#and no one can convince me this man can draw anything

[sunset-snowfall]

"Beg for It"

Characters: Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Choso Kamo x gn Reader (Separate)

Warnings: Sub JJK men, edging, overstimulation, Toji being an asshole (not that bad)

Minors DNI!

Gojo Satoru

He always talks a big game about how he'll be the one fucking you senseless and making you scream It became pretty obvious that he was just a dumb whore for you to use But you didn't think he's be that pathetic! He always has a habit of cumming too quickly before you're able to, so you tried to think of a way to stop that from happening

One second, you had both been side by side on the couch, watching a show on the TV with very little interest on what was happening on the screen. The next, Gojo was gripping your hand, moving to the zip of his trousers like a man possessed. And being completely unable to resist those shining blue eyes, you had just sighed in defeat.

"Ngh, y/n, please!" You couldn't help but wonder exactly how you got yourself into the situation you were in, Gojo Satoru sitting on your lap, back against your chest, guiding his hand up and down on his pretty cock, the tip already leaking precum.

"You really think that's enough to convince me, hm?" You asked with a chuckle, the pace on his cock merciless as you forced him to jerk himself off, never letting off, even when he was whining about the pain in his wrist.

The only time you did stop was when his hips started to stutter and his mouth fell open, pulling his hand away swiftly as soon as he was about to cum. That had happened three times now and the poor thing was close to sobbing, all energy in his body completely gone as he rested against you, head turned slightly so you could see his pretty face flushed red, blue eyes glistening with tears, clinging to his eyelashes.

When you pulled him away for the fourth time, Gojo did actually start to cry pathetically, hips bucking up into nothing as he tried to bring his hand back to his aching cock, burning with the need for release. He turned to look at you the best he could, a pathetic sight, just for you.

"C'mon, Satoru... you know what I told you... if you want to cum that badly, you need to beg for it..." You cooed, moving your hand back to his cock, stroking it gently with a smile, kissing his neck, sucking and biting the pale skin gently.

The feeling of your skin against his flushed cock caused him to gasp and moan loudly, head dropping back against your shoulder. "Please, y/n, please! l've been such a good boy! Please let me cum! I need to!" His voice sounded so pretty as he cried for you, soft moans leaving his parted lips, eyes rolling back from the sheer pleasure of it all.

And as much as you would love to torture him more, you knew that it was quickly becoming too much for him, so you rubbed his thigh gently, whispering a soft "Such a good boy... Go ahead and cum for me..." And his grateful sobs were just so adorable as he was finally able to get the release he needed.

Geto Suguru

This man did not want to beg you for anything In his eyes, his power was far more superior to you and he owed you nothing, so he didn't have to ask to fuck you! But after you refusing for what felt like hours, he had no choice That doesn't mean he still did everything in his power to resist

"Like fuck l'm gonna beg for you! Get another slave!" Geto had been like this for some time, refusing to even look at you, eyebrows drawn into a frown, making his purple eyes seem even darker. If it wasn't for the tent forming in his trousers, you almost would have believed that he wasn't interested in you.

But of course you had noticed, and that was why you had shamelessly stripped in front of him, your whole body on show for him. However, Geto was stubborn and had simply turned away, but you could have sworn thatyou saw his cute dick twitch when he saw your perfect body.

"Come on, Suguru... I know you want this just as much as I do... I can see your boner, idiot." You shook your head with a laugh as you pointed, lips drawing up into a smile when you saw his hands immediately rush to cover it up, face red with humiliation. How fucking adorable.

Geto looked away with a red face, glaring off to the side. "Stupid whore, you really don't understand who you're talking to, do you?" He growled, eyes almost blazing with anger. In fact, if he wasn't hard right now, and if his face wasn't flushed with embarrassment like a schoolgirl, you may have been intimidated by his tone of voice.

Much to Geto's annoyance, you was extremely stubborn and wasn't going to let him go easily. "Come on, Suguru, you know it doesn't mean anything to me if you fuck me or not, l'll just find someone else... But you need me so badly, don't you? Just admit it.." You tugged down the zip of his trousers, palming his erection through the thin material of his boxers, already slightly damp from precum.

He grunted quietly as soon as you touched him, even if not directly, staring at you with his usual sharp gaze. "Don't fucking touch me!" He tried make his voice harsh and careless, but when you squeezed his pretty cock, he couldn't help the needy whine that left him, hips involuntarily jolting up. Both of you were surprised by the cute noise, and you couldn't help the grin on your face.

"Come on, Suguru... Can't lie now, can you?" You asked with a teasing grin, chuckling at his embarrassed blush. He was so beautiful like that. "You'll only need to ask, and then I'll be yours to use." Your tone was teasing as you looked back at him, surprised by the way he averted his gaze, biting his lip shyly. You never thought he'd actually do it!

But he was already looking at you with an usually soft gaze, lips drawn into a cute pout. "Only because I have to!" He reminded you quickly, and you just nodded with a laugh. "Okay, fine... y/n... Please... Please let me fuck you. I know I was bad, but I'll be good if that means I can be inside you! I need you, baby... need you so fuckin' bad..."

Nanami Kento

He'd be surprisingly willing to beg for what he wants He's a very respectful man, and if you tell him to do something, he'll do it immediately It does take him a while to be honest about what he really wants, though, but with your comfort, he becomes less shy But he only wants to do things that give you pleasure, such a gentleman

Kento was always doing things that would make you feel good, fucking you whenever you asked, setting the pace that you wanted, never depriving you of kisses and gentle touches, always making sure that you knew how much you were loved. He never asked for anything in return either, always insisting that your pleasure was more important.

And as wonderful as it was, always getting spoiled by him, you wasn't heartless and knew that there must be something else that the poor man wanted. Yes, your pleasure was important, but his was too! He mattered just as much as you did, but he always answered with the same thing.

"Y/n, I just want you to feel good, nothing else matters to me..." Whenever he spoke to anyone else, his tone was always bored and distracted, but when you was there, his expression and tone brightened significantly. If you thought about it, he was no different than a puppy waiting for his master to come home.

You took his hands with a smile. "I know you want me to feel good, Kento... but it makes me feel good when I'm doing the same for you, you know..." You pulled him closer into a gentle kiss, smiling lightly at how he reached up instinctively to cling onto you desperately. For someone with pretty closed body language, he always wanted to have a physical connection with you, always needing to touch you in some way.

When you pulled away, Kento's face was flushed and he was panting softly. Your heart softened as you looked down at him, cupping his cheek gently. "Fucking hell, Kento... You're so pretty..." And when you praised him, the blush on his face darkened slightly, cheeks burning in embarrassment.

You couldn't help but notice the way he was squirming in his seat as well, eyes closed tightly. A quick look downwards showed you exactly what he wanted to see. The poor thing was hard, just from kissing you! What a naughty little thing! But considering the fact that he resembled a puppy, you supposed it wasn't all that surprising. Clearly the poor thing couldn't help it! When he saw that you had noticed, he turned his head away in shame, trying to find a way to apologise, but as soon as he opened his mouth, you rushed to interrupt him.

"Uh-uh, baby boy... this is a perfect opportunity to make my Kento feel good, right? So don't be shy. Tell me exactly what you want..." When he saw that you really meant it, he nodded shyly, mouth opening a few times, but he never said anything. Guessing that it was hard for him, you almost stopped him, about to reassure him that it didn't matter, that he didn't have to, but he spoke before you could get the words out. "Y/n... could you... I- Fuck, I'm sorry... I just need your mouth so desperately... I need to feel your lips around my cock, please!"

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise at how honest be was, but you grinned and lowered yourself to you knees, gaze fixed on his flushed expression and the way his hands shook, uncertain of where to put them. He was truly adorable. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad teaching him how be a little more selfish once in a while.

Fushiguro Toji

This man wasn't as dominant as he looked, though of course he had his moments But a lot of the time, he wanted that reassurance of not needing to make decisions or having control over a situation Naturally, one thing that didn't change was his entitled attitude, always acting as if you owed him something It look you an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to get past that

"Come on, be a doll and stay still for me, will you?" You cooed as you looked down at the man underneath you. You was riding him, bur considering the fact that you had just came, you asked for just a second to compose yourself. It just so happened that he was also close at the time, and you couldn't help but grin at the look on his face when you stopped moving.

His eyes were dark with annoyance as he glared up at you, rolling his eyes as he completely ignored your words, reaching to the bedside table to grab a cigarette and lighter, a stunned grunt leaving him when you slapped them out of his hand. "What the fuck is your problem?" He growled as gripped your hips, lifting you up by the hips and slamming you back down on his cock, movement rough and forceful, making you moan loudly in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Toji, fuck! Fuck, slow down!" You groaned, eyebrows drawn into a frown as he moved you up and down mercilessly, only laughing lowly at your struggle to take his size. He had always been like that, a selfish prick who only thought about his own pleasure, not caring about how you felt in the slightest, but fuck, you loved it.

But you'd been told by several people that it would be more satisfying to put the asshole back in his place, even if it was a struggle considering your current predicament. And yet, you'd reserved your strength for the moment that he was about to cum and his grip on your hips loosened slightly. You grabbed his wrists as tightly as you could forcing them up and above his head, holding them in place as you frantically reached for the rope you had hidden under the pillow, tying his arms together.

Toji didn't really have much to protest about, though, when you continued to move your hips, working yourself up and down on your cock, shaking your head in amusement at his confused expression. Of course, that look on his face didn't last long as he came with a grunt, gritting his teeth as his body finally relaxed on the bed. You slowed to a stop, grinning down at him, kissing him gently.

"So what's the point of the rope, darling?" He asked with his usual smug smirk, such a calm expression on his face. You'd never done anything like that before, and he just assumed it was an adorable act of defiance and you'd just pout and untie him a minute later. He clearly didn't expect you to take a deep breathe before lifting yourself up and dropping yourself back down on his cock. It didn't matter to you as much considering the fact that you had had longer to recover, but for Toji, who had had less than a minute since he had last cum, the overstimulation stung.

That was when he realised why you tied his hands down, so he couldn't stop you. In that position, he could do nothing to get away from you, completely helpless on the bed. "Come on, baby just give a sec, yeah?" He asked with a groan, the muscles in his arms tensing as he tried to break free, but you just shook your head with a grin. "You don't want me to take a break, so you don't get a fucking break, got it? Not unless you ask really nicely..."

He scoffed at first, shaking his head as he rolled his eyes, but when he really saw that you had no plans on stopping, he was forced to reconsider. The feeling was too much, and while it was one of the best feelings in the world, it felt like he was on the verge of tears, and he would rather die right then than cry in front of you. "Fuck's sake, y/n, slow down!" And when you simply refused, he groaned weakly in protest, voice finally dropping to a soft plea. "Come on, y/n, just be a dear and slow down, please? I promise I'll do whatever you want me to, just give me a minute to recover!"

Choso Kamo

Choso was always such an adorable little thing, sweet and obedient for you, always so drunk on whatever pleasure you give him But he quickly became a bit of a brat because of how much you spoiled him He stopped asking for what he wanted, just assuming that he was entitled to everything Yet since Choso was usually such a good boy, it wasn't a problem that couldn't be fixed easily.

It didn't matter how matter many times you had fucked Choso or had allowed him to fuck you, he was still so sensitive, whining and crying prettily within the first few minutes, making your heart soften whenever you looked at him. He was also incredibly loud, always moaning and whimpering, drooling over himself like a whore. You couldn't help but adore him, but that meant that you often spoiled him, giving him whatever he wanted.

In your defence, you didn't expect him to become such a brat, always expecting things from you now. And it wasn't as if you minded. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was still a good boy for you, and he still showed you a lot of respect, most of the time. It was only recently that his attitide started to change. Of course, it was nothing too major, just his reluctance to ask for what he wanted, thinking he could just take it.

He was curled up comfortably on your lap, head rested on your shoulder, but he had no interest at all in the book you were reading, groaning in frustration as he rolled off your lap soon after, causing you to shake your head fondly at the sight of him sitting cross-legged on the floor. You just assumed that he was going to get up and find another way to amuse himself and so you looked back down at your book, shaking your head fondly.

That is, until you felt his hands pushing your legs apart and the sight of him kneeling between them. Before you could even speak, he was pawing at your trousers, trying to get them down, basically drooling as he looked up at you, eyes sparkling when he saw you looking down at him.

He didn't, however, expect you to grab him by his pigtails, tugging his head back by his hair, making him cry out from the sudden pain, blinking up at you with pretty tears in his eyes, a pout of "What was that for?" As he looked up at you, bottom lip trembling. It was typical of him to pull the tears whenever he wanted anything since you always gave him what he wanted.

This time, however, you were prepared for the tears as you simply hardened your expression, refusing to give in. "What do you mean, what was that for? Don't be such a stupid brat!" You tugged his hair roughly, grinning at his cute little whimper, only tugging his hair harder as he tried to get away. What did he really think would happen?

"You can't just take what you want, Choso. Stupid little whore..." The words were spilling out of your mouth, and it surprised you that Choso really seemed to enjoy it, face getting redder and redder with each insult, gasping weakly when you dropped the handful of hair again. "You want it that much, beg for it! You can do that for me, can't you?"

He nodded immediately, shifting his position as he looked up at you, hands clasping together, almost in a prayer. "Please, master, please let me feel good! I promise I'll never be a brat again! I'll always be a good boy for you!" His voice was so soft and sweet as he blinked up at you, and he whined pathetically when you didn't immediately give into him. "You don't even have to look at me, just let me make you feel good too!" And really, how could you deny a little whore like him?

#snow writes #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #toji fushigro x reader #choso kamo x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #choso kamo

[hotmencoreplus]

DOMESTIC 141 + KÖNIG HEADCANONS

Pairings: Captian John Price, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König x fem!reader (she/her)

Summary: Random headcanons of what TF141 + König are like domestically/ as fathers.

Warnings: Deployment, pure domestic fluff

Word count: 1000+

A/N: Choosing baby genders based on what I can picture more. I appreciate feedback! Let me know what you think :)

Likes and reblogs are much appreciated! Copying and reposts are not! My fics are only posted on tumblr, under this sideblog @hotmencoreplus for the account, @hotmencore

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE

‣ Definitely 1 girl, 1 boy.

‣ Is very big on respect. If either of them disrespect you, shout, or start being bratty, he is right on it.

‣ Got his boy into football at a young age, and is the loudest dad out of them all. He will be shouting to him on the field just like when he barks out orders to rookies.

‣ Always wants to go on fishing trips. Always. I feel like it would be something him and his daughter do more than anyone.

‣ He isn’t big on technology at all. Pretty much just because he just can’t wrap his head around it.

‣ I imagine him keeping up with the new iPhone models, but would not change a thing about them. This man has default everything on his phone (apart from his lock screen of you and the kids).

‣ He is 100% one of them dads that never know what to call airpods.

‣ “What was it he wanted for Christmas? Airbuds? Earpods? iBuds?”

‣ “Airpods, John.”

SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY

‣ 3 girls. You cannot convince me otherwise. And he definitely secretly hoped for all girls.

‣ When Simon is home from deployment, they go to him for everything.

‣ Nightmares? You will wake up in the morning to find him missing from your bed, only to find him asleep, half hanging off of one of their beds with his arms round them on his chest, snoring loud.

‣ Simon is so usually on edge, though has learnt to zone his girls out when they are arguing.

‣ “Dad, tell her I’m right.”

‣ “Hm?”

‣ He especially zones out when his oldest girl is talking about school drama. He isn’t listening to a word of it, sat on the living room sofa with his head leant back, eyes shut, humming every so often to make it seem like he is following.

‣ I don’t think he ever shouts. Raising his voice for assertiveness? Yes, but he never shouts at his girls. It reminds him of how his dad use to be with him, and the thought of being even a smidge like his dad really scares him.

JOHNNY ‘SOAP’ MACTAVISH

‣ 2 girls.

‣ He aspires for them both to be bestfriends.

‣ He aspires to be their bestfriends. Like he admires them both.

‣ He will never turn down a tea party invitation. Never.

‣ You’ll be cooking dinner, and have no idea where Johnny is. But you hear distant giggles, and follow them up to your daughters’ room. There, you find your military husband sat at a little plastic table, wearing a tiara, clinking tiny cups together with your daughters and their little bears.

‣ “Well it’s nice to see you again Mr. Snuggles. And who is this new gue- oh, hey lass. Wanna join?”

‣ When they start to grow up, he lets them experiment with make up on him.

‣ And seeing your military husband with sparkly pink eyeshadow on and red rosy cheeks really is a sight for sore eyes.

‣ When on deployment, he will tell any and every story of his little girls to anyone that will listen. He loves to show them off.

‣ This ‘anyone’ is usually Ghost.

KYLE ‘GAZ’ GARRICK

‣ 1 boy.

‣ Definitely has a modern style for his kids. He 100% bought him a pair of adorable tiny airforces.

‣ Is his son’s biggest supporter, in everything.

‣ He is big on praise. The biggest softie ever.

‣ Will put up every single painting his son has made. Your fridge is literally covered in paintings, drawings, pretty much anything made by your little boy, will be put up somewhere in the house.

‣ He vlogs literally everything. More than you.

‣ He watches them all when on deployment, missing you both, usually forgetting about sleep so that he can rewatch his little boy’s first steps for the 100th time.

‣ He also big on getting his boy into his own hobbies. Even though he has no awareness to suitable ages.

‣ You’re on the phone with him one night whilst he is away, as he talks to you about what he wants to get your son into.

‣ “When I’m back I’m gonna take us clay shooting. I reckon he’d like it”

‣ “He’s 2 Kyle”

KÖNIG

‣ 1 girl, you cannot argue.

‣ He worships the ground his babygirl walks on.

‣ He will literally do anything for her. And you, of course. But his little girl is the light of his life.

‣ He loves when he is home because he takes every opportunity to dress his little girl. Every single time he does he is internally screaming at the size of the clothes.

‣ Every. Single. Time. He will come home from deployment with a bouquet of flowers for his wife, and pull out a singular flower before he reaches the door to give to his babygirl.

‣ You are definitely the one wearing the trousers in the household, always having to put your foot down. Because there is no way this man could ever say no to his little girl.

‣ Is always taking photos of the both of you. Always. He isn’t often in photos himself, but will never miss an opportunity to take one of either of you.

‣ When he is home and takes care of your daughter whilst you go to work, he will be sending you videos and photos 24/7 as little updates.

‣ I can imagine him being the driest texter on the planet. Like he is a proper dad, will just send a ‘👍’ or one word answers. So these photos and videos will rarely ever have context. He will just send them randomly.

‣ Is completely unaware of suitable bedtimes for kids. You will spend a night out with your friends, and come back in at like 10pm to find him up with your toddler making pancakes.

‣ “König! She should have been in bed at 7pm!”

‣ “Oh”

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 platonic #könig #simon ghost riley #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #call of duty #dad!reader #husband!reader #könig fluff #fluff #domestic fluff #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley

[diorchids]

would you be willing to write about ares from pjo🙇‍♀️

mentoring.

᯾ CONTENT WARNING: pure smut, age gap, mentor!ares, virgin!reader, oral, penetration, choking. 𐔌 ᥩྀི. ˔ ، ꒱

you dreamt of him often, and he clouded your thoughts during the day, but you’d never thought of your mentor in this way. 

“but you want it. you’re tired of these--these boys. you need a man,” you sat up straight as he said those words. they were almost enchanting, convincing you to take the extra step.

his head cocked to the side as you drooled all over his cock, occasionally gagging as you forced yourself to take all of him in one go. “probably not as big as this, hm? biggest dick you’ve ever had, that’s for sure.” this was mentoring though. this is how it goes. if you want to be the best, you have to, in his words, “be prepared to take it on the chin,” 

ironic.

your spit-soaked lips wrapped around his thick, meaty cock as your tummy fluttered at the mere sight of his face, damp and dazed. your fingers cradled his heavy balls, squeezing and pulling the warm sacks as he pushed himself deeper into your throat. the control he had over you, was delicious. thick, calloused fingers wrapped tightly around your neck as tears pooled in your eyes, delicately rolling down your face.

he dragged his swollen cock against your wet cunt, dripping in your warm, sticky arousal. in all honesty, this was better anything he’d ever had. stripping away the innocence of a girl such as yourself. him being the one to take it; it was just perfect. 

“you’re real tight, y’know that? practically chokin’ me,” he spoke as you cried and whined at the pure assault as he held your waist in his hands, rubbing and soothing your stomach which must’ve been aching. “please--hurts!” you said, feeling the ache and stretch of his cock drawing in and out of you. "you can take it, doll, you'll take it."

it's what a good mentor does. he's doing you a favor.

#pjo #ares #ares god of war #ares pjo #ares greek god #pjo smut #luke castellan #dionna writes pjo #ares x reader #ares smut #ares x you #pjo x reader #pjo x you #dionnas asks (≧◡≦) ♡

[teabutmakeitazure]

OMG SO YOU AREE!!! i'm pakistani too, its so nice to have a creator from the same country aroundddd. makes me soo happy. especially since eid just passed and I was thinking of chrollo putting churiyan around my wrists gently to not break them and putting mehndi on my hands better than me

Since I consider him to be a sundresses guy, I make him as someone who'd like jhumkas too. (To those who don't know, jhumkas are a kind of earrings. They're a little big but they're very pretty!!)

I don't know what it is but the way they just exist is so pretty. Chrollo advocates for them to become a staple in your preferred jewellery. He's a simple man.

#henna is too much work to put on if you're putting it on yourself #and no one can convince me this man can draw anything #he can't even draw a straight line #Chrollo is an advocate of anything that looks pretty on you which in his opinion is a lot of things #but only a select few can truly make him go “oh now that's wonderful” #ask #zain-is-done2004

[iqmmir]

Hi im back . For some time

#.mimiming ❜ #um . hi im gonna slee soon but i missed you all so much #umm first of all im trying to ccut down in screentime because my therapist told me to #second. after two or three months of convincing myself that i literally do not care im only going to school for just a few more days (onl #y today and wednesday) i literally do not care #i almost keep crying . because well um #idk. i was originally planning on cutting off contact with everyone #because of stuff thats happened before #but my friends. my current friends dont just treat me as a therapist or something so #also one of my wives would probably hunt me down and kill me if i tried to cut off contact #but ill still miss this stupid class and this stupid school and all the stupid teachers and students #and the horrible tasting canteen food #and the playground ive played in eight times total despite being here for 12 years #idk man #also because of my periods my mood swings were so much worse #and i just ..idk i needed a break ig #anyways im back for sometime then ill start looking for a job #me friend said maybe we can do something together #idk #you can always send me asks and dms tho 👍👍 #im not really sure . like about anything right now #ill try to get the drawing requests done soon maybe #wild how time passes huh #god i need to stop acting like such a grownup im literally three years old

[scoutswritingcorner]

Can I request Hazbin Hotel characters reacting to an artist!reader that draws a lot but never shows anyone their work but one day accidentally left it out and their partner finds it and sees several sketches and finished drawings of them? Sorry if it’s an odd ask, I’m an artist and I thought it would be a cute idea I don’t see nearly enough, it’s okay if you can’t. Thank you either way!!!

Artist Rendition

Hazbin Gang x GN!Reader

TW:A little flirty with Angel’s reaction. Other than that none!

A/N: Not an odd request at all, Friend! For Angel’s part I did write for a male Reader and Fem Reader for Vaggie! KINDA SHORT I APOLOGIZE FRIEND!

-🦌Alastor🦌-

-🦌 Alastor was very curious to see you carry a sketchbook around all the time. He wanted to pry so badly.

-🦌 But he didn’t, he simply ignored the book and only ever asked about it if you were near him. You always get flustered and hide the book even further. Oh now he’s wondering what kind of dark secrets you have in there~

-🦌 But to his surprise when he finds it open and on a page, he sees drawings of him, he carefully flips the page and sees a half down sketch of him sitting in front of the fireplace.

-🦌 Oh boy you just made his ego inflate and his undead heart soar to new heights. His tail starts wagging and that’s the only way someone can catch how happy he is.

-🦌 Now? He’s going to poke a little fun at you, “My Dear, if you had to pick anyone in the hotel to be your muse who would it be?” 

-🦌 Silly deer man loves you and your abilities, he often tells you that your work needs to be displayed in a museum.

-🍎Lucifer🍎-

-🍎 Oh boy- when he finds out you can draw? Oh he gets super excited and asks if you can draw him a duck- even if it’s a little doodle! He doesn’t care!

-He doesn’t really ask or pry into your hobby much but he will admit he does want to see what you draw.

-When he does see that you drew him of all people he gets all flustered and he’s prideful cause his partner?? His darling little angel drew him?!?

-He will volunteer to pose for you, he’s used to sitting still for hours on end! 

-He will even pose naked if you want him to! Just say the word and he’ll drop his clothes right there.

-🎰Husk🎰-

-🎰 He watched you sit at the bar and draw to your heart's content and never really commented on it.

-🎰 When he does peek into your sketchbook it’s to pull behind the bar into a safe place so nothing ruins your work.

-🎰That’s when he notices the drawings and doodles of him and his tail curls happily. The way you captured him doing menial tasks sends his heart into overdrive.

-🎰 You were too good for him, damn it. The next time you find it? It has a little sticky note on the cover of your sketchbook and it has a little drawing of you with a small message, “Had to go out with Alastor. Love you, Dollface.” 

-🕷️ Angel Dust 🩷-

-🕷️ Oh this man- he loves it! You’re an artist and he’s also like an artist! But of a very very different genre.

-🩷 He also doesn’t pry much as he understands privacy. He wants to give you that as much as he can since he doesn’t get much of it.

-🕷️ Once he finds out you draw him? He’s over the fucking moon cause his man? His precious boyfriend draws him! 

-🩷Expect him to start flirting more and more but with art related flirts. “Come on, Suga’~ Draw me like one of your french girls~” im sorry. He’s very supportive!

-👑Charlie👑-

-👑 oh this baby girl..she’s been so busy lately that if she did notice it completely slipped her mind!

-👑 But when she finds your sketchbook? She gets super excited cause you draw this good?? She’s so proud that she immediately goes to find you!

-👑 She is another who fully supports you! You need anything, don't hesitate to ask!

-👑 Will try to convince you to start painting for the hotel! You can say no it won’t offend her.

-🎀Vaggie🎀-

-🎀 Much like Husk she won’t point it out or comment on it.

-🎀Will find out you draw her when she sees it when cleaning up and gets all blushy cause this is how you see her?

-🎀 Comes clean immediately about seeing your drawings and tells you how amazing they are.

-🎀 Shyly asks if she can pose for you next time, how could you say no to her?

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x gn!reader #angel dust imagine #angel dust x you #angel dust x male reader #hazbin angel dust #angel dust x reader #vaggie x reader #hazbin vaggie #vaggie #charlie morningstar #charlie x reader #hazbin charlie #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #husker x reader #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #husk x reader #husk x you #male reader #female reader

[runicarbiter02]

How would each CoD character react to you touching their cheek for the first time? (In a caressing way)

A/N: Oh my god, this is actually the cutest and I couldn't think of a better way to start off this blog, thank you for this, love! I hope you enjoy! ~ Hannah

ALEX KELLER

Oh, this man is absolutely melting the second your hand cups the side of his face.

The goofiest damn grin on his face, corners of his eyes crinkling, soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

"How ya doing, sweetheart? Hanging in there?" Man is always concerned with you and your well-being.

Absolutely is the type of person to just completely nuzzle into your touch, soft sigh of content leaving his lips.

You aren't getting your hand back any time soon. Try and pull away, and he will absolutely pull the kicked puppy look. You can't bring yourself to pull away anyway.

ALEJANDRO VARGAS

"Oh, is there something you need, mi vida?" This motherfucker and his sweet, smooth voice. Love him.

He will gently draw you in close with a hand on your waist, that signature cheeky grin on his lips. He'll gently take your hand in his and just press sweet kisses to your fingertips.

This will lead to him pulling you aside for a moment, peppering you in sweet kisses and showering you in the most endearing compliments in Spanish.

Expect to be walking away with a spring in your step and a flushed face.

GARY "ROACH" SANDERSON

At first, he will look wildly confused, his brows furrowing slightly and his head cocking to the side.

"What's up, hun? Everything okay?" He signs the term of endearment with so much passion every time, it is absolutely the sweetest and most heartwarming thing. Any term of endearment he uses is always signed with more passion than anything else.

Once you let him know you just wanted to love on him, this cheeky little shit is flirting with you like crazy.

"Oh, just wanted to love on me, huh? Well, there's more ways you could-" He cuts his signing off with his own laughter when you playfully shove his face away, and he follows after you, making obnoxious kissy noises.

He makes it up to you, though, with the most affectionate kisses. He's goofy and that reflects in how he shows you his love.

(Can you tell I love Roach? I love him very much.)

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH

Johnny will take your other hand, place it on his other cheek, and will gently press your hands against his cheeks to squish his face.

He hums happily, reveling in your touch as his eyes shut and his lips curl into a smile.

"Always know what I need before I even do, mo chridhe." This man is so, so whipped for you. Looks at you with so much love and affection that you might as well melt before him.

Do expect this to end up with you wrapped up in his arms, snuggled close, the Scotsman whispering some of the stupidest jokes known to man to you in an effort to get you to laugh.

JOHN PRICE

I have like a very specific image in mind for this one!

He tends to work himself to the bone, getting lost and caught up in his work, and its very, very hard to get him out of it. It's one of those nights where you find him hunched over his desk, nose buried in his work.

You walk up behind him, gently resting your hand on his cheek and he pauses, tilting his head back to look up at you.

Despite the exhaustion, his expression softens, the tender smile on his face highlighting the crow's feet at the corners of his eyes.

"It's late, isn't it...? Mmm... Alright, dearest, I'll head to bed."

He gently grasps your wrist and tilts his head to press a fleeting kiss to your palm, and then to the pulse point on your wrist. It takes a bit more convincing before he's off to bed.

(I'm a bit biased, I'm a major John Price simp if you couldn't tell.)

KEEGAN RUSS

Look, I firmly believe our resident masked men are softies, but they're all different in terms of their softness.

This man is a softie with you, but good god, is he suave and flirty.

"Mmm, what's up, kid...? Just looking for an excuse to see my face, hm? All you had to do was ask." It should be illegal how much this man's voice sounds like a silky purr.

Soft kisses to your fingers, knuckles, and the back of your palm. Fleeting kisses that barely meet, brushing against your skin and leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"Always so sweet for me, kid."

KÖNIG

(Apparently this man is a colonel? And from what I've seen, if he joined at 18, and if we take the average amount of time it takes to get to that rank... This man is likely in his early 40s. Dilf König? Dilf König.)

Masked man number two! Softie, but different from Keegan. This man is the shy sort of soft.

I imagine this would happen after he shows you his face for the first time. He grew up bullied for his appearance, among other things, and its made him rather insecure about his looks.

When you gently cup the side of his face after studying him for a moment, he heaves a shuddering sigh and averts his gaze shyly. But, the second you tell him how handsome he is, his face goes pink and he flushes shyly.

"Ah, meine Sonne und Sterne... You're going to make me melt." He then proceeds to kiss you softly on the forehead and tells you how much he loves you.

KYLE "GAZ" GARRICK

A pleasant flush works its way onto his cheeks and he gives you that beautiful smile full of sunshine.

"Missed you, lovely. You been taking good care of yourself?" Sweet, heartless man that he is, worrying about you even though he looks exhausted after his most recent mission.

Gently draws you into him and just hugs you tight, pressing his face into the crook of your neck and sighing happily. The second your cologne or perfume washes over him, all tension leaves him completely.

"Missed this. Missed you." Whispered words against your skin. He gently sways in place with you as you two embrace, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. Fully cherishes the moment.

"How's about some takeout and we finally watch that show you've been talking about? The House of the Dragon, right? Hopefully its better than the last few seasons of Game of Thrones." You have a stellar date in as you binge the entirety of The House of the Dragon and make up for lost cuddling time.

(Gaz does NOT get enough love and it's criminal. Perfect boyfriend/husband material right here. I adore him. Also? Man is absolutely gorgeous? Best man.)

NIKOLAI

(Russian dilf? Yes please! Underrated man right here.)

Late nights in bed, curled up with him are always the sweetest. Soft whispered nothings as you both lay together, skin on skin, fully content in a post sex haze.

He shoots you a lazy grin as you cup his face, his hand gently rubbing up and down the expanse of your back. "What's on your mind, мое солнышко? Laying there looking so stunning..."

Soft, playful kisses are placed along your jaw, a cheeky smirk on his lips when you begin to protest, laughter in your voice.

"One more round wouldn't hurt... We can sleep in tomorrow morning, Золотце." You know damn well you're going to be exhausted in the morning as he takes the time to worship every inch of your skin.

RODOLFO "RUDY" PARRA

(Rudy, my darling, my beloved, my SWEET! This man is also criminally underrated even though he's PERFECT husband material. SHAME!)

He happily returns the favor as you rest your hand against his cheek, his hand cupping your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours.

"Long day, cariño? Mmm, I understand... I'll draw us a bath and we can relax." He takes your hand, pressing sweet kisses to your knuckles before he draws a bath for the both of you.

You both spend most of the evening in the tub, you resting against his back as he holds you close, featherlight kisses pressed to your skin as you both talk about your day.

The both of you take such good care of each other, and there's never less than 100% put into your relationship on both sides.

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

Masked softie number 3: Tender and longing edition.

His night terrors don't often wake you; he's usually fairly good at hiding them. The first time he does wake you is during a particularly violent one that has him thrashing and crying out in his sleep.

He wakes not long after you do, sweating and panting, his voice hoarse from how much he had been crying out. Once you're sure he's fully conscious, you gently rest your hand against his cheek and guide him through a grounding routine: 5 things he sees, 4 people he knows, 3 foods he likes, 2 things he hates, and one thing he loves.

As he talks, you become his sole focus as the night terror fades into the back of his mind, the grounding method working wonders.

And when it comes to the one thing he loves, he shuts his eyes and presses further into your touch, a few tears streaking down his cheeks. One hand gently clutches your wrist while the other rests against yours, holding your hand against his cheek. He doesn't need to say it. You know.

You always, always know. And with a kiss to his forehead and your thumb stroking against his cheek, you let him know. I love you too.

[I'M SORRY IF ANY OF THE TRANSLATIONS ARE INCORRECT, I TRIED MY BEST TO GET THE PROPER ONES!]

Mi vida - My life; honey

Mo chridhe - My heart

Meine Sonne und Sterne - My sun and stars

мое солнышко - My sunshine

Золотце - Honey; darling

Cariño - Honey; dear

TAGLIST:

@floral-force

#cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod imagine #cod x reader #alex keller x reader #alex keller #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro vargas #gary roach sanderson x reader #roach x reader #gary roach sanderson #soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #captain price x reader #captain price #john price #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ #konig x reader #konig #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz mw2 #nikolai x reader #nikolai mw2 #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #rudy x reader #rudy parra #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley

[katiexpunk]

Scarlet Haze - Part 2

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

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

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

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

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

Part 1 | Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications

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

Joel Miller is a bad man. 

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

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

What he’s doing right now tops the list.

He should avoid it. He knows he should. 

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

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

He should wait. A good man would wait. 

But then you started whimpering. 

Fucking whimpering. 

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

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

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

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

Fuck it. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. He’s — 

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

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

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

You adjust to prop yourself up slightly. 

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

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

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

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

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

It’s so intense. He’s intense. 

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

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

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

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

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

++++

Boston QZ, Fall 2022

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Something like that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, “Maybe so.” 

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

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

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

++++

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then you see him. 

Joel Miller. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Didn’t know you were a doctor.” 

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

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

"How did you know I was in trouble?" 

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

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

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

His eyes lock with yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I promise.”

Joel nods once, satisfied. "Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

A playful smile dances on your lips.

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

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

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

++++ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You turn and look up at him through your lashes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh – what are you doin’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wants you, but not like this. 

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

“So what if I am?” you giggle. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

++++ 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Baby. Baby. 

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

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

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

“What’s that now?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Go on, baby.” 

There it is again. Baby. 

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

“Oh. Well, that explains –” 

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

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

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

“What do you need, baby?” 

“I need you to fuck me.” 

Shit. No going back now.

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

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

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

His cock twitches.

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

“Joel, I’m begging you,” you plead.

“Are you sure?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on, baby. Wanna feel you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You focus on the feeling of his thrusts.

Back and forth. 

In and out. 

Back and forth. 

In and out. 

You’re drunk off it, off him.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good fucking girl,” he praises. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So…Daddy, huh?”

Part 3 - Coming 5/19

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

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

[bruisedboys]

reader and peeta showering together after a hard day (just some innocent intimacy nothing suggestive) 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 love this man sm 😭🤞🏻🤞🏻

!!!!!! thank you for the req angel <3 this inspired me so so much! thanks for kickstarting my writing for peeta era hehe

peeta mellark x fem!reader 16+ please for non-sexual nudity. not really in universe but can read as post mockingjay if you want it to!

Peeta’s sketching on the bed when you come inside. One knee propped up with his back against the wall behind the bed, his sketchbook pressed against his thigh. His golden hair falls over his forehead, messy where he’s been too distracted by his drawing to push it back.

He looks up when you enter, smiling a bruising smile you don’t feel deserving of.

“Hey. Hey, sweetheart.” It’s alarming how quickly he sets aside his book and pencil to reach for you, as if he hadn’t been immersed in his sketching mere seconds ago. “C’mere, I missed you.”

As much as you’d like to be wrapped in his strong arms right now, you’re filthy, and he’s just changed the sheets earlier today.

“I can’t. I’m all dirty, see?” You wiggle your dirt-covered hands at him. You’ve been in the garden all afternoon. Time drifted away from you as you planted a new batch of tomato seeds. By the time you were done, the sun was setting and you hadn’t even realised. Your knees are stained dark brown and you’ve got dirt up to your elbows. “I’ll shower first, then we can cuddle. Sorry, baby.”

Peeta looks decidedly put out. You turn away from him before he can convince you any further, because you know if he looks at you like that for much longer you’ll give in. You pull fresh clothes from your side of the dresser and then move down the hallway to the bathroom.

The showers warming up and you’re starting to undress when Peeta knocks on the door. It’s unlocked, and he doesn’t have to, but he knocks anyway.

“It’s me,” he says. Who else would it be? You think. Silly man. “Can I come in?”

You pull the door open for him instead of answering. You’re halfway out of your clothes but it doesn’t phase him. Sure, he looks, but not for long, and not in a way that would suggest anything other than affection.

“Hey,” he says. He pushes the door closed behind him. The shower runs in the background, a peaceful thrum. “Do you mind if I join you? You can say no.”

You huff a soft laugh. He should know by now that saying no to him is a near impossible feat. “Yeah, of course. I don’t mind.”

You finish undressing quickly, eager to be clean and warm. Peeta leaves to get fresh towels while you hop in under the hot spray. The majority of the dirt on your skin has been rinsed by the time he gets back. You hear him moving around the bathroom for a minute or so before he pulls the shower curtain aside. You let him in, moving aside to make space for him. It’s tight, but it’s not uncomfortable. Weirdly, it’s almost a perfect fit for the two of you.

Peeta moves under the shower head and the water quickly drenches one half of his hair and one of his shoulders. His big hand slides over your hip and he carefully moves you into a position where you’ve both got equal spray.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. He’s so close you could count his freckles, each light brown spot scattered across his collarbones.

“Hello,” you say back. His thumb rubs your hipbone, up down, up down. “Is it too warm?”

“No, it’s perfect.”

You smile and touch your palm to his cheek. “You okay?” You’re not asking because he seems out of sorts. You’re asking because you want to know, and if he’s not he’ll tell you. He does the same for you. It’s just how you love each other.

Peeta nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. How did your gardening go?”

You beam. You love that he cares about what you care about. “Good. We’ll have tomatoes growing out of our ears by summer, I think.”

Peeta laughs. It’s a brilliant sound that bounces off the shower walls and warms your chest. “Awesome,” he grins. Then, “Hey, you’ve got dirt under your ear.” He reaches behind you to grab the flannel hanging on the shower caddy. “Look that way for me?”

He holds you still with a hand at your jaw and rubs the dirt from your skin so gently you barely feel it. His touch is like a magnet — you’re drawn to it over and over again, no matter how generously he gives it to you. When he asks if he can wash your hair, you’d be crazy if you said no.

“Yeah, please,” you tell him, past caring how desperate and needing of his touch and love you are. He knows, anyway.

Peeta turns you by the hips so your back is to him, then gently tilts your head backwards. You hand him your shampoo and he squeezes a dollop onto his hands, rubbing his palms together before spreading the bubbles over the top of your head. He’s very, very gentle with it, much more than you’ve ever been, massaging the soapy, sweet-smelling bubbles into your hair, fingers rubbing circles onto your scalp. His dedicated touch, along with the gentle thrum and warmth of the shower spray, is enough to almost put you to sleep.

“Okay, you can rise now,” Peeta speaks up. His tone is soft and you suspect he’s noticed your sleepiness. He gets very soft with you when you’re tired. “Shut your eyes, please.”

You do as he says and he directs you under the spray. He holds a hand over your forehead like a barrier so the bubbles can’t escape and sneak into your closed eyes. The action in itself makes your chest ache. He cares more than you could ever comprehend.

When he’s done rinsing you finish scrubbing the dirt from your knees, your elbows. Peeta washes his own hair, and you help him rinse the same way he did for you.

“Thank you, angel,” he says. Warm water and soapy bubbles stream over his shoulders, his neck. His eyelashes are wet, clinging to each other in sparkly triangles. He dips down and kisses your shoulder, then your cheek. “Love you.”

You beam. You love him more than anything. You get on your toes to kiss him properly, a warm press of your mouth on his, a promise for more of the same later, when you’re clean and dry and fed. “Love you too, Peeta.”

-

thank you for reading! please consider reblogging if u enjoyed 🤍

#★ mal writes! #peeta mellark #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark x y/n #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark x fem!reader #peeta mellark x female reader #peeta mellark drabbles #peeta mellark drabble #peeta mellark blurb #peeta mellark blurbs #peeta mellark fanfic #peeta mellark fanfiction #peeta mellark fic #peeta mellark imagine #peeta mellark imagines #peeta mellark oneshot #peeta mellark oneshots #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark x reader fluff #thg #thg series #thg x reader #thg x you #thg x y/n #the hunger games #the hunger games x you #the hunger games x y/n #the hunger games x reader #the hunger games x fem!reader

[dcxdpdabbles]

Cave boy Danny gets kidnapped by the joker. He's missing for an hour and a half at most but when the bats find him, he's sitting unbound in a chair looking at the jokers corpse. Danny's face has a soft smile and when asked what happened Danny just says 'justice'

Later they find video of Danny while tied up reading the jokers mind for absolute filth leaving him cry and broken on the floor, and the the camera glitches out and cute for a few minutes then comes back on to the joker dead and Danny free.

Danny wants it to be known that he hadn't gone looking for trouble, no matter what Tim Drake says. He only meant to go to the mall and do regular teenage things with the ward of cash Bruce had handed him.

He hadn't been lying when he said the mall back home was small, and after a lap, it got really dull. It was more entertaining to go to Nasty Burger than to linger around the few shops selling the same thing.

Alfred had let it slip the last time he came around for Danny's clothes- the old man had thrown a fit when Danny attempted to do his own laundry, and then Danny threw a fit claiming he had to do some of the chores or he wouldn't live there, and they came to an agreement to do 50/50 of responsibilities- that the mall was one of Bruce's favorite places to be as a teenager.

He didn't fully outsay it, but Danny could tell Alfred was getting tired of him not venturing out. Alfred also seemed bothered by Danny's lack of motivation for anything- and probably feared that he was slowly falling into depression for being stuck here.

Granted, Danny did not allow them to see him do anything besides sleep, eat, and laze about- with a shower every night- he could see where his concern was coming from. Danny was most active at night when he left a duplicate- he could not make it move or speak since it was a new power, so it placed it in his bed to appear asleep- and rushed away for a few hours to work on his ship.

So Alfred not so casually told him of Gotham Mall, with its five floors containing five hundred and twenty stores. The Mall at Amity Park only has seventy-one stores.

Danny was dying to see it just to see a mall that big.

Then the Butler made the deal sweeter by suggesting Danny do his outing alone, without his Wayne bodyguards, and convinced Bruce to give him some pocket money.

Nine hundred! Bruce's idea of pocket money is nine hundred, which means Danny could have an excellent time shopping. So Danny took a shower, threw on a nice pair of jeans that hugged all the right places- according to Steph- a black T-shirt, and scurried down the stairs.

At the door, Bruce talks in low voices with his sons- Damian and Jason- but all three turned to him once he appeared.

Damian's regular haughty expression evaporated once he caught sight of Danny's shirt. His jaw slacked in surprise as he breathed, "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this? Alfred had it printed on a shirt for me." Danny gestures to the notable constellations floating in space's blue, green, and purple gasses.

Orion was the center of the work, being the only one with a figure shaped into a human with the stars that made him visible inside his body. The other constellations floating around him remained bright spots with no lines.

"I drew you that," Damian tells him as though Danny forgot where the image he passed along to Alfred had come from.

"Yeah, and I put it on a shirt 'cause it's awesome. I love it from the moment I saw it." Danny shrugs, watching with an amused grin as Damian's face flushes bright red.

The younger boy looks down at his feet, but not before Danny can spot the pure, unadulterated glee his words have caused in the kid.

"You have some taste, it seems." Damian mutters. Jason and Bruce are beaming, their eyes sparkling in a way that would belie their relationship is through adoption instead of blood.

"Most parents put their kid's drawings on the fridge instead of wearing them," Jason teases, and Danny shrugs.

"Most parents have talentless kids." He barely bites back the rest of his words. Damian isn't my kid because I am not Bruce, and he hurries to the doorway. "Anyway, I'm heading out. I'll be back by eleven,"

"You'll be back by nine." Bruce corrects, taking on the tone of a scolding parent. Danny is violently reminded of his own dad when Jazz is dating Johnny. He misses him. "Gotham is dangerous after dark. Alfred got us all to let you go alone, but that doesn't mean you can be reckless."

"Please, what's the worst that can happen?" Danny asked, practically skipping the stairs to the Uber Alfred called for him.

The worst that could have happened was that a stupid clown, calling himself Joker, had attacked the mall while Danny was browsing a gothic store.

He had been comparing two black dresses, trying to figure out which one Sam would prefer- and no, he was not blushing or feeling giggly thinking of her reaction. Just like he hadn't done the same when he picked up a personal electric planner for Tuck two floors down- when the Joker's goons had literally yanked him out of the store.

He only had a few minutes to blink in the bright light, as "Hot Topic" had been low light sightings for the store's ambiance, before he was thrown at the feet of a cackling man in purple.

His hands had been tied behind his back as they moved him, and Danny could only applause their quick hands. It's impressive for them to get it done with how much he thrashed.

Danny's first thought of the purple suit man was, "That's a ghost if I ever darn seen one," only to realize that his ghost sense had not gone off. The man just looked like that. How unfortunate.

"Well, well, if it isn't Brucie's newest charity case!" Joker shouted, yanking Danny's face up from his chin and leaning close to his face.

"Dude, personal space." He says, scrunching up his nose as the Joker's breath hits his nostrils. "Also, invest in some dental insurance."

"Oh, we have ourselves a jokester here, folks!" The clown's laugh did not hide the anger or shy away from madness. Danny suddenly felt he may have to tap into Phantom to get away from him.

This was a being that hurt others just because he could. Joker very existence was to simply harm others.

The very opposite of Phantom.

All of his instincts were screaming as Joker put his arm around Danny's shoulder and told the watching horrified crowd. "I'm a bit of a jokester myself. Why don't I give you private lessons and let these people judge whose death is funnier? Little Danny Kane or Bernad Dowd?"

The crowd parted, most gasping in horror as another teenage boy was dragged to the front. He was covered in wounds, bleeding a slow, sluggish mess, and his head bobbed as if though he was about to faint.

Danny's pupils shrunk, and his core raged as the boy was backhanded in front of him. Joker- the soon-to-be dead man- spread his arms, shouting for the whole world to be heard. "This is a special performance for Timothy Drake-Wayne. I hope you enjoy watching your boyfriend and adoptive brother partake in my game as a thank-you for your generous donation to the families of the last people I made laugh! I want everyone to know that any more donations to such families will have a similar show for their own loved ones!"

Danny's mind went white with a loud ringing, and somewhere far away, he was aware that Joker had them moved to a room to play his game.

He barely registered the camera being set up or tied to a chair surrounded by tortuous-looking items. He didn't even notice poor Bernard- already lost consciousness- tied to the chair beside him.

He only had eyes for the laughing man in purple.

But it was not Danny watching him, it was Phantom.

And Phantom was fresh out of mercy.

"No need for such an ugly frown," Joker chuckles, unaware of the ghost's core vibrating with the need to Protect what it recognizes a an attack on the Waynes.

An attack on his people.

"Let's turn that frown upside down!" Joker says, and- those are his last words.

Phantom pounces.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

It takes an hour and a half for them to be found. It might have been more, but Danny had only counted for that amount. Bernad had been stabilized after he performed some emergency field first aid on him, trying his best to not look at the smear of bones and guts that used to be Joker.

Bruce breaks down the door with Tim rushing to his boyfriend in a frantic cry for his lover's name.

Danny steps back to let him have better access. He follows beside Bruce, watching Tim hold Bernad to his chest, breathing him in. He'll be fine. A few bruises and broken bones, but Bernad will leave.

"What happened?" Batman demands.

Danny looks up to stare at him right in the eyes despite the mask blocking his pupils. "Justice."

Bruce doesn't say anything in response, but the silence- for the first time since he found Danny in that cave- is heavy and weary.

Danny needs to hurry with his repairs. He thinks he is about to wear out his welcome at Wayne Manor. It's a pity he was just starting to like it there.

Master post link

#dcxdpdabbles #Cave boy #Part 6 #Offsecreen Murder #Danny just showed that he does have Bruce Wayne's volient reaction #Bernard Dowd #Damian was so excited about the shirt too #Danny was just minding his busniess

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Prettiest Sight

Pairing: Stucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: really just cockwarming technically, sort of exhibitionism/voyeurism, Bucky has a filthy mouth even in such a casual setting, honestly this isn't much compared to some of my others lol

Genre: fluff and smut

Summary: Steve wants to draw you and Bucky and you plan to let him

***

You stride into your room humming to yourself as you finish a text. When you enter, Steve and Bucky are lounging around, Steve at the desk, and Bucky on the couch watching TV.

"Oh hey guys. I didn't realize you'd be back already." You say.

"We just went on a coffee run." Steve reminds you, tapping your coffee cup with his pencil.

"Well yeah I know but sometimes that shop gets busy." You shrug.

"Where did you get off to princess?" Bucky asks.

"Just had some laundry I thought I'd take care of while you were out. I just sat up there til I could put them into the dryer so I didn't forget." You explain grabbing your coffee from the table and taking a sip.

"Oh okay."

"What ya doin Stevie?" You ask looking over his shoulder where he's hunched over at your desk.

"Just some sketching." He mutters.

"He's been at it most of the morning. Even at the coffee shop, he was doodling away while we were waiting." Bucky tells you.

"Really?" You hum. "Can I see some of them?" You ask.

"They aren't like- great or anything just, trying some things." Steve mutters handing you the sketchbook. You flip through the drawings with wide eyes. Some of them are simple, outlines and such some barely more than shadows, but other pages are much more detailed, vivid depictions of places and things and the occasional person.

"These are impressive Stevie. You shouldn't sell yourself short." You tell him sitting down in Bucky's lap.

"Are these just strangers?" Bucky asks peaking at one of the drawings with an arm wrapped around your waist.

"Yeah- I don't draw people a lot but every once in a while I'll try." Steve shrugs.

"Well you could always draw us if you want the practice." You say with a wink. You're pretty sure he'll never actually take you up on the offer but you're not joking.

"Wanna draw us like one of your French girls Stevie?" Bucky smirks resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Don't tease. I was being serious." You lightly smack Bucky's thigh in reprimand.

"Actually- I did have this one idea." Steve mutters his cheeks tinged pink slightly.

"Really?" Bucky blinks at him.

"You wanna draw us?" Even you're surprised.

"If you guys don't mind."

"Of course we don't. What's the idea?" You ask. Steve doesn't answer immediately, but the tint in his cheeks is spreading in the space left after your question.

"Oh shit he really does want to draw us like Jack's French girls." Bucky laughs.

"Stop it." You roll your eyes. "Is that it Steve?"

"Well kind of. Unfortunately, my recollection isn't great otherwise I would just draw it from memory but- it's just that you always look so beautiful when Buck or I am filling you I thought it'd be a nice moment to immortalize." Steve explains and the revelation sends a shiver down your spine and has your core clenching slightly.

"Oh." You breathe out.

"You- wanna draw us with her sitting on my dick?" Bucky asks and you almost squirm at his words, the imagery now vividly at the forefront of your mind.

"It's a real pretty sight." Steve says.

"I mean I know it is Steve I'm just- surprised. You've never been one for that kind of exhibitionistic interest." Bucky says.

"Whatever man." Steve rolls his eyes. "Y/n? What are you thinking?" He asks you hesitantly.

 "I mean I'm not- against it. You just want me like in Bucky's lap?" You ask.

"Yeah pretty much."

"Well if Bucky's fine with it-"

"You'll never have to convince me to do something that involves you on my dick." Bucky shrugs.

"You are so vulgar." You roll your eyes.

"You had no problem with my vulgarity last night princess." Bucky kisses the back of your neck.

"Down boy." You joke. "Stevie you wanna give this idea of yours a try or what?"

"Now?" He blinks.

"Yeah why not? We're all here and you've got your sketchpad." You shrug. "Just tell us what to do and we can make it happen."

"O- okay, well you'll need to strip." Steve says.

"Risque." Bucky jokes as you climb off of his lap to tug off your shorts and t-shirt.

"You too Bucky." Steve says.

"Can do." Bucky winks at Steve shuffling down his jeans and pulling his shirt over his head.

"Actually- y/n put on one of our shirts that you've highjacked." Steve says.

"Hey you guys leave your clothes in here half the time." You protest but you grab one of Steve's shirts from your drawer anyway. You put it on and walk back over to Bucky on the couch.

"And the other half of the time you just go into our rooms and take things." Bucky says tapping your butt lightly. You stick your tongue out at him in response and he chuckles.

"Anyway, do you need a little warm-up y/n?" Steve asks.

"A warm-up?" You ask.

"Well yeah- you'll be sitting for a little bit, you both need to be somewhat comfortable." Steve says as if it's obvious.

"Oh." It's all you can come up with in response.

"Come here doll, let's get you ready hm, although- I'd bet you're already dripping for us like always." Bucky spins you to face him, a hand wrapping around your thigh, fingers settling incredibly close to your center. Close enough that if he stretched the digits he'd be touching, but where they are now it's just enough for you to be hyperaware of the closeness.

"Now's really not the best time for one of your games Bucky." Steve cautions.

"There's never a bad time for those." Bucky winks. Steve rolls his eyes which only makes Bucky's smirk widen as if he has every intention of riling you both up.

"This is supposed to be about me drawing you two babe, can't do that if you're just gonna make a mess of her til she's begging for both of us." Steve says and you almost want to abandon the drawing in favor of that when he says it.

"Alright I'll be nice." Bucky concedes tapping against your thigh lightly. The action instinctually has your legs spreading enough for him to slip two fingers between your slick folds. "Just like I thought, so wet before anyone even had to touch you. Always so ready for us." Bucky hums as he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly, stretching you. You can't help the small whimpers and moans that fall from your lips at Bucky's ministrations with both men watching intently. A few minutes of playing your body like a custom instrument have you unsteady on your feet and that's when Bucky withdraws. "I'd say you're ready." He says sliding his fingers into his mouth to lick them clean and the action makes your walls clench. You take a deep breath before speaking again.

"Do you want me facing you Stevie? Or should I be facing Bucky for this?" You ask.

"Face me sweetheart." Steve says. You nod and climb onto Bucky's lap straddling him with your back to Bucky. You take Bucky in your hand and he hisses but he can't dwell on the sweet grip of your fingers because in the next moment, you're sinking down onto him, the molten heat of your core envelops him like the sweetest torture. You take your time settling on top of him, 'unintentionally' grinding further against his erection until his hands squeeze warningly against your hip. "Behave you two. I'm serious about drawing you." Steve warns.

"Of course baby." You smile innocently at him.

"Alright- Bucky get comfortable but your legs need to be spread so I can actually see where you're joined oh and slip your hand into her shirt, cup one of her boobs. And you can put your other hand on her thigh." Steve gives you a series of directions which Bucky follows quickly. "Y/n you can lean back against him." Steve adds and you settle against Bucky's chest, and his head rests on your shoulder. "Good girl. Now you guys can just sit there while I draw."

"Do we gotta be quiet and still or-" Bucky trails.

"I mean as long as you don't move too much it's fine, and you can definitely talk, at least until I'm drawing your faces but I'll let you know when I'm at that point." Steve's already started sketching, his eyes darting from you and Bucky to his sketchpad. Bucky swipes his thumb across the nipple of your breast that's in his hand and you gasp at the sudden stimulation.

"Bucky-" You warn.

"Sorry doll, you're just impossible to resist." He hums pressing a kiss to your neck that makes a shiver run down your spine.

"You're insufferable." You scoff at him.

"You say that but I can feel you squeezing me at my teasing." He says.

"Settle down Bucky." Steve warns him although you doubt Bucky will listen. If you're lucky he'll save the teasing for after the drawing is finished but chances are you'll end up doing way more than sitting on his dick within the hour. Bucky can be quite patient but when it comes to you neither of them is particularly good at managing their insatiability. You'll be seriously surprised if Steve manages to finish his drawing before one or both of them decides this time is better spent forcing orgasms from you.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers smut #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky #bucky x reader #stucky x reader #stucky fanfic #stucky smut #stucky fluff #stucky #bucky barnes fluff #steve rogers fluff

[wonjns]

citrus — p.wb

⌗ pairing. . . park wonbin x male reader

⌗ genre. . . smut,, pwp tbh

⌗ summary. . . your fwb coerces you to drink pineapple juice solely because he loves the way you taste when you do. he's simply a man of science.

⌗ includes. . . switch!wonbin, semi-public, blowjob (rec.), overstimulation, mdni!!

⌗ wc. 1.4k

°A/N. . . requested by 🐈‍⬛✓ "....can I request a dom Wonbin whose obsessed with giving you blowjobs 🫣 I know he's a certified babygirl but something about his aura onstage mixed with those perfect lips of his makes my stomach do PIROUETTES." // HI ANONNN so sorry that this took me FOREVER love,, and that its so short. but i hope u enjoy it & i have more riize content coming very soon!!

the last thing park wonbin was, is predictable.

its been nearly 6 months since you've started your whole friends-with-benefits-borderline-situationship ordeal, and every time you hook up he still manages to make the butterflies in your stomach go absolutely haywire.

you couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about him that always got you so worked up. truthfully, it could be anything from his passion, versatility in bed, or more obviously his painstakingly good looks — but the one thing that you couldn't deny was your favorite is that he was the absolute king of giving head.

and it was his favorite, too, if the way he'd randomly start stroking you to full hardness throughout the day was anything to go by.

at first, you simply loved the way his soft lips would mold against yours whenever you'd make out. even more so when it was in a frenzied manner in the backseat of his car after a rough exam. that cloud 9 feeling would descend upon you whenever he would draw your tongue into his mouth, sucking on it rhythmically. yet, even that quickly proved to be only a warm up for what he was about to do when he’d begin to unbuckle your pants.

wonbin was a beautiful man, with beautiful eyes and a beautiful soul to match. there were books full of wholesome things you could list that contributed to your attraction towards him. but at the end of the day, you just had to admit that the motherfucker had those tantalizing, plush, pillowy lips that felt even better than they looked when he would wrap them around your needy cock.

he loved how subby it made you - how easily only he could reduce you into a pile of desperation for him with just his mouth alone. one touch from him and desire was radiating off you in waves of shameless pheromones.

he knew how much you loved it, causing the prideful boy to take even more joy in sucking you off.

one day, wonbin even went as far as to start convincing you to add pineapple to your diet, after he was scrolling through tiktok and found out it made you taste better down there. the blonde already thought you were naturally the best thing he’d ever tasted, so he practically had to stifle a moan at just the thought that he could make your orgasms even sweeter.

it felt a bit silly, the way he would start ordering pineapple juice for you at restaurants, but you went along with it regardless for the sake of testing the theory.

and oh boy, did it turn out to be true.

after the fruit had become part of your habitual snack routine, the orgasms wonbin would give you were nothing short of out of this world. you'd noticed his grip on your hips would be even tighter once your precum started seeping on to his tongue, and his throaty moans became even deeper.

you'd feel his eager, pink tongue begin to lap up and down the bottom of your shaft with more intensity, goosebumps rising from every inch of your skin as you were catapulted into your climax.

"oh my god, binnie...." you couldn't help but whimper, fingers curling into his silky golden locks when you saw his eyes roll back in ecstasy.

that first time, the way he licked up the entirety of the mess you made even after spilling down his welcoming throat showed you how serious it was to him.

"fuck," wonbin would groan, making sure to collect any remnants off of your lower stomach before grinning up at you. "we are definitely sticking with that method."

then before you knew it, he quickly became greed personified.

you'd think with how in command he always was, that you'd be the one usually on your knees for him - but he easily made it known that he wanted access to your sweet juices whenever he wanted.

and to wonbin... there was never an inappropriate time.

you'd have to use both hands to count the amount of times that you'd been out in public when he'd lay one of his ridiculously attractive, veiny hands on top of your core just to feel how your member would twitch at his touch.

it didn't matter if you were out shopping. it didn't matter if you were in the library. and it definitely didn't matter that you were now at dinner with the entire friend group.

wonbin didn't hesitate to give you that signature look, the one he knew you couldn't resist, while cupping your quickly growing erection after playing with under the table for the past ten minutes. for good measure, he also gave his plump bottom lip a singular tug between his teeth, just to seal the deal, to make sure he got you in the bathroom with your jeans pooled around your ankles.

you had to admit it was addicting, the way wonbin's smooth hands glided under your shirt to run along your torso while he teasingly licked your bulge through the thin layer of your underwear. your head fell back against the cool tile, unable to voice out your thoughts of how irrational this was.

nothing mattered when wonbin finally tugged your boxers down, removing that final blockade from him and your aching cock, already glistening with leaking arousal.

he shamelessly moaned when he pulled you into his mouth, wantonly sucking on your length as if it were his well earned dessert. in a way, it was — you have no idea what wonbin did in order to earn it while your friends were mindlessly chatting away back at the table, but you couldn't say no to him.

"god, y/n, i've got to be a fucking genius." the potty (albeit talented) mouth groaned. "you taste so good and haven't even cum yet."

you whined at his words, causing him to smirk as you meekly attempted to pull his head back to your cock, silently begging for more. he loved to tease you by randomly stopping just to utter nonsense, knowing the cool air exposed to your private parts after being wet from his mouth made you shiver.

you furrowed your hands in their familiar spot in wonbin's hair as he fiddled about leaving opened mouth kisses along your thighs. he took the time to gently suck the skin just below your belly button to drive you insane before he went back to the real work.

you often wondered how he never complained about his knees hurting, but just as you were about to ask him, he started bobbing his head up and down your length with vigor.

a loud moan managed to escape your lips when he hollowed his cheeks out around you, his warmness sending your body into overdrive.

"c-cumming—" was all you had to mutter before wonbin was pulling back, a smug look on his face as he held his thick tongue out.

"give it to me, pretty boy."

you nearly sobbed, overwhelmed with how sexy he looked - baffled with how dominant his aura could still be even while on his knees for you. he was commanding you while below you, and you’d never thought once about disobeying.

all it took was a quick jerk of your wrist after grabbing hold of your length, your love liquids shooting out and landing right on their target.

it was lewd, and a little embarrassing, watching wonbin swallow all you had to offer, but the way his adams apple bobbed while he lowly hummed to himself in satisfaction nearly sent you into another climax.

"so good, baby." wonbin drawled, keeping eye contact with you as he leaned forward to firmly grab your thighs, catching your relaxing cock back in his mouth.

you whined out feeling wonbin’s tongue properly clean all around your length, the overstimulation making your legs shake erratically.

weak attempts to push his head away were futile, wonbin absolutely having to lap up every inch of your skin he could to truly savor in the moment. it was a lot, but your body craved it. your head feebly swayed back and forth against the wall, and you swore your legs were seconds away from giving out when he finally pulled back.

wonbin pulled your underwear and jeans back up around your waist as he stood, softly kissing your lips to bring you back down to earth. you swore during the moments like this, that you loved him.

"lets go wrap up with the guys, then we can watch a movie at the house. how's that sound?" he questioned, raising a brow while gently pinching your flushed cheeks.

you nodded, before taking a deep breathe to compose yourself.

it was a cute offer, but in reality you were aware that the rest of your night 100% entailed of you chugging a pineapple juice to-go in the car ride home, knowing that wonbin was gonna have you on your back drawing at least two more orgasms out of you before even turning the tv on.

© 𝐟𝐥𝐰𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐢 — all rights reserved

#💌flwr;reqs #kpop x male reader #riize x male reader #wonbin x reader #kpop smut #riize smut #wonbin smut #wonbin hard hours #kpop hard hours #kpop fanfic #male reader #male reader smut #riize imagines #kpop lgbtq

[candyk0rn]

Cuddles : BG3

It’s been a while! I hope you’re all doing great, and I’m sorry for once more going on a forever break lol. But of course, Baldurs Gate 3 brainrot is so real

Before reading: Fluff, headcanons, Astarion, Lae’Zel, Gale, Shadowheart x reader (separate), gn reader

Astarion:

“Oh? I see you still can’t say no to my endless charm..”

At the beginning of the relationship, touches and prodding aren’t uncommon

Anything that can bring your attention to him

It takes a while and a lot of convincing from you that his somewhat risqué touches was not all that pleased you

And eventually he can even process that you don’t just love him for his body

Although hard for him to realize, with your help he can

So after your relationship has really blossomed and grown, his touches become softer, calmer, more intimate

Nights by the crackling fire, you in his lap, his hand massaging your nape

His fingers are dangerously cold against your skin, but there’s a sense of comfort that comes with the chill

Although he will brush off your reassurance as pitiful and unneeded..

Please reassure him omg

For the longest time, he will surely believe you are like all his other conquests,

Seduced by him and his charms

But just small whispers of love into his ear, your comforting touch against his skin

That’s enough for him.

Gale:

“Come with me, we shall rest under the stars tonight.”

I am of the firm believer that Gale is horribly touch-starved, poor man

Taken advantage of by his own Goddess, thinking that that is the best he would ever be able to do

Then when you come along, it all changed

His thoughts about himself seem to change, his standards seem to change, his love seems to change

He cares so much about you, he cannot help but think he is not worthy

That a cursed, unfaithful man as himself could never even breathe the same air as you

But all of his doubts and worries seem to melt away when you two hold one another underneath the stars

Your fingers lovingly combing through his hair as he rambles on about something he is passionate about

Wether it be a book, his expertise in magic, or Tara (lmao)

Others would shove him off as a show-off, annoying, etc

But you are so willing to hear him go on and on, that he can’t help but love you

His index finger instinctively draws shapes into your back when you hold each other

When he’s cuddled up with you, his worries that today might be his last don’t even cross his mind

He’s more worried about you, how you feel, if you’re comfortable

He doesn’t care if tonight is the last night he shall ever see you

He’d rather die tomorrow than live for an eternity never knowing you

Lae’Zel:

“Chk..I do not take part in worthless acts of intimacy.”

Lae’Zel is not much of a ‘cuddles’ person

Like at all…

She’d rather feel the thrill of battle with you, bathing in the blood of your enemies

Her way of loving is slaughtering anyone who even just looks at you the wrong way

But, if you’re particularly lucky, or especially down

She can’t help but..pity you

In her mind, it’s such a disgusting feeling. This ‘love’ makes her weak, but she cannot run from it no matter how much she tries

The most touch you’ll get from her will only occur in private

A hand perched protectively on your hip or waist

Her head slumped on your shoulder when you’re on watch for the night

acts like this, although small

It means so,so much from her

And she’ll kill you if you go telling Shadowheart about how ‘sweet’ she was being last night

Shadowheart:

“My love…ugh. I’m still not used to calling someone that.”

Shadowheart is lost when it comes to you

Not only is she horribly confused that you of all people would love her

She’s confused as to how she’s supposed to love you

Her entire life, for what she can remember, she’s never been shown comfort or remorse

If she did something wrong, she was punished

She doesn’t remember a single moment in her life when she was loved the way you love her

And although grateful, she feels unworthy

Hugs are common with her, of course in private, but common nonetheless

When she hold you in her arms, the pads of her fingers massage your back lovingly, worried if she lets go, you’ll flee

Let! Her! Play! With! Your! Hair! 🙏🏻

And please play with hers omg

At night, she’ll let her hair down and allow your hands to explore her long, black (or white) locks

Your touch sends shivers down her spine, a feeling she’s not used to, but craves so much

She truly hopes that you’ll never leave her, for now that she has tasted your touch,

She never wants that sensation to leave

Thanks for reading!

#x reader #fanfic #fyp #baldurs gate gale #baldur's gate 3 #Baldurs Gate #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate laezel #baldurs gate shadowheart #astarion x reader #shadowheart x reader #laezel x reader #Gale x reader #fluff #headcanons #Baldurs Gate headcanons #Baldurs Gate fanfic #candyk0rn #video game #x y/n #tav #Baldurs Gate tav #for you page

[ginnsbaker]

prophylaxis

Summary: The most powerful Avenger is afraid of one thing: dental appointments, or the one where you're a dentist and Wanda is a baby about seeing one

Word count: 2.6k | Warnings: None. This is just good ol' fluff

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Fem!Reader

Author's note: This has been sitting in my drafts for some time, and while this is a one shot, I might follow up with more :)

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Next part: the follow up

--

Steve and Natasha are barely done with their own routine dental check-ups when the notification of an emergency mission comes through. The Avengers' annual dental visit is typically swift and uncomplicated, but the arrival of their urgent mission turns the day into something far more chaotic.

“Where is Wanda?” Steve asks, scrolling through the mission details on his phone.

Natasha shrugs, sipping on her post-check-up glass of scotch. “I haven't seen her since breakfast.”

Vision appears in the room at that moment, his face expressing the closest thing to exasperation an android can manage. “She’s only now on the chair,” he says, glancing at Steve, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“Now? But everyone else is done!”

“I had to convince her to come,” Vision sighs. “I found her hiding in the back library. It took me the better part of an hour to persuade her to face the dentist.”

Natasha rolls her eyes at the revelation, trying to suppress her chuckle. The most powerful Avenger, avoiding a simple dental prophylaxis. “We don't have all day, Steve. The mission is critical.”

Steve nods, sliding his phone into his pocket. “We'll leave a note for her. She should meet us ASAP once she's done.”

Natasha gets up from her chair, glancing one last time at Vision, as she quips, “Good luck to whoever is the dentist working on her this year.”

As you approach the dental chair, you take note of the apprehensive figure occupying it. You've already seen a dozen Avengers today, each with their unique quirks and idiosyncrasies. 

But Wanda Maximoff, her gaze filled with clear distaste for the situation, seems to take the cake. She's curled in on herself, making her seem smaller than she actually is. The sight of her alone would have been enough to unnerve you, but the intermittent quivers of your dental tools due to an unseen force send a cold shiver down your spine. You can't help but wonder if you've drawn the short straw when they assigned you the patients for today.

You try your best to project an air of calm. Inside, though, your nerves are jangling like alarm bells.

“Wanda, right?” you confirm, trying to keep your voice steady.

She nods, her eyes wide as saucers.

“I promise this won't hurt,” you reassure her, even as your tools continue to rattle on the tray. “It's just a routine check-up.”

A skeptical glance is thrown your way but it's at least some reaction. Her gaze is piercing, and it takes every bit of your collected facade to keep from faltering. An absurd thought flashes across your mind: if you were to meet an untimely demise in your line of duty today, who on earth would inherit the numerous houseplants that have taken over your apartment over the years?

With a nervous smile that Wanda can barely make out behind the surgical mask you wear, you gently ask, "Shall we begin?" Your tone is soothing, carefully modulated to put her at ease.

The poor Avenger takes a deep, long breath before giving you the go-ahead to proceed with the checkup. 

For her part, Wanda begins to concentrate on anything other than the feeling of your gloved fingers in her mouth. Her gaze settles on your oversized prescription glasses that lend an air of professional yet friendly vibe. And there’s something about the clean, familiar scent wafting off your white coat that comforts her more than she's willing to admit.

She can’t help it when her mind starts drawing comparisons with last year's dentist—a gruff, no-nonsense man whose hands always seemed cold and who lacked any bedside manner whatsoever. You, on the other hand, are like a breath of fresh air with your calming demeanor and reassuring approach. Wanda blushes at the thought that, admittedly, you’re kind of a nice upgrade.

You begin the examination with meticulous care, your movements deliberately gentle to assure Wanda of your sensitivity to her obvious anxiety. As you carefully check her teeth and gums, you're acutely aware of how much trust she's placing in you, despite her apparent discomfort.

Glancing into her eyes as you angle your dental mirror to inspect her molars, you're suddenly struck by the piercing green of her irises. Even under the harsh clinic lights, they appear incredibly vibrant. Framed by the dark eyeliner she wears, her eyes are sharp and arresting. They follow your every move, staring up at you with an intensity that causes your skin to perspire under your uniform.

You've dealt with many patients over the years, some with eyes equally as fascinating, but something about Wanda's gaze is different. It's as if she's not just watching you but reading you, understanding you in a way that makes you feel exposed.

Your focus starts to waver under her scrutiny, and that's when you notice something strange. The dental tools on the tray beside you begin to quiver more violently, vibrating with an unseen force. Your heart skips a beat, realization dawning on you that Wanda's powers are reacting to her nervousness.

But it's not just her nervousness; Wanda's face takes on a look of surprise, her eyes widening momentarily. You can almost feel her presence in your mind, a subtle brushing against your consciousness. 

She's read your thoughts, albeit accidentally. 

She knows how captivated you are by her eyes. 

Catching yourself, you quickly shift your thoughts to a safer topic–your plants. The vibrant green of Wanda's eyes morphs into the various shades of green gracing the leaves of your beloved indoor jungle. Your Monstera, your string of pearls, your peace lily–

And yet, none of them are a match for the pair of green orbs that your mind keeps going back to. A flush of embarrassment creeps up your neck as you meet her gaze, the unspoken understanding between you making the air in the room feel charged. Wanda's cheeks take on a hint of color, and her control over her powers seems to falter, your tools–and a chair behind Wanda–now levitating a couple of inches from where they originally sat.

“I'm sorry,” she stammers, wide-eyed and apologetic. You barely make out what she’s saying with her mouth still wide open. “I didn't mean to…”

“It's okay,” you reply in a comforting murmur, pausing your examination. The room fills with the soft humming of the overhead light and the subtle scent of sterilized equipment. “I'm here with you. We'll go at your pace. Just breathe.”

Giving Wanda a few moments to calm herself, you pull back, placing the dental tools on the tray beside you. You keep your eyes on Wanda, a soothing smile hidden behind your mask. Her chest rises and falls steadily as she follows your instructions, taking deep, calming breaths.

However, you can't help but glance at the floating items around you, fearing that one of them might go straight for your heart that’s thudding loudly in your ears now. They seem to be suspended in mid-air, almost like a magic trick. Wanda catches your gaze, following it to the levitating objects. The already present color on her cheeks darken, and with a flicker of her gaze, your tools reintroduce themselves to gravity once again.

You don't comment on it. Instead, you simply offer another encouraging smile, masked by your surgical mask, but visible in your eyes. You extend your gloved hand towards the once again earthbound dental tools, feeling the cool metal against your palm. 

“Are we good to proceed?” you ask in a soft voice, patiently waiting for her agreement before picking up where you left off. 

Wanda doesn’t move, seemingly hesitant to say yes or no.

“Will it help if I talk to you?” 

She gives you a small nod in response this time.

“Alright,” you say with a hint of a chuckle. “Don't judge me if I start to sound silly, okay?”

And so you start to speak as you get back to work, recounting random memories and thoughts as you continue with the examination. You talk about funny incidents at work, share stories about your beloved plants, and even admit to that time you almost killed your favorite fern with coffee instead of water. At first, you feel slightly ridiculous, babbling about the care of succulents to an Avenger, one of the most powerful beings on the planet. But as the minutes tick by, you see a change in her. The initial terror in her eyes fades into curiosity, her body relaxes, and she even smiles at some of your sillier anecdotes.

You get lost in talking to Wanda, feeling both delighted and somewhat ridiculous that you're enjoying this one-sided conversation. You're fully aware that she can't respond with an excavator in her mouth, but it doesn't feel like she's just tolerating your chatter. Her eyes are attentive, following your movements, reacting every now and then. Her body language is open, receptive, almost as if she's hanging onto every word.

As for Wanda, something unexpected is happening. She finds herself liking your voice more and more, feeling an unfamiliar pull towards it. It's warm, comforting, and filled with a sincerity that she didn't expect. She even finds herself slightly attracted to it. But it's a foreign feeling, one she doesn't quite understand, especially in this setting.

As you conclude your examination, you realize that one of Wanda's molars needs a filling. It isn't urgent, a situation that could be deferred to another appointment if she wishes.

“Looks like you have a small cavity,” you inform her, meeting her eyes. “It's not of immediate concern, but we should schedule another appointment if you'd like to have it filled.”

To your surprise, Wanda agrees, not just with a polite nod, but with a subtle hint of anticipation lighting up her eyes. She agrees to another date, another round of you poking around her mouth with your scary dental tools. And yet, there's a hint of eagerness that surprises even her.

As you finish your work, you lean back, pulling off your surgical mask and gloves. For the first time, Wanda gets a full view of your face. It's like a silent reveal, one she hadn't been expecting, and it takes her aback.

She finds herself caught in a subtle admiration, a feeling that quickly intensifies as she takes in your features. There's something about your face that she finds herself drawn to, the warmth of your eyes, the curve of your lips, the soft contours of your cheekbones.

And when you smile, her breath hitches slightly. It's a simple gesture, but one that lights up your face, reaching your eyes and causing them to crinkle at the corners. It's genuine, open, and a little bit contagious.

“Thanks for your patience, Doctor...?” Wanda voices, feeling a tad awkward. It occurs to her belatedly that she didn't have the foresight to ask for your name before you started the check-up. 

“Just call me Y/N. It's my pleasure,” you reply, your smile deepening, unaware of the effect it's having on the Avenger before you. “I'll see you for that follow-up appointment, then?”

As soon as Wanda is escorted outside by Vision, you release a breath you didn't know you've been holding. Leaning against the counter, you try to calm the racing of your heart, which beats as if you've just run a marathon.

Wanda Maximoff is... quite a surprise. Her beauty, her vulnerability, the way she seemed to really listen to your inane chatter–it's all unexpected, disarming even. You find your mind drifting back to the way her eyes softened, the almost shy smile that graced her lips.

You quickly shake your head, trying to dispel these thoughts. This is unprofessional, you think. She's your patient. A patient who just happens to be one of the world's most powerful individuals. It's nothing more than that.

You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing you've spent more time with Wanda than any other patient today. You should be moving on to your paperwork, getting ready to call it a day.

But as you sit down at your desk, the fluttering feeling in your stomach doesn't subside, and Wanda Maximoff's haunting green eyes remain etched in your mind.

Walking down the corridors of the Avengers compound, Wanda finds herself in step with Vision. As they pass various agents and fellow Avengers, Vision turns to look at her.

“Wanda,” he starts, his voice taking on that concerned lilt that she's grown accustomed to. “I'm detecting unusual signs in your vitals. Your heart rate is elevated, your body temperature has slightly increased, and your pupils are dilated.”

Wanda blinks, feeling an unexpected heat crawl up her neck. Her palms are also feeling slightly clammy, and she has this weird fluttering sensation in her stomach. She tries to brush it off. It must have been the anxiety, right?

“Are you not feeling well?” Vision probes further, halting in his tracks to face her. His eyes scan her face, looking for any visible signs of discomfort. Wanda's mind races, trying to figure out how to downplay her seemingly irrational reaction to a denti–a dental appointment.

“No, Vision. I'm... I'm just fine.” Her voice sounds surprisingly steady to her own ears. She forces a smile onto her face, aiming to reassure her friend.

Vision doesn't seem fully convinced but doesn't push further. They resume their walk, but Wanda can't shake off the feeling that something has changed, something she doesn't quite understand yet. And for some reason, her thoughts keep drifting back to a certain dentist with a soothing voice, warm eyes, and a love for plants.

How did it happen that a dental appointment, of all things, has turned into the highlight of her day?

The kitchen is dimly lit when Vision enters, the only illumination coming from the withdrawn overhead lights. Natasha is there, assembling her favorite late-night snack, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She looks up as Vision approaches, her eyes curious.

“I trust the mission went well?” Vision inquires, noting the subtle signs of fatigue in Natasha's posture.

She offers a half-smile, nodding. “It did. It's all sorted now. How's Wanda after the check-up?”

Vision's eyes narrow slightly, and he hesitates for a moment before responding, “She is... well. The new dentist was quite effective in putting her at ease.”

Natasha smirks, spreading the jelly onto the bread with precision. “Told you a change would do the trick. I still can't believe you managed to convince Tony to switch dentists.”

“And find the perfect replacement,” Natasha adds after some thought, licking the jelly from the knife.

“It was a logical choice. The previous dentist was less than satisfactory, particularly with Wanda.” He pauses, considering something. “But this one... she seemed to have a rather profound effect on her.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, looking up from her sandwich. “Profound effect?”

“Yes,” Vision says thoughtfully. “I detected unusual signs in her vitals afterward. Increased heart rate, heightened body temperature, a certain... excitement in her demeanor. It was quite unexpected.”

Natasha's eyes widen slightly, and a mischievous smile begins to form on her lips. “You don't say?”

Vision gazes at the digital interface on his palm, a soft hum of approval in his voice. “Indeed, she has also filed for a leave of absence a week from now. She has another dental appointment, but this time at the doctor’s private clinic.”

Natasha pauses, her sandwich halfway to her mouth. 

Vision meets her gaze, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "Do you think it could mean something?"

Natasha shrugs, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Who knows, Vis?” she says, taking a huge bite of her sandwich. “Maybe it's just a good dentist.” And then with a wink and a knowing smile, she adds, “Or maybe…”

She leaves the thought hanging, deliberately ambiguous, and exits the room, her satisfied crunching echoing down the hallway.

Vision is left standing in the kitchen, confusion etched across his synthetic features. He considers the day's events, attempting to analyze how Wanda suddenly managed to conquer her most irrational fear.

Humans really are something.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #vision #steve rogers

[soapskneebrace]

confessional offerings

previous - neighbors - next

Pairing: John Price x f!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: Dirty talk. Implied masturbation. LIGHT daddy kink (the word is not used but the dynamic is implied). Also on Ao3.

The neighbors lay their cards on the table.

“Hi, love,” he replies. “Where are you? Still at dinner?”

“No, we left. I’m in my hotel room.”

“Good,” John says. He feels his own expression go soft at the sound of your voice, which is sweet and gentle even across miles and distorted by the phone. “I missed you this morning.”

He hears you shift—imagines you laying in bed, in your pajamas after a shower, skin warm and hair still a little damp. He can almost feel it if he imagines it; the rhythm of your breath with his mouth against your neck, his open hands across the soft expanse of your stomach.

He’s never seen your bed, so he has to supply his own in his mind. The idea starts up an ache that’s been building all day.

“Me too,” you say, at a near-whisper. You sound painfully shy.

John smiles. He likes that shyness, likes that you give him the chance to draw you out of it. “You know, if you want to know why I like you, love, all you have to do is ask. I’d tell you if you did.”

You don’t respond for a moment. He doesn’t press. You like that he does that, he’s found, that he gives you time to think. John has no qualms doing that for you; he wants you to feel comfortable with him. 

Finally, in a small voice, “Why do you like me, John?”

“What a question,” he says, unable regardless to keep from teasing. “Where do I even start? You’re putting me on the spot, here.”

“John!” you whinge, and he laughs.

“Hm,” he murmurs. “I like that you’re kind. You never have to spend time with me, but you do. And you’re smart, love, I like that a lot. You guessed I was bored without me saying anything, and did something to help me. I don’t think you know how much that means to me.”

“Sometimes I feel like I’m forcing you to read my books. Just so I can have something to talk about with you.”

“If that’s what you think forcing is, I’d like to see what happens when you really try to get something you want.”

You laugh, so he knows from that sound that you know your fear is a little ridiculous. Good—if you really thought that nonsense, you might leave him alone.  

“And I like the way you say my name,” he says, hearing the desire in his own voice. Will that sound scare you? He’s got to show it to you at some point. You need to know how easily you can get him going.

“How do you mean?” you ask. 

“Like it means something to you,” he says. “Not a lot of people call me by my first name, love. And no one says it the way you do.”

“Oh,” you say, small and soft.

“I want to hear you say it more often,” he continues.

“…John,” you say, and it hits him like a lightning strike. His cock throbs suddenly and near-painfully.

His voice lowers, roughens. “Just like that.”

You say it again, still shy, but on a breath that is clear in its arousal. “John.”

This is not where he meant for this call to go, but he couldn’t complain about the direction if he tried. He shifts his legs, tries to convince his growing erection to sit a little more comfortably against his thigh, but does not touch himself. He isn’t there with you, not yet. 

“I like that you give me that, love. You let me have so much. More than you know.”

“I always think that,” you say, passionately. “I never understand. I don’t know why things mean so much to you.”

“Because it’s you,” he says. “There isn’t a lot of…gentleness, or kindness, in my life. And you—that’s all you are. You give me more of it than I’ve ever had. I’m a man starved, and all you ever do is feed me.”

He wants to see your face so badly. He wants to see the little crease that shows up between your brows when you get emotional. He wants to hold you again, feel the weight of your body on his, learn your shape with his hands and mouth. He wants to say all of this, but he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“I haven’t fed you yet,” you say, with a little waver of humor. “You’d remember my cooking.”

John blinks, and then barks a laugh. “Oh, love. I want to devour you.”

You make a little noise, and yes, John is painfully hard now, able to feel the beat of his own blood in his cock against the tight crotch of his pants.

“Is…is that what you’d do?” you ask. “To me?”

“Yes,” he says, letting his voice sink deep into his chest. “For hours, if you’d let me. Sweet girl, I want to spoil you rotten.”

You make a humming sound, high and from the back of your throat. “I didn’t think men really liked that.”

“I’m going to find and kill whoever taught you that,” he promises. “There’s nothing I want more than to get my mouth on you, love.”

“Nothing?” you say, and he grins, recognizing a prompt when he hears one.

“You want me to tell you what else I’d like to do? How I’d like to have you on my cock, drag it out for as long as you can stand? I want you in my bedsheets, pretty girl, making a mess of them because I’m fucking you so good. I want you wrapped around me and holding on so tight, because that’s all you need to do. Because I’m taking care of everything, and all you need to do is take it.”

“John,” you say, shakily.

“Should I stop?”

“I—” you stammer, “I just don’t know how to respond, John. I don’t know what to do.”

“You could tell me how that sounds to you,” he purrs. “Be nice to know if you like the idea.”

“…I do,” you say, “a lot, John.” 

And he has to grin at the breathless way you say it. He knows you now—he knows how hard that must have been for you to say. He’s so goddamn proud of you for saying it.

Then, you continue, tentatively, bravely. “What else…what else would you do?”

“Mm. I had some thoughts about that vibrator.”

“No!” you cry, groaning long and disconsolate as he laughs. “No, I thought I’d gotten it, oh, John…”

“It was bright pink,” he says, needling you further.

“You didn’t say anything!” you protest. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Don’t be, love. Were you thinking of me, that night?” he asks, breath shallow in his lungs. “Did you get off with that vibrator between your legs, imagining what I could be doing to you?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, John.”

“Except it wasn’t very good, was it, love?” he continues. “Because it wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted me there, wanted my hands and my mouth and my cock, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you reply, and it sounds like a whine.

“You can have them,” he promises. “The moment you’re home, I’ll give you everything you want.”

You don’t respond immediately. He doesn’t think he’s pushed too far, this time; rather, he thinks with not a small amount of satisfaction, you might just be recognizing the scope of his offer. 

It’s a moment John always enjoys with potential partners—that quiet, trembling realization that yes, they can ask for anything from him, because he really will give it to them. Because they know that they can rely upon him, that they can trust him. That he wants nothing more than to be someone they can fall into, freed of worry or concern.

“I do want it, John,” you whisper into his ear. “All of it.”

Something uncoils in John’s chest. Appetite, yawning wide, swallowing your confession whole. His balls clench, hard. He wants to see the look on your face. Both when this finally happens—when you give in to him—and right now, as you’re realizing you can. 

John is not one to employ absolutes lightly; he wants to see you now more than he’s ever wanted to see anyone in his life.

“I’m glad to hear it,” he says, hearing a rasp in his voice. “Will you come to see me when you get home, then?”

“I—” you say, sounding breathless. “Yes. I will, John.”

“Good,” he says. “Now do something for me, pretty girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“I’m going to let you get back to your evening,” he says, adjusting his hips. “And when you lay down to sleep, I want you to think about me. Think about what I’ll do for you. Because I’ll be thinking about the exact same thing.”

“Yes, John,” you say. There’s a…floaty, far-off quality to your voice. It will not take John very long at all to finish tonight.

“Did you bring your vibrator along with you?” he asks.

“No.”

“Pity,” he says. “I guess we’ll both be using our hands, then.”

“Oh.”

He laughs. “Good night, love. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Good…good night, John.”

He says goodbye again, and ends the call. He lays his phone down and sits back, staring up at the ceiling. The football game is long over, some late night talk show playing now. He turns the TV off.

He’s not sure whether it’s going to be easier now to make it through the next two days—or much, much harder.

A/N: We're almost there.

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #price x reader #price x you #call of duty fanfic #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #cod smut #mw2 smut #neighbors au #og post

[thexsilentxwordsmith]

Jealous!Possessive!Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A night out at your favorite local hangout is what he promised you after being away on deployment for so long, but one small incident throws him over the edge into full on possessive episode. Something about the way he is pulling off to the side of the road might mean he can't make it home before reclaiming his prize.

Word Count: 5.1 k

Warnings:

“Come on, you promised,” you say as you straighten your skirt and adjust your top, looking back at Simon from within the bathroom mirror as he stands behind you, watching you finish getting ready. “You said we could have a night out once you got back from deployment, just the two of us. We always stay in; I want to go out.”

Simon sighs; he can’t ever say no to you even though he is not keen on the idea. “I did, didn’t I,” he agrees with defeat as he advances into the bathroom until he is within reach to wrap his arms around your middle, pulling you flush against his broad, hard chest. “Ya know I’m not against it, I don’t like to fuckin’ share ya is all.”

Heated lips are caressing the skin of your shoulder making it prickle under his touch as he kisses all of that exposed skin. You only allow yourself to enjoy the feeling for a moment before you shift in his grip, any longer and you are going to be right where he wants you: at his mercy and forgetting all about going anywhere tonight.

“Later,” you breathe. “I promise; just want you to take me out first. A few hours at the bar, a couple drinks with a bit of conversation, and then we’ll be back to end the night right, okay?”

He nods. “If that’s what ya want, sweetheart, then that’s what we’ll do,” he agrees and you pull him in for a kiss on his lips before sending off to get dressed.

The bar is already gathering a good crowd inside by the time you arrive. With Simon’s hand firmly wrapped around your hip, you enter the familiar hangout and instantly you are drawing looks in your direction. It’s easy enough to get attention, being as massive of a man as Simon is, it isn’t difficult, but that is exactly what he wants. He needs those here to see his hands all over you, needs those around to be aware of who you’re here with so that there won’t be any trouble tonight.

He knows what a prize he has; you are his and god help the idiot that doesn’t get that.

It is the same each time you step foot out of the house together, some part of Simon has to be connected to you at all times: a hand on your lower back, his arm snaking its way around your waist or hip, your combined hands locked into one another. Anything and everything to show that you are taken. Those brown eyes scan the area, taking note of those that look your way as you walk to where you’re going to sit.

A table is chosen off to the side, one out of the way of the main area where you can be more secluded. Here he can have you all to himself just the way he likes it. From the minute he returns from the bar with your drinks and he sits down, his coarse hands with those rough fingertips are on you, lightly brushing over the tops of your bare thighs that poke out from the bottom of your skirt. That brown gaze cannot stay off you as he looks you up and down as you talk through his mask which he occasionally pulls up to sip at his glass of bourbon and take a drag from his cigarette.

After a while you decide you want one more drink and move to get up to go order. Simon tries to convince you otherwise, he can go get whatever you need just as he has all night, but you dismiss him.

“I’ll be right back,” you say as you give him a quick kiss on his exposed lips and walk off before he can answer.

He should be the one to get it, he shouldn’t have allowed you to go, but he let his judgment lapse as the night has been fine so far without consequence. He looks up as you make it up to the bar all alone and unattended and out of his immediate reach. Standing there looking like you do, short skirt and tight top showcasing your most tempting assets, it would be hard for anyone not to have a peak.

It is then that Simon catches a bastard plastered off his rocker stumbling over from a few seats down, right to where you are. There aren’t many other pretty little things around tonight and so Simon is sure this asshole is going to shoot his shot cause there is no way he is wanting to go home alone and that has his blood already boiling.

A few slurred words he musters out to get you to engage with him, even though you are quickly shaking your head it isn’t enough to get him to leave you be. Simon is getting up from his seat when the drunkard’s hand inches down onto your lower back, thumb rubbing up and down, catching you by surprise to make you gasp. You have no time to react before Simon is seeing red and he moves in hastily with his fist clenched and ready to connect with the guy’s mouth.

“Get your fuckin’ hand off ‘er,” his angry voice bellows as he rips the guy away from you and shoves him hard causing the idiot to stagger over his unsteady feet. Emotions are high so once he’s got him off you fists start flying from both: one for touching you and the other for having his play messed with. Too bad for the drunk that Simon isn’t one to be messed with; his fist wallops him square in the jaw so that the man falls to the ground.

But it isn’t finished, not until this bastard learns his lesson. Simon makes his way on top of him and waylays into the man with heavy punches that make repeated contact with his face, not giving the guy a second to get any hits in himself.

“Ya like putin’ your hands on things?” Simon growls menacingly through the tussle, “just fuckin’ try gettin’ ‘em on me. Fuckin’ can’t, can ya?”

The altercation is drawing stares from the other patrons, though no one is really keen on getting in the middle of things. You can’t blame them; Simon is a huge man with enough weight to throw around and that makes him a formidable opponent to anyone outside of a heavyweight boxer. Who is going to willingly step in front of a freight train barreling down the tracks?

“Simon, fucking stop,” you beg as the corner of your eye clocks movement from the bartender bolting up towards the front of the bar to where the bouncer stands just outside the door. “You made your point. We’re going to get kicked out. Fucking let him go.”

Simon doesn’t care; another man has put his hand on you and he can’t let that go. He won’t. You are his, HIS, and inebriated or not he will not stand for anyone trying to move in on his territory. This idiot is gonna learn real fucking quick to fear his masked face and think twice whenever he comes in here again.

“Goddammit Simon,” you sigh under your breath angrily as you know what’s coming next - two people are fast approaching. The bartender is back with the bouncer in tow who immediately jumps into ripping the drunkard out from Simon’s grasp and standing them both back to their feet, but separated.

“You’re outta here, buddy,” the bouncer says to a panting Simon and points a stern finger to the exit with a look in his eyes that says not to take this further or else. “Leave, now.”

You wrap your hand around Simon’s wide bicep and tug, but he has some parting words for the prick with the bloody nose still standing close by. “Best learn your fuckin’ lesson not to touch what ain’t yours. Next time ya might not be so fuckin’ lucky,” he growls menacingly before flexing in your grip, ripping his arm away.

"Come on," he barks at you as he storms out while you quickly pay the remaining tab, offer an embarassed apology, and rush after him.

By the time you get outside Simon is leaning against your car with a cigarette already pressed between his pursed lips as he irately sucks the stick down fast as he can, billowing smoke out like a chimney. His shoulders are tense, his free hand clenching and unclenching itself at his side. You storm over to him, the heat in your cheeks making your face burn as your heartbeat pounds heavy and fast in your chest.

“What the fuck was that?” you ask, venom in your tone.

He avoids your question, his eyes pointed at the ground. “Get in the car,” he says sternly through another large cloud of smoke.

You know he isn’t drunk, he’s barely finished two glasses of bourbon all night, so you want to know why the hell he flew off the handle like that. You know that Simon can be a bit jealous, a bit possessive, evident most when you two go out together. If he catches a lingering eye there will always be a stern glare or at most a bark to back off, but this is the farthest he has ever taken things and you aren’t sure what to feel about it all, so anger settles in first.

Shaking your head, you stand your ground. “Not until you tell me what the fuck is wrong with you,” you demand, but he just silently opens the driver side door as he flicks the butt of his cig to the ground. “You realize they may never allow us back in, right?”

“Get. In.” he orders with authority as he sits down. “Now.”

This isn’t getting anywhere and you’re done causing a scene in public. Gritting your teeth behind your closed lips you march over to the passenger side of the car and fling open the door to scramble inside, slamming it shut before he does the same, starts the car, and peels out to head back to your shared flat. You cross your arms over your chest and huff, agitated that the night has to end this way when moments before everything was going fine.

“Whatever,” you spit back harshly.

Keeping his eyes fixated on the road ahead, uncomfortably shifting in his seat a few times, Simon drives on in complete silence. His grip on the steering wheel is turning his knuckles white from the pressure and yet he won’t let up. Fine, if he wants to stay quiet that’s his prerogative. Too bad for him you aren’t done speaking your peace yet.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” you say, breaking the heavy stillness that permeates the car, “you’re always getting jealous of shit that I can’t help, but this time you’ve gone to far; Christ, you’ve been gone for too long to ruin our time together like this. What are you, twelve? The guy had no chance in hell of getting any farther than that, but you had to go and blow it all out of proportion. I could have just told the bartender and gotten him thrown out or something and we could have gone back to enjoying our night, but no.”

You continue your tirade as Simon turns the car down a deserted road and you notice something is off. This isn’t the usual route you take back to your place; you think it a little odd, but you are too angry to care and so pay that small detail little mind. “You and your goddamn jealousy are really turning me off lately. Get it together, Si. What are you so worried about, hmm? You think he's just gonna steal me away just like that without even trying?”

Simon still isn’t saying anything and that only makes you more agitated. The least he could do is apologize and promise to make it up to you for ruining the night. Spitting a few more heated things under your breath as you turn your head away, you don’t notice that the car is suddenly being pulled over to the side of the road until he brings it to a full stop in the grass off the shoulder, putting it in park and turning it off.

The spot is shadowed by a group of trees that block the nearest streetlight just a few feet away. You can just barely make out the outline of his body in the dimness, though you can clearly hear the movement of him adjusting his seat, slamming it back until it latches, followed by his hand reaching around near your side until he latches onto your wrist.

“Ya think I'm worried about some bastard tryin’ to take ya from me?” he asks, speaking for the first time since he told you to get in the car.

“What’re you…?” you ask back in confusion as he pulls and keeps pulling at your arm until you are forced to move closer, your hips within reach so that he can take hold and forcibly guide your body directly over top of his lap, knees digging into the seat cushion until you are straddled over his crotch. The steering wheel bites into your lower back as you fit yourself into the tight space between Simon’s hulking form and the dashboard panel.

Without a single word, he pushes your hips down hard to press your pussy flush against him, your legs being forced to spread wide from his stocky thighs pushing them apart as your skirt rides up to your waist. He then starts to grind roughly against you with rocking movements, hips rolling into you again and again. The hot air of his mouth can be felt on your lips as it filters through the fabric of his mask, your faces so close together that only that thin piece of cloth keeps your mouths from meeting.

Over and over he pushes himself up against the crotch of your panties unhindered by the opening, his cock bulging and straining against your sex the longer he ruts into you with just a few measly layers of fabric between your bodies. His cock is hard and unyielding as it rubs into your petals trying to push through and up into your entrance.

Your panties are bunched in your slit, slowly dampening the longer he grinds into you until the fabric has been soaked through and gathering on his jeans. The adrenaline coursing its way through your veins heightens all of your senses so that every hard touch of his hands, every nuzzle of that engorged appendage between your thighs, every trace of his fingers over your bare skin feels like electricity and you can hardly contain yourself. The anger that was festering now alters course as he forces you to ride him by guiding your hips down to get just a little more friction; now it is replaced by a much stronger emotion: desire.

“Do ya not understand, luv? Guess I’m gonna need ta be more direct,” he says, the cold spot growing on his denim now being felt against the skin of his inner thigh. “First, take off the mask.”

With unsteady fingers you search for the edge of his balaclava and draw it up over his mouth, his nose, over his forehead, and finally off his head entirely so that his face is revealed to you. His hands leave your hips, one clasping around your chin to wrench your head out of the way while the other paws heavily at your breast as he leans his face in towards your neck.

“Now I’m forced to make sure my pretty girl knows who the fuck she belongs to,” he groans, low and guttural before his mouth is on you.

Sharp teeth are dragged down the length of all that delicate skin on your throat, bursting capillaries to leave his mark before his mouth latches on to the side just below your ear and you feel the sting as his teeth dig in. The pressure is so hard from the suction of his lips you can almost feel the skin bubble up into his mouth; there is no question that there will be a big, angry, purple blotch by tomorrow if he keeps at it. And he doesn’t seem like he is going to let up anytime soon, not until his signature takes.

Stinging and pressure, mixed with Simon’s warm, sticky breath moistening your skin from his lips, and your sanity is slowly fading. You want to stay mad at him, to make him pay for the way he acted, but the longer he works your body the harder it is becoming.

“What if I’m still too angry to do anything with you?” you question.

Even you don't believe that lie, but still you aren't going to give in without a little pushback.

His movements don’t even slow for a second. “I don’t fuckin’ care,” he says in a breathy whisper, punctuating each word for emphasis.

Simon groans into your skin so that it vibrates in his mouth, his hand around your breast kneading it more aggressively as he can’t get enough purchase through your clothes. He needs these damned things gone and quick, his body is burning to touch all that soft flesh. Fabric strains and seams pop as he grabs your shirt in his hands and pulls, ripping the skimpy thing right down the middle and leaving the top and your bra in tatters just to pull your tits out of the opening the tear has created.

“Fuck this, need ta feel these,” he breathes as his face dives back into your neck.

Tits palmed in his gigantic hands, his fingers toy with the nipples ceaselessly until you can feel a pulsing deep in your clit from the stimulation. A pathetic whimper escapes your lips that you can’t swallow down and you swear his mouth is forming into a smile against your skin.

Finally he emerges from your throat, lips swollen and red from the constant pressure against your neck. The warmth of his breath makes your neck tingle where his saliva has dampened it. “Let me make this crystal fuckin’ clear. You’re mine,” he breathes, his low, gruff voice sending shivers down your spine. “Mine: with, taken, spoken for. I don’t give a fuck how far ya were gonna let it get with that bloody bastard, you’re mine. And no one, no one, touches what’s mine, understand?”

There is no fight left in you to deny him of anything, not the way he has your mind already in a disorienting haze. You nod your head in submission, even though you can hardly remember what he just asked.

“I’m the only fuckin’ guy for ya,” he groans with a malicious smirk, “the only one that can have ya. And ya want me too, don’tcha sweetheart? Ya know I’m gonna be tha only one to always protect ya, to look after ya…”

Reaching his hand between your bodies, he shifts his hips under you so that he can undo his belt buckle, then the button on his jeans, and finally pull down the zipper. Sticking his hand inside the shadowed recesses of his boxers, he pulls out and releases that thick, veiny appendage that has been steadily engorging from the moment he got in the car. It throbs and jerks in his hand as he pulls up his shirt over his chest and angles his cock up towards his stomach.

“..and if I have my way tonight I’m gonna be the one watchin’ my DNA leak outta ya just ta prove that you belong to me and only me,” he says, breath hitching from the sensitivity as his hand moves over the tip.

He pulls your hips forward so that you are positioned over top of it and you can feel his cold piercing brush against your clit as he forces you to grind on him over your panties. That fucking thing is always a surprise, the Prince Albert he’s had since before he even joined the military, though it is always a welcome one. He’s teasing you, tempting you, forcing you to fall apart without giving you anything more than a raw humping and it’s working like a charm. Up and down his cock strokes through your clothed petals, rendering you a writhing mess.

“I’m not playin’ anymore when it comes to you,” he says firmly. “I know what I got and I ain’t sharin’. You’re the only one I want and I won’t have some bastard try to take ya away.”

Aggressively, calloused fingers divide through the strands of your hair at the back of your head so that his grip is securely woven into you. He holds your head in place as he locks his auburn gaze onto your eyes, mouth inching ever nearer, but stopping just shy of your begging lips.

“Next guy that touches I’m gonna fuckin’ kill,” he breathes as his mouth connects with yours mercilessly, stealing the air from your lungs as he captures your lips to claim that mouth as his property.

Minutes pass with him overwhelming your senses: his thick cock slipping between your legs, his lips locked to yours in that fight of back and forth, his fingertips digging into the bulk of your hips to hold you down onto him. It’s almost too much and the longer it goes on the worse of a mess you become.

The tears are pooling at the rims of your eyes, your body aching and overwhelmingly sensitive that all you want to do is put his cock in, have your pussy swallow him up and fill you full so that you can finally come and end the torment, but he doesn’t stop. No, he wants you to cry for it, plead for it, be so incredibly desperate for it that you’ll let him do as he pleases without question.

He wants to ruin you for anyone else, keep you so addicted to him that you won’t think of even looking at another. Just as addicted as he is to you.

Your limbs are vibrating, tingling and near numb as he forces you to roll your hips over his piercing persistently to catch it on your clit until you can’t see straight. You press your hands into his bulky abdominals, using his torso as leverage to keep you steady. A bit of precum dribbles out of his tip and down the shaft, into the hair trailing down his pubic bone to his cock.

He switches up the rhythm a few times to disrupt the constant repetitive pressure that is needed for you to climax so that you are whimpering in distress, practically begging him with incoherent sounds to stop teasing and just let you come already. It’s too much, he feels too good; you need to come after all this buildup.

“P-please, p-pleas-se,” you stammer.

Grabbing your chin, Simon forces your face pointed towards his. “Look at me,” he demands and you lock eyes as best you can through your shimmering vision. “Keep those pretty eyes on me. I want ya to show me how well ya suck it and maybe if ya fuckin’ do it right I'll put it in ya and not make ya wait till we get home.”

His efforts have worked like a charm so that you don’t even balk as you push yourself off of his lap and move onto the seat beside him, moving onto your side and lowering your head until your lips are near the tip of his cock. Looking up, you hold his gaze through your thick eyelashes as you grab the base with your hand and wrap your mouth around it, pulling in the tip with your tongue.

“Fuck sweetheart, that’s it,” he sighs, “show me how good ya suck it. But keep them pretty eyes on me.”

There is condensation gathering steadily on the inside glass of the car to fog the windows as you take him all in until you reach your hand, suctioning your lips around the shaft as the saltiness hits your taste buds before drawing your head back up. The veins that run the length of his cock are pulsing with his rapid heartbeat and they throb against your tongue as you come back down as far as you can. You repeat the same movement over and over again, breathing through your nose to help keep your throat from spasming.

Simon looks down at you, keeping up that eye contact as you choke, your mouth so full of him that you can’t breathe. You never let your gaze falter, no matter how hard he hits your gag reflex. He’s so big there isn’t enough space in that orifice to fit him all in, though you try. Small droplets stream down from the corners of your eyes to match the dribbles of saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth and he gently wipes some of them away with his thumb as his hand rests on your cheek. Even with everything working against you, you are still sucking on him with everything that you have and goddamn is he bewitched by the way you look gagging on his dick.

“Such a pretty mouth, baby,” he praises, making your stomach flip-flop excitedly.

The more you suck, the more his hips begin to rock until he is thrusting his cock smoothly into your lips, fucking your mouth so that you don’t need to bob your head anymore. He thrusts into your throat repeatedly and soon they become more desperate the more that familiar warmth gathers itself in his belly, threatening to tear through him without warning. It’s after a few more minutes of this that he abruptly stops you by shoving your shoulders back, pulling your lips off from around his cock.

There’s only one place he wants to come and that isn’t your mouth.

You are being lifted up like he owns you and moved back over his lap while his hand adjusts his cock between your thighs. He holds onto the base as he takes the crotch of your panties with his opposite hand and wrenches them to one side so they are out of his way. He aligns himself and the tip of him pokes against your entrance that is dripping and ready.

“I only want what’s best for ya, sweetheart. Wanna keep ya from all them bastards that won’t treat ya right. I know ya better than anyone, so you’re not gonna fuckin’ question how controllin’ I am movin’ forward, are ya?”

Agonizingly slow his cock breaks through the threshold of your pussy with a shared involuntary gasp. You mewl loudly, choking at how quickly it stretches you out and he’s barely even in at all. Simon stops at the edge of his hand so that the tip rests just inside that moist barrier. “Answer,” he pushes for you to respond to him.

You nod your head vigorously, unable to speak.

He grins devilishly through heavy breaths that make his broad chest rise and fall at a rapidly growing pace. “That’s right; you’re not. Good girl. Don’t worry, it won’t be all bad. Just let me handle things and I’ll give ya everything you could ever fuckin’ want; what’s mine is gonna be yours. And what’s yours tonight…is me.”

With that he slips in the rest of his cock as he pushes you down hard onto him, filling your tight cunt until he gets to the base and there is nothing he left he can give. You cry out as your back hits into the steering wheel, causing the horn to beep briefly before Simon pulls you against him.

You are so fucking warm, so soft and your body so pliable under his hard grip that is around your ass. “Mine, only mine,” he repeats the assertion with more desperation in his tone as the squeezing from the walls of your pussy around his rock hard cock makes him so delirious it’s as if he is losing his goddamn mind.

Grunting through those first few bits of movement, he wastes no time in making your body bob up and down on him. He lifts you up only to slam you back down harder and harder each time, shoving his cock as far up into you as possible. But it isn’t enough; he needs more. He craves to fuck you harder.

Holding your waist he leans you both back to change the angle of his hips so he can pound into you as he has you secured to his chest. The sloppy sounds of your overly wet cunt being penetrated roughly grow louder, keeping time with his growing desperation. There are no more thoughts left inside his head except one and that is to rut into you until he comes.

You moan as Simon’s cock rubs into that sensitive bundle of nerves within you time and again. How you’ve lasted this long is a miracle, but that is quickly coming to an end as your orgasm cannot be held off any longer. The warmth in your stomach has gathered to its peak and all you can do is whimper in short bursts to let him know that you are about to fall over the edge.

His pace is relentless as he pumps with those powerful thrusts that bury him deep with, unyielding as everything comes to a head and with a shudder your orgasm rockets through you fiery hot, making your body writhe in his grasp. God, it doesn’t stop, second after second it just keeps building stronger and stronger. Simon does not let up and soon you are whining from the over-stimulation.

Thrusting through your release he finally feels that chord that has been tensing in his core snap tight and he is spilling over the edge with howl, his hands crushing your hips until they are stinging from the pressure of his strength.

His face juts forward to yours so that he can capture your mouth, kissing you through the pain until he has rode out his orgasm and can let go of your body. Minutes lengthen so that time seems to slow down, but soon his pace eases until he comes to a stop.

“My good girl, my pretty thing,” he pants through the euphoria coursing through his veins. “Gotta get ya home. Wanna make sure your a complete fuckin’ mess until there isn’t a doubt in your mind that I’m the only one for you.”

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