#now it’s just guilt guilt guilt all around

[gutsby]

Ruined!

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel is an old man who struggles to cum sometimes. You’ve got time to kill and a tight hole to fill.

Warnings: 18+. Peepaw brainrot + a dash of anorgasmia. Unprotected p-in-v, cockwarming, age gap, daddy kink.

Note: Finals are whooping my ass left & right. This is a quickie.

Word count: 1.2k | Part of the Waiting Game ‘verse

Surely he was hurting you now.

Joel Miller had a kink for many, many fun activities, but splitting a sweet young thing like you over his cock to the point you were almost in tears was just not one of them.

At the same time your poor, surely-bruised walls pulsed around his hardened length, he felt a pang of guilt. His balls were pressed against your ass like two lead weights, soaked with the remains of your third release, and his mind was at war with itself—keep fucking you like this? Pull out and offer his sincerest apologies for not being able to cum? A boy your age would’ve never had you waiting around like that, aching around his cock, much less begging for something as simple as a cumshot.

He decided to go straight to the source. Leaning over your prone body on the bed before him, he was careful not to rut his hips or jostle his dick around too much.

Joel pressed a hot, stubbled kiss to your cheek, then:

“‘S’it too much, baby? She need a break, maybe?”

Joel thumbed at that space where your body ended and his began and nearly lost his mind to the pearly-white slick that had accumulated with time. Two hours time, he had to remind himself while you moaned and writhed and bucked your ass back. Your cunt was choking him.

Crying, too.

Your eyes flew open the moment his words reached you.

“You kiddin’ me, Miller?! I could do this shit all day.”

Sometimes Joel forgot you were only in your twenties. Really, the thought only occasionally crossed his mind in moments like these—or when your father, his best friend, happened to bring you up—but when it did, it hit him hard. You were young. Lively. Surely far too spry and full of life to be messing around with a man as old as him.

Joel’s guilt ran almost commensurate with his pleasure when he felt you anchor your feet on the bed and start to fuck yourself back and forth over his still-throbbing dick.

Almost.

He planted a hand beside your head and grinned. He let you fuck him. Felt you pull off, crawl up the bed a little, then beckon him back to your body, where your ass was now pointing up and your back was arched in invitation.

Almost.

“You know I can’t sleep without your cum inside me.”

And you made a point to spread your knees and look behind you with a smile as sweet as Milo’s tea, fingers drumming a beat against the bedspread in anticipation.

“You do wanna fill me up, don’t you, daddy?” you teased.

Yeah, no. The guilt was gone. Joel could worry about being a depraved old man when he was done cumming.

Then he was back inside you, driving his hips until every last inch of him was wrapped snug within your wet and velvety embrace, and he sighed. A real protracted one, like the kind he was liable to exhale after climbing two flights of stairs, or else just hoisting himself off the sofa. Or lifting you in his arms and fucking you hard against the hood of his Bronco. Any time. Any place. You were kind enough to oblige him with the best cardio of his life, so the least Joel could do now was make you cum again.

He snatched your hands up in one of his own and placed your wrists at the base of your spine. With his other, free set of fingers he took to rubbing your clit gently.

“SON OF A—”

“—good girl.”

You let out a bloodcurdling scream into your pillow and secretly hoped this man’s dick would never deflate again. Not with the way he was sawing his thing back and forth and dragging you to the edge, circling your clit like you were the single most precious thing in the world to him.

“Oh, sweet pea, I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Like he could feel the tears staining the cushion himself.

“Mmrooonme,” you cried into it, voice garbled by cotton.

“What’s’at, honey? Can’t hear ya.”

Joel then bent at the waist, pretending to be leaning in to hear you better, when really he knew he’d be digging in your guts with that big, bulbous head of his and making you squeal again. Hands still held captive behind you, you inched your chin back on the pillow so your moans could be heard even louder while Joel sped up.

“You— ruined me,” you repeated. Now clear as ever.

Joel tried to hide his smile and glanced down between your body and his. Then, while his ring finger joined the other two to make their tight, light circles, he returned,

“Ruined? Pussy feels just fine t’me.”

You’d kill him if he wasn’t so good at this. You turned your head more to meet his eyes from the corner of yours.

“No. Ruined me. For anyone else.”

Probably forever.

“Good.”

You knew he liked it that way.

You saw it in his eyes. Felt it in his touch. The hefty, broad, and greying Joel Miller had been loafing around on this earth long enough to know how to claim what was his. When his hips knocked yours to lay you flat on the bed, you already knew what was coming next.

First, his arms came to rest on either side of your body.

“Shit,” you whimpered.

Next, his lips went trailing down to your ear.

“Just a little more, sugar—that’s it,” he murmured while his hips sank in, and you felt that big, delicious stretch.

Then he released your hands so they were free to squeeze the sheets, and when they did, his moved over them—lacing his fingers through your own—and his lips pressed a kiss to your jaw. He held you in a tender grasp. His breath was hot on your neck, and the whole of his body was blanketing yours. Joel knew you liked it like that, which is why he made sure not to leave an inch of space in between. He was grunting, rutting, holding you close while his cock drilled a maddening pace inside you.

“You ruined me too, y’know,” he mumbled into your skin.

His nose was flush with the side of your cheek, nudging inward. Begging you to turn your head just a little more so he could kiss you. Weak as you were, you obliged.

And you moaned against that grey, stubbled chin of his when the thrusts above you had your cunt grinding the bed, rubbing that soft and helpless nub on the sheets.

“C’mon— let daddy have it,” he growled, “Let daddy have it and make it his, huh? That okay by you, baby?”

It was.

More than okay, as confirmed by the orgasm that tore through your body moments later while your teeth sank into the flesh of Joel’s lower lip and your cunt clenched and soaked over him whole. Joel wedged his tongue in your mouth and fucked you through it. His broad and callused hands were like iron around your own, holding you tight and keeping you still amidst a maelstrom of pleasure that combed over your every last nerve.

He licked into your mouth. Licked over it. Took the sick and distinct pleasure of knowing no one but him got to see you like this, with your jaw hanging slack and your eyes rolling back and your whines repeating quietly, ‘Daddydaddypleasedaddyfuckohfuckdontstop.’

Maybe ruined wasn’t such a bad thing to be at all.

#NOBODY SPEAK TO ME UNTIL I’VE HAD MY MORNING COFFEE #AND BY MORNING COFFEE I MEAN THIS MAN’S LOAD IN MY MOUTH #PREFERABLY FOLLOWED BY AN OLD FASHIONED #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you

[imfinereallyy]

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2

pt. 1

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.

He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.

Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.

Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.

Little shit.

Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.

Looking at you, Lucas.

Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.

Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.

Until he did, with Eddie.

Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.

Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.

Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.

"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"

"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.

Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.

She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.

Fuck, he loved her.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.

Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.

"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.

Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.

"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.

Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.

Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"

Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"

Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."

Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."

Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.

Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."

Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."

Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"

"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."

"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.

Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.

"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."

Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.

Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.

Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.

Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.

"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.

"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."

Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"

"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.

Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."

Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."

The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."

Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."

Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"

It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."

"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.

Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.

Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso

(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)

#okay so now it is a thing #no more idk i promise #also this has a happy ending i promise #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #my writing #platonic stobin #platonic soulmates stobin #stobin #platonic with a capital p #steve and robin #I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) #ao3 #ficlet #angst #hurt/comfort

[cloudmancy]

it really does drive me crazy trying to interact with any of the popular fantasy high posts on here. because people will say with their whole chest they hate and have got no sympathy for the rat grinders and that a) jawbone should've punched kipperlilly for coming to him with her Undiagnosed Mental Health Issues (you know, like the ones adaine used to have in freshman year?) b) the bad kids should take them all someplace to 6v1 them one by one and cold blooded murder them (??????) c) whole heartedly hate and make fun of them for being scared and alone and dead when they went on an adventure with a teacher and adult who was supposed to PROTECT them in a place they weren't prepared for.

the rat grinders were just. normal students. they are more like you than you could ever be like the bad kids. they were mid & they didn't want to be so they pushed themselves too fast too far and now all of them have got the worst survivor's guilt on earth on top of actively having to serve the rage incarnation of a dead god.

if you have the cognitive dissonance where one of the bad kids was in the plot line and you'd be drawing fanart making angsty meta crying about your poor baby forced into a bad situation and turn around and go 'lol nah shoot THESE guys in the head though' when it's an NPC I can only assume you've not understood narrative parallels or learned empathy past, like, a kindergarten level

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #sorry. you guys make me so fucking pissed lol #the rat grinders #this isnt even my notorious villain apologism acting up again this is like. you guys they are TEENAGERS

[hurthermore]

hii!! ur writing has a choke hold on me!!🤯anyways, im so deprived of some comfort rn- could you maybe do something related to aftercare? For ex: Alastor comfort after a bit of degradation was taken too personally from reader :> (maybe some comfort while bandaging them up too idk)

Literally obsessed w ur shit ur like my fav hh writer, and ty for reading :3

Of course!<3 and TYSM!! That’s so sweet<3 warnings for sexual content, fluff? (Idk what fluff is apparently from my death one shot)

Your Alastor had always liked indulging in a bit of rough and degrading play; but this time he had went to far.

He had crossed one of your boundaries he hadn’t been aware of, calling you a degrading name you weren’t okay with; and as soon as that word left his mouth, you had become stiff.

Alastor had noticed immediately.

Stilling inside you, halting all movements, Alastor could only look in your eyes as he searched for consent within, searched for anything in your expression that still said you wanted him to continue; but he could not find it.

“Is everything quite alright, darling?” His tone harshly contrasted the nasty and rough demeanour he had with you only moments ago; now giving you a loving and soft voice as he checked in on you.

Looking to the side, you avoided his gaze as the word he used on you still pang through your chest. “Don’t call me that ever again.” You had spoken more harshly than intended, with a sharp snap in your tone, verbally indicating your distressed mood.

Immediately, Alastor had pulled himself out of you, only to wrap his arms around your torso, pressing his face in the snuff of your neck as he registered you were referring the to not so pleasant name he had called you as he fucked himself inside of you. “I’m sorry, darling.” He had meant it; truly. The dousing of guilt that consumed him as you emotionally pulled away from him had him panicking ever so slightly. “It won’t happen again.”

Sighing, you knew he had meant his apology, and despite how much the word he used had hurt you, you knew he had no ill intentions when using it; he merely indulged in a bit of degradation that you also found sexually arousing.

Placing a hand against the back of his hair, you tilted your face back to his. “It’s okay love; just please don’t say that again.” You had whispered ever so softly in his hair, only to feel him shiver from your breath cascading down his neck.

“Would you like to stop?” He had mumbled against your skin, asking for your consent to continue the sexual encounter.

“Yes…”

You weren’t in the mood anymore; and as soon as your deny for consent left your lips, Alastor clicked his fingers against one another. On command, the room you both inhabited slowly changed, warping from the confines of your shared room to a familiar one filled with items of pampering; a room Alastor only brought you to after he had made love to you or fucked you.

He had always been a gentleman to you, despite his preference to be less than gentleman-like whenever he pummelled himself into your walls, he always put your pleasure and your needs before his own.

It was something you were grateful for; and one of the many reasons you loved him.

Wrapping your arms around his neck, Alastor began hoisting you up, guiding your legs to link around his naked waist as he carried you to the large, hot bath imbedded in the floor; a bath which mimicked one of a hot tub in size.

Stepping inside, his hooves clicked against the metal alloyed bathing area as the two of you began to submerge within the hot water; it’s temperature relaxing all of your muscles as it began to douse your body.

Alastor had slowly settled you down in the bath, only to take a seat beside you as he held you close, his hands stroking parts of your body as he continued to comfort you.

You believed you would fall asleep if this were to proceed.

“I am truly sorry, my love.” He had spoken with such honesty and vulnerability as he held you, apologising to you yet again, despite doing so earlier.

“It’s okay, Al.” You only responded with a soft sigh as you leaned yourself against him.

“You know I don’t mean those things during our rougher sessions, don’t you, my darling?” He had asked ever so softly and gently, attempting to approach the subject in a calm manner, one that would be proefficient in cheering you up; his beloved.

You had only mumbled a yes, nodding your head as Alastors lips began pressing themselves against your neck. “I know, love. It’s just- that word.”

“It won’t be used again,” He quickly interrupted you. “My perfect little darling, I swear it.” He said between the pecks of romantic kisses he placed against your neck.

The smile that enriched your face wasn’t missed by your lover as you allowed him to pamper you, to echo sweet words of love and loyalties into you skin, to kiss sweet gestures of love along your body.

You were blessed to have such an evil man be your darling sweetheart.

#alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #reader insert #x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut

[barcaatthemoon]

red || jenni hermoso x reader ||

you ask jenni to stop.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

it's not really smutty, but still.

jenni's hands were gripping your hips so tightly that you swore you could feel the bruises forming already. she had been rough with you all day, starting before the two of you had even gotten out of bed. then, it had been more of a playful rough housing. now, she was thrusting her hips into you as hard as she could to make sure that you could feel every inch of her.

it wasn't what you had expected whenever she had taken you back to the bedroom. you were no stranger to jenni's moods, but she wasn't usually this rough for no reason. jenni wasn't jealous, nobody had been around either one of you today. it had been a bit of a lazy day, with the exception of jenni trying to annoy you throughout the afternoon. if anything, you should have been the one to be a bit aggressive in bed.

and in a way, you had been. you had held jenni's head down in between your legs earlier. that wasn't enough to warrant jenni fucking you like this though. it was fairly indulgent, and usually, you'd be fine with that, but it didn't feel right.

"jenni, red. i'm red," you whined. it was quiet, just barely a whisper. you hated interrupting jenni whenever she was focused, but you couldn't take any more. a part of you had said it so quietly that you thought she wouldn't hear you, but jenni was pulling out of you and rolling you onto your back as quickly as she could.

"what's wrong?" jenni asked immediately. her eyes were wide with fear, and you immediately were engulfed in guilt. you hated making jenni feel bad, especially whenever you didn't even know what was wrong. "did i hurt you?"

"n-no, it's not that," you reassured her. jenni looked absolutely distraught as she mentally combed over every little thing she had done that day. you had been a bit snappy with her before dinner, but that wouldn't have caused this. jenni had apologized to you long before the two of you made your way back here.

"is there anything that i can get or do for you?" jenni asked you. she was gentle as she reached towards you. you let her hand come to rest on your arm. slowly, jenni began to pull you into her arms. you hummed happily at the feeling of her holding you. it was soft and nice in all the ways that you realized that you had been craving jenni.

"i'm sorry," you apologized. jenni pulled back a bit. there was a puzzled look on her face. her eyebrows were furrowed deeply as she pouted a little. it was something you usually would have teased her about, rubbing out the furrow as you joked about wrinkles. tonight, you didn't feel like joking, instead going straight for clarity. "i stopped us. i don't think i can keep going. i'm sorry, jenni."

"you have nothing to apologize for, my vida. i'm sorry for not paying better attention to you, okay?" jenni pulled back just enough to force you to look at her.

"but you wanted this. it's been so long," you whispered.

"you tell me to stop, and we stop. i don't care what's happening. all i care about is you. do you understand me?" jenni asked you. you nodded, having completely understood her words. whether or not you took them to heart was a completely different thing. "i need to hear you say it and mean it."

"you care about me. if i need to stop, it's okay to tell you. you won't be mad, because you care." it wasn't word for word, which jenni appreciated. the two of you had been working on properly communicating needs, something that jenni felt was testing her patience. she didn't understand how someone so lovely and caring could be so unkind to themselves.

"thank you. i love you," jenni muttered against your forehead as she pressed a kiss to it.

"i love you too," you told her. jenni was absolutely beaming at your words, and you didn't have to see her to know. the way that she shook you a little as she hugged you told you everything that you needed to know. "what now?"

"that, my dear, is up to you. what would you like to happen?" jenni asked you. you thought a lot about it before deciding on just laying back with her. jenni got out of bed and grabbed some clothes for the two of you. she fished through her side of the closet for a sweatshirt for you to sleep in, along with the softest pair of underwear that jenni could find. you happily accepted the boxer briefs, not commenting on jenni only grabbing a sports bra for herself.

"can you hold me please?" you knew not to be nervous, but it wasn't easy for you to ask for things. jenni smiled as she climbed into bed with you, clad in a black sports bra and a pair of grey joggers. you were pretty sure that the pants were yours since they were both a little loose and too short on jenni.

"of course. i'll always hold you. you don't even have to ask." jenni pressed a kiss to the top of your head as the two of you positioned yourselves comfortably. you laid with your head on jenni's chest and your leg thrown over her body. she was completely trapped between the bed and your body, covered by the comforter, just how she liked it. "good night, mi amor."

"night jenni," you hummed happily.

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso smut #jenni #jenni hermoso smut #jenni hermoso imagine #jenni hermoso x reader #minors dni #minors do not interact

[intromortal]

distraction part 2 | bff!p.js x f!reader x bff!p.sh

wc: 4.2k

part 1

cw: smut, threesome, name calling (slut, whore), praise, slight degradation, no protection, exhibitionism and voyeurism (?), choking, bondage, two dicks in one hole yessir, squirting, cum eating, snowballing, slight mxm

The air in the room is laden with lust as Sunghoon answers the call, acting like the situation he’s in is completely normal. Like one of his best friends isn’t full of his other best friend’s cock right in front of him.

He only gives you a casual shrug of his shoulders when you glare at him, the warm dim lighting of the room sculpting his face alluringly but doing nothing to hide the playfulness of his expression.

“Hee, you need something?” his tone is impassive as he kneels again right in front of you, the soft mattress dipping underneath his weight. “She’s with you, isn’t she?” Heeseung’s voice is firm, yet you can clearly spot the presence of a bitter edge in his tone. You might think he actually cares for a second or two. Except you are not naive enough to indulge in that fantasy anymore. Definitively not after what you found out earlier that day.

Jay can feel your uneasiness in an instant, being so intimately familiar with your emotions. He traces his lips down your neck while his fingertips move against the skin of your waist in an attempt to soothe your nerves, raising goosebumps along their wake. His touch grounds you right away, leaving you feeling secure and protected in his warm hold. “He can’t hurt you anymore,” he whispers before taking the shell of your ear in his mouth and biting it gently, eliciting an almost inaudible sigh from you.

Hoon fixes his gaze on you before replying to Heeseung’s question, “Yes, she’s here right now.”Your eyes widen at his answer. You expected him to deny knowing anything about your whereabouts, end the call and come back to pick up right from where he left off.

“Can I talk to her? Just a few minutes.”

Jay holds you tighter against his broad chest, the muscles of his arms tensing around you when he feels you try to move out of his grasp, stopping you from scooting closer to Sunghoon.

“That’s her decision to make.”

Sunghoon mutes the call, looking at you expectantly as he waits for you to think your choices through.

You have an idea of what the boys might be thinking, and while you’re not completely opposed to it, a pang of guilt courses through you at the idea of Heeseung finding out about you fucking your best friends. They’re his too after all. But you also know he deserves this. He deserves to know how good his lifelong brothers are fucking you.

As on cue, they both sense your inner turmoil. You can feel yourself relax against Jay as the other man dips his head down to press kisses on your lower abdomen and grab the back of your thighs, caressing them slowly.

“Relax, princess,” Jay whispers to you, lips brushing against your ear and nose nudging the strands of hair close to it.

“Hoon,” you moan quietly, “want to make him regret everything he ever did to me.”

The man in question grins up to you proudly, one of his canines peeking out slightly, “I think I have an idea then.”

“That's our girl.” Jay smiles against your neck as you feel him harden inside you, his thick length filling you up slowly once again.

“You okay with being watched?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the lewd suggestion, yet the familiar stab of need in your lower region is enough to help you make up your mind completely. You nod as you catch your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Gonna need to hear you say it,” you hear Jay whisper while Sunghoon looks at you expectantly.

“Want him to watch you two fuck me, please.”

“Anything you want, angel.”

Sunghoon returns his attention to the device in his hands, unmuting the call and getting up from the bed once again.

“So? Can I talk to her? Can I see her?”

“Oh, you’ll see her alright,” He ends the call without waiting for an answer before walking to the window right in front of the bed and calling Heeseung again, this time on a video call.

“Sunghoon? Hello? What’s this all about?”

Sunghoon ignores him entirely, his full dark eyebrows furrowed from concentration while he’s too busy trying to get the perfect angle on the windowsill. Once he’s satisfied he steps back a bit to check one last time before starting to walk back to you and Jay, finally revealing you wholly to Heeseung, your naked form spread over Jay’s and your stuffed cunt on full display for him.

It’s silent for a while on the other end of the call while Sunghoon settles next to Jay, a wide grin on his face.

“Hot right?”

Your blood runs cold for a moment at how flat and detached Heeseung’s voice sounds when he opens his mouth again.

“Jay? What the fuck? What’s the meaning of this?”

Heeseung is absolutely floored by the scene playing out in front of him. He expected you to run crying to them as soon as you found out about him cheating like you have done every single time something went wrong between you two, just for you to crawl back to him in no time. That’s what he was anticipating. A few apologies and maybe a dinner date to win you back, that's what it took all the other times. But this?

He wants to end the call and drive to his best friends’ apartment, and then god knows what he'd do to them once he got there. But he also cannot help but stay frozen in place, sitting on the end of the bed in his own dark room.

Why does he think you have never looked as gorgeous as in that instant, with Jay’s thick hands all over your body? He should not be feeling like this. He should be way angrier than he is. Especially when someone else is touching what’s his.

Before Heeseung can even try to recover from the shock he’s experiencing, Sunghoon gently reaches for your chin – fingers warm and delicate on your skin – and angles your face towards his, soft eyes holding your gaze reassuringly. He leans down to capture your lips in a delicate kiss, the tenderness of it surprising you.

You yelp when he unexpectedly bites your lip. He takes the chance to slide his wet tongue inside your mouth, savouring your sweet taste.

One of his hands is cupping your face while the other starts to travel down your body, groping any inch of flesh he can reach, the contrast between the slow movements of his tongue and the roughness of his touch leaving you dizzy, putty in his hands.

Sunghoon has you wrapped around his finger, his scorching touch the only thing you can pay attention to, a siren luring you to him.

He draws back slightly, smiling when he notices you chase after his lips, “I think Jay might be feeling a little left out.”

Your attention is forced back on Jay as he starts thrusting inside you once again, fucking the mixture of both of your releases inside you, your cheeks flushing at the lewd sounds his movements cause.

Sunghoon inches two of his long fingers into your cunt to collect some of the mess seeping out of you and brings it up to Jay’s mouth, who obediently takes them in as he keeps eye contact with you, your head tilted back on his shoulder. He hums at the taste and laps the fingers clean before releasing them with a pop. Watching him enjoy eating his own cum does inexplicable things to you, and you know it clearly reflects on your expression when he tries uselessly to stifle a little giggle at how desperate you look.

His thrusts are teasingly slow and shallow. You need more, so much more, to the point it’s beginning to be unbearable. So you grab his hand and bring it down to your clit, big glossy doe eyes begging him silently. Jay is visibly amused as he tsks at you and moves his hand to your inner thigh, his hand hot on your sensitive skin, the chill of his rings sending waves of shivers coursing through your body.

Sunghoon grabs your face and kisses you again, this time a lot more messily and wet, his own lust leaking through his composure. He pushes the fingers that Jay licked clean inside you unexpectedly, making you gasp in his mouth and draw back a bit with a string of spit following you, your airy moans filling the room.

Both Sunghoon’s fingers and Jay’s cock are dragging slowly against your walls, the added girth stretching you out deliciously despite the burning sting. It hurts, but it hurts so good you greedily find yourself wanting even more.

Despite having done a good job at keeping his composure, Sunghoon can’t help but start to get desperate. Seeing you enjoy yourself brings him a great amount of pleasure, but his weeping cock has been neglected for far too long, and he doesn’t think he can go on like this for much longer.

He knows they should prep you a bit more, but he’s sure you’d just take it anyway like the sweet angel you are if he pushed his cock right next to Jay’s in that instant. So good and obedient for him.

As if reading his friend’s mind, Jay slips out of you with a grunt and leaves you suddenly empty and clenching around nothing. Sounds of protest start to bubble in your throat but Jay’s hand harshly grabs your face, his lips smashing with yours to shut you up, “Patience, sweet thing.”

He manoeuvres your body so this time your side is facing the phone you had forgotten about once you thought Heeseung had ended the call, which is actually very much still on and showing him everything. Now that you’re aware of it again you can make out faint squelching sounds coming from it. Your mouth hangs open at the realization that Lee Heeseung is fucking his fist to the little show you guys have been putting on for him.

You already knew him to be a pervert, but this seems like a new low even for him.

You want to think you feel utterly insulted by this new information, but all you can find within yourself is deep satisfaction. Ecstasy courses through your veins at the thought of how humiliating this must be for him, how pathetic he must feel. You’re itching to make him feel even worse about his situation, so you muster up the most distressed look you can manage and crawl on all fours towards Sunghoon, exaggerating the sway of your behind.

“Please Hoonie, want you both to stuff me full right now, Heeseung has never made me feel this good,” you say as you wiggle your hips for the camera pointed at you.

“You’re putting on a show for Heeseung?”

Your head shoots up to meet his gaze as soon as you hear his mocking tone, a slight arch on one of his eyebrows while he stares at you, clearly amused by your attempt.

“Huh, no I-” you don’t manage to finish your sentence as Jay interrupts you by grabbing your hips and positioning your body over his, your breasts pushed against his chest this time. His voice is sultry, warm breath fanning over your ear and sending tingles down your spine, “Aren’t you a dirty little slut mmh? Begging to get fucked just to make Heeseung jealous?”

The air is somehow thicker than it was just a few seconds ago, and you should be offended at the name Jay just used, but instead, you find it makes you crave their touch even more. You hear Sunghoon swiftly unbuckle his belt behind you, “We’ve been so nice to you, and this is how you repay us?”

“I don’t understand-” you’re once again interrupted by Jay, this time his rough hand clasps around your throat and squeezes lightly, just enough to replace your words with a hoarse gasp. He brings you closer to his face, warm breath tickling your own, “You’re still thinking about that bastard, acting like a little slut for him, that’s what the problem is. Is it clear enough now?”

You struggle to nod in his grasp, prompting him to apply more pressure on your throat.

“Words.”

“I understand,” you barely manage to choke out, voice raw from being suppressed, even if for such a short amount of time.

He releases you from his hold, leaving you gasping for air. Sunghoon barely gives you any time to recover as you feel him take hold of your wrists, just one of his hands big enough to keep them in place. He looks at you for a split second and leans his chin towards the discarded belt on the bed before speaking, “Is this okay with you?”

You’re about to nod, but remember their insistence on using words, so you opt for a shy yes instead. Jay chuckles, fondly brushing his knuckles on your cheekbones, “You were so eager to act like a little whore just a few minutes ago. What happened, doll?”

Your breath hitches in your throat at his words, and this time he catches your reaction, a dark glint making its way into his eyes. You have no time to react to it as your attention is grabbed by the smooth leather of Sunghoon’s belt being secured tightly around your wrists, binding them together.

Jay grabs his member and slides it between your folds a few times, collecting some of the wetness before sliding in, hissing at the feeling of your walls enveloping him.

“Still so tight, how are you gonna fit both of us, doll?” His hand slides down to grab a handful of your ass, pushing you up and down on his cock. You take the hint and start moving, back arching and hands placed on his chest as leverage.

The space behind you is suddenly empty as Sunghoon stands up and walks towards the windowsill to grab the phone that is balanced on it. He addresses Heeseung, “Still here? You’re enjoying this mhh?”

“Nasty freak,” the smile that takes over his features is almost devilish, not his usual flirtatious grin, “Gonna give you an even better view, one you will never forget.”

He points the camera towards you, giving Heeseung a clear view of you riding Jay. He stills your hips with his other hand for a few seconds before bringing it to Jay’s mouth and signalling to spit on it. He brings his hand back to his cock and smears the wetness all over it, fisting himself a few times before aligning it on your entrance, finally pushing in next to Jay with a groan.

They both stay still for a moment, just enough to let you adjust to their combined girths. The stretch is almost unbearable for the first few moments, white-hot pain blinding your vision.

Jay throws his head back against the headboard and lets out a loud drawn-out moan. His hand is resting on your waist, the warmness of it helping you ground yourself. Sunghoon grabs your bound wrists and pushes your body to lay against Jay’s fully, giving himself and Heeseung a perfect view of your overly stretched hole as the man under you resumes thrusting up into you.

Heeseung thinks he must have gone insane when he has to physically stifle a moan at the sight of Sunghoon’s hips slowly starting to move, cock dragging next to Jay’s. He feels betrayed, not by you but by his best friends. He wonders how long they have been waiting to stick their weeping cocks inside you, how long they’ve eyed you like prey without him ever noticing, how many nights they must’ve spent fucking their fists thinking about you while he pounded you sweet little cunt. Oh, how the tables turned.

He wants to call them fucking perverts for this, but he knows he’s not in a position to judge anyone. Not when he’s getting off to the sight of your cunt getting stuffed by them. He might be even worse.

The sight on his phone is unbearably lewd to begin with, but your cries of pleasure make it so much worse. Never have you sounded like that for him. You’re so fucking wet for them Sunghoon almost accidentally slides out a few times. Heeseung thinks about how snug it must feel, how hard you must be clamping around them, and he clenches his fist tighter to mimic the feeling, Adam's apple bobbing as your moans get louder. He wants to be the one fucking you right now so bad, so desperate to cum inside you this time he can’t stop one of his pitiful sobs from escaping.

You are visibly caught off guard by the sounds he’s making, and when you turn your head back to the phone Heeseung can’t help but cum without any warning. Your Angelic eyes are so big and glassy, the stark contrast to the sight of your hole getting pounded making him lightheaded. He keeps stroking himself, riding out his orgasm as pathetic whines fall from his lips and thick spurts of hot cum cover his hand, even more shame setting in.

Sunghoon notices you try to sneak glances at his phone and feels irritation settle in his chest. Why are you still thinking about him? He drags you up by the belt, a surprised yelp leaving your lips at the sudden change of position. His mouth is right next to your ear as he whispers to you in a husky tone, “Your attention is elsewhere. Are we not fucking you good enough baby? Still thinking about that little bitch?”

He drops the phone somewhere on the bed, denying Heeseung of your sight and leaving him with only the sounds and his imagination. The hand that was holding the device teasingly wraps around your throat. His hands are softer than Jay’s and so is his hold, but the mere presence of it makes your stomach flip, “We’ll fuck you so dumb you can barely think at all, let alone pay attention to Heeseung.”

His tone when mentioning your ex-boyfriend’s name is so venomous it makes you wonder if he’s been feeling like this for a while now. Does he feel like you’ve ignored him for the red haired man on the other line of the call? Have you been unaware of any advance made by him? You start to think back to all the times you might’ve misinterpreted his actions, but you can’t dwell too much on any of it because Jay is suddenly pistoning a lot faster inside you, his feet planted on the bed and hips slightly lifted to give himself room to match your movements while Sunghoon’s are still slow and sensual. You’re gradually losing yourself in the pleasure the two men are providing you, the thoughts that were starting to form earlier completely out of the window.

“Has anyone ever fucked you this good, doll?” Jay asks, even though he knows the answer and only wants to hear you say it. In fact, it’s all you can think about at that moment: how no one has ever fucked you this good, how they’re ruining sex with anyone else for you, how every time you find yourself needy you’re just gonna have to go back to them and beg them to do anything to make you cum.

You eagerly nod your head to him, eyes closing when you struggle to form against their onslaught on your poor tiny hole, stretched beyond what you can take, “Fuck- yeah, no one ever.”

Jay chuckles and you feel the vibrations on the skin of your cheek, his lips brushing against it while Sunghoon coos at your enthusiasm, “Is that so mmh? Not even our Heeseung?”

You’re quick to shake your head, “No, not even him.'' This seems to only spur the men further, Jay’s thrusts becoming somehow faster and Sunghoon’s more precise and deep.

Sunghoon grabs your bounded wrists and uses them to slide you over their cocks, the slick mess between your legs coating their thighs too, leaving you no room for movement. All you can do is sit there prettily for them and take it, your mouth falling open and eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Your cunt was made for our cocks,” Jay is grunting in your ear, one of his hands leaving your hips to grab your chin, “Gonna ruin you for everyone else."

You helplessly clench around them even harder at his words, so snug they can barely move, deep grunts and moans filling the air.

They know you’re close by the way your cunt keeps clenching as if trying to impossibly suck them in further. You're babbling by that point. Barely coherent strings of praising words showing them how dumb on their cocks you are, not even able to form complete sentences.

Your front collapses on Jay’s chest as you come undone around them, your vision blinded and hearing muffled for a few seconds from the sheer strength of your bliss. Sunghoon is still holding your bottom up, his thrust losing precision and becoming rougher and messier, matching Jay’s erratic ones. You still haven’t come down from your high when you feel Sunghoon’s fingers trace circles on your puffy abused nub, earning whines of protests from you that are immediately swallowed by Jay’s mouth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip sensually, “Just a little more, you’re doing so good angel.”

The coil in your stomach is building once more and you try to fuck your hips back against Sunghoon’s, the pain so good and addicting you greedily want more and more.

“Inside please,” you sniffle pathetically as tears form on your lashes. Sobs leave your chest as you come for them a second time, your breath getting knocked out of your chest as your come makes a mess on both of their thighs.

“Did you just squirt angel? Fuck, that’s hot,” As soon as Jay realizes what just happened he stills his hips against yours and paints your walls with his hot cum. Sunghoon’s mouth hangs open in a silent moan as he feels both of your slicks push against his throbbing member, prompting his own high to wash over him.

You’re all catching your breaths as Sunghoon keeps fucking the mix of your releases inside you, not wanting any of it to slide out and go to waste. Jay has to tap his hips a few times to get him to stop.

A mewl leaves your lips when they carefully slide out of you, the emptiness so sudden you find yourself missing the way they filled you completely right away.

You’re so spent you can barely move, but you manage a small smile when Jay kisses your temple softly, caging you in his arms while Sunghoon grabs a towel to clean up the sticky mess you made.

He retrieves his phone too, taking note of the ended call, before opening the camera app and grabbing your ankles, parting your sore legs as far as you can manage.

He points the camera at you and easily slides two fingers back inside you, earning tired weak sounds of protest from you.

“Shh, am only showing our Heeseungie what he missed,” he lowers his face down to your cunt and slides his fingers out, quickly replacing them with his tongue. He takes as much cum as he can in his mouth, then comes up back again and kisses you softly, tongue sliding some of the essence in his mouth into yours. He parts from your lips and scoots closer to Jay, repeating the same action.

Butterflies wreak havoc in your stomach when you stare at Jay, his eyes closing and savouring the taste, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallows and licks inside of Sunghoon’s mouth, careful not to miss any drop.

Sunghoon parts from him with a smile, grabbing the warm wet towel he had set next to you and finally gently cleaning you up, careful not to stimulate you further. He lifts you up in his arms and walks to the bathroom, he sets you down carefully, hands hovering close to your body making sure you can stand up on your own before stepping back and signalling you to pee. Your cheeks heat up at his suggestion, earning a full chest laugh from him, “I just fucked the daylights out of you, and this is what you’re embarrassed about?”

He sets a shirt and a pair of his clean underwear on the sink before walking out of the room, “you’ll get a uti if you won’t, silly girl.”

You’re drowsy by the time you’re back in bed with them, Jay is whispering sweet nothings in the crown of your hair, sometimes giving you tiny pecks, and Sunghoon has his arms wrapped around your shoulders, one of his hands caressing your arm gently. You have no idea how you let Heeseung get away with treating you like he did when this is what you could have had all along. You don't know how this is gonna change your relationship with everyone involved, but you decide you'll worry about it another time, the comfortable silence lulling you to sleep as the men next to you continue to swoon over you.

a/n: tagging users that i think wanted a part 2, sorry if not!!

@sweetjaemss @heeseungshim @fmdmbaa

@secretlyapartofthisfandom @adult-kinda @sunghoonsgff

#this took me forever #idt this lives up to the expectations either #hoon! #jay! #hard hours! #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #enhypen #enhypen x reader #jay smut #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #enhypen jay #sunghoon #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon hard hours #enhypen fanfic #kpop smut

[peachdues]

y’all want a little sneak peek of some soft Compass content?

Note that this scene will not be included in Part I, but will be featured in a later installment, should I continue the series.

CW: mention of robbery • injury • gang member!Sanemi • protective Sanemi • slight skip between scenes because this is just a teaser lmao

Your face pales as he thunders toward you. “Sanemi, wait — it’s not that bad —“

But he doesn’t listen; not as he reaches for you, his hands cupping your jaw, trapping you in place. His eyes are wild as he scrutinizes your face, hands tilting your head every direction, assessing.

His eyes run first over the cut on your lip before settling on the bruise forming along your cheek. At the first glimpse of the faint swelling along your cheekbone, his frantic, angry concern melts into something colder; more frightening.

Murderous.

Your fingers wrap around his wrists as he begins to tremble. “Sanemi,” you say lowly, urgent. “Sanemi, I’m okay — it was just a robbery —“

“Just a robbery?” His voice is hard and unforgiving. “Just a fuckin’ robbery?”

“I’m going back to headquarters,” Iguro says quietly, eager to distance himself from the pair. Without another word, Sanemi’s fellow hashira retreats to the back of the store and slips out of the service entrance.

Sanemi makes a mental note to thank him later. His hands remain on your face, his finger gingerly wiping away the smudge of blood where it’s dried on your lip. “What were they after?”

“Just the cash in the register,” you wince. “They were just some petty thieves —“

“Give me names and I’ll handle it.”

“It’s not like they identified themselves,” you say, exasperated. “And I definitely wasn’t about to ask.”

“Descriptions, then,” Sanemi says through clenched teeth as he leads you through the back exit of the store, arm latched firmly around your waist, guiding you to where he’d unceremoniously propped his motorcycle against the alley wall.

“Get on the bike,” and because Sanemi can see you hesitate, can see the protest building on your tongue, he sharply adds, “Now.” He reaches for a spare helmet and shoves it toward you.

You can’t help it. The moment you spy his arm lifting to push the helmet down over your head, you flinch. Hard.

All at once, Sanemi’s panicked anger winks out like a star. His arm drops limply to his side. He does not reach for you again.

He murmurs your name and finally, you look to him, eyes full of guilt that matches his own.

“I would put a bullet in my head before I ever raised a hand to you.”

You nod, mortified. “I know,” you whisper. “I know that.”

And you do. If there was one certainty in this — this thing between you, it was that Sanemi could not hurt you. No matter how angry, no matter how frantic he was, all that fell away the moment you were within his reach.

His voice is gentle, so very gentle as he asks, “Can I touch you?”

You nod and he folds you between his arms. His lips press gently against your forehead and then he breaks away, his hand cradling your face.

———-

You shouldn’t be surprised at the soft knock at your bathroom door; that he’d heard you pitiful attempts to stifle your sobs behind your hand and under the spray of the shower head.

A rush of cool air breaks up some of the steamy humidity of the bathroom. Sanemi softly calls your name. “Can I come in?”

You squeak out a soft yes, your eyes squeezing shut as your tears escape down your cheeks, mixing in with the shower water streaming over you.

He pulls back the shower curtain and his face falls as you shrink back against the soap-scummed tile.

“C’mere,” his hand lands softly at your waist and he tugs you in. You follow without resistance, eager to melt into the reassuring warmth of his skin.

It dawns on you that the arm locked around your waist is half-holding you up, Sanemi bracing your weight against him.

“I’ve got you, baby, I’ve got you.” He murmurs between kisses against your ear, his other hand cupping the back of your head, cradling your face into his throat. “Just let it out.”

#one of theeee most self indulgent fics I’ve written to date lmao #demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader

[s-4pphics]

moth. teaser. (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: knights of the devil, you all are to be conquered. 

WORD COUNT: 881 

WARNINGS: vampire!ellie, vampirekiller!oc, a lot to come FUCK, violence… so blood(drinking), death, murder, gore, religion briefly,

A/N: yasss yaaas taglist?

1809

“Oh, my precious darling…” 

Red, similar to her hair; palms painted from the tips of a finger to the points of elbows; knees sunk into begrimed pili drenched with fresh maroon. Panicked breaths are accompanied by prayers, wishes of denial. Desires for death. 

“… What I would give to protect you…” 

“F-F—“

Tortured hollers are directed towards the pouring skies. Bodies. Bodies everywhere; surrounded by decay. 

She sobs, deep from the pits of her stomach, “Father, for-forgive them! For they do not—“

Thunder claps. Lightning is being used as weapons from the Lord above, all meant to discover her and strike. The beams in the sky are intended to punish her discernment. It was a mistake. It was a mistake! Her eyes refuse to meet the battered corpse of the young babe, no more than three. Her crime was committed in a haze, blinded by starvation, all at the cost of the family before her. Villagers would deem the view a savage attack. A mutilation only made possible by the ravenous wolves after dark. The bears that protect the trees at dusk.

All on horseback, the strangers paused their ventures to inquire guidance. She swiftly became an aid for navigating the path, instructing them with a trembling finger and a blistering throat. Follow that trail to the end of the woods. Unbeknownst to their gracious eyes, she followed. Stalked after their mount for miles like the thoroughbred they ride, carried by the wind. Urged by bloodlust. 

Her vision blurred when they tied their horse’s lariats to a nearby post that barely passed the trees. Her vision was shrouded in darkness, a substance so thick that her limbs felt trapped, even in frantic movement. They’d reached the end, just like she’d promised. 

Their screams satiated her hunger, but never hindered her guilt. 

Demons, I tell you! All of them, demons! Witches destined to be set aflame for the masses! 

And now she crouches over them with remorse in her chest. Remorse that will wash away her like the rainfall that pounds on her shoulders. Much like it had in the past when her purity was stolen. Another fatality. 

1919

“Hunting requires bouts of unwavering dedication. If the entirety of your being doesn’t relish in the suffering of the demons walking, then you are to be shunned.”

Being the youngest hunter-to-be amongst legends, historical monuments that leave trails of prosperous victories wherever they advance, is humbling. Your mother pestered you for as long as you could remember: never, never become a hunter, being her only protest for you, her only child. She used to pray beside your bed at night when she assumed you to be asleep, praising the Creator for forbidding you sickness or poverty. You were her only treasure, a gift from the frosted heavens. 

And the demons took her. 

Hunters searched the unoccupied lands that surrounded your home relentlessly, but no traces of the Devils’ were ever discovered. They attended your mother’s burial for your protection, and prepared to assist your transition into the orphanage, but you denied. You were permanently vexed. Forever vengeful. 

I wish to become a hunter! 

Your recruitment was immediate due to the shortage of volunteers, and that same day, you witnessed all of the treasures and memories of your childhood home — of your mother — get burned to the ground by the Hunters. No trails for the demons should go untouched by fire. 

“If you hesitate for even a second, you’re dead. Either by their hand…” 

Something unsettled you that morning as you prepared for school. Something in the air, something underground. A heaviness in your home that you couldn’t trace. Your mother ironed your skirt and pinned your hair up, brushed down the small curls around your hairline, and she eased you. The weather is changing, dear, she’d said before wishing you well. You studied relentlessly, all while she was shredded by teeth sharp as knives. You want the Devil’s lifeless heart in the palm of your hand, risks be damned.

“Or mine. And I will not hesitate.” 

The overseer of your battalion, who slowly paces before his future prodigies, aura menacing, pauses in front of you. With your gaze locked forward and a lump in your throat, you gawk right on the crescent on his belt — the hunter’s insignia — your feet shuffle, shoes slightly squeaking above the wood. 

“Are you prepared, child?” 

His tone is disparaging, and you swallow. Your head bobs and your breathing stutters. 

“Yes, sir.” 

He crouches before you and your cells stiffen, elbows perched on his knees, eyes finally level with yours. You appear stoic due to the grinding of your teeth, inspecting the stitched scar that sprouts at his right brow and crosses his eye.

“You are nothing,” He hisses, and your heart clenches, “You are not a child, and I am not your elder. Any identity you held prior to your arrival is worthless, now. We are vessels for the greatest power above. Hunter is your only name, do you understand?” 

No verbiage escapes you. It couldn’t with how your breath trembles, so you nod once; Quite mechanic. 

“Stand straight.” 

His conviction forces your shoulders into alignment, and snickers from the older prodigies erupt from behind you. Your cheeks warm and your palms drip. The overseer rises to his feet once more.

“That goes for all of you!” He shouts, and the room is quiet.

The crescent sparkles under the yellow candlelight. Your palms grow clammy at his viperous swear. 

“I will not hesitate.” 

#vampire!ellie #ellie williams #ellie williams smut #ellie williams angst #ellie williams au #ellie williams x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #works 𖧧࣪ #lesbian

[whyse7vn]

MIN YOONGI

FAVOURITE:

Yoongi prides himself in being your favourite.

Relishes in knowing he’s your favourite. Yoongi has always carried this certain smugness to him because of it. Yoongi imagines you hold him on a pedestal in your mind. Above Namjoon above Jungkook above them all because Yoongi is your favourite always has been always will be.

Your first.

Your favourite.

Yoongi was 25 when he first realised he was your favourite. You had kissed him the night before you were set to move in with Jungkook on the rooftop of your shared dorm building the sun set and the air cool.

“Yoongi i’m sorry i—”

“Don’t apologise” He tucks a piece of loose hair behind your ear your cheeks dust a pretty shade of pink.

Cute.

Yoongi moves his hand away from your face and turns to lean over the balcony eyes now taking in the view of Gangnam after hours.

“How come you’re here? didnt Namjoon want to speak to you or something?”

“Oh uh yeah!”

You’re flustered by the sudden question.

Cute.

“-he did but uh Namjoon can wait… right?”

You play with your hands as you speak your tone of voice anything but confident.

“Right” Yoongi confirms.

Namjoon can wait.

Namjoon will wait.

Sure Yoongi feels a little guilty on keeping Joon waiting but his ego is way too high right now pride practically overflowing.

“You picked me over Namjoon”

He’s giddy body warm with emotion.

“What?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond. He can’t. Not that he heard you anyways, too many thoughts consume him in this moment. He wishes he could stop time. Wishes he could take a photo of this moment wishes he could replay this scene over and over again wishes he could write down the exact words the exact touches you had just exchanged on a piece of paper and hang it in a museum for all to see. Call him psychotic call him insane he’s way beyond caring at this point because this moment right here means everything to him. So long of silently fighting to be at the forefront of your mind and finally an opening.

An opening you had gone out of your way to create for him.

You had picked him.

Yoongi.

Right now over Namjoon.

But Yoongi knows this is just the start. If he plays his cards right, which he will, and successfully roots himself as your first and your favourite.

In his peripheral watches the way you slightly bounce on the balls of your feet.

He knows you’re nervous and he knows he has to take advantage of that. He knows he has to get you hooked to solidify his place as your favourite. He knows he has to-

“Listen Yoongi, if i made you uncomfortable or…”

He turns to face you again.

“Let me kiss you for real this time”

—

6 Months after your shared kiss and one or two (definitely more) ‘casual hookups’ Yoongi is aware you’ve slept with Jungkook that you actively sleep with Jungkook.

Yoongi actually found out you were fucking messing with Jungkook from you yourself. The guilt of sleeping with another man behind Yoongi’s back eating you up so bad that you just had to blurt it out over your shared chinese at 3 AM. Yoongi had assured you that it was fine. I mean it was Jungkook…. Jeon Jungkook like loser Jeon Jungkook who had been telling you he loved you since he was 16 yet the relationship between you unchanging.

Oh, right…

he guesses it has changed now you know, you mess around and stuff. But it’s not like Jungkook is your boyfriend or- …okay so maybe it’s not completely ‘fine’ in Yoongi’s mind that you’re messing around with Jungkook he might be a little jealous but admittedly Yoongi sleeps with other people here and there too he can’t be a hypocrite now!

And it was inevitable, well that’s what he tells himself. You’re both the same age, live in the same house and Jungkook is clearly into you and you—

it doesn’t matter because it was inevitable.

Inevitable yet unchanging of Yoongi’s position as your favourite. That he wants to be is sure of. Because from 9 to 5 to 10 3 or 12 Yoongi is the one you call, work hours he’s the one you bother and after work hours he’s the one occupying your time. Not Jungkook not anyone else just Yoongi, your favourite.

—

When you became close with the members of seventeen Yoongi still stood confident in his position as your favourite. When you went on that date with Mingyu, when those pictures of you and Sungcheol got leaked when you wouldn’t stop talking about that Woozi guy, Yoongi was certain he was still your favourite. Sure he did get into a couple of fights broken a few bones but it was all within reason and definitely not because his position as your favourite felt as if it was being threatened.

Yoongi has always been your favourite

from the moment you gave him the opportunity to be

from the moment you kissed him

from the moments you’ve chosen him over someone else

from Minho to the Seventeen guys to Jungkook you’ve always come back to Yoongi.

Always.

So those 4 1/2 months,not that he was counting, you were with Jaehyun Yoongi for the first time was admittedly worried.

Worried.

So fucking worried.

You suddenly like sand in his hands 4 1/2 months of torture.

Slipping through his fingers.

4 1/2 months of waiting.

Right in front of his eyes.

4 1/2 months of wondering.

Unsure on what to do.

4 1/2 months of doubt.

4 1/2 months of regret.

4 1/2 months of cheap alcohol.

4 1/2 months of unsent messages.

4 1/2 months you sand slipping through his fingers. Yoongi unsure on what to do.

The day you a Jaehyun broke up Yoongi was already one foot out the door but Namjoon told him not go and then Hobi sent a text saying you were with him and then 30 minutes later another saying you were on your way to see… Tae?

You still sand slipping through his fingers but it shouldn’t be like that no not now because Yoongi is your favourite. Your first your favourite and you’re not in a relationship so things should be back to normal but you, still sand slipping through his fingers no- Days pass he thinks about you going to Tae he thinks about you Taehyung and Namjoon, he remembers Hoseok punching Jaehyun sand NO he thinks about valentine’s day you, Seokjin Taehyung slipping through his fingers. Jungkook and you but he is your first so why are you still—

Sand.

Slipping through his fingers.

Why?

It’s not a question of why anymore, is it?

Yes Min Yoongi your first.

But your favourite?

False.

Yoongi was never your favourite

but you,

definitely his.

—

some overall context this is from yoongi’s pov so if like points contradict and shit if just representation of how his mind is atm and all that like yeah idk if it translated well lmk :3

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @blairebangtan @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie @threeopossumsinacoat @cynicalyoongs @lightningpussy54 @eunthv @gigiiiiislife @lowkeykin @elissasimp @socksfirstalways @knjlvr06 @lailaisarmy @thvkives @xstfudaisyx @xxxanimangxxx @solstice34 @ml8dy @hoeforseoks

#bts fluff #bts imagines #bts texts #bts x y/n #bts fanfic #bts x you #bts xreader #yoongi x reader #suga x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga x y/n #!gc yoongi #gc offline #min yoongi

[princessbrunette]

popes new gig as a driving instructor was meant to be easy money. he was a good, safe driver — and you were his first ever client. but from the smile you’d given him, all glittery and pink as you bounce over to his car and lean over to his driver seat window to greet him, giving him a direct look down your cleavage — he knew you’d do more than learn driving from him.

you preened under his praise everytime. it was distracting. he was trying to teach you how to safely drive, but everytime he’d let “you’re doing really good, keep going.” or a simple “good job.” leave his mouth you’d nearly swerve off the road. his subtle tips and adjustments would be met with flirtation, and giggly “yes sir”s to the point where he’d forget the rules of the road in an instant.

this went on for weeks, and due to his best friend jj’s constant lecturing regarding; ‘dude, you’ve got a hot ass girl in your car, practically begging for the D — you’re telling me you haven’t swooped on that yet? do better, man.’ pope decided enough was enough. this was either going to fix his problem, or make things really awkward— but it was a risk he was willing to take.

“pull up right here, in this parking lot.” he’d been extra tense that day, rather quiet the entire lesson with a stiff jaw and eyes hung low. you figured he’d been in a bad mood, and even went easy on your usual routine of finding reasons to touch his bicep at each stop light and flirting with him. you did as he said, pulling into the empty lot and finding a space somewhere in some dark corner where it would be easy for you to park.

without the humming of the engine filling the silence now, you turn and look at him in the dim lighting. pope often had two ways of going about things with women — either ultra nervous, or ultra to the point. with you, he’d started off a nervous wreck — practically jizzing in his pants every time you’d graze your manicure against his arm for the first few lessons, but due to the constant teasing he’d been driven to being directly upfront with you.

“look, i can’t take all this teasing anymore.” he stresses, brows creased. your giggly smile drops a little bit, seemingly switching on the innocent act. “every week, you hint and hint that you’re tryna get into something with me— and then at the end of the lesson, you just get out and walk away like it never happened.” he sighs hard, and you have to admit it’s rather cute.

“i’m sorry…” your brows knit together, guilt evident in your expression.

“and that’s fine — i would never pressure you to do anything like that, and believe me — i know this is completely unprofessional to be proposing on the job, and yeah — this could get me fired,” he rambles, working himself up. “but look, i’m a man okay? i am biologically programmed to have a bodily reaction to girls like you who can’t stop touching on me and being all adorable and sexy. that being said — if you wanna fuck, let’s just get it out the way, right here right now— and if not, we can drive you home, and never talk of this again. but you gotta stop acting like that, ‘cause i’m in pain.” he finishes up with his rant, sucking in a breath that he didn’t know he’d been holding the entire time. you stare at pope. pope stares back.

“oh fuck, oh pope!” you mewl into his neck as the car jostles violently from the backseat beneath the dim lighting on the parking lot. you’re naked from the waist down, and his shorts sit pooled around his ankles as you bounce on his cock, dick impaled through you. “s—so big, just like i imagined!”

“you imagined?” he pants, two hands planted on your waist as he helps you fuck down on his lap, staring up at you hopefully as he lifts his hips to meet your movements.

“every night! pictured you punishing me for bein’ such a tease!” you cry out in admission, halting the bouncing technique to roll your hips instead, the two of you groaning at the sensation.

“jesus, okay… well, i can definitely make that happen. you for sure deserve to be punished.” he babbles, pulling you closer — his eyes fluttering shut as you grind on him.

“are you g’nna punish me pope? for teasin’ you in our lessons?” your voice cracks desperately as you feel him repeatedly jutting against your g-spot, making your legs shake around him.

“yes. totally. i’ll punish you real good.” he spits out. it had been a while since he’d got his dick wet, especially from such a perfect princess — so all his concentration was going into making sure he didn’t bust right there and then. he simply agreed without thinking, he probably would have agreed to anything in that moment.

#div by v6que #drivinginstructor!pope #new au just dropped. again #pope heyward prompt

[buckttommy]

I have an idea for a full-season Eddie arc that I want to put into the universe. tim, feel free to plagiarize me yet again (but this time. i want a dm. i know you're around here somewhere come say hi). So. Anyways. Season 8

8x1: Eddie has broken up with Marisol. By the time this episode rolls around, they've already been broken up for a couple weeks/months. As mentioned in 7x5, he's struggling with the idea of Catholic guilt, struggling with the idea of faith in general. He mentions, in casual conversation, to Buck, Chim or Tommy (who is still with Buck on screen *coughs loudly*) that he's thinking about going down to Texas for a while. His grandmother is the most religious person he knows and he's always found comfort being in her space and soaking in her presence, so he wants to talk to her about his feelings. Whoever he's talking to agrees that's a good idea.

8x2 - 8x7: A couple episodes pass with the idea of Eddie taking some time off in the background of the audience's mind. Nothing major, just little throw away lines about getting the truck tuned up before he makes a big road trip, paying bills before he leaves, things like that.

8x8: The 118 responds to a call of a fire in a church. Two people are getting married and their families are in attendance. Eddie doesn't go inside the church but he fights the fire from outside and helps treat the injured. Almost everyone is pulled out safely but the mother of the bride. Her daughter is crying because she and her mother aren't on good terms and she doesn't want it to be too late for them to patch things up. Eddie and the bride get to talking, and the bride mentions she always felt like she wasn't enough for mom, that she found it impossible to live up to her standards. They had an argument before the fire broke out because the bride realized, on-screen, that she didn't actually want to marry the man she was going to marry because she was in love with someone else (that's what started the fire, her making that announcement caused someone to pass out, and blah blah blah). But she was only marrying this man because her mom thought he would be good for her, and the brides makes a comment about always feeling like she was living her life for someone else, in service of a standard she could never reach. Eddie, of course, can relate. The bride's mother passes away and, it's a tragedy and is treated as such, but at the end of the episode during the voiceover (*coughs louder*), we see the bride reuniting with the person she's actually in love with because her mother's death means she's free from having to try to, like, be perfect.

8x10: Eddie's been getting a call from his dad all throughout the episode but he's been ignoring it because [shenanigans]. This is a light-hearted episode and the tone will be important because when he finally answers the phone during the last five minutes of the episode, he's like "Dad, come on, jesus, what is it" and his dad tells him that his grandmother has passed away.

8x11: Midseason premiere, the episode begins with Isabel's funeral, mainly because I want to see Eddie/Ryan in a nice tailored black suit (timothy, i'm sure you can relate). Anyway, the funeral is outside because it's important Eddie doesn't go inside a church yet. When it's finished, he goes back to the reception at Isabel's house. His sisters are there, everyone is there. He offers to help his mother in the kitchen and she tries to make conversation, but Helena Diaz has never actually learned how to relate to her son, so she says the wrong thing. It doesn't go well (but that's something to be circled back to in another season). Eddie looks at the pictures on his grandma's wall / mantle / whatever and sees himself and his sisters and his cousins when they were kids, smiling big at church christenings or whatever, and he's like... "I don't recognize this kid who was so happy to be inside of religion. I didn't know who I was then, and I definitely don't know who I am now because of it". He doesn't say it, but that's the vibe ofc, and Ryan's face is expressive enough that he can pull that off.

8x12: He's back in LA. Everyone is treating him with the utmost care because they are good people and they love him, and one evening, Eddie gets a visitor. He opens the door and it's his sister. (one of them lives in LA, remember?). In my head, that's always been Sophia, so he asks what she's doing here, and she holds up a bottle of wine. They sit on the sofa, they talk and reminisce about their grandmother, make apologies for the fact that they haven't been around for each other much despite living in the same city (but this isn't Eddie's family issues storyline, this is the Catholic guilt storyline. We will circle back to this in S9). So Eddie pitches the idea of faith to her, and asks what it means to her. It's the same question he wanted to ask his grandmother. Sophia says she has faith in the universe, faith that things always happen the way they're meant to, and it's a good answer but it doesn't speak to the core of Eddie's problem, which is that he always feels beholden to something he can't name/place.

8x14: Eddie continues to ask the people around him (Buck, Athena, Tommy, Chim) about faith and what it means to them. They all give him different answers. Athena has faith in purpose. Chim has faith in his family. Buck has faith in the inherent good of humanity. Tommy has faith in himself. It's not very helpful in the sense that no one gives him his answer, but it does reveal to him that faith can, does, and should exist absent of guilt, that maybe he's been doing it (or was taught) all wrong.

8x15: Insert an embarrassingly on the nose call about a kind, nerdy, reserved man who's lived by an unspoken rulebook all his life. He came out to Los Angeles on a whim and suffers from a hiking mishap where he's physically blinded by [something] and subsequently needs to trust that the 118, these people he literally cannot see, will save him. When they pull him to safety, he berates himself for even coming out to Los Angeles in the first place because he's not the kind of guy who does this, he just wanted to do something for him and now he feels stupid. And Eddie (because of course it's Eddie) is just like "no, you didn't do anything wrong. Look, you took a leap of faith (episode title btw). That's more than what most people can say. Maybe it didn't work out in this instance, but who knows how it'll work out tomorrow, or the next day. You don't know the future. None of us do, so maybe stop trying to live according to some giant colossal plan and just... live, and try your best. Isn't that all we can do?" And he watches the guy get airlifted away (thanks Tommy! *coughs even louder*) and it's like his lightbulb moment, like, oh. Yeah. He finally gets it.

8x16: Eddie walks into a church for the first time in years, and for the first time all season. It looks exactly how he remembers; wooden pews, high ceilings, the works. He takes a seat on one of the benches and prays / talks aloud to God and is just like, "I don't really know who you are and I don't know how to be what you want me to be. All my life I've been trying to be what everyone wants me to be to the point where I just don't even know who I am anymore, if I ever knew. So I don't know who you are, but I know I am who you made me to be, and I don't know who that is, but I know that person is enough for me right now. And maybe I'll figure you out along the way, maybe I won't. But, right now, what I know is that i can't be your perfect son because I can't be perfect at all, and I need to let go of the idea that I can and start living my life for me." So he walks out of the church and not much changes, but everything changes. You know?

And, like, obviously the story would need to be flushed out a little more. Obviously, this story centers more of the idea of faith than the idea of explicit guilt, but they're one in the same anyway because you can't have guilt without failed/presumably "failed" expectations. In this case, religious or spiritual expectation. So. I don't know. But there's just something so sexy about the idea of Eddie systematically and intentionally dismantling and releasing himself from all the things that have kept him from growing over the years. Starting with his survivors guilt in S5 and working his way through Catholic guilt in S8, I just love the idea of Eddie being purposeful in his own healing, especially in this post-breakdown era. Plus it'll give him a chance to have a storyline that's not romance-focused cos we've been leaning a bit too heavily into those. 🙃 But anyways. (Next up is his issues with Helena. btw. because we have yet to circle back to his family issues in canon but we certainly need to).

#Sorry Isabel you were the sacrificial lamb #I wrote this instead of working ermmmm okay back to the grind as they say #jack.txt #tv: 911 #jack answers mail #8a speculation #8b speculation #ish #no read more sorry. i talk a lot and you should all be used to it. #tim minear #ok no for real i got work to do lmfaoooo bye #EVERYONE MANIFEST IT WITH ME GIRLS

[miwsolovely]

—THE WEIGHT OF BLOOD.

pairing: outlaw!farmer!141 x fem!reader

series masterlist taglist (closed.) next

contains: pov change, graphic violence, gore, reader’s husband insults her, mentions + use of knife in this chapter, reader is called a whore, implications of kidnapping, drugs.

summary: slippery floors.

wc: 4.7k

a/n: oh…

You always felt as if you were walking on eggshells with him.

It’s how you used to feel with him. When the sun was barely shining on your life and peppering your face with light, guilty, kisses.

Now that the sun is hidden by the horizon, no longer are the kisses light and guilt ridden, but they are harsh and forceful. No more are the rays hitting your skin with a warm embrace, but its replaced with a chill so unforgiving it’s like a whip against your skin.

No longer are the eggshells digging into your skin, because glass shards are piercing into your feet, digging into the flesh and staying there so that every time your once delicate, soft feet hit the floor, a wave of pain and realization washes over you.

Every step is a reminder; you’re never going to be free of him.

You let out a shaky breath and wince at your husband’s booming voice. Pointing fingers and yelling curses.

Johnny and Simon are doing little to nothing to stop him, in fact, they seem to be holding back.

Why?

Why are they holding back when your husband, James Fitzroy, is insulting their mothers? Their sisters, brothers? Them?

“We didnae do nothin’ to ye,” Johnny starts, standing in front of Simon when James gets too close for his liking. “So back the hell off.”

James scoffs with a sick smile on his face. “You didn’t do anything to me?” He spits. “Of course not, you just came into my house, and fucked my wife, is that it? Hm? Had your fill already?” He taunts, his hair flying wild.

You always loved his hair. His golden, rich dark hair, suggestive of the precious metal, mimics the beauty and luxury of his picture perfect world; compared to you however, your soul hides what’s really behind closed doors.

You shake your head to rid your mind of those thoughts. He’s not shining gold anymore, the secrets in this house are slowly coming to light. He resembles something that seems kind, but hurts you when you actually expect it, when you know it can hurt you. Like the sun.

“We didn’t do anythin’ to your wife.” Simon defends. He steps forward so he’s now side by side next to Johnny, the kitchen looking too small for them. “We just came here to deliver the meat she ordered, is all.”

“Oh really?” James says. He shoves an accusing finger in Simons shoulder.

He’s going to hurt them. He’s going to hurt them and you’re just standing there.

Like the pliant little housewife he made you to be.

What are you doing just standing there?

When you let the heavy coat drop from your arms onto the floor and you take a singular step in their direction, you can feel the glass digging deeper into your skin.

Every step is a reminder.

As you near your husband, you shudder. His wrath is like a toxic air that’s slowly killing you from the inside out. Taking and taking until there’s nothing left of you to take.

You reach your James, scared to meet the questioning gazes of Johnny and Simon, and reach a trembling hand to touch his shoulder. “James—”

He whips his body around to face you. You can see, feel, his anger as it burns everything it touches. Hungry for more. He grabs your outstretched hand and squeezes. Ignoring the whimpers of pain that fall from your lips and the tears that blur your vision and fall down to meet at your chin.

“You.” He says it with so much, loathe dripping from his voice, painting his lips, his chin, neck, black with anger.

“You fucking whore, playing around with these, little boys, getting their dicks wet while I slave away at work and provide for you?”

His face is too close. So close, you can smell the stink of alcohol on his breath, recoil as you feel the spit flying out of his mouth land on your face. You feel your tears falling fatter and faster as you see the hickeys and lipstick prints on his neck.

“You let go of ‘er—”

Your free hand feels like lead as you raise it to bring it down with such force it leaves a red mark on his face the moment your skin touches his, his face forced to the side, facing the wall.

You feel your soul getting doused in gasoline and set on fire.

You see James’s body turning rigid and stiff as his face turns a canvas of anger.

You blink away your tears.

He stiffens as if he endures the horrors you have to watch him do at night. He stiffens as if his body is constantly being clawed, dragged, down by hands that burn. He stiffens as if he has glass stuck in the soles of his feet, spilling his blood onto the floor and staining the wood, the walls, you. You, you, you.

He turns his head back to its original position to at you, but he’s stopped. Stopped by a scared hand deep his hair wrenching back so his body topples to the floor with a reverberating thud. You almost fall with him with his tight grip on your wrist, but you feel Johnny’s hand pluck yours out of his and cradle it, cradle you, to his chest.

But you can’t focus. You see your vision blurring and a ringing, your soul screaming, in your ears is blocking out the noise of Simon’s fists connecting with James’s face.

You watch with horror gleaming in your eyes as you see your husband’s face and body grow more and more unrecognizable by the second.

Why are you just standing there?

“Get—” Simon’s fist interrupts his slurred cries. “—th’ fuck off ‘f me you d’rty bast’rd . . .”

Your husband is getting beaten, and you’re standing in the arms of another? A stranger?

Simon’s eyes. They’re burnt a charcoal black and only seemed to be getting darker by each blow he landed on your husband’s face. It scares you to no end.

“You stain your wife’s skin with that mouth?” A sharp sound, a slap echos throughout the room. Right where your hand hit his face. Right where your hand can be seen on his face as a bright red gone darker by Simon’s force.

Your eyes catch a gleam in the light, a gleam of something sharp, of something used to kill.

A pocket knife.

James struggles to fully pull it out of his pocket but when he does, he grips it with a shaking hand and stabs blindly at Simon’s arm.

You suck in a breath and can only watch as silence consumes the room with Johnnys arms tightening around you.

He didn’t even flinch as the knife was forced into his skin, didn’t even react as he gripped the handle and yanked the knife out of his arm, his blood following the knife like a lost dog before splattering on the ground like abstract art.

Noises of pain and fear escape the opened mouth of your husband, noises that you’ve never heard him make. Only noises of power and rage.

Simon rises to his full height and takes a handful of James’s hair, dragging him up with him add dropping the knife on the floor

“Simon—” You beg, but it’s too late. With the grip Simon has on James’s hair, he pulls his arm back and swings it, swings James, towards the kitchen counter at full force.

His head ricochets off of the counter and he lands back on the floor, right in front of your shaking form.

He lays there sideways and still as the long gash running straight across his forehead leaks blood onto his clothes and floor at a rapid pace. You stare at it as the blood slowly runs towards you.

You’re staring at your husband’s bleeding body.

Simon grabs James’s pant leg, pants that you bought for him, and yanks his body towards him to resume what he hadn’t finished.

When the blows continue, you find yourself wincing at each one, unconsciously sinking deeper into Johnny’s warm body.

A man you just met that day is beating the life out of your husband.

You feel like cold water is raining down on your body.

“Stop—” Your cry escapes your lips broken. “stop, please! Simon please—you’re hurting him!”

You try to push Johnny off of you, try to yank your limbs out of his strong grip but that’s just it. His strong grip is like a snake that captured its prey, rolling its body around it and holding onto it until it dies, until it can’t feel anymore, until you can’t breathe anymore.

“Let me go—Johnny let me go!”

He shushes your cries and doesn’t even bat an eye when you turn to bang your fists on his chest and run your nails down his skin. He just cradles your head to his chest right where his heart is so you can hear his heartbeat and be soothed.

But how can you be soothed when—

“Simon.” You hear him say. “That’s enough.”

Like changing tides; Johnny’s voice sweeps into his mind and altered his landscape of emotions. Changing from the beast in a story to a soft bear.

A bear with blood dripping from its mouth.

Simon stops the torture that he inflicted upon your husband and keeps his back turned to you and Johnny as he stands. Blood, James’s blood, dripping from his clenched fists and escaping into the crevices in your tile floor.

He turns at the waist to you and Johnny. You, who’s still struggling to escape his arms, you whose tears are never ending on your damp cheeks, you who’s watching your husband struggle to breathe, blood exiting his mouth in bubbles, popping and splattering the red mess everywhere.

And Johnny, who watched with a satisfied smile growing on his face.

Bells were ringing in your ears, stars were dotting your vision, your hands were shaking, you can’t breathe. “James . .?” You whisper. Your voice coming out so broken that Johnny almost felt sorry.

He still has his arms around you, still feels your beating heart pound against the cage around it, against his chest, still feels the sting of the bruises and scratches you left on him, the latter leaving blood trailing down his arms, dripping and dripping until they bleed into your dress, bleed into you. He still feels, you.

“What . . . No . . . no, no!” Your wail runs deep and escapes raw from your soul. You wail and it breaks Johnny’s heart, breaks it into tiny pieces scattered all around this cruel world you all live in. This world filled with cruel people.

“You killed him! You killed him!” You struggle, and Johnny grunts out curses as you elbow his stomach, slipping in blood and failing to the floor, your dress pooling at your feet, shaking in the blood staining the floor and dying the front of your once blue dress red. You fall right in front of Simon. Right in front of your husband’s still warm body. Still bleeding. Still breathing.

You burn the part of you that feels disappointed in that fact.

“James,” You whisper, cradling his face, his broken face, his face that is broken and bleeding, in your hands. You know it will haunt you for life. “Please, please, wake up. . . wake up . . .”

Blood was everywhere.

Your cries are silent except for the horror filled gasps you let out in between breaths. Your hands shake and you feel as if the coldest of waters were dumped on you. Hoping there would want you up from this dream, this nightmare.

“Why . . ? Why did you do this . . ?”

Your face is drenched in your tears running down your face, some fleeing into your mouth, making you taste your own sweet nectar tears. A nectar that is sticky and leaves a bitter rather than sweet taste in your mouth, a nectar that clings to things that aren’t theirs and never lets go. A nectar like Simon and Johnny.

“He was hurtin’ ye lass,” Johnny says. “We couldnae let ‘im hurt ye like tha’” He walks towards you, the squelch sound coming from his boots walking on blood make you flinch and cover your mouth in terror with your shaking hands, spreading blood, your husband’s blood, all over your tear stained cheeks.

Johnny squats down next to you, his thighs brushing over yours as he watches you. Watches you process that your husband might as well be dead to you, and he’s not coming back no matter how hard you pray.

You feel Johnnys hand, his warm hand, his soft hand, his dry hand, guide your face to lock your eyes with his.

“Ye know we had to do tha’.” He says. His eyes aren’t bright anymore. Now they’re dark waves at night. Luring innocents into its waters and taking, drowning, keeping. “Right, love?”

Your eyes shift back to James’s body in your peripheral, still feeling the cold gaze of the two men on your face.

His eyes are swollen shut; but if they were open, you could imagine they’d be looking at you, piercing you with that gaze you used to love so much, The gaze you find yourself missing; back when things were good, not burnt and soaked in blood.

His skin is pale. It turns as white as the pure clouds that once blocked the heat of the sun. But now the clouds are dark, they’re dark and they obscure the warmth of the sun to let the cold chill of death sink its claws into the fertile earth.

His chest barely rises with the painful breaths he’s taking.

He’s still alive.

Your shaking eyes peel away from James and they lock with Johnnys’ again.

And you know, with a heavy and pained heart, that he can see the tiny part of you that agrees with him.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, your eyes burned and your head is pounding. All you can hear is ringing. Ringing, screaming, crying, all the same to you in this moment.

You hear someone call your name, you feel a wet hand touch your shoulder, you feel something sharp sink into the fragile skin of your neck.

You feel the cold shadow of darkness embrace you.

Your body feels heavy.

Heavy with guilt, fear, and an overwhelming sadness.

Heavy with whatever drug was forced into you.

In your milky haze, your eyes open slightly and the sun burns your eyes even through the thick curtains blocking it.

You think they’re curtains. They could very well be something else; but they move with such a fluidity in them that you can’t think otherwise.

This room you’re in moves as if it’s a vehicle on a bumpy road, your ears pick up the sound of an animal trotting on the rough road.

Someone moves, blocking the shining sun with their body as they move to learn towards you.

“Sh, Bonnie lass.” A voice coos at you, brushing their—his—hand over your temple to gently move the hair that rested there. “Yer alrigh’, we’re gonnae get ye someplace safe.”

When you let out a hoarse moan in protest to his action, another hand, a bigger hand, pets your hair and plants a chaste kiss on your sweating forehead.

You let out a dry cry and try to move your head in another direction, any direction, but the poison burning your veins and warming your skin is making you a limp doll.

Your lips are cracked and your throat is raw. When you try to speak, the sentence gets lost on the way out of your mouth and only one word escapes.

“. . . home . . .”

The soft voice, the first voice, shushes you again, moving your body and placing it sideways in a laying position so your head rests on his lap and your legs dangle on something else. Someone else.

“It’s gonnae be okay hen, don’ worry that pretty head. We’ll get ye home safe with us.”

You last see the curtains move after going over a particular bump in the road, revealing dancing trees and a large sign; though you only see the last part of it before your body succumbs to sleep:

—POPULATION: TWO HUNDRED SEVENTEEN.

In the murky shadows of the dimly illuminated room, wisps of smoke curled and danced around the man seated amidst the gloom like a dragon.

With each inhale, the ember of the cigar flared, casting fleeting glimpses of their features into the obscurity.

The apple of his cheeks, his beard shining auburn, his eyes that reflected an angry sea.

“She sleepin’?” He asks into the shadows. His voice is rough and deep, his words escape him in a cloud of smoke as dark as his eyes.

“Yes. Brought ‘er in an hour or so ago. A ripe peach she is.” The shadow answers, stepping away from the window that covered an entire wall adjacent to the grand desk. The shadow walks the length of the room to stand in front of the desk, he picks up a random trinket from the desk and starts twirling it between his fingers repeatedly.

“And the husband? Tell me the bastards’ gone.”

The smell of smoke and ash covered the room. But nothing could cover the smell of blood coating the shadows fingers, staining the trinket, the knife, in his hand.

“He’ll never hurt her again.”

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

TAGLIST.

@the-faceless-bride @chickennn-soupp @starabigail @drenix004 @dogboyfoe @lostintro @tonylagsagne @sobasicallyimpoppee @ahervyn @ghostlythots @flowerloversthings @sugar-brains @midnights-song @poohkie90 @minecraftflowerpots @cand1c @mortallydelicatedinosaur @coffinfae @wiotas @missinghosty @rataaaaail759 @crazy-phan-girl13 @riw3 @dmitriene @coy2u @storxii @uglycoyote @idioticsqu1d @iloveramensm @starluv @darling006 @ivuravix @mitoad @miss-mistinguett @totallynot-mac @tallicaside @imagine-valhalla @deputy-videogamer @ggpayer44 @yellow-paper-duck @sharkient @kaoyamamegami @kariiiel @chaoticla @lovelydays2night @lostintro @tonylagsagne

#♡﹒⇅﹒cod masterlist—﹒📁 #﹒ ✧ ichor #x reader #cod x reader #fem!reader #simon ghost riley #tf 141 x reader #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john bravo six price #johnny mactavish #poly!task force 141 x reader #poly141 x reader #poly!task force 141 #poly tf141 #codmw x reader #soap cod #ghost cod #gaz cod #price cod

[jflemings]

— let the light in [p2]

pairing: jessie fleming x reader part 1

synopsis: jessie’s point of view

warnings: angsty as fuck lol, mentions of depression & it’s symptoms

jessie had never been more furious and sad at the same time. watching you walk out of her place with a bag containing your things slung over your shoulder after she had pleaded with you to let her help, was one of the most heartbreaking things she’s ever had to go through.

despite your reluctance to tell her, she knew what you were going through. she guessed that you weren’t maybe telling her the whole truth about how you were really feeling and she made it her mission to help in any way you would let her. she spoke with chelsea’s psychologist about how to help you, you read self-help books and read articles upon articles but you were slipping faster than she could reach for you.

“maybe it’s for the best” niamh says gently, rubbing her hand up and down jessie’s back soothingly.

the canadian stands abruptly “no! god no, niamh, don’t you get it? she’s sick — really fucking sick — and she won’t let me help!” jessie confides as tears begin to flood her waterline “i just want to help. all i’ve ever wanted was to help”

niamh’s face cracks with guilt and sorrow. she’d watched the guilt eat her friend alive for too long now, never quite understanding why she stayed with you for so long. even when questioned, jessie kept her cards close to her chest. her teammates saw her go in and out of the psychologist’s office, look up easy to make but nutritious recipes, skim through articles about how to love someone with depression, but never had she outright said that something was wrong.

“jess you can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped” niamh points out delicately “and you can’t make her open up to you if she doesn’t want to”

jessie sighs and sits back down on the couch with head head placed firmly in her hands “i don’t understand what i’ve done wrong. i don’t understand why she won’t just talk to me”

niamh grabs jessie and guides her to her chest as she cries, her tears soaking the front of the lioness’s jumper. the canadian’s hands clutch at the soft fabric and she burrows her face into niamh’s grounding embrace “i’m so worried about her” she sobs harder “she– she lives alone and there’s no one to look out for her, or to make sure she’s taking care of herself”

“jessie it’s not your responsibility to baby her. she’s an adult” niamh says “why didn’t you tell us?”

“because you were all telling me to leave her!” jessie loudly exclaims, pulling herself up “every single one of you told me that it wasn’t worth it, that i deserve better”

the midfielder’s face is red and blotchy, tears cascading down her freckled cheeks as she further works herself up. “there is nothing i wouldn’t do for her, niamh, i’ve never loved someone the way i love her”

— —

when jessie tries to call you to tell you she’s coming to collect her things, it goes straight to voicemail. she gets left on read when she texts you but that’s better than nothing so she takes it as the small win it is and gets dressed in a hoodie of hers you like and a pair of jeans she plucks off the top of her clean laundry. nerves settle in the bottom of her stomach on the drive over and only get worse when she takes the elevator to your floor. there’s a brown box outside your door with her name written on it in bold, black permanent marker and she frowns.

the thought of not actually seeing you after she’s been making herself sick with worry causes her to pause. on one hand, you aren’t responding so she doesn’t even know if you’re alright, but on the other there’s a box at her feet with her stuff in it, so at the very least jessie knows you’re conscious. she nervously bites the skin around the thumbnail before knocking on your door three times and waiting, bouncing on the balls of her feet anxiously before stopping in fear that you’re looking at her through the peephole.

to her disappointment, you don’t come to the door. she picks up her belongings carefully and hangs her head low, trying not to be too disappointed. she runs into one of your neighbours that she’s met a few times when she’s had to leave early for training and sends her a kind smile.

the older woman notices the box in jessie’s hands and frowns “i was wonderin’ why i haven’t been seein’ you around lately” she says in her thick northern accent.

jessie hums “yeah it’s uhh… it’s a bit different” she cringes at herself, stepping aside so the older woman — shelley, she remembers — can get onto the elevator before her. shelley tuts and pushes her glasses up her nose as they fall.

“i hope it all works out for ya, she’s a sweet girl. a bit lost, maybe, but sweet”

all jessie can do is nod as the elevator stops two floors below your own “i’m about to beat caroline’s ass in cards” shelley grins cheekily as she steps out “bye jessie”

the canadian lifts her knee to steady the box whilst she takes one hand out from underneath it to offer a polite wave “bye shelley” she says as she watches the doors close on her again.

the drive back to her apartment feels slower then it actually it. worry clouds jessie’s mind like a plague, the thought of you wasting away, alone and in your apartment making her sick.

through your relationship she really tried to show you how much she adored you. whether it was bringing you lunch when you were at work, buying a bouquet of ‘just because’ flowers or simply just telling you how much she loved you.

it was one of her favourite things, telling you she loved you. she had uncharacteristically said it first one day when you dropped off her boots to her at training when she had forgotten them, giving you a kiss quickly before running off to avoid being late. that night the two of you were sitting on her couch eating dinner and watching trashy reality tv when you quietly asked her about it.

“penny for your thoughts?” jessie asks you as she watches you stare off into space.

you quickly snap out of your daze and shake your head “it’s nothing”

she knocks your shoulders together “c’mon, what’s up?”

nervously, you move the food on your pate around with your fork aimlessly. you can’t look jessie in the eye and out of worry, she places her dinner on the coffee table and sits up straighter “are you okay?”

you suck in a deep breath “when you, uhm… when you told me you loved me today, did you mean that?”

jessie’s brain short circuits and she thinks back to when she saw you this morning. her confession makes the blood rush to her cheeks and she nervously plays with the hem of her old ucla shirt.

she sees the way you’re still avoiding her gaze and places her hand over yours, stopping you from playing with your meal. you look at her with tight lips and wide eyes as you await her answer, your leg bouncing like you’re ready to bolt.

“of course i meant it” she assures softly, placing her hand on your cheek “it slipped out, yeah, but i meant it all the same”

you nod and slightly turn away from her, placing your own dinner on the coffee table next to hers. your lack of reaction begins to make jessie nervous. was it too soon? did you feel the same? has she just made it awkward?

“you don’t have to say it back!” the midfielder rushes “if you don’t feel the same you absolutely do not have to say it back. i would never expect you to if—”

“i love you” you mumble, cutting off her rambling.

jessie’s heart beats out of her chest and her head spins so much she’s dizzy. you were relatively affectionate and you had no problem dishing out compliments and praise, but there were times when you couldn’t really receive it.

the canadian softly smiles and immediately wraps her arms around you, hiding her face in the crook of your neck and she pulls you into her. you giggle as she falls back into the couch, the wide smile on your face everlasting.

“i love you” jessie mumbles back to you “so much”

——

jessie sighs at hearing the knocking from her front door. not only was she not in the mood to see anyone, she was kind of hoping to spend the rest of her day off cuddled up on her couch with the book she’s been meaning to finish. she stays where she is for a moment to see if whoever it is will go away, only to get four more louder knocks in return.

she throws the blanket off herself and shivers as her bare feet hit the cold floor. she all but throws open the door with a frown on her face, quickly being surprised by a woman she doesn’t recognise standing in front of her. she adjusts the strap of her purse on her shoulder and shifts her weight between her feet slightly.

“jessie fleming?” she asks

the canadian nods “yeah. can i help you?”

the brunette woman sighs with relief “i’m casey taylor, i work with y/n”

dread crashes over jessie and her hand tightens on the doorknob. “do you want to come in?” she asks stepping aside.

casey puts her hand up in protest “no i was just wondering if you’ve seen her lately? i know you two are—”

“we broke up” she interjects quickly “but she wasn’t too good the last time i saw her”

casey purses her lips and nods her head “right. okay. sorry for just turning up like this” she pauses in contemplation. “it’s just that i didn’t have your number and i only have your address because i had to pick y/n up from here once” she rushes, clearly recognising how weird the situation is.

jessie nods as she recalls the memory of the two of you standing on the street, her dressed in ratty old pyjamas and you dressed in your work slacks and knitted sweater. you had been running around jessie’s apartment half dressed whilst simultaneously brushing your teeth and doing your hair absolutely stressed out of your mind. jessie simply watched you run around as she packed you lunch and ironed your shirt, the feeling of domestic bliss lasting well until after you had kissed her quickly and rushed out her front door.

casey clicks her tongue “that’s all good though! i’ll just get going” the brunette turns to walk away, her kitten heels clicking on the pavement underneath her.

“casey!” jessie calls once she gets her wits about her, shaking the memory and following the woman down to her car “you didn’t come all the way here to just ask if i’ve seen her. what’s going on?”

“…we’re just worried. she’s out of sick leave and my boss wants to call the police to do a welfare check but i told her that i’d come to you first” she hesitates, fidgeting with her key chain in her hand “it’s not been this bad before” casey mumbles.

the midfielder sucks in a breath as her stomach drops. the out of character behaviour from you stirs something deep in her and she furrows her brows “i’ll go see her” she says before thinking “just let me… just let me see if i can talk to her, okay?”

casey’s reluctance is written all over her face but she must see something in jessie’s eyes that has her softening. she continues to fiddle with her keys before looking at her watch and then back to jess “okay” she says before fishing a pen and piece of paper out of her purse “please call me and let me know how she is, or get her to call me” she pleads whilst scribbling down her number.

jessie nods “of course i will”

#pegs woso #pegs writes #jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming fic #jessie fleming blurb #jessie fleming angst #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #woso angst

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Something something about Buck and learning and or teaching.

Something something about Buck teaching when he really needed to be learning.

I just keep thinking about how the show has increasingly - especially last season - put Buck into the role of 'teacher' - including his coma dream. (i'm using teacher for the lack of a better term!) and how in the aftermath of the coma dream - he's been trying to teach but it hasn't worked - instead he's been learning.

I've been musing on the fact that even back in season 1 Buck has been in a teacher role -

Abby learning to chose herself and go for her happiness,

Bobby learning to let people in and Buck being a major part of that because of their developing father-son type relationship

'teaching' Eddie that he could rely on other people for help

Maddie learning at Bucks hand that she didn't need to keep running, that she could lean on him for support and build a new life for herself

Ravi being tutored by Buck in the fire house

even Lucy being given advice by Buck - teaching her through his own experiences in dumb luck

Buck making himself into a teacher in his coma dream and the idea that all these people he has helped teach teaching him that he has a place with them and that he is important

and so many more examples through the seasons that I won't list or I'd be here forever!

Because there has been a lot of emphasis on teaching and learning since Buck woke up from his coma - he learnt he was good at maths, but then wasn't allowed to help Chris with his maths homework because it would be cheating.

used his maths skills to win at Poker - but got taught lessons even in victory - rather than teaching others lessons (whatever they might have been)

Natalia being interested in him because he could teach her about death and things going south pretty quickly when it became evident that Buck needed to learn how to live again rather than be stuck in death

And now we've had several mentions by Tommy of him teaching Buck things - teaching him to fly, teaching him Mauy Thai, all the way to him being his bi awakening is teaching him about a part of himself he didn't know. Things are turned on their head - Buck is the student not the master now

Even with Eddie this season, we've seen him teaching Buck things - rather than Eddie learning from him - Eddie handing over this really important thing going on with Chris - Eddie knowing that Buck would be a better option - that Chris would open up to him more - is teaching Buck about his importance in the Diaz family - re-enforcing that he is part of their life. Its also Eddie who has had the good advice for Buck this time rather than the other way round.

Something something about 'you like to be the guy with the answers' to Buck becoming the guy with the (maths) answers - only for it to fade away and now he's having to learn

Something something about the tie to Buck and death and the resurrection and how Christ was the teacher up to and immediately after his death and resurrection when he left others on earth to spread his teachings and he ascended to learn at the right hand of god

Something something about how that is the key to happiness and that is what Buck has figured out and that is why his journey to figuring that out has had him wearing the bright blue - because in Christianity - that shade of blue is the colour of the kingdom of heaven (because it is the colour of the sky!) so putting Buck in it at all these key markers of his journey is showing him as being on the road to ascension.

This post is a mess - I don't even know what it is any more! I started with one idea about teaching and Tommy and then more kept coming and we ended up here!!!!

#I know technically that they all teach and learn from each other and that others were also involved in these scenes #but I'm just interested in the fact that the tables have now been turned on Buck specifically and he is now the student #I think thats interesting as a character study - Buck who learnt to survive on his own and teach himself now getting to go back to learning #look here I am - atheist me blabbering on about religious symbolism around Buck once again!!! #Im fascinated in it though - especially in relation to Eddies catholic guilt and the way that the show is using much more #scientific symbolism around him - hearts and guts and the mind - all working organs (or groups of organs) #that have these metaphorical and intuitive attributes attached to them #but all have important real world functions that a human need to survive #and the fact that we've got Buck to this point of 'ascension' and Eddie effectively working on the last of the three - the gut #well I think that is pretty telling - once Eddie has his gut under control/ worked out (catholic guilt) then he will be in a position to #'ascend' as well. #and don't even get me started on the triangle symbolisim within all of this - the holy trinity and the trifecta of heart mind and gut #because they are playing into the triangles this season - literally every where!!! #I feel like at this point if they put Buck in purple (esp if hes wearing it when buddie go canon) - the holiest of colours and #one associated with magic -then I will be the one ascending - because that would be the ultimate #this show is insane!! #it makes me insane - I'm insane!! #evan buckley #eddie diaz #911 abc #911 meta

[the-massive-simp]

I've been thinking about fem/gn reader losing their virginity to kaeya, venti and kaveh... But maybe they accidentally get hurt and have to stop? I wanna know how they'd act when something like that happens (:

a/n: I love this kind of prompt <3 here you go anon! I'm slowly trying to fight writer's block so its only headcanons and not drabbles but I tried my best. sadly there's no venti because i dont really feel comfortable writing suggestive or nsfw things with him (i know i got your request before changing my rules so you did nothing wrong. sorry for the inconvenience). and remember everyone: a yes can turn into a no at any moment, and that's completely fine. consent is key. also I think that my love for kaveh shows in this one because his part is twice kaeya's one

warnings: it's not graphic smut but sex is mentioned so don't read if you're uncomfortable with that. no mentions of protections (make sure use them irl)

♡Kaeya♡

I imagine Kaeya being a super sex positive person, like for him sex is not a big deal as long as there's respect for the other person

so he was probably ready to have sex with you since you started dating 💀

but of course he didn't push you, he waited for you to be ready to have your first time with him

one time you have dinner at his place and an heated make up sessions evolves in discarding eachother clothes

he asks for your consent like 100 times while you two move to the bedroom

he knows how important foreplay is, so he makes sure to prepare you for the main act

then he slowly pushes himself in, an heavy breath leaving his lips as he hides his face in your neck, his arms supporting him so he doesn’t put all of his weight on you

you immediately feel uncomfortable

the stretch feels too much and its almost painful

at first you think it's normal but it doesn't go away even after he begins to gently trust in you

if anything, it gets worse, but he fails to notice tour discomfort

tears start to spill from your eyes as you put your hands on kaeya chest and tell him to stop

he immediately freezes, concern and guilt flooding his face

"Can I pull out?"

you nod and he backs away from your body, opting to sit back to give you some space

"Did it hurt? Did I do something wrong? Should I go get anything?"

he listens to you as you try to explain him how you felt

he goes getting a warm cloth to gently clean you up before embracing you in his arms

he feels really bad for not having noticed your discomfort sooner

you tell him that's its fine, you thought you were ready but maybe you were too nervous

you two keep talking about it for a while until you fall asleep

after that for a while he's a bit reluctant to try again because he doesn't want to hurt you

but when you tell him that you really want to take this step with him, he finally agrees

expect 3 hours of foreplay

♡Kaveh♡

now now

sweet kaveh loves to spoil you, taking you out to have dinner and go shopping

however his wallet does not enjoy it as much as he does

so you often have dates where you just go for a walk together or have a picnic

it's during one of those dates that he casually mentions the subject of sex

now, he doesn’t want to force you but he loves you so much and the idea of you two doing that together looks amazing to him

the conversation its not meant to push you, but rather to offer you an occasion to talk about it together and see if you feel the same about him

when you tell him you're ready (be it that same date or after years) he gets so excited

he can't believe you're going to share the magic moment of your first time with him of all people

he probably asks you if you two can go at your place since he doesn't want alhaitham around

once you two get down to business, he's the sweetest guy ever

he kisses every single inch of your body, basically worshipping you

makes sure to keep eye contact with you most of the time so he can notice if anything is wrong

after the foreplay, he lets you get on top of him, straddling his lap while his back is propped up by some pillows

he wants you to be the one in charge so you can choose the pace of events

the moment you lower yourself on him, he knows something is wrong

yes, he does feel a lot of pleasure from finally being inside of you, but he doesn't miss the face you make

when after a few seconds he sees tears pooling in your eyes he has the confirmation of his suspects

he immediately grabs your hips and pulls you up, making you sit on his thighs before comfortly rubbing your arms and shoulders

"What's wrong baby?"

he's so gentle with you, holding you close while you sniffle in his neck, hands resting on his chest

he strokes your hair and reassures you that you don't have to do anything if you're not ready, that he'd wait a thousand years for you, that he loves you as much as before, that sex is not the important thing in your relationship

he waits for you to calm down before asking you what exactly you think went wrong

if you tell him you want to try again he's completely fine with it, but he becomes even more attentive and gentle, making sure that this time you'll be able to enjoy it

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader fluff #genshin smut #genshin fluff #kaeya smut #kaeya x reader #kaeya fluff #kaveh smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh x reader smut #kaveh x reader fluff #kaveh fluff #kaeya x reader smut #kaeya x reader fluff

[getologist]

synopsis: you liked olives while suguru was the opposite.

a/n: the olive theory has been rotting my brain and thought it would fit much better to suguru :')

suguru looked down at his food quietly after the waiter served the plates on the table. you two were in a restaurant where he made a reservation for the both of you.

you noticed him getting quiet, usually whenever you two were on a date, suguru would spout many things like he had countless thoughts running in his mind to talk with you. however, he didn’t say anything for awhile ever since the food was served.

“what’s wrong?” you called him in a careful tone, holding his hand on the table to reassure him.

suguru looked up from his plate to you, guilt washing him like a whiplash when he noticed your worried expression.

he smiled a little and shook his head, picking up the fork to move the olives away on his food, “i… don’t really like olives. well, not that i hate it—i just don’t like it. and it’s really rude to not finish all of this.”

you tilted your head to the side, slowly absorbing what suguru was saying. he didn’t like olives. of course, many people don’t like olives. but people have different taste buds, and thankfully, you like them.

“i’ll eat them for you,” you rest your chin on your knuckles, “if you don’t mind.”

the two of you stared at each other in the midst of a crowded place, sitting beside the glass window with a candle on the side of the table—the light reflecting on your faces as the both of you drowned in each other’s eyes. the food was still steaming hot—you didn’t like eating foods that were newly cooked, and you knew suguru could handle those in one go.

the noise of people talking around the place didn’t work for the both of you to break each other’s gaze, it was like you two have your own little world. you didn’t know what to call it, what was happening between you, but you liked it. you liked this feeling creeping up into your bones—adoration and love.

“you really like olives, huh?” suguru grinned, “alright, you can take them.”

and just like that, the moment you beamed at him, smiling from ear to ear with a chuckle, your eyes shining as the light of the candle reflected with your orbs—his world stopped for a moment. damn, your smile always makes him forget to breathe. he hated it just as much as he loved it.

and the way the both of you stared at each other, it felt like it was the beginning of the world. amidst the rowdy place, the only thing you two can hear was each other—though no one was saying a word.

“are you allergic to olives?” you asked, twisting the pasta with your fork while staring at him.

suguru hoisted his fork with pasta in it to his mouth, the olives were now cannot be found on his plate.

truth is: suguru always liked olives just the same as you. ever since he was young, suguru would always asked his mom to put olives whenever she would cook his favorite pasta, or else, the young suguru would throw tantrums if he didn’t see any olives in it. he couldn’t eat pasta without olives until he grew older—not until he met you.

it was like a part of him changed, a big part of him when he learned that you also liked olives. suguru never told you that he also liked them, he kept it to himself until now.

“i’m not allergic to those, i just don’t like the texture and taste of it.” it was like a poison to his tongue when he said that. nonetheless, suguru always wanted to see you satisfied.

of course, suguru will always be suguru. and he would always pretend disliking olives just to give them to you and see you happy.

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