#literally fic to canon they are SO SPECIAL TO ME <3

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us writing #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #writing

[lucozadehulahoop]

Star-crossed. Lo'ak x fem!human!reader

This was originally posted on my side blog @thankeywa. It's a brand new blog and tumblr thinks it's a bot so it's not giving it visibility. Please go give it some love, I want all my avatar!related stuff to be on there.

PART 2 HERE PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE

I know that literally nobody asked for this, but I've noticed a disturbing lack of Lo'ak fics out there, so I've decided to give my input. I've had a story in mind for a while now, and I needed to get it out there. It will be a reader insert to make it more accessible, but it's somewhat based around an original f!character, so I apologize for that in advance if it gets too specific.

WARNINGS: Lo'ak is 20 years old in this and so is the reader, I do not write about minor characters. There will be eventual mature themes in this so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK.

For everyone else, if you like my writing, please let me know if you want to be on the tag list for future installments and SEND ME REQUESTS (head canons, imagines, sfw/nsfw, ecc.) ! I love that shit.

words: around 1.200

summary: reader is a human left behind on pandora, she grew up with the remaining humans who'd been aloud to stay on the planet after the war and has been friends with the Sully clan her entire life. She and Lo'ak were best friends until he began to pull away from her in their teen years for seemingly no reason. This story is about them reconnecting on the day of her twentieth birthday, and dealing with the feelings they have for each other and the obstacles that come with them being from two different worlds.

TW for this chapter: angst, smoking (don't do it, ever), brief mentions of alcohol, brief mention of war and death, brief mention of child birth, reader can breathe on pandora.

Y/n looked at the 'birthday cake' made out of cookie rations that Norm and Max had made for her. No matter how many years would pass, her dads always knew how to get creative.

"I'm twenty years old, you guys don't have to keep throwing me a birthday party." She reprimanded them softly, though her heart was filled with joy. Y/n was so thankful to have people in her life who cared enough to make her day special every single year.

"Considering you spent most of your early existence tied to test tubes to stay alive, we're merely celebrating the scientific marvel your continued survival has been." Norm joked, raising a beer, and y/n shoved him, before blowing out the single candle that had been meticulously re-used each year. It was a wonder how there was any wax still left on it.

"What did the birthday girl wish for?" Max asked, reaching for a dried-up cookie and cringing slightly at the taste as he chewed on it slowly. "The whole point of a birthday wish is to keep it to myself... or it won't come true. Honestly, I question your two's knowledge of Earth's traditions." y/n shook her head, before taking a celebratory sip of alcohol.

Norm and Max left eventually, back to the main base. They were more than capable of piloting a helicopter those days, and y/n was all grown up. More than capable of living by herself. What once had been an avatar lab, smack dab in the middle of the forests of Pandora, had been converted into her home. Pandora's rapidly repopulating fauna had surprisingly left her residence alone, well... mostly. There were still some creatures who couldn't help but keep themselves away. And by creatures, she meant Spider. Y/n was also friends with actual people like Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk, and... Lo'ak. Truth be told, she didn't know whether or not she and Lo'ak were even friends anymore. They'd been thick as thieves for as long as she could remember, always getting him out of trouble and fixing him up after a scuffle with his siblings. But then, around her sixteenth birthday, he'd started pulling away, and y/n had never understood why. They'd had a big fight about it, bottom line, he hadn't wanted to be around her anymore and y/n had to accept it.

"Open up! It's fucking freezing out here!" Came Spider's loud voice followed by an incessant banging on the door that immediately pulled y/n out of her reverie. "Alright, alright..." she laughed a little as she went to let them all inside. The Sullys were always insisting on spending birthdays together, even though some of them were now getting too big to even fit inside her 'home'. Neteyam had to walk around with his back bent forward, and Kiri knocked over quite a few things before they made it to y/n's main living space, which was more or less Na've-proof. "Happy birthday!" Tuk hugged her and y/n struggled not to feel crushed by the embrace. Even the littlest Sully was now nearly as tall as her.

Y/n let them all inside, already giving them dirty looks at the sight of gifts. "I told you guys not to..."

She stayed on the doorstep a little longer, gazing out into the night, desperately hoping one last uninvited guest would turn up. She felt Neteyam's hand on her shoulder. "He's not coming. I tried to talk to him but he was being a skxawng as usual..." Y/n blushed, not really wanting Neteyam to know she was pining for his younger brother. "Oh, right! I was—just checking you were all here..." she closed the door and they both went back to join the others.

___

"Alright come on, your mom is going to kill me if you get back late and I don't have enough space in here for all of you. Spider would have to sleep outside." Y/n teased, trying to let Tuk understand it was time to go. "Hey!" Spider protested at her lighthearted jab, but knew it was time for them to get going. Nobody wanted to get on Neytiri's bad side. Y/n hugged them all goodbye and thanked them for the presents: Tuk had made her a lovely drawing, and the others had collectively made her a rather beautiful necklace, which she immediately wore. Y/n waited on her doorstep till she could no longer hear the sounds of her friends chatting, and then proceeded to do two incredibly dangerous things: she sat outside of the protection of her bunker, all alone in the cold Pandora night air, and lit up a cigarette.

She'd discovered a terrifyingly endless supply of cigarette cartoons back at the base almost a year prior, and as soon as she'd tried her first one, she'd gotten addicted. Y/n hadn't told Norm or Max, of course, as it would have broken their hearts, especially because of how fragile she was. Y/n's mother had gone into labor in the aftermath of the battle for Pandora between the Na'vi and the Sky people. The soldier had lost her life giving birth, but her baby had survived, taking her first breath in the inhospitable Pandora air. Norm was convinced Eywa herself had kept her alive, had given her the ability to take in the air that hadn't previously failed to kill any other human. Sure, it had come at the price of being particularly fragile her entire life. And how was y/n repaying that gift? By cutting her miraculous existence short more and more each day. Thankfully, it was a while since she'd been used as a test rat, or had check ups of any sort. As far as the Sullys were concerned... they were way better off not even knowing what she was doing to herself.

A sudden rustling in the trees instantly made y/n alert and she didn't waste any time getting back inside. She showered, and shamefully hid her smokes somewhere her dads or the Sullys wouldn't look. When she had nothing else left to do, y/n forced herself to crawl into bed, placing a hand over her necklace. Her wish to see Lo'ak hadn't come true in the end, and while not surprising, it still hurt like hell.

"A pack of viperwolves? Seriously, Lo'ak?" Y/n groaned in frustration as she cleared her table for her best friend to lie on.

"I thought I could take them." He hissed as she doused him with disinfectant. "Yeah, well, you know human medical treatment hurts like a bitch, so it's either my way, or you're going to have to fess up to your parents about what you did." Y/n tried to sound cold, but she'd always been too soft on him.

When they were younger, and Lo'ak still hadn't grown to be double her size, they would often fall asleep together in her bed. "You don't have to keep doing this shit to prove something, you know?" She whispered to him one night, turning over to look at him and gently touch his face. "Your parents love you. And so do Neteyam, Kiri, Tuk and Spider. Lo'ak, I— we— don't want to lose you."

Y/n was almost asleep when a loud 'thud' coming from outside woke her. Something was moving on her roof, or rather, someone... Y/n didn't show whether she was dreaming or not as she looked out the window and locked eyes with Lo'ak, because the second she did, he seemed to slide off the top of her bucker, falling down into the grass below with a loud groan.

He'd probably just woken up half of the animals on Pandora.

#avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar x reader #avatar x you #avatar x y/n #lo'ak x you #lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x y/n #lo'ak fluff #lo'ak smut #lo'ak fanfiction #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak sully #lo'ak headcanons #atwow #atwow smut #atwow imagines #lo'ak x human reader #avatar x human reader #lo'ak x fem reader #avatar 2009 #avatar x reader smut #avatar fanfiction

[avelera]

Avelera's Dreamling Fic Status Update:

Keeping Sanctuary (subscribe for updates here) - Giving Sanctuary Sequel follows Dream and Hob from the events of the altered meeting in 1689 up to the modern era. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1689 meeting?) Current word count: ~7,000 words across several chapters. Realistic progress update: 1/10 complete total, Ch. 1 is about 1/5 complete.

(The rest are below the cut!)

Come live with me and be my love - Dream and Hob fall in love during the Regency Era when Dream loses a bet to Desire. Shenanigans ensue. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1789 meeting?) Ch. 16 is at 2,500 words, probably about 1/3 done. Current plan is to wrap up Part 1 in the next few chapters then create a part 2 which finishes out their "1 year of marriage" on a month by month basis instead of following them day to day like Part 1 done. Probably won't be a separate fic though, just a change of format.

This Rough Magic - My take on "Hob rescues Dream from Burgess" with a twist that Hob ends up on Burgess's radar himself when he picked up some occult magic skills in the hopes of contacting Dream after 1889 and apologizing. Now he has to pretend to be friends with Burgess in order to get them both out of there, because Burgess thinks Hob can help force Dream to give him immortality. (aka, What if they hooked up after the 1889 meeting?) Ch. 9 is about 800 words in. Story is still very much in progress I just have a lot of WIPs, as you can see.

Joke's On You (I'm Into That) - The 1589 meeting goes very different when Hob proposes to Dream, who is so offended that he just can't let the matter go. A very angry, very horny competition kicks off between them. (Aka, what if they hooked up in 1589 when they were both at their absolute worst as people?) I have literally 40,000 words written for the rest of this fic. The problem is, there's big gaps in that first draft I have to fill in and scenes that need to be added. This might be my favorite WIP but it's also the hardest to write with all the smut scenes so it'll arrive whenever I can manage, I'm afraid.

Banana Daiquiris Ch. 2 - Comic-canon compliant (mostly) - Dream fakes his death to go on a vacation with Hob and Destruction. They end up in Tahiti. Destruction plays matchmaker. Hob doesn't know whether to thank Destruction or strangle him. Current word count 6,000 words. I've been playing around with adding on to this fic for ages. One of these days, I'll pull it all together.

And for fics that haven't been posted anywhere yet (you can subscribe on my Ao3 author page for alerts about them):

Hob Amesia Fic - Dream and Hob are dating officially now in the 21st century when Hob gets hit with what seems to be a memory loss curse, shaving off 100 years of his life each day until Dream finds a cure. This effectively grants Dream a walk down memory lane as he is reacquainted with the Hob of each era and, in the process, learns how much longer Hob cared for him than Dream ever realized. Current word count: 35,000 words. Currently writing 1489 (1889-1589 are done) and I might re-write the opening. It genuinely kills me not to have this one posted lol.

"Dream Accidentally Cursed Hob with a Normal Life" Fic - Dream learns that from 1689 on, Hob's life has been safe. Too safe. Improbably safe. Nothing bad or extraordinary or even terribly special has happened to him since Dream began to consider Hob his friend. He knows this because during his imprisonment, Hob's life became exciting again and suddenly went back to normal the day Dream was freed. Hob is not convinced that Dream is the reason for this, Dream disagrees. They talk about it. And fight about it. And some things that they've probably needed to talk about for a long time finally get said. (aka, sometimes the author just needs to write their weird headcanon into a 20,000 word fic that's almost entirely dialogue). Current word count: 16,000 words. This one also kills me that it's not done yet.

You Found Me Ch. 2 - (Comic-inspired) Hob's girlfriend Audrey survives the car crash. They got married. Then, in 2021, they got divorced. The Hob Dream meets at the New Inn when he returns is newly-divorced, bitter, and angry, and not in a good headspace to reunite with the friend who ghosted him over thirty years before. -5,000 words left to post. One of the first one-shots I wrote for this fandom then abandoned. Never could quite find an end for it that didn't become a huge long fic but I think I finally cracked it.

"Fairy God Marlowe" - 1589 fixit fic where Hob and Kit Marlowe strike up a conversation while Dream and Shaxberd are talking. Hob and Marlowe talk about plays, and faith, and salvation, and queer love, and what it means to live forever. Hob gets a second chance at a first impression. Current word count: ~5,000 words. Sadly, it's all dialogue in script format. I'd need to convert it into prose to publish which would be a slog. So it's a bit shelved until I find the energy to do so. No, I will not post it in script format, I'm allergic to the thought.

I've got a few other concepts kicking around, but these are the ones that actually have (*does a quick calculation*) over 100,000 words written that I haven't had the chance to post yet?? And it's driving me insane????

Anyway, I should probably pin this post for those curious lol. Feel free to ask me any follow-up questions, I love talking about WIPs even as they ruin my life!

#dreamling #maggie's writing progress #dreamling fic update #1689 fic #1589 fic #arranged marriage au dreamling

[namazunomegami]

Atonement

Pairing: Geto Suguru x gn!reader

Synopsis: How can you cleanse yourself from the sin that has been tainting you since your attempt to escape? The answer is easy: walk on barefoot for him, suffer some misery, risk your health for him, open yourself up for him and you can earn his forgiveness.

CW: canon compliant, established relationship, toxic and complicated dynamics, religious symbolism, porn with feelings, Geto is a manipulative ass how surprising, gaslighting, m!receiving oral, fingering, non-consensual edging, good old unprotected sex + creampie

WC: 5.3k

Credits: my lovely @notveryrussian who worked so hard to get this fic proofreaded. Ngl they deserve all the praise and respect because we lost literal pages from the already edited draft because windows is crap and they had to start over again. Take one big break darl, you deserve it 💕

Song rec: mythical creature by pregnant whale pain was my main inspiration during writing but i think tumblr dot com is not ready yet to listen to an unknown hungarian avantgarde metal band while reading porn lmao. Maybe i'll drop the acoustic version later.

A/N: Here is part 1 in case if you missed it. I think you need to know what happened to completely understand the buildup and have a general idea about their relationship. This fic is probably my fave I’ve written so far, a special lil brainchild of mine. These two are living in my mind rent free with all their lore and they'll never let me go.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated 💕

Minors don't interact unless you want me to stand outside your house at 3 am with a pitchfork

It was very hard to explain to your family what happened to you. The worry which they approached you with, especially Mimiko and Nanako just stirred a weird sense of guilt in your chest. The twins even offered to help you out with chores, eagerly telling you to rest, let your body heal. Your heart shattered to pieces in that moment, weeping endlessly with fat, salty tears. Your precious darling girls, so considerate of you, so caring, their hearts filled with everlasting gratitude. And you wanted to leave them. You felt like a piece of shit of a parental figure, obviously.

Days passed as if nothing had ever happened. Even in your private moments with Geto, the issue was never brought up. He took care of your wounds, of course, but your escape attempt wasn’t a topic of conversation at all. You swept it under the rug.

Which means it was only a question of time until he was going to wield it against you.

“Leave the scabs alone.” he reprimands you softly, dragging your wrist away from them. The hot water softened your scars, making them itchy, easy to pick away at them. But Geto is so thoughtful for looking after you like some kind of crazy mother hen, right? Even sitting in the tub behind you.

He takes hold of the edge, stepping out of the tub swiftly. The water suddenly drops around you, goosebumps dot your skin from the sudden touch of the moistened air as he hides that broad, sun-kissed form of his beneath a bathrobe. You ache for a bit of peace, a bit of me-time, but since the so-called “accident”, he just couldn’t stop himself from keeping an eye on you constantly.

Your hand dances along the surface of the water, bunching the bubbles together into various shapes, like they’re islands. Like you’re a young god, decorating the plane you’ve created. But his outstretched palm appearing in your vision disturbs your creative process.

“Come, I’ll take the stitches out.”

Compared to when your wound was sutured, cutting out the thread is a relatively quick process. Especially with his competency. The tweezer lifts and holds the knot, as he severs the thread with a pair of scissors and pulls it from your flesh before he moving on to the next. It’s uncomfortable, not in a way that it hurts, but it makes your skin crawl and your bones bend. An overall disgusting feeling. But when it’s over, it does feel better. And knowing him, you wonder if it’s purposeful or not.

“Must you make it painful?” you complain, thumb pressing down on the closed, marred skin. For the wrong reasons though, but you can freely complain.

“I didn’t intend to hurt you.” his voice is soft like silk, but not without a sharp edge in it, slowly unfurling, like the jaws of a venus flytrap. “I just wanted to teach you a lesson.”

You glare at him, your eyes piercing him like a dagger.

“Me? I wanted to teach you a lesson.”

This… was a bit too far, you must admit.

You storm out of the bathroom, like you could get away from the conversation.

“Go on, speak.” his words echo through the walls of the bedroom, making your movements halt immediately. You glance up at the window, faced with his reflection as he leans against the doorframe. “What should I learn from you? That you’re not afraid to run? To put your life in unnecessary danger?”

A long sigh leaves through your nostrils.

“If it comforts you, then yes, I realized that I had made a dumb decision.”

You don’t have to turn around to know he’s standing right behind you. Looming over you, shrouding you like an evil trickster spirit.

“I must admit I enjoyed your little attempt…” his palms are heavy on your shoulders, just like his words echoing close to shell of your ear. “Catching you, watching your resolves crumble, the raw terror plastered on your face…” the way his voice caresses you is just like the way he would hold a blade right against your throat, pressing down on the pulsing veins that could be cut open so easily. Like needles slowly being inserted into your ear canals. Eventually it softens, getting more serious and chiding. “But you did scare me. Have you ever thought about what would’ve happened if I didn’t go after you?”

You’d die, you would definitely die. Bleeding out amidst the leaves and grass, letting the frosty night bite you tense and weak. All alone in the dark.

Hold on…

You wouldn’t be injured if he hadn’t frightened you in the first place.

Did he just… no, it can’t be.

He slowly walks away from you, and you hear the bed creak under his weight. The choking feeling finally lifts from your throat. You turn towards one of the incense burners, already filled, it merely needs to be lit. But you do it slowly, just for the sake of appearing busy, to not feel obligated to carry on with the conversation.

But you should make peace with him before he does. He’ll make you face all of your mistakes and their consequences, if not outright making you suffer because of them. Rub all of them into your face until you have no choice but to plead for forgiveness.

It’s not easy, but you open your mouth. The scent of sandalwood lowers your guards, helping you be honest and brings forth the thoughts you’ve been trying to hide for a long time.

“Sometimes I wonder if we’re doing the right thing. And I wonder even more about that if we’ll fail before reaching our goal. Fail spectacularly. Because we want to do the impossible.”

“What is exactly the right thing? Being selfless? Forgetting all about our grudges and letting the world trample all over us? Or being selfish and crushing anyone under our feet to keep each other safe?”

Like an elastic band being strained for far too long, you snap. Luckily, the bronze lid of the incense burner holds out under your grasp.

“It’s too fucking late for moral arguments! Can’t you speak to me more directly for once? Instead of hiding behind your… carefully crafted scenarios that only prove your point.”

You should have avoided looking at him. At your serpent, who made you sin, who was cursed alongside you, your serpent who devoured your beloved Adam. You yearned for the remains, sitting in the bottomless pit of his stomach.

But you swore those remains spoke to you, through layers of flesh, scales, and deception. Soft and calm like a light summer breeze.

“Do you have doubts about me, darling? Are you giving up on me?”

The question breaks you, evaporating all of your anger and resentment in a flash. Devoid of any playful tone or hidden meanings, so raw that it takes hold of your heart and squeezes it so tight that it couldn’t possibly beat anymore.

You know how he twists the truth, striking right into the softest parts of you. He feeds you poison – yet you swallow it right down every single time.

“Faith has no zenith, my dear.” you answer, low and sweet, like you wanted to comfort him. The lid on the incense burner closes, giving you enough time to build up the courage to approach him. You weave your words carefully, in such fashion that it can be interpreted in multiple ways. If he switched just one little word, he’d immediately gain more insight into what’s really been weighing on your heart. “There’s no such peak we can reach on which we can stagnate forever. Faith sometimes wavers, sometimes we question our beliefs. Sometimes we’re unsure if our prayers are heard.” you get down on your knees before him, taking his hand into yours, giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “But I do want to have faith in you.”

His features visibly soften. Heavy lids close in relief, and you feel his thumb brushing along your knuckles.

This is your chance! Go on, there’s no time more perfect than this to try to convince him.

“We should really get away from the temple.” you start with an almost resigned sigh, but your excitement soon starts to show. “Just for a few days. Manami will handle the followers while we leave for the countryside, or an island. We can bring the girls even.”

A faint glimmer in his eyes tells you his answer is going to disappoint you.

“They don’t know about the girls, but they certainly know about you.” he reminds you sternly. “The higher ups want us dead and the last time I offered to protect someone, they ended up getting killed.”

His voice is faint, almost shaky. He rarely talks about the death of Riko. And if he ever brings her up in a conversation, you know he means it.

The heavy lid above his eyes drops, violet irises hiding behind his lashes, averted from you. The words coming out of him are barely above a whisper, like his lips are made from lead, like forming the words is a tiring task because they’re so heavy, and filled with something violently torturing him.

“This is a risk I’m not willing to take again. Not even for you. Especially for you.”

You feel something pooling on your waterline. Translucent pearls of tears appear so involuntarily when you see him like this. Sometimes you do want to hurt him, but when you see him in pain, it torments you even worse.

“I’m not asking you to take risks for me. I never did. But you should take some for you. You could use some respite.” you lace your fingers with his. It brings you a strange kind of comfort how your hand just loses itself in his, but it’s yours that looks more lively and powerful. Like it’s you what keeps him together. As if without you he would shatter into pieces. “You take on an awful lot of responsibilities, I think sometimes more than you’re capable of handling.”

Affection sweeps through his features as he caresses your head, from the roots of your strands to the thick bone of your jaw. A lonely thumb brushing along from your cheekbone to the lobe of your ear. And there’s nothing you can do, only stare at him, wide-eyed with reverence, like he’s an ethereal being.

“This is not your cross to bear.”

He wanted to ease your concerns, but you’re much more stubborn than that. You won’t stand there, at a safe distance, watching him drag himself to his Calvary, whipped and crowned with thorns. You’ll push through the crowd, smash them to bits just to reach him and offer your veil to wipe his face. A thousand times, as many times as he needs.

“Of course it is, what do you expect from me? Unlike…” No, don’t say names, do not compare yourself to certain figures in your past and the way they treated him. “I’m worried about you, for no other reason than I genuinely care about you. That’s why I want you to put our plans to aside - let’s unwind a little, recharge. Before all of this drives us insane.”

He deliberately avoids answering, your concern grows and grows like vicious vine. Is this too much to ask for? A small moment of normalcy can’t be granted to you? What are the two of you really? Idols of worship, if not gods at this point because your sheep do regard you as such. But can’t gods long for a visit amongst mortals? Can’t they shed their divine status? You could, but maybe, before he’d let you leave, he’ll feed you pomegranate seeds.

Would you eat them again? Of course you would. Even if you fight and snarl a little beforehand. Because love is the death of duty, and of a peaceful mind, of comprehensive decisions. Love is so mystified, shrouded in the illusion of an immortalized existence, just like death. Love is, indeed, death.

Your palms cup his face, his skin radiates warmth through you. The warmth of the evening sun that makes the sky bleed with the prettiest colors you can imagine. Your touch slowly encourages him to look into your eyes, finding a strange kind of determination and care mixed with your obvious worry. A Magdalene dwells within your gaze, who already washed her prophet’s feet with tears and dried them with her hair before he starts his last journey to Golgotha.

“I told you a million times, if you fall too deep into your misery, when you feel like you can’t come back to the surface on your own, let me know, so I can pull you out. Or let me know so I can go after you. And we’ll drown together.”

All those little pacts and vows you made during the years echo through you. Even the first one, the most ancient of them all, when it was still easy to hide your concerns behind your techniques.

I’ll keep an eye on you.

It’ll keep an eye on you.

You lean closer, foreheads and the tips of your noses touching. Eyes closing in almost perfect synchronicity.

“Promise me, Suguru. Promise me again.”

You wait and wait, until his warm breath brushes your skin like fine silk, like a feather.

“I promise.”

You sigh in relief. It hurts, it hurts so much. There’s so much place in your heart for him to dwell in. He owns it and he won’t give it back. Ever.

You only wanted a chaste kiss, but a special type of hunger wakes deep below your navel. You taste his words, you swallow them down, nipping them from his lips. You look for the rest of them, his thoughts that hadn’t been formed into words yet, the rest of the sentence, you search for it with your tongue inside his mouth.

You grab onto the sheets, trying to push yourself up. Like you could overpower him, like you could battle against him. To have him laid out on the mattress, defeated. But he stops your advances with a palm resting on your shoulder, gently pushing you away.

“You’re not healed yet.” he whispers, truly concerned.

“Then I’ll be on top, I don’t care.” you oppose breathily, your fingers trying to pry his robe open.

“The cut on your hand could re-open if we’re not careful.”

Oh, how you adore him when he’s so tender with you, but now, this is the last thing you want. You want to bare your teeth and go right for the throat.

“Then you’ll stitch me up again.” There’s a playful edge in your voice, and you kiss him again with the same curve of a smile while he lets you crawl on top of him.

And he smiles against you too, delighted by your eagerness. You, trying to eat him up, digest him - he’s just enjoying you and the feast you’re having. Taking everything from you. He only wants to capture you, to cage you in his hold. He’s kneading your flesh leisurely and humming into your mouth contently, almost lazily.

In the crooks of his body, you find your religion.

The sharp line of his jaw, the tendons of his neck, the hollow caverns around his collarbone. But your mouth carefully avoids the scars slashing through his chest, after all those years, it still pains him when the lightly coloured, textured skin gets touched. As if these lips of yours and your aimlessly trailing fingers were the same blades, penetrating the flesh again and again.

There’s not a morsel of him that you weren’t intimately familiar with. In a way that rivals how much you know about yourself. And what you know even better is that how can you venerate them, dote on them, adore, and idolize with such devotion you could anger all deities created by man and make them scream blasphemy on you.

You take his cock in your hand, teasingly working your palms around him. Pumping it, stroking your thumb along the underside to make his breath hitch. His dick grows beneath your hands, getting harder and heavier. The first beads of precum get smeared along the length by your skillful fingers.

“You know you don’t have to- “but you cut him off while settling between his legs.

“Just relax and let me do all the work.” your response comes out a bit more deadpan than planned. “You deserve it once in a while.”

And with that, you wrap your lips around him, enveloping him in warmth and wetness, your tongue slowly swirling around the head. His thighs twitch, more precum oozes into your waiting mouth as the muscle between your teeth works eagerly. You give him a few, gentle sucks, slurping up the mixture of your own saliva and his arousal. Between ragged breaths, he reminds you to breathe through your nose as you take more and more of his length. You relax your jaw, your fingers tense around the base of his cock and you’re trying as hard as you can to defeat the urge to gag. When you fit all of him inside your mouth, you empty your lungs and give him a harder suck, hard enough to make you cheeks hollow and his chest heave. As your free hand is occupied with kneading his balls between your fingers and knuckles, a moan bursts out of him.

The sound boosts your confidence, filling you with a wicked kind of playfulness. The kind of wicked that makes you pull back your tongue a little, as to not keep your teeth hidden. You drag them along his sensitive, pulsing underside, balancing the pressure between pleasure and pain. Like you could prove to him that you’re ready to bite back, that this is the only moment when he can’t control you, that he shouldn’t underestimate you.

And just as if he could read your thoughts, his hand goes for your head, fingers getting lost between your strands. But he’s not as cruel as to push you down on him, instead he guides you, increases the rhythm that you’re working with. Steady and firm, but not too fast. You earn yourself his praises, soft curses pitched higher than his normal voice.

This is what real worship looks like.

When you feel the muscles in his thighs and stomach tensing up, you stop. You emerge from the space between his legs, wiping your lips clean and admiring your work. All that flushed skin blooming in pink on his chest and face. You move, trying to get into a new position, settling your calves right next to hips. You start aligning yourself with his cock to finally start grinding on him.

He sits up and traps you with an arm coiling around your waist.

“Since when were you so reckless?”

His hand creeps around the apex of your thighs. A finger barely brushes along your slit. By adding another digit, he spreads your folds, finding hot, smooth, slippery flesh.

“I would’ve prepped myself.” that’s all you can say in your defense.

Fingertips circle your hole, applying a bit of pressure, checking how much you’ve loosened up. He invades you slowly as your lungs empty, the hardened skin on his fingers stroking and massaging your sweet spots before he starts working you open.

You wrap your arms around him, slowly undoing his bun to have something to grab onto as you jolt, as your bones melt, as your brows furrow in bliss. The moans coming from you are breathy and tender, and you hide them in his strands. He twists his fingers inside you, stretching your warm muscles further, making your back arch and you press your hardened nipples to his chest. Your essence engulfs his knuckles, clear and sticky like honey.

The heel of his palm settles right against your clit and you shamelessly grind on it. Your mewls pass over his ears as he’s nuzzling into the crook of your neck, nipping at the skin of a faint scar. But you resist giving in, you stop him, telling him that’s enough, but in reality you just want your control back. Take back the lead and revel in it.

And somehow he obeys, laying back into the sheets.

You slip out of your robe, showing yourself fully. The bruises on your skin can finally bathe in the dim lamplight, painting the complexion of your sides, shoulders, and upper arm in different shades of blue and purple, like paint on bare canvas. Like the night sky carrying storm clouds, like you’re rotting, decomposing. You find a twisted, perverted joy in the fact that he must be seeing them for the whole time.

“Slowly, slowly.” he murmurs softly as you’re pushing the head of his cock inside you. “There’s no need to rush.” Trimmed nails trail up and down from the flesh of your thighs to your bruised sides. Tender and slow like a ghost, goosebumps pepper your skin from the tickling feeling. “I’m already yours.” He purrs and your heart flutters.

And there’s so, so much pride in you that only you can render him to this state. Too powerful for the world to bear him, capable to burn this plane to ruins, defying the barriers between a mortal and a god - or something way worse than that. Maybe you should receive twice the respect from your herd, for being the only person who can enslave him in this way, that only you can have this sort of power over him. Only you can overthrow him. Because you’re just too dear to him, too close to his burning heart.

Maybe it’s your time to warn him. Tame him like the monster he is.

You move with your own rhythm. His hand caged between your fingers and pressed down against the sheets. You give him no other choice but to venerate you back and he does, with pleased, low rumbles coming from his throat. Only a singular hand is allowed to roam your form freely. On your back tracing the shallow line where your spine lies beneath skin and flesh, wandering towards the inner part of your thighs, then to your stomach and chest. And you reward him with a prayer of your own, encapsulated in deep, long sighs.

But you’re too trusting of him. You let your guard down too easily.

You’re holding onto his kneecaps, leaning towards them a little, allowing every inch of you to be seen. You want to give him a show, but your knees are too worn and tired.

He takes hold of your hips, helping you guide yourself along his length. His pelvis moves along with you in synced rhythm. Your teeth are pressing down on the soft skin of your lips, but you can’t keep your whimpers in. You’re getting close, your muscles and nerves are st tight and pulsing, your walls are pressing down on his length. His name mindlessly slips out of your mouth.

Maybe you can say you love him before you shatter.

But his fingers clench around you, strong and firm, stopping your movements. Lifting your hips up so high that his cock is barely inside, robbing you from your incoming orgasm.

You’re shocked, eyes staring into the nothingness, open wide. Your stomach drops, stirring up all kinds of feelings dwelling in you. A chill races down your vertebrae as you glance down at him.

“Suguru..?” Your voice is weak, shaky.

Fear courses through your being, primordial and all-consuming.

And when he speaks to you it’s all dark, shrouded in malevolence.

“You forgot one thing, darling. After I brought you back from the forest.”

No, no, no, he can’t do this to you! He can’t hold your orgasm hostage for the sake of toying with you! You should puncture his flesh your nails, scratch him, tear him up, but you can only grit your teeth. Your features twist from bliss to rage.

“You…” boiling anger swims through your voice. It’s like it’s not even your voice - more like a hiss, a growl.

There’s an undecipherable mixture of pity and amusement in his eyes. He twitches inside you but you’re too upset to notice.

“Apologize.” he sneers - almost commands.

His words cause anger to bubble up in you.

“Oh, you piece of shit…!” you seethe, but sob and moan when he slams you back on his cock, stretching you around his length again. Wanting to quench your rage with the sensation you crave the most right now.

“I hope, for your sake, I don’t have to repeat myself.”

It doesn’t matter how much you try to squirm, fuss and wriggle, he forces you still. His behaviour frustrates you to no end when you’re so desperate for a bit of friction, the horribly hollow and burning feeling of your lost peak torturing you seemingly endlessly. To the point where you’re too tired to put up a fight, when you’re teetering on the edge of breaking. You know you must swallow your pride, you have let him have it his way.

“I… I’m sorry.” you apologize meekly, teary-eyed, your voice a pathetic mewl. He finally starts lifting you up and easing you down, building you up slowly. But it’s not enough. You need more but he won’t give it to you just yet.

“You do?” he asks you in a way that it cuts deep into your marrow. It’s not even close to a loving tease – no, he’s outright mocking you.

Vicious bastard. You should grab his throat and squeeze the air out of him.

“Yes, I do!” you cry out without thinking. “I’m sorry for running away from you.” you push the words out through your whimpers. He increases the pace, making you yelp and shake, you end up closing your eyes reflexively. He robbed you from the sensation for so long that you became sensitive, it’s easier to make a mess out of you. Your face is red with shame, so much so you can’t look him in the eyes. The humiliation is like an invisible rope tightening around your neck.

“Promise you’ll never do that to me again.”

He pushes your hips further along his length this time, shifting you a bit towards his thighs. Creating a perfect angle, he uncovers a sweet spot inside you that makes you almost incapable of forming coherent words. And he eats the sight right up.

“…I promise… I promise...” you manage to get your answer out in the form of a choked hiccup. Your vision blurs. Everything is too intense for you to handle. You swear that the very shape of you could dissolve at any given moment.

Faith is desperate. Gods are hungry for despair. So they deliberately make you suffer and only then reveal themselves to you.

His fingers dig into your waist so hard it burns. You feel the world shift with you and then you collide with the sheets. Your bruised back ripples with pain. You’re unsure if he did it out of spite or not. You don’t know if he’ll completely shatter your dignity, or if he’s fine with just enforcing the feeling that you can never be above him, that you can never defeat him.

His weight on top of you is overwhelming. The midnight dark locks of his hair spread around you like spilled ink. And through the thick fog of your mind, too far gone in twisted, masochistic pleasure, you lock your legs around his waist. You don’t want him to go away. You might as well cease to exist if he does.

“And what do we say when we apologize?”

The soft plea coming from you is more instinctual rather than deliberate.

“Forgive me.”

You ache for him to move, you’re starved for the incoming high. Like a ravenous beast, all devouring. When he finally gives it to you, his thrusts make you feel possessed, make your back arch, your head falls back into the pillow as if you were offering your neck to him (maybe one day he won’t be able to resist the urge and will bite down on the jugular, through your trachea, putting you out of your misery) - you don’t dare to beg for anything else.

Maybe just for a little blood. A mark he can wear, just like you wear your bruises. Your nails somehow acquire a will of their own, your scratches have him excited and pleased.

His fingers meander around your jaw, gently coaxing you into letting him guide your gazes to meet again.

He’s imitating you, admiring his work like you did with him. And what he sees is a being stripped from any likeness of a dignified human being. With eyes so blown he can see the bottommost pits of Hell in them.

And he’s satisfied, rewarding you with a soft kiss on your temple.

“I forgive you.”

Your release crashes over you like a tide, submerging you, burning you to cinders on the inside. Tearing you apart. And when he collapses on top you after filling you to the brim, you feel like a festering wound.

He’s a disease, miasma, a flesh-eating parasite crawling inside you.

“You’re…” you huff. “You’re awful.”

“I know. But you love me all the same.”

You wonder what you should have done to earn a different outcome, but you give up soon. Looks like he already had plans for your atonement in mind. After all, gods are impatient creatures. They’re dependent on your reverence and servitude. And you’ve waited for too long to make things right.

Why, why, why - it echoes inside your head.

But if you think about it… he’s your serpent. The vilest, most horrendous creature created by God. The one who charmed you, tempted you with sin and has now sunken his fangs into you. Of course he did, and instead of trying to heal from his venomous bite, you want to catch him - to find out his reasons, to prove to him that you didn’t deserve that.

And yet you could never, ever prove him wrong. Your serpent will always think it was right to bite. It’s in his nature afterall.

“Is your hand alright?”

He makes it up to you with spoiling you again. He cleans your wounds so sweetly, so thoughtfully, looks after you in a way that nobody could, which confuses you even further.

He cherishes you, destroys himself for the sake of keeping you safe - not like it’s a choice, but a must - just like a mother would. He scolds you, reminds you not to make the same mistake again, collars you, keeps you on a tight leash, only loosening it (just a little) when he succeeded at making you play by his rules, just like a father would.

And somehow, he excels at both. Way better than those two ever did when it came to you.

You wish your glare could pierce right through his skull when you hand the empty glass back to him. You don’t have it in you to play nice. You don’t even attempt hide that you’re sulking, he probably finds it funny - adorable even.

“Go to hell.” you spit and lay back into the sheets, your bruised back facing him.

“Oh, darling…” he coos, but the surface level sweetness of his tone hides a sharp edge of condescendence. He crawls into bed, right behind you, caging you in his embrace, forcing you to feel the warmth of his body. The warmth that you’re so used to, the one you can’t sleep without it. Nobody has ever made you feel this safe, and the fact makes your heart ache and your stomach twist.

“If there’s a Hell, I’ll see you there.”

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #jjk x reader #suguru geto x reader #meesa writes #DAAARLING GUESS WHOS COME BACK FROM JAIIIIL #Idk what kind of deep psychological issue of mine is in that fic but now its your job to decipher #just please dont bring Freud into the picture I hate that man

[etoilesombre]

Fic Master List

I got tired of having to decide which fic post to keep pinned, so I made this. Proper summaries, tags and warnings all on AO3.

Black Sails

Another Way - Silverflint, E, 29,399 words, complete. Dubcon! But in a very old-school fanfic trope fuck or die way. It diverges from the scene where they get captured taking the warship. They do work through everything in the aftermath, and the end is very sweet actually.

By Faith of my Body - Silverflintmadi in various combinations, but emphasis on the flintmadi relationship. E, Chapter 1/4 posted. Flint and Madi bond over books, the weight of leadership, and being in love with John Silver. FealtySub!Flint, shameless use of literature for my own nefarious purposes, and so much pining.

Another Troy to Burn - Series. Silverflint longfic series, my special precious baby and literally the first thing I ever wrote. It's canon where they're fucking the whole time but it doesn't change anything. There is a moodboard (thanks @jaynovz) and also a playlist.

A Composite Unity - E, 20,366 words, complete. The first two seasons, Flint pov. He is not having a great time.

The Salt and the Sea - E, 60,495 words, complete. Set during the season 2-3 break, how Silver decided to stay and what happened with the gold. He is also not having a great time.

It Only Made Me Real- E, chapters 4/? posted. Silver adjusting to his role as quartermaster, Flint being Flint during the raids. I swear upon everything holy that I WILL finish this series if its the last thing I do, but, it has been on hiatus for a while.

If It Was You - Silverflint, E, 17,430 words, complete. Free use gangbang porn that got out of control and also grew a lot of feelings. The boys spend the night in port on a mission. There is only one bed. Flint freaks out and makes questionable choices, Silver walks in on the whole thing, they have to work through it. Cathartic happy ending. The very Most dirty talk.

I'll Carry You Home Tonight - Silverflint, E, 6,604 words, complete. This one is just porn. Season 3-4 break, the guys are newly in a relationship, they get Pirate Date Night. It's working title was 'impact play and 5 phases of ass stuff'.

long as amber of ember glows - Silverflint, E, 7,933 words, complete. If 3.10 ended the way it should have. There are love confessions, and they fuck on the gold. No literally, on it. It's very sweet honestly.

Our Feast is But Beginning - Series. Silverflint Cookingverse! Flint teaches Silver to cook.

Spit-Roasted - M, 5,821 words, complete. The one where Flint shows Silver how to roast a pig. It's canon! Flint is very weird about sex.

Gentille Alouette - E, 11,618 words, complete. Late night cooking dates on the Walrus, continuing intense sexual tension, Flint is basically edging himself. He sure is a way.

Princes of the New World - E, 38,145 words, complete. This one got a little out of hand, it has many things in it, including lots of hurt comfort and caretaking, the guys finally getting together and also not hiding their relationship, some intense gender vibes (Silver gets to be a pampered pretty princess) and yes, even some cooking.

Our Shadows That Are Bold - Silverflint, E, 4,912 words, complete. Dom Silver. The first little iteration of fealty sub Flint, he sure has some feelings about Silver coming into his own as king.

So We Begin - Silverflint, E, 4,038 words, complete. 3.7 missing scene fic that is exactly what you would expect after stomp stomp and the "how good it feels" conversation.

The Soft Animal of Your Body - Silverflint, E, 3,398 words, complete. The watersports one. Yep sure is, omorashi style, with a good side of hurt comfort stuff and also Flint telling a weird dirty story. Set during warship recovery time. This is basically an outtake of longfic because it doesn't quite work there but wouldn't leave my brain.

the sound that you found for me - T, background silverflintmadi, but its really about Silver and Betsy the cat. Yep. 5,699 words, complete. Kittenfic!! Written for the Beach Blanket Black Sails Ficfest, the prompt was 'Betsy has kittens and Silver wants to keep them on Maroon Island.' It's really about Silver and trauma and there are sad parts but nothing bad happens to any cats and there is a happy ending.

stitched with its color - G, silverflintmadi sort of, 1,344 words, complete. The conversation where Madi tells Flint that Silver is alive.

Such Terrible Hungers - E, Flintvane, 3,357 words, complete. Instead of fuck buddies, they're fuck enemies. Fight sex and Flint angst, that's basically the fic.

to pull me from myself again - E, Silverflint, 7,419 words, complete. Written in response to a Tumblr prompt asking for s1 dynamics softe silverflint, Silver's first time with a man. That is indeed it, that's the fic

What Lies Beneath - E, Silverflint, 3 chapters, complete. 11,031 words. Demon Flint AU! Basically make the demon in Flint literal. Silver is fascinated of course.

The Fetch Phillips Archives (aka Luke Arnold's books, go read them!)

announcing your place in the family of things - E, Fetch/Satyr, 6,865 words, complete. The first creature Fetch meets when he leaves the human city is that unnamed Satyr, and that feels like a conscious choice to me. Coulda said 'faun' and we wouldn't be here Luke. Anyway monsterfucking, but in a lovely way.

The Exorcist (tv)

The Smoke of Their Torment - M, Marcus/Tomas, 572 words, complete. A snippet of Marcus angst and pining and also jerking off in a shared hotel room there may be more someday.

#for a long time i kept whatever was most recent or relevant pinned #but now i realized how much there is #so #here's the masterlist #fanfic #my writing #silverflint #black sails #fetch phillip archives #sunderverse #the exorcist tv

[beesinspades]

TRIGUN FIC REC LIST (FOR FANFIC WRITERS APPRECIATION DAY 2023)

For years I haven’t been able to participate much because I barely read any fics anymore, but Trigun has definitely changed that, so here it is! A rec list of every fic I’ve enjoyed so far! I have terrible memory and not enough brain power to leave a note about each one, but I put a ♡ next to every fic I particularly loved! They're all rated G or T, but five of them are rated M (mainly for violence and canon-typical heavy topics). A lot (I mean. a lot.) of them have a Hurt/Comfort tag. Most are Vashwood BUT there are 10+ Gen fics and a couple of Mashwood ones as well :3 Please note some of the fics in this list are not spoiler-free!

VASHWOOD

♡ tell me why your hands are cold (show me how) by desertblooms

Beelio’s comment: the first Trigun fic I ever read, so of course it’s a lil’ bit special to me!

♡ terrors don't prey on innocent victims by procrastinatingbookworm

♡ Heavy Weight by eshtaresht

Beelio’s comment: I only read the Wolfwood POV chapter. As the first ace Vash(wood) I read besides mine, it made me really happy!

The Problem with Making Friends by sad_ghost_kid

half your life you've been hooked on death by procrastinatingbookworm

♡ stars by the pocketful by the_13th_battalion

Beelio’s comment: gave me cavities and i said thank you

♡ a phantom's reverence by bricus27

Beelio’s comment: another one of my favorites!

♡ heaven's grief brings hell's rain by JazzRaft

say it's such a fault by procrastinatingbookworm

A Ship and his Anchor by DerringerMeryl

lazarus wept by Bioluminescent

shepherd my flock by Bioluminescent

Beelio's comment: a really cool concept with Wolfwood as a church grim!

♡ a spark of hope is what i'm after by IceEckos12 

work song by AllegedlyAnnie

♡ Breezeblocks by caffeinefire

two eggs, over easy by AllegedlyAnnie

Beelio’s comment: this one is just so funny. trust me. 

dear star and spring bud, my preachers by elemmacil

"Love nourishes, like the rain. We turn the hills green and fill the creeks so they will sing in their creekbeds." by selcouth_raw 

♡♡♡ water bucket blues by fathomfive

Beelio’s comment: literally begging you to read this. good god. I never read first person pov fics AND YET. probably my favorite Trigun fic!

safeguard by the_13th_battalion

in a phrase to cut these lips by gorgongorgeous

Of Nick and Nicholas Names by theMusicmaniac

♡ under the bloody moonlight by spinoffprotagonist

Even Angels Deserve Guardians by glaivenoct

♡ scattered feathers, shattered glass by SpiritusRex

MASHWOOD

and i'll love the littler things by procrastinatingbookworm

To Touch You by hypermoyashi

GEN

The Sobs of a Bear and the Tears of an Angel by loveandpeanus

♡ How Judas Earned His Name by BrownieFox

♡ nobody said it was easy by procrastinatingbookworm

Beelio’s comment: this gorgeous post-trimax fic made me cry which is a feat in itself

♡ if only there was some way to ease the pain by SpiritusRex

the river brings you home by tissuebocks

♡ For the world that we leave, not the world that we found by RedWritingHood

I wanna feel like the work had some meaning by RedWritingHood

Season of the Witch by tragic_unpaired_electron

What Was Taken, What Was Restored (series) by Anxiety_Elemental

♡ If You Had Not Have Fallen by aboxthecolourofheartache

♡ YOU ARE HERE; or, How to Get Lost in the Desert Without Really Dying by fathomfive

Start here by AsterAspera

Now everyone knows about my tastes in fanfiction. If you read any of them, please leave a nice comment for the author if you can, I'm sure you'll make their day! 💜 Happy Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day to my fellow fic writers! Thank you for feeding me (us) so well.

#trigun #trigun fanfiction #vashwood #fanfic writers appreciation day #fic rec #maybe next year I'll consider myself good enough at art to draw fanart for my favorites....Who Knows

[americqnheartss]

i am literally going to be thinking about former emo-girl Clemensia Dovecote for the rest of my life. since you said you want to be bothered with questions i have to ask if you have any other fun (or not fun) headcanons about the mentors?

omg you're so welcome?? no b/c that was off the top of my head 😭

here are some other hcs i cooked up (some made by my moots) that I've practically considered canon!!! i added them into my wattpad fics (but i WILL transfer over to my boba shop au on ao3 that I'm planning atm)

clemmie's notes MUST be written in red pen!!! it's her color!!

felix uses a bunch of big words without understanding the meaning of them (it was a little strange that he called the lamb "scandalous"-- we took that and RAN)

dennis fling is into photography!!! idk it just felt right while writing one of my wp fics--

vipsania plays the harp (she just seems like a musical prodigy that specializes in "old timey" instruments)

pup's into nicknames and pet names. he's got something for everyone, which is why he doesn't mind "pup" no matter how silly it sounds!! (plus, calling lamina "my girl"?? he's ADORABLE)

i somehow associate io with the color purple, so that's her favorite color now.

festus was described as being burlier, so if the academy had some sort of sports extracurriculars, he'd take up wrestling!!

hilarius is a mama's boy. SHE picked those reaping shorts out. HE can't say no to her.

that's all I can think of off the top of my head 🤭 thanks for letting me ramble... this was so fun <3

#clemensia dovecote #felix ravinstill #vipsania sickle #festus creed #dennis fling #io jasper #hilarius heavensbee #pup harrington #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #♡: lily #eddie's inbox! #eddie's snookums!

[rosie-b]

WIP Reblog Game

Thank you for tagging me @coffeebanana! <3

List the titles your top five priorities for WIP updates (link your fics for new readers!)

An upcoming scene, event, or detail in each fic that you're looking forward to writing

Bonus: make a poll for your followers to vote on which top 5 WIP they are most excited to see an update on!

Then tag 10 writer friends!

WIP TITLES

(I'm not sure if these wips are supposed to all be partially posted already or not, so here's a mix of fics with potential sequels and multichapter fics)

True Blue - enemies au + kwami swap (Marinette is the Peacock in this one) (it's been nearly a year since I posted the first chapter and I really thought it would be finished by now T^T)

Guilty by Association sequel (probably) - ladrien fake dating post-hawkmoth defeat

For the Sake of a Ring sequel (maybe) - lovesquare multiverse shenanigans before it was cool (unrelated to the paris special)

A Chat Walks Into an Office series (perhaps) - crack, ladrien, and gabriel realizing he's an idiot after an unexpected reveal

Growing Fangs (someday) - canon divergent future au centered on the next generation of heroes (the dupain-cheng kids) (it's been over a year since the last update bc i wrote myself into a ditch and can't get out of it hehe)

(As you might be able to tell, I don't leave most of my fics unfinished for long; I'm normally pretty good at leaving my ideas as oneshots or finishing them quickly.)

UPCOMING SECTIONS

The Gorizilla chapter!!!!! It's gonna be so fun (and an emotional roller coaster)

Ladrien with fake dating!!! The first fic was more-or-less a setup for this exact scenario. The problem: I have roughly no ideas for which direction to take this series atm

Ok, so this fic will be the battle scene from Adrien's pov, featuring many different universes' Ladybugs. I came up with one Marinette who is literally a rose and I love her so much so I'm most excited to try to incorporate her story (gonna be a challenge though)

Finishing the series. I might honestly end it where it is, but I do have a draft of Hawk Moth meeting Ladybug and explaining what happened (she doesn't believe him, of course, and she's very concerned for her partner)

Ok, after the decade-long timeskip, Chat and Ladybug will start off as the main heroes. However, they'll be forced to give their Miraculous to their kids for Reasons™, and I am very excited to get to that part and what happens afterwards (i swear i have a plan, it's just i keep getting sidetracked)

I get distracted by new ideas all the time, so the only 100% guaranteed updates are for True Blue (within a month) and Growing Fangs (before I die). BUT. I will be motivated to work on the other sequels if you guys vote for them or leave comments/tags saying you'd like to read them!

So:

10 new people to tag is a lot, so let's see: @lady-de-mon-coeur, @nemaliwrites, @marimbles, @chai-ki, @aidanchaser, @deinde-prandium, @ninadove, @fragileizy, and @hamsteriffic (no pressure, of course! and sorry if i re-tagged you)

#tag game #wip game

[transbrucewayne]

ULTRA SPECIFIC SHIP DYNAMICS POST. UR SO RIGHT

here's some recs for you !! (ofc not exhaustive. js my personal faves)

Versainz: i am Intrigued, but ignorant.

Chestappen: take me to where you are, what you've become and we found clues and arrived at answers by 2oo

Strollonso: recs (1) recs (2)

Carlando: lando norris on micellar water for post-race interviews by @outofbodyinjury and picture of no flesh, only bones by @outbrake

Britcedes/Gewis: this rec post by @russilton [everything you'll need]

Maxiel: tomorrow on every shore by @missyourflight and safe and sound here in our world by @fourmula1 and oranges: a love language by @likelylarks and many many more. lol

Dando: something sweet by @ocontraire and a special kind of photosynthesis by @boxboxlewis

Twinklaren/Landoscar: teeth by @ocontraire and invocations one fall away from the concrete by debrief and anything by debrief. really. and literally so much more

Danterri: kalopsia by @jasonkelce and a terrible curse: a thirst has begun by @mclarenracing and anything by MasterEyebrow

Lecciardo: no idea. sorry mate

Sebchal: my GOD. um. im going to give you corsicana by @second-lifetime and and VASI to guide you in by anon. and this rec list by @effervescentdragon <3

Brocedes: funnily enough i don't know good brocedes. canon compliant fic recs from @blorbocedes beloved. recs here & here from @kritischetheologie.

Chewis: casablanca by @boldlettered . or literally any work by them.

ships i think u shld check out: fernando/guanyu. george/alex. charles/alex. lewis/bono. nico/seb.

enjoy, & have a good day/afternoon/night!

HELLO??? IM LITERALLY PROPOSING MARRIAGE RIGHT NOW?? YOURE INCREDIBLE. I LOVE THESE. THANK YOU SO MUCH

Also oh my gosh I have to check out those ships…I’m so intrigued esp abt guanyu/fernando and nico/seb bc I hadn’t heard of them until now

#my post #asks #answered #lesharl-eclair #fic rec #ref #f1 #f1 rpf

[lilacpaperbird]

Okay so I LOVE numbers and data and graphs so this whole year I've been tracking every fic I read in a spreadsheet. And now it's time to make some cute charts

*This doesn't count: re-reads, DNF, or fics I skipped or skimmed through for smut reasons

Fun fact I watched most of Supernatural in February, probably from seasons 3 to 14, and I finished it shortly after March started. I spent that month devastated and reading spn fics nonstop lol

I never see people tracking this, but I was really interested in this data. Specially since I mainly read spn fics, which is a fandom that's been around for a while - we have a great legacy. I've read fics published from 2005 to 2023, curiously enough the only year I haven't read a fic from is 2009. And the year with the highest number of fics was 2021!

There truly was something in the air in 2021...

Spn brainrot, what else can I say. And wincest brainrot. But FUN FACT I'm sure that half of that 30.2% are destiel fics. Yes I had a destiel phase. It was fun while it lasted, rest in peace

Yeah. Yeah I know. It is what it is

Also! my most read authors were applecrumbledore (13) and dollylux (10)

And my most common tags were First time, Pre-Canon, Angst, Dirty Talk, and Pining

And that's all! Literally no one cares about this besides me but making this stuff is so much fun, and I also wanted to have this here so future me can look back and see what I was up to in 2023

#samdean #fic #ao3 wrapped #⚝

[colgatebluemintygel]

hey toothpaste! got any good fic recs for me to read?

hello little moth friend !! YES i do <3 admittedly i have spent most of my free time recently in the trenches of captive prince fic lolza........... but i have many r/s fics (ft. 1 rogue james/regulus fic) that i've read and loved over the past few months <3 so without further ado ::::

long live living (if living can be this) by excaliburned

SCREAM i had to start this list with my very favourite comfort fic <333 the oblivious/jealous sirius blueprint! fic of All time! i love love loooove this one, truly i adore it <33

the weather inside by earlybloomingparentheses

this fic.... fakkk i re-read it recently and was just as affected by it as i was the first time i read it. i feel like i can't say too much here without hashtag exposing myself but i truly adore it. for me personally, it scratches n soothes the rawest of wounds <3

the making of the map by fox_pitch

this is one of my favourite canon verse fics, and although it was written semi-recently it still very much has that old-school mwpp feel <33 it's the perfect balance of angst and humour ft. top tier pining ;;; i truly lose my mind every time i read this 🤭

storm and stress by @mblematic

an all timer ‼️‼️‼️ sirius durmstrang AU ‼️‼️‼️ i love this fic so much, they're so sweet, so much crush crush crushingggg (i love it when they do that), this remus in particular is so....... 🤭🤭... i want to pat his head. this is another of my all-time favourite comfort fics <333 truly LOVELY

this hell (is better with you) by @maybebabyplease

i don't often read jegulus, but if it's em writing i'd read it every day PLEEK i love this fic..... it's saurr funny, james's internal voice is so well done, and REGULUS.......... :'-)))))) ..... altho i am listed as a beta, do not be fooled... i did very little other than gush n giggle n go insane in the comments.... i will forever be obsessed with this iteration of them. i cannot say enough good things about em's writing, and this fic !! searing capitalist critique ft. a love story about an angel and a demon, w equal parts heart and humour ...... HELLOUGH .... teslas being the official Car of hell never ceases 2 make me giggle 🤭

you wouldn't like me by @crushofdoves

GAHHHHHH i finally caught up with ywlm recently (i'd been saving it for a rainy day... the days are very rainy atm) and it's just <333 so Gender and lovely and full of heart and makes me feel so nostalgic in the most delightful way <3 i have so much to say about this one and haven't quite found the words yet, but all i'll say for now is that i will probably forever associate caring is creepy with this fic and that song is one of my favourite songs of all time so. that's when you know xxx (also remus literally sucks the strap.... like.... hello🖐️....)

shorn and scarred and yours by @lynxindisguise

thee slytherin sirius fic of my dreams i am not kidding i truly adore this fic so so much !!! it made me go absolutely insane and pulled me headfirst out of a truly awful reading slump and i have not looked back since 💋💋 this sirius (and remus!) are so special to me <333 every now n again, as i'm going about my day, i randomly remember sirius starting a cult and have a little giggle to myself🤭

there are so many others that i know i'm forgetting ... so stay tuned for pt. 2 :o))))

#pigeon post #r/s #fic rec

[dormarunt]

Berlin, episode 1 - a spoiler-filled live reaction/commentary 

Spoilers ahoy under the cut!

Our man wears a turtleneck from the get-go, which I find hilarious.

"This is my team - one of the three I've robbed with in my life - but this one is special to me as it's from my golden age". Maybe season 2 - if it exists - will focus on that other team? Or? The other 2 teams are The Cormorants and the Mint gangs? What do you guys think?

Also this is set before Berlin knew of his Helmers Myopathy (lol I took Liberties in my latest fic, I won't let something like canon change that)

Roi sees him as the father he never had, while Berlin sees Roi as "a loyal dog he walks every day" -- right, I'm totally going to write these two, and not just because Roi calls him "sir" and shines his shoes.

Damien is a Professor but for real.

During the first heist we see of the gang, a random guest clocks the team as "not police " in about a minute, seemingly based on Keyla's glasses/fidgeting -- okay I guess?? Make that conflict, Pina & Co!

Also iirc Berlin pulls out a bag to put the stolen artifact out of his ass thin air. 

Losing my mind at the smashed phone bit though, the panto is chef's kiss. (points pinky)

Berlin has TERRIBLE gun etiquette/safety OMG???

"Love doesn't last", says the three-times-divorcee. Believe him, before he marries two more times and unhinges his jaw to eat his beat friend's face. 

"What name did you choose?" "Cameron" -- the old gang's names are also chosen.

Pedro Alonso learned French for this okay? And he did a fine job ngl, much better than his Danish of S5.

Keyla is (at least partially) a plot device/Deus Ex literal Machina with her generating 650 pages of content about their made-up archeological gang ---- hopefully priest dude doesn't know how to double check stuff like awards because then Keyla would have to ~hack loads of sites/databases okay I'll stop but seriously 

He calls himself Berlin already. How or why? Unclear yet. 

Based on the iPod shuffle that Keyla's wearing the series takes place after 2010-2012 (so before he met Martin according to the little timeline I made a while ago)

The Berlin-Roi talk about a particular woman (Cameron) gives me Berlin-RIO (heheh) talk about Tokio

Oh no tell the guy who lusts over a girl to act as her dad instead - that's going to go WELL

The door hacking (Panasonic) device with Matrix-style flowing numbers and letters is PRIMO and not hilarious at all. (Rafael's hacking device was marginally more believable)

Three home invaders vs one angry little pup - I'm in the pup's corner!

Not a huge fan of Cameron just yet, she gives me Tokio vibes and not in a good way. She IS hot though. 

Come on Cameron, when a guy says not to touch his ass you don't take it personally?? Girl, that's not cute irl. If you wanna help him open that lock, warn him. Touching people without their consent is No Bueno. I get that she's supposed to be mentally ill but bit a creep?

Berlin is possibly an insomniac. He's not changed from the Berlin I know and love in that he feels that: 1) he's in any position to give advice, let alone about love 2) he knows all about love his experiences are universal 

(I trust Damian's take on love and kinda agree with him)

OMG THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED!!! --- and Berlin said "ew no?"

Oh Jesus Christ we were spared from another poop particle conversation but just barely (since when is the guy who fucks in stench-filled basements all squeamish?)

Period-inappropriate Imagine Dragons cover

That's why I started learning the guitar in high school, this scene right here, to have someone look at me with that wonder in their eyes. (all the boys learned to play guitar to pick up girls, years later I figured out that so did I lol)

The sights in this episode are beautiful though! <3

Berlin's philosophy on courting women is, according to my headcanon, stolen from Martín who's "an infantry general by vocation" and NO ONE can change my mind

Roi's sincere WTF look here is priceless 

All in all - yep, i'm watching the rest too (lol). Can't guarantee live reactions for the next episodes (unless requested/I have the time)

#lcdp berlin #berlin 2023 #Berlin netflix #Berlin spoilers #Pedro Alonso #LCDP Berlin #i prob typed names all wrong ;__; and I apologize

[loserdiaz]

temptation tuesday

tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @rogerzsteven @buddiearemydads @ebdaydreamer @spotsandsocks and @jobairdxx 💗

buck is hiding an injury fic: um... i think this is pretty self explanatory sooo yeah. he's hurt, he's a dumbass, we love him anyway <3

ravi & buck besties fic: listen, i haven't written A WORD for this and i might never do it but sometimes think about them being best friends, especially now that ravi isn't a probie and that buck isn't terrorizing the living shit out of him. and like maybe them becoming closer, maybe them being roommates and eddie getting jealous when dude! buck literally is in love with you and wants to fuck you stupid what are you talking about

exes to lovers with musician buck bc he's so special to me

an au where buck is a dispatcher and eddie is going through his 5b era where he's at dispatch trying to work through his trauma after leaving his station. and like office romance idk. buck used to be a firefighter but after the truck bombing, his leg was never the same. he still wanted to help ppl so he's a dispatcher! and eddie IS a firefighter but for now he needs to think of chris and what's best for him so he's a liason or whatever. it's all very vague bc it's just an idea i've been thinking about lately.

i have two secret relationship fic ideas. one with musician buck (are we even surprised at this point?) and mma fighter eddie and one that it's canon divergence.

tagging: (no pressure) @monsterrae1 @cowboy-buddie @cowboy-buck @dorkydiaz @littlebitofdiaz @comaboybuck @buddierights @bigfootsmom @lovebuck @loveyourownsmiilee @maygrantgf @dollhousejee @alyxmastershipper @the-likesofus @spaceprincessem @elvensorceress @messyhairdiaz @hippolotamus @shortsighted-owl and anyone else who wants to do it!! 💗

#evan buckley #eddie diaz #buck x eddie #buddie fic #buddie fic ideas #my wips #my ideas #april rambles #temptation tuesday

[celestetcetera]

YOUR TAGS ON MY 14~DONNA/SHAUN POST......FINALLY SOMEONE WHO'S ALSO SO SO NORMAL ABOUT THEM!!!!!!! hello hi....... O.O

YES HI HIII!!! Omg I literally have been thinking about Them nonstop <3 i love me a good queerplatonic situation

sidenote i do believe your post is responsible for my and my sibling's nonstop use of the phrase "queerplatonic V" (which we have been applying to 14~donna/shaun (sidenote we need a cool name for this ship) as well as a few other dynamics in different media. lmao i have a shipping type)

anwyay. here's some of my brainrot Thoughts about them:

Shaun is so supportive of his wife’s newoldfound alien platonic soulmate <3 he’s just happy to see her laugh and smile all the time. where before when she tried to remember she'd get sad and not understand why

Absolutely this fic’s fault but I love the idea of Rose & Shaun being the ones to be like. Oh yeah these guys are queerplatonic as HELL but they'll never notice so they push them together

A special favorite of this dynamic is Shaun making them go on Platonic Date Nights

I also love the idea that the three of them are so supportive of their little throuple that there is simply zero problems with jealousy or whatever. Shoutout to this post that pitches a telepathic alien trying to mess w/ their relationship only for it to fail spectacularly

Honestly it is a tad criminal that we don’t get to see more of Fourteen and Shaun interacting or tbh Shaun in general. I think the Doctor very quickly bonds with the entire Noble-Temple fam

He and Shaun scheme together bc they both know Donna is the most awesome woman in the universe <3 but she apparently DOESN’T so they set up little date nights and such to pamper her lol

Donna and Fourteen tease each other relentlessly they r constantly bickering <3

The three of them also have p much every aspect of parenting Rose covered. Donna and Shaun were already slaying but the Doctor pops in as a fun uncle that helps with her history homework, coaches her through weird metacrisis side effects, and occasionally chats about gender

Sidenote I just love the headcanon that Donna & Rose retain some of the powers from the metacrisis, even though they’ve given most of it up

There’s this one post that was made pre-specials that talks about the idea that Donna vague regeneration powers and I personally like the idea that she can just Do That but never really notices lmao

Also since this is my canon now. Fourteen has the weirdest gender experience of an iteration yet

Obviously the Doctor in general is hella genderfluid but Fourteen doesn’t identify as a guy 100%

They didn’t have time to question it during specials canon and just kinda rolled with the biggest thing that stood out to him, which is being a man again (for the most part) but later on he thinks and observes Rose more and he’s kinda just like. Hmmmm I think theres more to this

Anyway Fourteen uses the/he/they/she pronouns roughly in that order

#also omfg so sorry i took forever to respond to this i started typing up my response and then i got distracted for a week #i love them so much <3 <3 <3 #doctor who #dw #fourteenth doctor #donna noble #shaun temple #rose noble #14~donna/shaun #queerplatonic doctordonna #ask #dovand

[anonymous-dentist]

DUDE WHAT THE FUCK THAT WAS ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!!

ohhh my god you have no idea how much this fic means to me. it's literally what made me fall into the qsmp fandom as a whole, so it holds a special place in my heart :')

there's a surprisingly low amount of f!cell/c!roier fics, and I'm so glad Bad Romance exists, because in my mind it's the most accurate portrayal of how their relationship would've been. fucked up, messy, but genuinely in love. they're different from the "original" guapoduo, but their feelings aren't! I love it! oh, and I adore how br!cell shows his affection and care towards roier - it's subtle, almost unnoticeable (because, as much br!roier likes to say "oh he's absolutely in love with me fr", when it actually comes to cell being worried or caring about roier's wellbeing, it slips past the narrative somehow - "he's angry at me, he's annoyed with me, I'm being a burden" - almost as if roier doesn't recognise the signs of someone loving and caring for him because he never actually got to experience this before, huh) so, yeah, I'm Very Normal about their personalities and these little details, it's genius, holy shit

this final chapter had me giggling and kicking my feet excitedly over every single interaction between roier and cell, their awkwardness was adorable! and the way you've implemented canon lore in their universe was incredible and terrifying at the same time, I kinda wish you were writing some of the actual qsmp lore at this point lmfao (looking at you, qsmp federation streams)

anyway, apologies for the long message, and thank you for creating this absolute banger of a fic! it's phenomenal and I won't be able to stop thinking about it for the next few months :) <3

Like I went into this fic and its prequel not having seen any of Chafaland outside of a few clips I saw on Twitter, but even then I could tell that cRoier doesn’t actually know what love feels like, not in the usual way. He’s got this weird concept around it kinda like how people worship celebrities: he treats love like a twitter stan would, and he wouldn’t recognize actual love if it was right in front of him because any actual love he felt for Natalan was never returned. He can’t see love for what it is because he sees love the way he does. If Cell isn’t acting like a total obsessed freak towards him the way Roier acts towards him, then Roier genuinely can’t see that as love. He sees it as a start towards love, maybe, but nothing real. Not yet. Hence why, even in the end when we the audience can see that Cell’s down BAD for this crazy little guy, Roier’s like “he’s still learning to love omg he’ll love me soon!” like my MAN! He already loves you!

#asks! #anon!

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 25

welcome to the twenty-fifth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. ladies and gentlemen we are rocking in space by @mayerwien

LANCE do u like the taste of spam, van kieu because thats what ull get 1 glorious terabyte of def-not-garrison-approved viewing matl every hour on d hour

KEITH And now you’re blackmailing me. Wonderful. Look, I’ll tell you, alright? Not because your threat scares me, but because I’d like to cut this conversation as short as humanly possible.

LANCE glad ur being so cooperative ;) ;)

--

Lance gets a new flight simulation partner. Lance makes a bunch of mixtapes. Lance falls in love?

Galaxy Garrison + texting au. For the Klance Zine!

i can confidently say, in my 6+ years of being a klance stan, i have never seen anything like this before or since. this fic is AMAZING. completely new idea, hilarious, sweet, and totally untouchable. i’ve always love testing fics that are done right (bc theyre always funny), and does this one ever knock it out of the park! the dynamics are amazing and the rivalry is EXQUISITE. bonus of vietnamese keith and filipino lance, and this one line (it’s a spoiler so im not going to put it here) that actually knocked me out of the water. its about the CHOICE.

2. But You’ll Peek Through by Barkour

It's weird, the things you get used to when you've been stuck in space for years. How much you miss home. Socializing regularly with only six people. No wifi. Your cranky boyfriend.

this is one of the earliest vld fics ever written, and it has a CROWN idk. this fic makes me feel so many emotions all at once. like  i miss u 2016 fic i miss u keith gyeong i miss u bitchy klance i miss u early voltron found family dynamic i miss u old lance’s family headcanons i miss u bamf team. rip to the earliest voltron fandom (also. how did this author know about romelle. in 2016.)

3. Pull Me Closer by @thewriter2

An ancient power dwells in Lance’s very bones. It hums a sweet song of the sea in Lance’s ear, calling him to the water. Keith’s bones are on fire as the very spirit of the flame lives in him. However, it’s these ancient powers that begin to pull them together; that shows them how to properly balance each other out

i SEARCHED for this fic. i made half my followers search with me too. this fic is bamf lance to the fucking max, and its AMAZING. how many of you have wanted waterbender lance so badly you could barely speak? firebender keith? if u said u didnt then ur lying. this fic has literally everything you could ask for in a canon divergence

4. The Homestead by @devooshawrites

Keith is hired for the summer to work on the farm of the McClain family. He and the youngest son of the family become good friends, though Keith might want more.

i am so fucking in love with aus like this. cowboy or farmboy where theyre quietly in love in their own bubble of the world?? i cannot get enough of them. i would read a million of them. this fic in particular is SO soft and tender, it is so so important to me. ive read it so many times. its one of those fics that brings a smile to your face that u literally cannot fight back

5. Prince Charming by @taylortot

Lance thinks that Prince Keith is just another stuck-up royal with an attitude problem until they spend some time together outside of the palace and he discovers that he couldn't have been more wrong.

Written for The First of Forever Zine!

this fic is SO tender it is sickeningly sweet. “rivals” to friends to lovers is so special to me, and no one does it like taylortot fr. love is stored in the tender moments away 

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!  

#i am almost out of my most favourite ever vld fics i will have to move to all my other bookmarks in a couple weeks!! #vld #voltron #lance #lance mcclain #keith #keith kogane #klance #modern au #historical au #bamf lance #vietnamese keith #filipino lance #fic rec #fic rec friday