethical paparazzi pictures. Every single one is inherently exploitative.

Just because photos were taken on a movie set, when someone is 'working,' does not make the practice any less invasive and creepy. Imagine just going about your day, doing your job and having some weirdo snapping pictures of you to sell without your consent for others to endlessly repost online.

There are thousands of pictures of your favourite actor online already. Plenty taken with his knowledge and consent. I'd really like to see more of them on my dash, rather than the creeper shots.

And don't get me started how disseminating these pictures directly leads to people going to said sets. What starts off as admiring how good someone looks has real world implications.

No, hanging around a movie set and disrupting people doing their jobs is not harmless fun or a way to show your appreciation.

If you hang around a movie set, you are a stalker.

Don't tell me that it's okay to take your online admiration for someone offline. You may admire him but he does not, and will never, personally know you. He will never be your friend/boyfriend/daddy. He is a stranger.

The only way meeting your favourite actor is going to happen is at a convention or maaaaaybe a movie premiere if you're incredibly fortunate. You know, places they appear specifically to meet fans (or not in the case of premieres, where the purpose is to promote a movie. Which is also completely understandable if actors don't stop. You are not owed an interaction).

Of course, you cannot help it if you randomly run into someone you admire in the wild. Even then, consider that they probably won't be all too thrilled to be approached in public by a complete stranger. It's up to you to gauge the situation, but remember there is a person at the heart of all of this.

Boundaries and respect are a kindness which deserves to be extended to each and every human being regardless of their looks/talent/fame/wealth.

Fandoms blur those lines a little too often for my liking and I think just scrutinising what you're interacting with, or what behaviour you could be possibly falling down that slippery slope towards is nice to do every once in a while.

I mean no malice with this post and it is not directed at anyone in particular. It's something I cannot help but feel strongly about because I've seen this destructive cycle time and again in fandoms over the years. It's not healthy and it makes us all a little bit more disconnected from our humanity for it...

#not naming names but....... screw it #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #accepting you will never interact with or meet this man will set you free from misery and jealousy i promise #he's great! if you think he's great watch another movie! write about a character! edit some photos of him! make gifs! #there are many MANY ways to engage with his work which don't include reposting creepy invasive photos taken without his consent #it's bs that this is just 'part of the job' because WHY... why should it be any different than any other job?? #i know we always venerate talent and put people on pedestals.... that's a tale as old as time #but seeing him blow up last year was wild to witness and some of the behaviour from newer fans is very disheartening to see #he's just a human who poops and farts and is a dick sometimes like the rest of us. let's not treat him like a god thanks #spud rants #a lot LOL #i've bottled this up for a bit because the way this developed in real time to people actually going to the set is. what #and don't 'if pedro was in your city' because NO??? i wouldn't STALK SOMEONE? there's 0 justification for it #i have far better things to do than stalk people #i may be an autistic flop but i'm not a CREEPY STALKER autistic flop thanks x #anyway like i said this is truly not @ anyone in particular and i don't think you are a terrible person if you interacted with the photos #but please just remember there is a person at the heart of all this #a very talented and attractive person yes... but a person all the same #i would truly hate to be famous it gives me so much anxiety just the thought of the constant scrutiny #good thing i never will be LOL #fandom wank #discourse

[yorsgirl]

I am taking heads . Oh?

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Maybe, just maybe - you can find common ground while working with your boyfriend. Or maybe not. Who cares anyway when you can have him fulfilling your carnal desires.

Tropes: Established relationship, smut

Warnings: Explicit smut, cunnilingus, heavy kissing, heated foreplay, slight fluff, college boy!Sukuna, kinda toxic relationship, No curse AU, strong language, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: I liked writing their dynamic in the first part and I wanted to delve into it more but this part contains more chemistry than smut, so here you go. Enjoy! (can be read as a stand alone)

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

<Part 1 - Fuck you . Gladly>

While the Gods were creating the list of unfortunate individuals, your name must have been the first.

Exaggeration? No. Truly? Well, maybe to a certain extent.

But you have to accept that you are unfortunate. Like duh! Final year of college and your professor decides to gift you with a partner project. One which you can't afford to overlook since it contributed thirty percent to your yearly grade. (Not that you'd consider bypassing it in the first place.)

While you could glide through solo projects just fine, the stakes arise when you have to work with someone else. More so, a partner – could be any of your classmates but as the professors are just so good, they already made up pairs on their own. To your luck, guess who would be your partner? Cutting the chase, here's the answer – Ryomen Fucking Sukuna.

Your gaze shifts to the back of the classroom where the aforementioned man is seated. To your astonishment, you find him returning your gaze. This silent staring match lasts for merely five seconds before his lips curve into a chesire smirk.

The sheer audacity.

You redirect your attention back to the front, a palpable scowl etched onto your features. While ostensibly directed at the professor, the true recipient of this expression is the one who caused it in the first place. Simpler words – a man with salmon hair, adorned with numerous tattoos who happens to be your boyfriend.

Barely two months had elapsed since you started this thing– relationship with Sukuna. While it should be counted as the honeymoon phase of any relationship, it was far from yours. This wouldn't even qualify as a conventional relationship to begin with.

Casual sex, casual relationship, no strings attached. Few labels if one wishes to name it.

Is it your idea for an ideal relationship? Most probably not.

Did this relationship achieve the aim of it? Most definitely.

Hence, you are here.

After your professor winds up the lecture and your classmates are on their cue to disperse out of the hall, you purposefully stride over to Sukuna. You stand before his desk, arms crossed over your chest as you start, "So–"

His crimson eyes flicker over to you, lips quirking into a grin, "Well well, fancy meeting you, princess."

Your eyebrow twitches in irritation still you let out a breath to calm your nerves. "I told you not to call me that in public."

"You did?"

"Yes."

"Mhm, nah. Don't remember, don't care."

This fucking asshole. 

You grit your teeth, glaring at him which he returned with a smug smirk. You pinch the bridge of your nose, constantly reminding yourself on why you are here. After you're done with your pep talk, you start again, "See, I will not beat around the bush. We've that project–"

"A shitty project," He rolls his eyes, resting his face on his knuckles. "Do it yourself."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"No, I didn't," You scoff. "What the hell do you mean by – do it yourself? For your information, its a P. A. R. T. N. E R. partner project. You've to put in your efforts too."

"I know what a partner project means, woman. I am not doing it."

You lean in, placing your hand on his desk, "You want to fail this course?"

"Oh no, no," He clicks his tongue. "Aren't you my partner, princess? Sure, you can do extra work for your boyfriend."

Fuck this stupid asshole. Which sin did you commit to get punished like this?

"How convenient," Your lips stretch into a grin. "What more? Do you want me to write your exams as well?"

He raises an eyebrow, "You like me that much?"

"I hate you and I mean it this time."

"So you don't the other times?"

This guy...

Your nose crinkles "Fuck you."

"Here? Didn't know were into exhibitionism." 

"Oh fuck off."  You retort, placing your hands on your hips. "You know," the corner of your lip quirks up, "There are six million nerves in one's body. How do you manage to get on each one of them?"

"What can I say? I am just naturally gifted." 

"Right, such a shame we don't hand out Nobel Prize for arrogance."

That earns you a scornful glare from Sukuna while you stifle the grin that stretches up your lips; failing miserably. One win - fantastic. You breathe out heavily, shaking your head, "See, I am not doing your portion of work and if you're so adamant about not doing basic research then be my guest. You can fail."

Sukuna returns an expression that could be counted as least bothered before adding, "You will fail too." 

"I wouldn't mind a red mark on my annual report."

You will. You very much will.

Counting back to the time you almost got a seventy in the parasitology exam in third year, you didn't step out of your room for two days. But he doesn't need to know that.

Sukuna, for some reason, doesn't counter that. You take it as your cue and continue, "Five-thirty, evening, at the cafeteria, today. Don't be late."

"Rather a casual way of asking me out on a date but I accept." He muses, a smirk curving up on his lips.

You sigh and lean back, "Call it whatever. Don't be late." You rotate on your heels as you descend the broad stairs of the lecture hall. You turn one last time, he's still in the same place – gathering up his things. "If you are then you're doing extra work." With that, you flung your bag over your shoulder and walk out of the hall.

Hopefully, he will show up.

.

Surprisingly, Sukuna does show up.

No, not so. He shows up before you do. When you step into the cafeteria, looking for a suitable table, when you locate the man occupying one at the far end of the room.

You have to veil your utter shock under a mask of nonchalance cause you were ninety-nine percent sure that you'd have to drag him here. Yes, in no way in hell are you doing all of this work alone. At the same time, you wonder if you do even have the strength to drag him in the first place. Instead of pondering on matters of what could've been, you push it away and stride towards him.

His eyes land on you when you walk up to him, putting his phone down in the process. "So you'll be doing extra work for showing up late?"

"I am not late." You counter, taking a seat across from him, switching on your phone for a brief second, you check the time. "Its five twenty-eight. You are too early."

"You wanted me to be late?"

"No, fine. You are fine." You shrug, leaning back on the chair while taking out the required notes and books. Though a thought does conjure up your mind and you murmur to yourself, "I thought you wouldn't show up."

It does reach his ear causing him to cast the smirk your way, "I can't deny my princess now, can I?"

Inadvertently, you smirk too. However, you keep your attention on the notes in your hand. You assume he has taken notice of it cause a snicker escalates but he doesn't comment any further. Yet, you have to divert his attention that he managed to amuse you so you clear your throat and start, "I am feeling generous today so you can input whatever topic you have in mind."

"Ah, yes. I am so honored." He replies with an evident lace of sarcasm in his tone.

"You should be."

For the next half an hour, its a blur of discussion on which topic would be more suitable on this project. It isn't a surprise when you find, working with Sukuna on coursework more bearable than you'd have expected it to be. Given, you knew he was a hard worker and really smart; now, only if he could get down from his high horse.

After crossing out the obvious topics, which both of you can pretty much agree cannot give you a decent score. That brings you here, two topics – implementation of robotics in medical science OR thermodynamic mechanisms in spaceships.

"See," You start, "All I am saying is that robotics would make a better topic. It's coming of age but less researched, choosing something uncommon–"

"It's exactly the reason of it being uncommon that we shouldn't go with it." Sukuna interrupts you, before you can finish as he crosses his arms over his chest. "More reason, to go with thermodynamics."

"That's too much of a common ground, almost everyone would be selecting it. Out of laziness or interest, no one would know."

He breathes out heavily, rolling his eyes, "If that's your only problem then get over it." The offense is clearly marked on your expression but before you can speak, Sukuna continues, "We have to write this project. Write as in mention correct facts not fuck around and make up shit which we would definitely have to cause your topic is already less researched or in your words – coming of age."

He does make a good point. A brand new topic will have the disadvantage of you having to work on limited materials, some of which might even prove to be false considering the internet is full of shit. You sigh and mutter, "Ugh, fine." He raises an eyebrow and you reach for your purse. "Time for showdown."

"What? You're taking out any guns or shit." He narrows his eyes at you receiving a smug smile in return.

"If I had to kill you, I'd you poison. It's more sophisticated."

"I'd expect you to be the last person to know a thing about sophistication, given your smartmouth."

You dig through your purse, looking for the required item, simultaneously adding, "Doesn't hold a candle before your narcissim."

"See, this is what I am talking about. You always need to get the last word."

"Just my signature sign-off," A sarcastic smile plays on your lips when your eyes shifts to him. He just stares back with a disinterested scowl. You shake your head, "Anyways, we'll be tossing."

"Seriously?" Disbelief is marked heavy on his visage. "You want to decide our project on some pesky toss?"

"Uh huh," You affirm, running your fingers through your hair, "I am already partnered with you. How worse can it get?"

"Fair."

"I am taking heads."

"Oh?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Sukuna. Keep it PG-13." The clogs run in your mind and you shoot him a scornful glare.

"Never was in the first place." He muses, reaching for the coin in your hand which you pass to him without hesitation.

Sukuna holds the coin over his thumb before a jerk sent it flying upwards, the silver of the metal gleams with the setting sun before descending downwards. His forearms flex and with a precise snap of his wrist, he catches the coin on his waiting palm, clasping the other over it; for it to remain hidden. He rotates his wrists again, bringing it to the center of the table where he removes his upper hand.

Tails.

"I win."

There's a brief pause, no words spoken from your side which incites him to take a glance at you. He finds you staring at him with a bewildered expression while your lips are parted. Yet, your eyes aren't cast over to the coin in his hand, more so to him.

His eyebrow furrows and he snaps his finger in front of you, "Oi, wake up." Works wonders as it breaks your trance but causes you to recoil back with a gasp.

"H-Huh? What? What happened?"

Sukuna only answers with passing the coin back to you, with the tails side on display and you get the hint.

"F-Fine." You cough, refusing to meet his gaze. Only hoping that he wouldn't make a comment on your initial zone-out stance. You cough again, reaching for the water to take a gulp before typing in on your laptop. "Hm, so what? Thermodynamics in rockets, was it?"

Sukuna knits his eyebrow, leaning front, his fingers interlocking together, "Wow, no arguments?"

"No."

"Not even a smart mouth comeback?"

"No."

"What a character development."

His tone drips with sarcasm but you're far down the road to comment on it. Besides with the heat rushing up your face, its better if you keep conversations to a minimum for now.

.

New day, new shit.

Did you think Yorozu clinging onto your boyfriend like a leech was bad? Surprise, surprise! No. It's worse when she's set her eyes on you.

Currently, she stands before you; glaring at you like you've committed some arson. She narrows her eyes at you, "Aren't you the girl who's tagging with my sukuna?"

"I have a name. Its–"

"Don't care," She dismisses with a wave. "What relation do you have with him?"

You press your lips into a thin line, already contemplating the question of – Is holding a conversation with her worth it? Chances are none. However, considering you and Sukuna never mentioned your relationship to anyone explicitly, so its obvious as to why she'll pine for him.

You sigh and start, "Well, I am his–"

"You know what, It doesn't even matter."

Is it her aim to ask you questions only to not hear them in the end?

"But," The girl continues, a warning scowl directed at you, "If you think you've got any chance with him then let me burst your bubble, sweetheart." An eerie grin plays on her lips, "You don't."

Alright, why is she acting like the mean girls from the 90s soap opera?

"Sure," You mutter, tilting your head aside. Though it's a confirmation of her statement, you tone indicates confusion.

Her eyebrows scrunch up as she takes a step towards you. "Sure? That's it? You're not gonna say anything else."

"What do you want me to say?"

"Like literally anything."

"Haven't got anything to say, to be honest."

A silence befalls over the both of you. While you are overwhelmed by the awkward tension of this situation, Yorozu only looks at you like you've uttered the greatest blasphemy.

"So may I–"

"Aren't you trying your chances on him?"

She's still stuck on that? You mentally sigh, racking your mind through all the responses that will stop this confrontation for today and the coming of days. Just then, you find the perfect response.

A smirk stretches on your lips as you take a short glance at the beauty in front of you.

"To be honest, no. Absolutely not. I am least interested in him," You shrug, inching closer to her. Reaching out a hand, you caress the soft skin on her chin, tilting it to your stature. "You see, my dear. The one, I want– hm, its you."

"Excuse me?" The look on her face in pure art as she stumbles a few steps back, removing your hand from her, horror evident on her mien.

You push your hand inside your pocket as you lean back. Bedroom eyes directed at her with a suggestive smile. "You heard me, darling. Ah– aren't you just the prettiest?"

That isn't a lie. You have to give it to her, she's one of the most beautiful girls you've seen till date. Hair as black as midnight, sleek and flowing like an endless river while brown eyes that shone under sunlight. Only problem? Her damn infuriating personality. If only she could fix it now...

Perhaps, in another realm– another life - it'd be you and her.

"Say," You continue, "Why don't I take you out? This friday? Sounds nice, right?" You gather a note and your pen, scribbling something on it.

"Absolutely not. Stay the fuck away from me."

"Oh come on," You snort, tearing the note as you push it onto her hand. "Just one date. I swear, you won't regret it."

"No. And what the hell is this?"

"That's my number. Text me later, doll."

With a swift turn of your heels, you walk away from her. Not before shooting a suggestive wink her way.

.

How did an argument about chopping carrots escalate to Sukuna eating you out on the counter top?

Recounting back to twenty minutes ago, you were standing in your shared kitchen with Sukuna while the latter chided you on how you were so fucking incompetent in using a damn knife. That might hold true, given your chopping skills were negligible and on the other hand, Sukuna just knew how to use that blade like he's using it for a thousand years. You were effectively fuming inwardly as you decided to strut out of the kitchen while throwing profanities under your breath. To your luck, or your clumsiness – you hit yourself with the doorframe. 

That's the reason you were sitting on the counter top with Sukuna standing between your legs as he pressed a ice pack on your forehead.

"Do you always have to make a bad situation worse?" He glares down at you, pressing down the ice pack a little too much.

"I don't make a habit out of it," You reply following a hiss in pain. He reduces the pressure, angling the bag on a better posture.

You don't speak after that, neither does he add anything more; solely focusing on the light blemish on your forehead. However, the silence that falls over is far from comforting.

The air hangs heavy in the room puncturting only by the soft whispers of both of your breath. Sukuna stood uncomfortably close; a palpable weight to your very being. His heady scent of musk and spice wafts over you, enveloping all your senses. His calloused hand gripped your thigh firmly, keeping you restricted to that certain posture; you couldn't resist the shiver that went down your spine. The tension grew heavy hot and heavy–near suffocating.

One of the sweatbeads clinging to a strand of his hair, drips down, resting on the dark tattooed skin. You take a note of how his adam's apple bobs – sound audible and action agonizingly slow. An sting of electricity shoots down to your core, only a mesh of garment separating your crotch from his.

Why does any close proximity with him bring out these electrifying sensations? Like a black hole, pulling you with a greater force than the last.

His eyes were trained on you, drinking in every inch of what you are. The sheer intensity of it settled a blockage in your lungs–rendering your ability to breath freely. Your heart thumped in your ribcage like a drum while your fingers pressed onto the counter edge.

Refusing to meet his carmine eyes, you wondered if this heat was only a notion of yours or did he feel it too?

"You know... professor was satisfied with our work– that project, I mean." Licking your lips, you let out a deep breath. It was the silence. Only the silence, you tell yourself. Maybe a chance at conversation would dissipate it.

Seemed like, your partner had no interest in continuing one with you as he only answered with a hum.

That doesn't help any way, more so adds fuel to your burning desires. The deep, guttural hum rings in your ears, a flurry of goosebumps arise on your arms, your stomach churned with a carnal urge.

Yet, you refrained from making any unnecessary actions; that proved to be a task in itself.

Few droplets of cool water trickle down your cheek to your throat–belonging to the melting ice, pressed on your forehead. That ache is long gone, reaching for his wrist, you tug it away. "It's fi– hah!"

Sukuna's lips were on your neck as he sucked on its supple flesh; the same region where those beads of water had trickled down. For in his wake, those beads glistening over your skin were the only drink that could quench his thirst. His teeth grazed over the pulse point of your neck, sinking his teeth down on it, inciting a raspy moan from you.

Sukuna captured your nape in his hand, grip firm yet not a flicker of harshness. His lips found the hollow of your neck, he presses his mouth down on the tender skin. Savoring the taste as he glides his tongue to your collarbone.

Your eyes fluttered shut at the very first sensation, hands fisted over his shirt, you tugged him closer. A breathy moan left your lips, trying to clench your legs as heat pooled down in your core. "Sukuna."

"I've been waiting to taste you for so long." He muttered near your ear, warm breath falling on your earlobe as he subtly tugged it.

The cool metal of his tongue piercing sets down like a sharp contrast against your heated skin. His left hand brushes over the hem of skirt, squeezing your thighs. He pulled you closer to himself, kisses trailing up from your jaw to the corner of your lips. He stared at you. Stare as in look. He looked at you, fishing out every bit of details that he might have missed the last times. There's more. There always more.

From the way you've clamped your eyes shut to the curve of your nose or to the structure of your cheek to the way your chest rises and fall as you breath. He takes the note of how the skin of your neck had tried slightly red from his previous assault. He cups your cheek, tilting your face towards him. When he speaks, its a low whisper, "Look at me."

On cue you open your eyes. His eyes burn with a primal desire akin to an untamed beast whose very essence is filled with lust. He is staring at you with the burning passion in which you are burning as well. You don't know, what came over you but you say his name again.

"Sukuna."

.

Maybe he was just waiting for that.

He takes your mouth in his with a force anyone could only imagine. The sheer impact of your head tipping back to hit the concrete is shielded by his hand which runs through the locks of your hair. A slight ache rest over his knuckles but he is more concerned with the way you taste as he delves into you, lapping and swirling his tongue with yours.

The moan that escapes your mouth causes him to smirk. His hand slides inside your skirt as he runs his fingers over the fabric of your panties. His eyebrows furrow feeling the soaked garment as he pulls away from the kiss for a brief second, lips still brushing with yours.

"Wet already?"

The rush of blood to your cheeks is a sight to behold as you consciously try to avoid his piercing gaze. One which he'd have taken the moment to carve a picture out in his mind but not today. Not now. His hunger for you is far greater.

So his mouth find yours again.

He bits down on your lower lip almost to the point of drawing blood, leaving it only at the last second when you hiss in pain. He licks on the flesh, sucking on it altogether. When he leaves you – your lower lip is puffed out. Yet, a side of him wishes to know what would your blood taste like? As saccharine as your pleasurable release? Or like the musk salty sweat of your skin?

While that desire would have to see the light of day another time, he believes he can be satisfied with what he has tasted before yet not. For your skin and lips was a dish in itself, he is aiming for dessert.

Hooking his thumb under the waistband of your panties, he says, "Lift." You buckle your hips up, balancing your weight with your hands on the counter top, he slides out the garment before discarding somewhere.

Sukuna kneels down in front of you, eyes at the perfect level of your cavern leaking with arousal. He spreads your legs wider, no way is anything blocking this delicious sight or his meal. Not even you.

He licks over the entrance of your pussy, a brief moan escalating from you causing his cock to strain against his briefs. With his thumb and forefinger, he spreads your lips apart watching how your juice glisten down. With a flick of his tongue, he swipes a teasing, wet trail over your already swollen clit.

A slow circuit forms as he in literal sense toys with you; lapping and swirling his tongue over your hardened bud. Waves of pleasure shoot through your body, nails hurting from digging into the hard counter top. Your toes curl as you arch your back forward. His tongue piercing works wonder on your core, you bit your lip yet the whine escapes, "Ahh– Fuck– stop teasing me, Sukuna."

"Let me enjoy my meal, princess." He muses, inching closer. He slides a finger inside you, curling it inside you while his mouth works simultaneously on your core. Feasting like no one else.

You tip your head back, crying out like waves of pleasure hit you. "Yes, li-like that– fuck, please Sukuna. D-don't stop."

"Your wish is my command princess." He nips at your sensitive flesh, drawing another moan from you. Though this meal is more lavish than anyother, his cock painfully strains against his garments – begging for release. Begging to be inside you.

Sukuna slides his finger in and out of you before adding another. The added stimulation has your eyes rolling back inside your head, your hand finds it's way to his hair, tugging on the locks as you push him forward.

A groan escapes his lips, tongue and fingers drawing a rhythm which sends you over the edge. A sheen of sweat rests over your body while Sukuna, purposefully French kisses your clit. Your eyes widen with pure ecstasy, body convulsing as you cry our giving into your orgasm.

Sukuna licks up your release before getting uo from the floor. A devilish grin resting on his lips, eyes glinting with desires of his own. If he had his phone, he'd just click your spent up form, keeping it with him as a memory. Face flushed, legs spread wide as a trail of drool runs down your mouth. You try to catch your breath.

"What? Tired already? Too bad, I am not done with you."

.

BONUS

"By the way, I am taking out Yorozu on a date this friday."

"How wonderful. Enjoy."

A/N: Just imagine, Sukuna tossing a coin in front of you. His forearms and wrists are exposed with the tattoos as they flex when he snaps his hand to catch the falling coin... See that? See what I am talking about? No, try again. See it, now? Yes? Good. This will live in my mind rent free now.

Anyways, thank you for reading. Likes and feedbacks are appreciated <3

P.S: lmk if anyone wants to read about reader's date with Yorozu (please do cause I need an excuse to write it and I just wanna know if y'all are interested 🥹)

#sukuna ryomen #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna jjk #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna fanfiction

[leclerc-s]

reluctant parents

series masterlist

penelopetrevino posted new stories

he said, 'amor, i have a surprise for you.' i'm patiently waiting to see what it is. update: the surprise is just lando... again 🙄

penelope trevino quick, when someone says, 'i have surprise for you' what does one normally think?

rowan todd well, last time pierre told me that we got a dog, so a dog.

natalia ruiz a dog, charlie did the same thing.

zoya torres well he said 'we have a problem' and it was his parents, whom i was meeting for the first time ever.

mick schumacher considering i told freya 'i did a thing' and i had gotten angie, i'd think a dog.

daniel jones-ricciardo i got a cat the last time she said that.

daphne jones-ricciardo i got a heart attack because it was followed by the words 'i got in an accident'

penelope trevino I TOLD YOU TWO!!

lando norris but aren't i a nice surprise? penelope trevino you have a girlfriend, spend time with her for the love of god. bailey winters he just tells me to spend time with max and p so he can spend time with his boyfriend.

carlos sainz but amor, you love lando!

mae jones-verstappen praying carlos sainz lives to see another day.

isabella perez he may have survived appendicitis but he will not survive pissing off penny.

pato o'ward he's about to learn that you never piss off a mexican woman. dulce perez rip carlos sainz, you would've hated to see max win another gp

gael perez rip carlos sainz, oscar can finally let out a sigh of relief

oscar piastri why am i always getting involved in shit?

lewis hamilton does carlos hate oscar because lando loves oscar and carlos wishes that was him?

fernando alonso he wants that mclaren seat back sebastian vettel you two are the biggest instigators in this group chat. fernando alonso it's a talent

rhys jones it's like watching a tennis match but only one cares and the other doesn't

penelope trevino BACK TO MY PROBLEM PEOPLE!

lance stroll carlos has attachment issues and lando imprinted on him like a baby duck.

pierre gasly alternative: carlos and lando have been cheating on their girlfriends with each other.

bailey winters i hate that i can actually believe that. penelope trevino why is that actually believable?

carlos sainz we are not that bad.

zoya torres if trevor noah can make a joke about lando looking like more of a couple with his former teammate (carlos) than his own girlfriend (bailey) it's bad.

lando norris we may have a problem.

penelope trevino you think?

penelopetrevino and landonorris have posted new stories

he's crashing another date. i could probably hurt him. i may be smiling but i need a bottle of patron to get me through the day. she's going to kill me. mclaren you know who to blame when i mysteriously die

penelope trevino quick, say something so i won't kill lando.

rowan todd you'll go to jail?

penelope trevino not good enough

isabella perez jesus will never let you forget this.

penelope trevino we're getting there.

zoya torres you'll never be able to see little jewel again?

penelope trevino thank you for that reminder zoya.

bailey winters i can call his mom for you? that's what i tend to do when he pisses me off or i call ria and she reminds him that i wrote a heartbreaking album about him.

bailey winters and if none of that works i call max, who laughs in his face for hours on end.

daphne jones-ricciardo or you could talk to them, like normal people

penelope trevino you think i haven't tried that yet? it's impossible to get through to them daph!

dulce perez they're like his work parents, he needs them around 24/7

isabella perez personally, i wouldn't let this slide.

mae jones-verstappen throw him into the slammer!!

natalia ruiz all of you guys have third wheels that suck. i love my third wheel.

penelope trevino not all of us can have a joris natalia!

natalia ruiz at least it's lando and not like pierre, who would be an annoying third wheel.

rowan todd okay, that's my boyfriend nat.

natalia ruiz you cannot be publicly defending a man who makes 🐶 jokes or calls himself tripod

bailey winters EMBARRASSING!!

rowan todd your boyfriend would rather spend time third wheeling his best friend than spend time with you.

bailey winters

rowan todd never make fun of me again bailey.

mae jones-verstappen she was obviously starving

isabella perez somewhere on the coast.

rowan todd you two are comedians.

daphne jones-ricciardo i see now why this group chats is named what it is.

daphne jones-ricciardo you're all fucked in the head.

natalia ruiz daphne's never one to reply but she always roasts the shit out of us.

penelope trevino i'm just resigned to the fact that lando is never going anywhere.

penelope trevino he is my sea urchin.

daphne jones-ricciardo this is why lando always crashes your dates.

dulce perez it's an irrational fear daph!!

daphne jones-ricciardo NO THE FUCK IT ISN'T!!

zoya torres so many problems so little time to digest it all.

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, lando.jpg and others

penelopetrevino photo dump but half of it is me with a beer (my only company because carlos always ditches me for lando) and the other half is carlos with his true love (lando)

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris

view all comments

landonorris i am his true love, glad to see you finally admitting it

↳ penelopetrevino go spend time with your own girlfriend. rowan's roasting her in the groupchat.

↳ pierregasly WHAT GROUP CHAT?

↳ isabellaperez ABORT MISSION!! THEY CAN'T KNOW!!

↳ alex_albon FAKE PEOPLE EVERYWHERE!!

user26 i would rather die than let this happen to me.

↳ user60 what makes you think penelope has a choice in the matter?

↳ user26 that's very true

user89 those texts from lando are foul!!

baileywinters i say we dump them and date each other instead.

↳ penelopetrevino now that's a good idea.

↳ landonorris hold up what?

↳ carlossainz55 no.

user02 and when these two get married is lando going to interrupt the wedding for shits and giggles?

↳ landonorris that's actually not a bad idea.

↳ penelopetrevino you pull that shit on my wedding day and i'll hurt you.

patriciooward personally i would run him over with my car but that's just me.

↳ landonorris STOP GIVING HER IDEAS!

baileywinters contrary to popular belief, we do actually spend time together.

↳ user57 i would've thrown hands if norizz was neglecting his relationship to crash carlos' dates

↳ landonorris why am i always getting threatened with violence?

↳ isabellaperez because you pull shit like this.

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¡leclerc-s speaks! and it's another late night update!!! woooo!!!

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

#leclerc-s #the honest series #formula 1 #formula 1 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #f1 #f1 smau #f1 social media au #f1 instagram au #f1 fic #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x female oc

[itsmealaiah]

"anger management"

TW: doggstyle fucking, public sex, nudity, profanity, p in v sex, slapping, unprotected sex, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, head (tom rec), mentions of mafia connections and gangs

Request: Can you do a 2010 Tom Kaulitz smut where he is a mafia good and she is a Mafia god as well and they meet to discuss some things and it gets freaky...anf she maybe first blows him. Then gets bent over a desk or the table or something...sorry if it's bad.

Rating: mdni, mature, explicit themes ahead

WC: 1.3k

mother's day special since i usually don't post 2 days in a row 🤭

You were so sick and tired of these goddamn meetings.

Every single week there was a new one, seemingly for no reason at all. You didn't even want to get into the mafia life, knowing it sucked. Your dad had forced you, promising loads of cash at your disposal, but there was none. He forced you to meet Tom Kaulitz, leader of one of the most dangerous gangs, and you pissed, to say the least.

You wanted to go home and sleep, you had gotten up at the ass crack of dawn to meet him in this stupid board room, and the bastard wasn't even here. He could've atleast given you the time of day, considering you were pretty important as well. Your father had a ton of control over this city, and you felt you deserved some respect.

You were fiddling with the pen on the desk, growing more angry by the second as tom still didn't show up. You huffed, and dialed your father, in the middle of texting him when the dickwad decided to show up.

"You're late" you said harshly, his face a frown as his eyes met yours. "sorry princess" he sneered, taking a seat across from you, eyes on his phone. There was an awkward silence as you both were on your phones, you trying to ask your dad why the hell he scheduled a meeting with this man.

"just try to get him on our side" he answered, and you groaned in annoyance. "something wrong?" tom's head perked up, seeing your eyes shut tightly. "my dad" you rumbled. "i know how that feels" he sympathized, and the air was tense again.

"so" you broke the silence, your hands now on the table as tom's gaze once more lifted from his phone. "i'm cutting straight to the chase, my dad wants your gang to be a part of our 'team' as he calls it. He promises you all a great amount of cash, in hand, if you agree"

You had said your part, and now you were waiting for tom to say his. "that's a very good proposition, but what about everything else?" he shot back, and you were at a loss for an answer. "all the bribes and stuff that people usually have for us, cars, guns, alcohol, all the regular shit they offer" his gaze was fiery, burning into yours.

You stuttered, not knowing if your dad would agree to his demands. "i-i'm sure I could discuss that with my father later" you hesitated. "One more thing, princess" He said softly, not breaking the eye contact you both had held for an uncomfortable amount of time. "if i'm agreeing to this so called 'deal', i need something to really convince me."

He crossed the room, his long strides making it quick as he stood by you within seconds. "All I ask for, is you for one small fuck. That's it." Your eyes widened in shock. "excuse me?" you were enraged by this request. "Then I'll agree" he spoke calmly, his fingers grasping your chin as he stared down at you, already envisioning all the dirty things he could do to you.

You were still sitting in the chair, debating on whether or not to let him fuck you for the sake of your dad's company. He was growing impatient, your hesitance annoying him as he waited for your answer. "You have one minute" he demanded, leaning onto the table as you thought it over.

"fine" you said quickly, agreeing. "splendid" he smiled wickedly, pushing you onto your knees without another word. "wh-what do you want me to do?" you asked innocently. "suck" you furrowed your eyebrows. "suck what? there's nothing here?" he laughed, and unzipped his pants, revealing his cock, a good eight inches. He pulled down his clothing, pushing your head forward so your lips met his cock, smiling as the leaking tip entered your mouth.

he faltered, his legs feeling weak as your tongue swirled around his cock, taking more into your mouth. You hollowed your cheeks, your hands grasping his shaft so you could still pleasure what you couldn't take in. "f-fuck. keep doing that g-good and you got yourself a deal princess" he moaned, hips bucking up against your face.

He pulled your hands away, wanting to feel your mouth enclosed around his entire cock. As it hit the back of your throat, you gagged, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to keep him all in. He held onto your hair to stabilize himself, groaning in pleasure as he tugged on your hair viciously.

You bobbed your head up and down, his tip hitting your throat each time as your tears began to run down your face, taking his cock whole. He looked down, and saw you struggling to keep his dick fully in, so he helped you, his hips now directly against your face, your nose bumping right above him cock.

"oh fuck!" he groaned, his orgasm fast approaching. Your tongue continously swirled around his cock, feeling every vein as he shot his load down your throat, his eyes closing and his head tilting back in bliss.

You lifted yourself off the ground, wiping your tears and the edges of your mouth. He was still recovering from his high, panting breathlessly. "Was that the fuck you were talking about or do i need to do more?-" "more, please" he said with little breath, and you nodded. anything for him to agree.

He pushed you onto the table, your ass facing him as he slapped it harshly, making you yelp. He tore your clothes down, seeing the red mark. He slowly slid into you, his hands on your hips as he pushed in, your walls molding to fit his shape.

His hand held your hair once more, pulling your head backwards as your ass was right in front of him, bouncing with each thrust as you moaned, lying your head down on the wood. He thrust harder, hitting your g-spot perfectly each time as you gargled, too full even to speak, tears once more cascading down your face.

You looked so hot like this, he might just need you for more than one fuck. He laid down on your back, the heat between the two of you scorching. You could barely even believe what was happening. The leader of the best ranked gang was fucking you over a board room desk, where probably anyone could see.

His tip kissed your cervix as you writhed beneath him, his hand coming to hold both of yours behind your back as he buried himself deep inside you, your walls tightly gripping his cock, making him never want to pull out. Your pussy was so warm and tight around him, your walls clenching around him, already seeming to milk his cock for his impending orgasm.

He looked backwards, his thick cock slamming in and out of your hole. He slowly turned his head back around, biting into your shoulder. "oh my fuck!" you moaned, feeling your legs begin tremble in pleasure, a sign you were coming. "that's it baby, you're doing so good" he kissed the back of your neck, pushing your hair out of the way.

You came on him, your legs giving out soon after as you fell flat against the desk, face smushing on the hardwood. He was still pounding in and out of you, soon reaching his own high and pulled out quickly, his cum squirting onto your leg.

"i think we have a deal" he panted, caressing your hip. "But just one more thing"

Taglist 1: @madzandmore @20doozers @charliesgoodboy @tokio-motel

Taglist 2: @itsangelll @tomssexdoll @tomsonlyslut @kqulitzlvr

Taglist 3: @brooke-tomsschlampe @ballhair @estxkios

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#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel x you #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz imagines #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz angst #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel smut #tokio hotel x y/n #itsmealaiah

[senawashere]

We're on this together... (Chapter II)

Bradley Bradshaw × fem!wife!reader

Summary: Is it harder for you? Or for Bradley?

Warnings: infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf. Mostly angst.

'We are on this journey together and we will never separate. I love you."

January 3, 2023.

Everyone,mostly you, could see how much Bradley loved childrens. Babies, toddlers, teenagers, it didn't matter, he loved them.

Ever since you married, you had admired how he treated them, how he made them laugh, how they played, and how his eyes lit up at the high-pitched squeals they made when he threw them in the air. He would catch them again. And again.

He... was born just for this.

That's why you were trying so hard to give him what he wanted more than anything in the world; a baby,a kid of yours.

He searches hundreds of websites for you on ways to increase your chances of getting pregnant, checks your ovulation time, changes your diet... he does the impossible and you both still can't succeed.

You couldn't make your husband happy. He hated this sentence.

And the worst part is, he's not the only one waiting for you to have his child, everyone is doing it, all of your friends are having their second or third kids and you were still... not pregnant.

One day, you were criticized among your friends for not having a flat stomach. They said something as a joke that you might be pregnant, but it wasn't like that.

Just because you dont have a flat belly doesn't mean you're pregnant, right?

Your tears feel familiar on your skin now and when you were sure Bradley is gone you were crying all over the house, you couldn't let him see you like this, it's not fair when he gave you everything and you couldn't give him something so simple.

It's that simple. Right?

You don't want help, you can do it on your own, you know he can or so he thinks, he keeps busy every day trying not to think about it, but it's inevitable, you can't do that when it's something he wants so badly.

You were doing your usual work on laptop, trying to get rid of the thoughts in your head, even if only a little, you were scrolling through your e-mail box while slow jazz was playing in the background, writing down what you needed to write and dealing with the files you needed to handle.

"A young man fell into the base today! We walked around the hard deck and drank soda's. He was with for a while we had a lot of fun, but I think he misses his aunt y/n. I love you baby.💞"

The text came up with a picture of your husband with Jake's son, three of them smiling and Bradley holding some soda cans in his left arm and the right one is holding the boy's shoulder. It was beautiful and made your heart ache, a small smile appeared on your face,the voices and pain in your head seemed to be over, at least for a mimute, and you replied to the message, "I love you two!! Say hello to Jake for me.💓💓"

You stared at the picture for a few seconds, forgetting about the task in front of you.

The smile on Bradley's face was genuine, and he was holding the little boy with incredible familiarity, as if he already knew how to hold a child even though it wasn't his own.

Your phone hit the wooden table with a loud thud and you brought your hands up to your face, feeling tears of frustration falling from your eyes.

No, you were not jealous of them, in fact, you were very happy that they were pregnant with the third one, but why couldn't you?

This was unfair.

While God gave people the chance to have so many children, why couldn't you even have one?

And the saddest problem was,you.

Bradley was perfectly healthy, he could get a different woman pregnant, but he couldn't get you.

The house was quiet, unlike your head, thousands of things were going on every second.

You left your spot and went upstairs to take another pregnancy test with some hope.

It came out negative. Like always.

January 18, 2023.

You throw the four pregnancy tests you took ten minutes ago into the trash can and you hear Bradley sigh as he sits on the bed, hiding his face with his hands. You sit next to him.

“We just have to try harder.” He said, lifting his head to look at you and placing his hand comfortably on your knee.

“What does 'trying harder' mean?” you asked,with a hint of you wobble voice from the emotions. "We do this every day, especially when I'm ovulating, when I..."

"Baby, calm down." Bradley tells you and he just snorts in annoyance.

"Maybe...we could go to another doctor?" He gets down on one knee as if he's proposing, but you stand up and look at him as if he had three heads.

"Why should I go to the doctor? There is nothing wrong with me, we will have this baby, I know. Sooner or later." you exclaimed.

He stood up and took your hands in his, stroking your wrists.

"Of course we will, I have no doubt about that. But—it's better to know more, you know?"

"We're going to have this baby, Bradley. I am going to."

Uh oh-

I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS CHAPTER BEING SO SHORT😭😭😭 and bad news it is progressively gets more sad.. And there is going to be timeline-

I'm tagging people who might be interested and some mutuals:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsigns-haze @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @hangmanapologist @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @els-marvelvsp @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @promisingyounglady and if you are not comfortable please tell me!!

#sena writes #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x wife!reader #bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #top gun maverick #top gun fan fiction #we're on this together #rooster imagine #rooster fanfiction #rooster x reader #rooster top gun #rooster x wife!reader