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cherubispunk · 5 months

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UP IN YOUR ARMS (CHAPTER ONE) -Noir!Joel Miller x AFAB!Reader

summary: The Canary Club. Illicit. Underground. Dangerous too. But nowhere near as dangerous the affair you and Joel start there.

a note from Lucy: chapter one! I'm digging my own grave here. thats all im saying. i promise it is focused on joel and the reader later in the chapter. im just setting the scene for differnt relationships in the series.

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wc: 6969 (haha lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! 1940s!au, no outbreak, no use of y/n, age gap (reader is in her early 20’s and Joel is in his 40s), smut. p in v sex, oral - f receiving, oral through panties, choking, groping, sexism, mentions of racism, touch starved joel, me being back on my bullshit, drinking, ,smoking, throwing fists because men are stoopid and cant talk things out, cheating on the readers part, but joel knows this and still fucks her like the horny bastad he is. *sigh*, use of pet names such as doll, cursing, ww2 references, an unhealthy relationship between reader and joel, mentions of blood, let me know if ive missed any warning out that should be tagged. 6969 words of unedited bullshit because im piss drunk and cant for the life of me edit.

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The jazz band was one of the finest groups in the city. ‘Only the finest for The Canary Club’, as Johnny had put it.

Johnny Boy Finnick.

Now he was a man. Played sports in college, muscular, strong arms that pinned you to the wall or mattress or table. Hands that shuffled playing cards with ease and had you screaming far after the night was over. Deep blue eyes and blonde hair that never fell out of place from its slicked back style. Not even after he had crushed someone's jaw under the weight of his pummeling, bloodlusting fist.

Johnny made a name for himself bootlegging liquor, too young to fight in the first world war. Took over as The Boss of Boston. It’s how he got his name. Johnny Boy. Fresh faced but the heart of a ragged old man. Lost it all after the second world war, gained it back not long after. A killer with a bone deep yearning for blood, money, violence, and you.

He sat in his pressed suit, legs parted as he leaned over to display his full flush to the table, flashing a killer smile when he collected the money off his right hand man and three more of his boys. You smiled from the bar, beads of your dress twinkling in the low light of the speakeasy, ready to waltz over with another old fashioned and drape yourself in his lap.

“Thanks, Henry.” You smiled at your oldest friend, taking the drink he had placed down in front of you on the bar. Henry was your age, 25. A boy from Hartford, Connecticut, grew up in Kansas, then moved here looking for work in a big city. Honest, hardworking. Sweeter than cherry pie. And his little brother Sam was just the cutest pip you'd ever seen.

“No problem, Doll.” He teased, which deserved a roll of the eyes from you.

“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?”

“This would make it…” he glanced up for a second, as if calculating within his mind, “one too many times to count.”

“Funny.” You gave him a quick bitter smile. All in good fun, clearly, for he took no offence. He just shot you a smile, running a clean rag over the bartop, collecting two glasses and wiping the rings of condensation they left upon maplewood.

“Your man looks thirsty. Might wanna take him his drink now. Before he gets the wrong idea about me talking to ya.” You sighed, craning your head slightly to look back at Johnny who scanned the place with a scowl. It made your skin crawl the thought of his temper snapping again. Despite it, you left Henry with a playful wink his way before swanning back over, placing Johnny’s drink in front of him and a vermillon kiss to his cheek.

Johnny sneered at the affection, wiping your lipstick stain from his cheek. All the confidence you had fell to the floor and shattered miserably. Liquid courage sloshed on the cured wood floor.

“Fuck’s sake, Doll. What you do that for?” He demanded of you, the disgust in his cruel cerulean eyes sending a chilling, agonising jolt down your spine.

“Sorry, Johnny.” You shied away, folded your hands together, eyes on the floor.

“Ain't you gotta powder your nose or something? Go on. Piss off.”

He was right. You’d be on soon. Drenched in the spotlight. Under the scrutinising, side cramping glare of everyone's eye. You could do with the quiet. So you shuffled off to your dressing room without a word more, holding back tears with your breath.

In the mirror, you mourned the girl you were. Mourned the life you had before it all turned upside down. Mourned the man you fell in love with. And the monster you had no choice but to stay with.

—

Joel was fuming. If you touched his skin you'd reel back with a scorched yelp because his blood ran hot, fast and thick under his flesh. Trust Tommy to catch himself in the web of underground crime. Always a joiner. Always a deserter too when things got heated. And who was left to untangle him from its intricate, venom snared weave? Joel ‘Gubbins’ Miller. He might as well have ‘mother to my brother’ branded on his forehead. Because that's what he was now.

The war ended four years ago and ever since Tommy had been searching for his purpose. Preached about it round the dinner table in their grimy, mildew inhabited apartment like a preacher would his sermon. And every time it set Joel’s teeth on edge. Because he knew what came after the downfall. The pickup.

Now, however, Joel was determined to nip this lunacy in the bud. Tear it up from the soil by the new roots.

The Canary Club was one of the few remaining speakeasies around in Boston. To a cop it was practically a ghost of an establishment. Might as well not be there. But to a man like Joel, whose brother never stopped babbling on about the next best thing he had cooking for himself, it was as easy as pie.

A shroud of cloud hung just above Boston’s looming buildings, teaming with the early moon to create a murky gloom over the dim city’s sin. It seemed to fill the hollow, smoggy air as they cast dark, taut shadows over the slick, grimy roads. The sky threatened rain for the third day in a row. A place that reeked of underground crime, drug rings and watered down, once bootlegged alcohol, laced with what one can only assume to be illegal too. All of that was washed down with the constant sour smell of new rain upon dirty tarmac. A city plagued and tarnished by its own rejects.The promise of work bought them in. But the lifestyle spat them back out. Chewed up and ruined by their own humanising hope.

He and his brother came in search of work. They were getting nowhere down south in Texas. On the dole and barely able to afford a loaf of bread between the two of them. Even their own mother hardly recognised her boys after the war. Said they were empty shells of men. Husks of the boys she raised. Killers.

The woman was a pacifist at heart. And it was a trait that Joel not only saw as weak, but typical of women. Or that's what his father had socialised him into thinking. He didn't know where his father’s ideals ended and his started. As the days went by he saw more of the violence his father harboured in himself. Grimaced at the lug in the looking glass.

Joel was no pacifist. But he didn't storm through the doors either. No gun was in hand ready to send people screaming bloody murder. That was stupid. A mistake that he knew could wind him up on the concrete in the flooded gulley with a bullet in his head where blood and water could finally mix. Instead he stole in quietly in the ambience of playing cards and a Jazz band, ordered himself a drink, and sat at the far corner of the bar where it was dimly lit. Just enough for him to see his drink and the room, but his face still remained shadowed.

While he sipped in ponder, he took the chance to people watch. Scan the patrons for any uncanny resemblance of dear Tommy. But nothing. He seemed distracted by the careful and steady hand that polished glass after glass, though each of them were spotless before touching the rag.

A pointless task. Some may say sisyphean. But the boy doing so knew when eyes were on him. It was a very rare occurrence if not related to his race. People of any darker colour were ogled often in these parts despite it being more accepted within the north of America. There was still divide and segregation. However, this new patron wasn't looking for Henry’s skin colour, rather contemplating how on earth a boy such as him had ended up in such a place. What connection he had to the gang. Was he like Tommy? Roped in at the side of the side of the road and choking on his remaining pride. Or in a sticky financial situation? All these questions seemed to circle like the rag in the crystal glass Henry held.

“What’s your name, kid?” Joel asked him with an ex-smoker's voice, brow dark in the shadow. The boy looked up, eyes youthful, but they'd seen things no man should have to.

“Henry.” He said after a beat, quick to refill Joel’s glass when it was empty besides a drop circled thin and amber in the bottom. “Yours?” Joel lifted his head, taking a sip before placing his glass back on the bartop in furrowed brow contemplation.

“Joel.” He leaned forward on his forearms, haunched over the bar, before looking around again. “Whatcha doin’ here, Henry?”

Henry laughed slightly, looking down at his feet before back in Joel's eyes. And what he was met with was the hollow ache of a man scarred by war. Henry’s face fell flat.

“Working.”

“No…I mean in Boston.”

Henry cleared his throat at the sudden, and even brash way Joel approached his question. So much that it took him a second to frown and then reply.

“Came from Kansas. Hard for a black kid to find honest work there. Especially with a family to look out for.” His words were solemn and reflected a truth Joel knew all too well growing up down south. Even if he never lived it in his own white skin.

“You look a little young to have a kid.”

“I don’t. I got a brother.” Joel nodded as he listened, waiting for him to go on. Which he did after a beat of silence. “Bright kid. Bright future too. He’s deaf though. Got a lot stacked against him in this world. Mom can't bring in enough to fund education for ‘im. So I stepped up.”

“No Daddy?” Joel asked and Henry shook his head. “How’d you end up here then?”

“A girl.” The look Joel gave Henry was sceptical. But the young boy was soon to put a stop to it all. “Not a girlfriend. Just a girl. We grew up in the same building. She moved up north for a life and I followed a few months later. She met a guy. A wealthy guy. And she wrote to me often of how swell Boston had been for her.”

Joel wasn't the questioning type. Neither one to beat around the bush. But Henry intrigued him. Reminded him a lot of Sarah. The challenge she had faced with the colour of her skin that he, as a white man, would never understand. He felt a guilt about it every day that flared up in the dark of night before his eyes closed for restless and futile sleep. “And this guy?”

“Him.” Henry nodded subtly over to the table of men playing cards. Poker. A game Joel knew well in the frontline and in Egypt where he fought. Him and a few others often huddled together in their own game. Nothing but the last pair of intact socks to bet on, or a single cigarette to get them through the night. Joel quit smoking the moment he got back. Knew it was something that made him unpredictable and jittery in the best of situations. “Johnny Boy Finnick. A big name in these parts.”

Joel followed Henry’s gaze, but his attention was snagged by the unmistakable head of dark curled hair facing away from him. He knew his brother anywhere and his blood began to boil as he threw back his second drink and slammed the empty glass on the bartop.

“Hey, man-” Henry tried, shoulders straining as he stood to attention. Joel didn't pay him any mind. Merely wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before his bar stool sharied upon the varnished wood floor. He cared not for the noise. Only the feeling he would get once his closed fist met the bone on the bridge of Tommy’s nose.

Trumpets flailed to a stop and drums failed mid blow. The room fell silent after a chorus of gasps.

He loved his brother. Deeply. So much it caused a chasm of a rib cracking hole in his chest every time Tommy slipped up. But he saw red now it all caught up behind his lids that blinked once. That split second of not seeing and before he had a chance to second guess, he was gripping the back of tommy;s collar and wrenching him up to his feet to deliver a shiner to the face.

Tommy staggered back, and everyone at his table stood up with the intention to harm. Yet no one but the brawling brothers fought. As he gained his footing again, he also gained his senses, recognising Joel anywhere.

“Joel, what the fu-” He was hardly able to finish before another shooting pain split his bottom lip open and Tommy’s mouth was filled with the taste of his own bitter blood. Blood he and Joel shared and were now shedding in a futile fight of nothing but testosterone. That was enough to send the same foul blow to his kin. Joel winced, knowing the crescent of a bruise that would bloom on his cheekbone overnight. One of Tommy’s many rings sliced his skin. He felt warmth in crimson dribble from a fresh flesh wound.

“Hey!” One loud and bellowing voice that had the power to command a whole unit of men boomed out before neither Joel or Tommy had the chance to throw another fist. It was for the better. Any more and Joel’s knuckles would have bruised purple. A colour of shame.

It was Johnny. And his face was stoic as he stared each brother down with a burning gaze that had even Joel’s hairs stood on end at the nape of his neck. Like an army stood to attention before the first charge. Except he didn't move. Joel knew now where he stood in the food chain of this speakeasy. And it was right at the very bottom. “You!” He pointed at Tommy. Go clean yourself up.” And Tommy went as pale as a funeral sheet before nodding meekly. His face melted from shock to shame in the blink of Joel’s very eye before he grumbled something under his breath and passed Joel with a sharp clip to his shoulder.

It's his turn now.

At this point you'd come out to see what the commotion was for. The walls, while thick upstairs in the printer's press, were thin in the basement. And you;d heard silence and the spit of a man as his blood splattered with spit on the floor in the doorway.

“The fuck do you think you’re doin throwin’ fists in my god damned club for?!” He roared. And Joel had to take the duration of both inhale and exhale to get his lips and tongue to work. But the scowl on his face said it all. “Huh?!” Jonny’s nostrils flared like a spanish thoroughbred bulls’.

“That’s my brother you got workin’ for ya. I ain't havin’ him in some shady drug ring you got goin in. I aint!”

Jonnly was no stupid man. Hr was smart. Quick minded and knew a man with balls. But Joel also knew very little. So this one time, he took the approach of calmness, and used his usual lying tongue for truth. Any other time it would she forked like Lucifer's serpent form. But now he was a man of coolness. “Right.” Johnny nodded at him, his tone was one that could soothe a ravenous bear. But with an edge as sharp as a knife. So sharp it could slice skin in one swift swoop. “Sit down.” He commanded calmly. “Let’s get you a drink.”

With a wave of his hand a cha was pulled out. Two heavy handed brutes shoving Joel down into a chair, an old fashioned presented to him by Henry in front of him on the maplewood table. Then Johnny addressed the room gently. Set its patrons at ease. The music played its jazzy, jolly tune once more. People spoke again.And Johnny took his seat opposite Joel.

“Look here…” The gangster waited for Joel to give him his name. Which he did. “Joel, I appreciate a strong swing as much as the next guy. But I don't appreciate it in my establishment.” Joel nodded in understanding. His temper ashamed him. How it ran hot under his skin. Fizzled white when provoked until he saw red in rage and swung. Never blindly though. He wasn't a loose cannon like the broken soldier stereotype enforced. Just a fractured man.

“You’re a soldier aint ya?” “Was.” Joel said gruffly. Curtly and he brewed a stare across from Johnny.

“Oh, nah.” Johnny shook his head, swirling his drink in the crystal glass, “Once a brother in arms, always a brother in arms. The war sticks with ya. You’re a soldier.” “Fine. Yeah, I'm a soldier.”

“I know the war. I served like you. Left a boy and came back a shell of a man. Now look at me.” Joel took a moment to calculate his motive here. Johnny’s arms stretched wide with a smirk of pure pride as he gestured to the heart of his Boston crime empire. “I got money. I got birds.” He held up his glass to Joel, “I got liquor.” then leaned forward and spoke in a grave tone, "What you got?”

Joel swallowed harshly, unable to answer because he had nothing in reality.

“You got a job?” He shook his head, exhaling through his nose. “No.”

“Figured. Hard finding work when all the women are competent enough to do it themselves. Fight for your country. End up on the streets. You don't die a hero like you thought you would. No one knows your name.” He scoffed, holding fingers up in air quotes around competent. It left a bitter taste of disgust in Joel’s mouth as the father of a daughter. Curled the edges of his tongue distastefully. Made him kiss his teeth to hold back the insult. “Well, people know my name.” Johnny paused again, the air grew thick between them and smouldered on their shoulders. He was squinting at Joel opposite him, sizing him up. Joel was rugged. A strong build and most likely a strong character too. Something Johnny could always do with having in abundance. And so when the devil's own smirk curled at his lip, Joel felt a question brewing at the very tip of his tongue. One that would change his life for better or worse. Regardless of it he declined or accepted. “And they could know yours too.”

Joel didn't want to admit it for the sake of his crumbling pride, but the man had it all. Even a good five years his junior, the man made a living for himself. Picked himself up from the dirt and used bloodshed and bodies for the foundations.

“I could use a guy like you–”

“No.” Joel put his offer down flat before it had the chance to meet the air.

“Hear me out.” He said calmly, and held up a hand, “A roof over your head. A steady income. A little extra dough in ya pocket?” Johnny rubbed his thumb and index finger together in the older man's face. An action to which Joel’s nostrils flared. It was embarrassing to even mull over. “Come on,” Johnny smirked. “Give it a go.”

The southerner’s lips pursed, as if he was thinking it over. Which he was. But to what lengths would he go? Sure, Joel was conditioned in a short few months to kill. He was good at it. Mowed down men on the frontline like clockwork. And his trigger finger twitched at the thought of holding that power once more. But that didn't mean he was a man without morals. The men’s blood he;d coat his hands in had families. They were someone's son. Probably someone's husband or father. Joel knew the hollow ache loss left. The imprint of a shadow it left. The chasm ripped in your chest. Loss felt like an agonising, deep, helpless pit. But here was Johnny, throwing him a rope

“You know, you’re right. This ain't the time to talk this over.” Johnny held his hands up and leaned back in his seat before they clapped back in his lap. Now you were at Johnny’s side once more. But the figure of Joel in his chair had something jumping in your bones. Tongue curling to taste his very words. “Dollface here will patch you up.”

You raised a brow, giving the two of them a dirty look. “Excuse me? Do I look like a nurse?” You shut up when Johnny glared. Swallowed your pride, and sighed inwardly. You both hated and loved the power he held over you. As much as you despised it at times, Johnny had your being wrapped around his finger like a puppeteer holds his strings. And tightly. You felt his tug at the strain in your limbs.

“And you come back here tomorrow. We’ll talk in my office over a drink and a cigar. A good fucking drink.”

—

Joel swallowed harshly when he saw you. Eyes, wide and decorated by dark mascara lashes, white liner on lower waterlines, face of a doll like Johnny’s nickname for you suggested. The red lipstick you had re-applied moments prior was glossy, inviting him to stumble over velvet words he would hear you speak. Lean closer so the blood red could graze the shell of his ear while you would whisper a dirty joke at him.

He followed as you led him down a corridor off to the other side of the bar. Your dress seemed fit for hypnotising him into your bidding. Surely you were a siren who climbed the strats of a pier of the east coast and arrived here. Something about the beauty you wielded was not the everyday sort. It was the type you see women bend over backwards to achieve even a glimmer of for their man who came back after work. He could see himself now. Loosening his tie, hanging up his coat and hat. Leaving his briefcase and sanity at the door to see you in a pinafore and pin curls. Pretty gingham dress. He’d sit at the table and either be presented by you or a meal for his satiation. He’d prefer to devour the sweetness between your legs.

Your hand in front of his face had his attention now. Fingers snapping. Nails manicured and painted the same shade as your lipstick.

“Hey, you listening?” You asked, face set into displeasure. Joel straightened as he cleared his throat.

“What?” His tone was gruff and he mirrored your expression to you. His southern accent catching you off guard, but is intriguing.

“I said sit down.”

Joel looked over at the chair set at a vanity mirror you gestured to with an extended arm. The second time he had been asked to be seated. The second time he obeyed.

You took your time to wet a washcloth in the small basin in the corner with warm water. Took the bottle of whiskey you stashed last week from the bottom of a rickety chest of drawers. Joel watched you in the mirror, eyes narrowed a fraction to make sure you were of no threat to him. He knew he could take you easily. In more ways than one. The power imbalance had his length twitching in his trousers.

Your hands weren't gentle as you sat on the vanity between his legs. You took his stubbled chin in your grasp and jerked his head up into the light, tilting it to take a closer look at the gash.

“Stay still.” You said curtly, holding the rag to the opening of the bottle and wetting it. You then pressed it over the pad of your finger. The initial touch made his teeth bare at you and a hiss to escape his mouth. His large wrist enclosing around yours to make you stop. “I said,” And you yanked your wrist from his hold, “stay still.”

He did as he was told again. Silence setting his between the odd hiss from him and twitch of muscle under weathered skin. The crows feet at the side of his eyes were old. He clearly had lost his smile to something in the past. But you didn't ask, only wondered as you wiped the dried blood clean from his wound. “Fuckin grown man and you cant take a little sting of a cut.” You mumbled under your breath to yourself in amusement. Followed by a small huff of dry laugh.

“Maybe if you weren't digging your fingers into a fresh bruise I wouldn’t be wincin’.” You shot him a look and let go.

“All done.” And you held up your hands for good measure.

“What are you doing here anyway?” You asked, tossing the rag aside and crossing your arms. He reached for the whiskey and took a large gulp, pursing his lips at the slow burn in the back of his throat.

“None of your business.”

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name.” He stated lowly. He was right. But you found a sick satisfaction in having any man you liked bend to your will. Answer any question you so pleased to hear the answer to.

His bones groaned as he stood up from the chair. Your coat draped over the back of it fell to the floor and you swiftly got up to swipe it from the floor and hand it on the hook on the back of the door before pressing your back to it and facing him. Blocking his exit. “Move.”

“Tell me your name.” You crossed your arms, jutting your chin up at him.

“Don’t make me move you, princess.”

“Tell me your name.”

Joel bit his tongue, the vein in his neck starting to pulse visibly under his skin that once again went hot.

“Why do you wanna know?”

“Because I’m nosy.” You smiled, sarcastic and saccharine. “And i want to know the name i’ll be moaning tonight as i touch myself under the covers.”

“Fuckin-” His jaw ticked, nostrils flared in his disdain. You kept your smile as he pinched the bridge of his nose with a small guttural noise from the back of his throat. A headache was starting to coil behind the strain of his eyes. “Joel.” And he looked back up at you. It still wasn't enough “Miller.” Your smile was genuine this time, just as sweet. You uncrossed your arms, standing up straight from the door to hold out your hand and give him your name in return. He rolled his eyes, reaching for the handle and swerving you. He pulled the door but you used your body weight to slam it shut with your back again. A loud slam and a creak of protest from its hinges.

“Where are you from, Joel?”

“Is this a game to you, girl?” Joel growled.

“Yes.” The smile you had was sly. Foxy. A single finger ran down his chest and dared to slip just under his shirt’s collar. “I like games.”

“You don't wanna do that.” He warned, dark eyes burning you up inside from your very core. It was the look of a man’s lust that had been left untouched, unloved for quite some time now. It strained at his morality. But who were you to give up the warning and keen hand of a man who so desperately needed a release to the coiling tension of his shoulders. You saw it. Felt it in the rhythmic yet chaotic hammer of his heart against his ribs. As if it were trying with all its might not to break his own bones clean in two and lurch from its enclosure of flesh and bone.

“And why not?” This was a devils game of chess. Careful calculated words from loose tongues and taking each other's moves in as you exhaled a counter. And oy had him three moves from checkmate. His king weak in defence, your advances stronger by each word that fell into his eras from your red painted, enticing lips. He could feel his limbs being string up for you to pull at like a puppeteer in an advanced level of her craft. But he was no kind man. His words were even less forgiving than his disposition.

“Because I aint a kind man. Haven't been for a long while. And I know types of things a man like me would wanna do to a pretty girl like you.”

“I doubt it would be anything new.” You cooed, watching your finger as it traced a line lower over his buttons, stopping at the top of his belt buckle and just shy of teasing at the growing bulge in his trousers.

The tension between you was thicker than molasses. And it seeped through the cracks of his better judgement to the part of him that hungered for touch. That was ravenous for a single one of your fingers.

“I don't think Johnny would like that.”

“And I didnt like the way he spoke to me earlier.” You pouted. The way a child would when dined a sweet treat before dinnertime.

“That aint a good reason to start an affair with me. Because when i get my grubby hands on ya there ain't no going back, doll.”

His words were enticing you more. To have a man obsessing over your body. Your curves. Your voice singing his name as he fucked you dirtier than anyone into anything. Joel was that man now. He knew it in the very marrow of your bones that you were trouble. His new little minx. So it was no surprise when his lips crushed yours under the full weight of his sexual frustration.

It was needy. Heated. A clashing of tongues and teeth as he pressed you with his entire simmering being into the wood of the door. His bulge grinding desperately into your thich that parted his legs.

His tongue swiped your lower lip before drawing it back between his teeth for him to suckle on until it tingled deliciously. He was jealous with his touches. Groping your hips as the sating of your dress that crumpled to the floor. It revealed sweet sweet skin. Skin Joel wasted no time in delving in for the first damning lick. A pleasure to every sense. Sight, taste, touch, smell, sound.

Heavy breaths were exhaled into the dewy skin of your clavicle, tongue languidly sliding over the high points of your collarbones and enclosing in a sharp suck over the skin just above your right breast. It sent a chorus of heavenly sinful, light and airy monas from your mouth and floated into his ears. His lips were chapped and weathered in contrast to the silk smooth of your skin. It was delightful.

He went lower, got to his knees as he drank up the sense of a woman's skin for the first time in years. This was the taste of true damnation. He was past the opening of hell's gates and somehow found heaven in the parting of your thighs down the newly trodden path of your navel.

He pressed his open mouth to your clothed cunt, tasted the seeping slick you gave him on his tongue and gluttonously inhaled your musk right at the apex of your thighs. Your fingers tangled into the curls of his messy, wind wrecked hair. Keening your hips up to press into the curve of his aquiline nose, and riding the burning in the pit of your belly starting to grow. Your head fell back against the door. Your mouth unhinged and letting out moan after sigh after mewl of his name. His face buried between the meat of your thighs as his hands gripped your asscheeks and spread them so he could push his face deeper between your folds. Your underwear drenched and ruined from your wetness and his spit while he tongued your hole through the flimsy lace.

You pulled him back, smirked at the wreck he was with his lips sticky and shiny in the light of your dressing room. To then pull him up to your lips so you could curl your tongue into his mouth and taste yourself on him. It’s where the taste belonged. Among notes of whiskey and chewing tobacco and drugstore gum.

His large hands pawed at your hips once more, listing you so your legs could wrap obediently round his waist. That's how it worked now. He wanted, you gave. And willingly like the sounds that fell into his motu like sweet, freshly harvested honey. Ut had the feel of money. Powerful and green like spring leaves. But with the warning of rotting when summer meets its tragic and fatal end. It was like trying to cross a canyon with a broken limb. Near impossible. The last sip of a drink that would ensure drunken and slurred movements. It took even the nest of a man his entirety to deny you, But deep down, Joel was a weak man. Strong in body, maybe mind too. But weak in soul. And he gave in with the cashing of your back against the vanity mirror.

He had his faults. He knew that. And you did too. It had you wondering how a man like Joel loves. Did he change for his chosen lover? Or was he just as rough a callus as he was with everyone else. Would he destroy and ache and leave you wondering when your body would be at his whim next and how he would bend it to his will. Or would he let you lean into his embrace as he kissed down the column of your throat to the holy entitled epiphany between your thighs. The glisten of your hot cunt aching to be touched by anything. His everything.

So you reached for his belt. So you undid it along with his buttons to touch his heated skin, To feel the blood flow beneath as the strain of each of his muscles. You ran a hand across his chest and he let his head fall back as a woman touched him for the first time as a man of war. A veteran.

He felt like he had been cast in gold by the sun for the first time in his life. Shed his skin for a new layer reserved just for you. As if he was thanking whatever resided up there for you. He was no believer in god, but, Jesus Christ, he was starting to believe in some form of higher power. You were proof that there was a blessing for him to steal away from the world. It was in your sound. Your taste. Your touch. It beckoned him the way your finger did, curling into the collar of his shirt to clash your lips with his and let. He had no autonomy over the moan that fell into his mouth where it festered at the back of his throat and was swallowed with a desperate and heady inhale.

You trod roads into his skin with your touch. Ones he knew he would follow later that night in an erotomaniac’s pleasure. And you finally pulled his length free from his trousers. Your underwear was soon to follow and your slick aided the way he managed to sink so smoothly into your sopping heat. A squeeze he would commit to memory and savour like the taste of fresh and ripe fruit. Because you were. Fresh and youthful in age. Ready to be devoured to the core as a gleaning red apple would be. The very same one that even took in the garden of eden. Temptation. Fruit flesh to signify sin.

He took his first bite out of you with a satisfying crunch. And keep devouring until there was nothing left but the remnants of your birth, ready to be resurrected, grown again in the form of a new tree.

He stilled once he bottomed out, letting himself bask in the moment. The first time he was nestled deeply in the walls of your cunt. He heard your quiet whimpers for him to move. Felt the way your pert nipples brushed his sweat slicked skin. It was a ghost of a memory the last time he felt this. The heat of someone in the throes of intimacy. And it was all over him. It was the very air he wes starved of. The past was all paled in comparison because of the way your hips bucked pathetically to feel his thrust inside you. To get him going. No one had needed him this rawly, this undignifying before.

A single hand clamped over your mouth, stilling your movements. He felt the tickle of your exhale against the pinky finger.

“Stay still…” He commended with a swallowed down groan when you clenched around him, ironically repeating your words from earlier.

You looked at him. The glazed over, far away look in his eyes. His voice low and laden in a gravelly tone that came from the very back of his throat. You pulled him forward to lick it out again with your tongue when his hand fell to your throat. It gave a warning squeeze. And you once again canted your hips in protest.

This time he moved. And it was like poetry as it hit that toe curling spot inside you. Made your eyes close in blissful ignorance of what this would do to you. YOu slick drooling from your cunt onto his shaft until it shined at his very base and dripped down his heavy balls.

His hand squeezed your throat tighter. Had you yelling for him in a suppressed squeal. His other hand clamped around your mouth for you to moan into. Your words of praise lost on his ears, listened to by his palm instead. Every devil was fuelling this act of infidelity. This act of carnal sin you both needed. Ut unwound your bones, but had the coil in your belly cramping with each swift buck of his hips.

You met his swift thrusts in a desperate attempt to be of use to him. Finding it hard to breathe, yet alone Your cunt spasmed delectably. Searching for a new feeling. A feeling primal and dirty as the streets of Boston. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your legs trembled while he went on, giving you something you would remember from this day forward, A sentence of being binded to him.

You were in the arms of the devil himself. St his ,ercy. Nsd nothing felt more thrilling than the pleasure that rolled at a landslide's power and pace down your spine into your core.

Another squeeze round your throat. Another unhinged moan into his hand. He snarled, baring his teeth at you before pressing his face into the crook of your neck and biting down. Your eyes closed and painted a picture of stars. You were close to seeing angels by now and the deep ache of pleasure grappled your flesh and had goosebumps flicking up to attention over your flesh.

His chest heaved with each curl of his hips. Your exhales heavier by the second while you moaned his name like a mantra to his hand. His teeth imprinted on your back like a randhishing. A mark of the sin that was witnessed by the two of you that day. Your voice was shrill. A repeated ‘Joel! Joel! Joel!’

“Fuck, yeah, sing f’me doll. Sing f’me. Let em know who’s doin’ this to you.” He panted in vain. “Tell me.” “Feels so good–”

“Again.” He demanded.

“Feels so good! Too good!”

And it was. He had you burning white hot at the end of an illicit teather. You gripped his back with talons of hellbirds. Clawing at his shirt clad back. The wings of hi shoulderbales. The snake length of his spine.

“That’s it. Tell ‘em. Tell me! Tell me in making you feel fuckin’ good.”

“You are. Harder Joel.” His pace was like poetry. Ripped you in tow and had you displayed to him. One knee was hooked over his hunched shoulder, spine curled as his forehead pressed to yours. `The new angle had you singing like a songbird. High and melodic in tune. Your kitten heel slipping off and clattering to the floor without a second thought. The head of his cock nipped your cervix. The lewd wet sounds of your pussy smothering him in your slick and your shared moans filled the room. Everything of you was his now. You couldn't even think of giving this up to Johnny. Yes, he fucked you dirty. But Joel fucked you like it was his sole purppose of living. Like it was what gave him life.

You fell. You fell as soon as you hit your climax with a mewling moan that ended Joel right there and then. Coming together with heavy breaths and shaking, trembling chests. His release inside of you, strings of his come smearing you in him. Marking you for later. Well and truly ruined for any other warm body that dared to slip into your sheets.

But falling was not the problem. Only when you hit the ground is what causes all the grief. And the look you shared once the gold haze of afterglow faded was what confirmed this.

What have you done? How would you live without this?

106 notes · View notes

soulwillower · 2 years

Text

rude boy [remastered] • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

hi i've decided to start off my remastered series with a reader fav :) hope yall like it! this one is much more dirty ig, so lmk if thats smth yall wannt more of.

requested: hii💕 could u do a richie smut where he kinda hates her and so does she…but the sex is good lol? i got inspired by rude boy by rihanna haha

+ @kennafild Ohhhh pleeeese, Rude Boy (Richie Tozier) 💖💖💖 it’s my favorite

warning: swearing, dirty talk, light choking, use of bitch + slut, semi-public sex, slight voyeur themes, unprotected hate sex, they are not fucking nice to each other, reader slaps richie and it awakens somethin in BOTH of them, unedited

[losers + reader are aged up to college, 20+ in this.]

remastered version: 2.8k.

♡

it's quiet as you wipe around the coffee machine, the orange light still on under the buzzing bright fluorescents. you make a note to yourself to turn it off when your manager leaves.

you sigh as the last customer walks out the front doors of the diner, a small receipt lingering where she'd sat for hours, making googly eyes across the bar counter, playing with the stupid straw of her shake. walking over, you don't even have to look at it to know there's a number scribbled on it with most likely a name, probably a heart. your stomach recoils in disgust, snatching up the paper and shoving it in the waistband of your skirt, figuring the trash was already taken out for the night.

your boss walks over to where you stand at the counter, wiping it off with a rag. “she's finally gone?” she asks and you nod, rolling your eyes. your manager chuckles with a shrug , "kid is a menace, but he sure brings in a lot of service."

it makes you huff; it gets on your nerves , but you know she's right. sadly, that menace is the very reason your tips are so high. she pulls a sweater over the uniform, sounding exhausted, "right, well i’m gonna head out. can you and richie lock up?” she asks as you resist the urge to gag at the name of your coworker, but you nod nonetheless. “yeah, of course.”

she leaves a few minutes later and you pull at the collar of your stupid, synthetic retro diner uniform. it’s red and black and awfully cheesy. employees are allowed to choose between a matching red skirt or black slacks - it’s an old school kitschy diner on the outskirts of derry that pays shitty. but a summer job is a summer job, and the tips weren’t awful so you can't really complain.

but the worst thing by far about working at the diner came in the form of a 6'2 nightmare with a sharp jawline and a serious nicotine addiction. richie fucking tozier.

he’s been a server here the longest and you were seen, to his chagrin, as the most responsible, so you two were trusted to close the diner together most nights. didn’t mean you got along though, not at all. he was loud, obnoxious, a slacker, and a scrawny, phony asshole. you’ve never liked him and he’s never liked you, and that's just the way it is. he is the worst part of every summer and winter break, and you can only be thankful that you never went to derry high.

there were some pretty decent people on staff, thankfully. you liked your manager, and you like mike, who worked dish, and many of the servers were more than tolerable. but richie fucking tozier.

during shifts, richie always played music on the jukebox and serenaded loudly to every boy and girl who stepped foot in the diner as they sat at the counter and swooned. he barely did his work and got way too generous of tips - you know it’s solely because of his looks, because he is an awful server and an even worse human. but he has curly, fluffy dark hair, freckles, and a face sculpted by aphrodite. he always smelled like cologne and cigarettes, always had his shirt unbuttoned way lower than necessary, and walked with a stupid bounce in his step that some people saw as charm.

as you finish mopping up the dining area, you hear footsteps and your eyes catch richie’s beat up, lyric-scribbled red high tops. “richie! i just mopped there!” you yelp at him as you snap your head up to stare at him in anger. he just shrugs, “you missed a few spots anyways.” he says through a mouth full of chocolate milkshake.

you fight the urge to slap the glass out of his hand, “could you stack the chairs?” you ask him, trying to stay civil. last time you and richie locked up together, you'd argued so bad that he’d thrown a glass and shattered it. you’d both gotten in huge trouble.

“why can’t you?” he asks, his voice awfully teasing. you glare at him as you sit down, throwing the mop as it hits his chest. he catches it against him, the handle making a clacking noise when it hits the star of david chain on his bare chest. you scoff, why did he have to wear his uniform unbuttoned like that?

“fine, i’ll stack the chairs. you mop.” you grumble, getting up to lift the chairs. you hear a screeching noise but you refuse to look, knowing he’s sitting down and that would just fuel your fire. as you lean over one of the booths, something makes your head turn and you see richie just in time for him to snap his eyes away. your eyes widen - he was just checking you out. god damn these fucking skirts. “what are you looking at, tozier?” you spit venomously. as much as you don’t want to admit it, there was something really hot about the way he was staring.

“shut up.” he grumbles, getting up and locking the doors before walking back into the break room. once you finish out in the dining area, you walk towards the back to see him checking over the kitchen. “hey, did mike take out the trash before he clock-”

“yes, of course he did, y/n.” richie cuts you off. you cross your arms, “i’m just trying to get our job done! christ, richie, you make me so fucking mad.” you spit. he turns to look at you, his eyes bold and his cheeks splattered with pink and freckles. “i hate that i have to fucking deal with you. i should fire you.” he hisses, turning off the dishwasher and walking over to the front counter. you're hot on his heels.

“that's rich. you’re a fucking nightmare to work with! and you’re not my fucking boss!” you yell, glaring at him. "well the chart begs to fucking differ.“ he spits, a chipped black fingernail pointing to where the employee chart lists your names, him being slightly higher than yours because of experience. you think briefly you might deck him in the face. "we’re payed the same, you fucking bonehead!” you all but yell, stepping up to him. “and i do so much more work than you! all you do is flirt with everyone until they take pity on you and give you a tip.”

you expect him to scream back at you, but instead he looks extremely pissed while taking a step closer. “do you know how fucking jealous you sound right now, y/n?” he hisses. something makes you turn bright red in the face, but you scoff at the absurd accusation. “jealous? of who?” you all but yell, your arms flying up. it’s only now that you notice that he has you with your knees against the break table.

“of all the people i fuck.” he says, his voice calm but sinister and dangerous. you scoff again, “i hate you.” you say, leaning towards him. something about the way he looks makes you want to hit him as hard as you can but also shove him against the wall and make out with him. he chuckles as if something about what you said was funny, “i don’t hear you denying it, princess.”

you roll your eyes, turning to wipe the counter and hide your flushed face. "you're so immature. it's just not professional."

he scoffs, converses crossing as he leans back against the dessert case, "professional? I've seen you light a cig on the burners in the back. I've seen you eat food off a customer's old plate!" he hisses, tossing the rag he was using on the floor. narrowing your eyes, you turn, "you do that shit too! everyone does."

he rolls his doe eyes, shaking his head until something on you catches his eye. reaching quickly, he grabs the receipt from your waistband, your reaction too slow as he lifts it high above your heads, far out of reach. "richie," you protest, annoyed. maybe flustered.

his smile is bright and teasing, "what's this, y/n?" he murmurs, reading it as he holds it up to the light. you brush hair from your face, flustered as he raises a brow, "is this your-" he looks at you, "is this your number? you were going to give me your number?" he's astounded. you panic, "no, it's - it's from- its trash." you argue. he stares at you, disbelieving. "you have the hots for me or somethin' toots? that's so cute." he's smirking. "you know that's not true." you hiss.

"listen, i know i csn be intimidating, but if you maybe just tried a smile, y-" but angrier than ever, you shove him back in aggravation before he can finish. he stumbles back from your force, hands falling back to steady himself. "FUCK," he yells, hand shooting back up to his lips. "y/n! why isn't the coffee machine off?" he yells. you blink, huffing, "I was going to turn it off, but someone decided to be a fucking pain in the ass!" you counter.

"well what, were you just schlepping around out here while I was closing?!" he hisses. you want to scream, "you know what? you're a fucking asshole. you can close yourself." you smile, sickeningly sweet as you lay a sarcastic hand on his arm. patting it, you move to shove past him.

his fingers are tight as he stops you, wide, angry eyes staring you down. he pulls you eye level, leaning down to you. "you're not leaving me, sweetheart." he sneers. you glare, "you can't stop me. why don't you call your girlfriend for company?" you sneer back. ripping your arm away, you turn around and hear a mutter under his breath, "jealous bitch."

without thinking, you turn around and smack his cheek so hard it echoes in the empty diner. it's quiet for a moment, his cheek bright red and blossoming. your hand stings.

"oy vey," he whispers, large hand holding his jaw before he smirks, shrugging it off. his tongue runs over his teeth and you bite your lower lip to hide your sudden arousal. he nods curtly, laughing gently to himself in disbelief.

"well, that was actually kind of hot, princess." he mutters, and for some reason that’s it. the princess, that’s all it takes for you to smash your lips against his forcefully.

it’s a kiss that it so rough it’s almost violent; fueled by hatred and adrenaline and something akin to attraction. it happens so quick, you're almost dizzy. he’s pushing your hips harshly into the counter behind you so that you’re sitting up on it, him immediately stepping between your legs. your hands are on his neck and they thread into his hair as your teeth clash and noses hit each other. you hated him so fucking much.

his hands move up so he’s grabbing your bare thigh with one hand, metal cool against your heated flesh and digging in. the other hand cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer to him, causing your stomach to flutter with desire. you pull away and immediately attach your lips to the column of his neck, not wanting to have to look at his awful, handsome, heart-stopping face.

he ruts up against you and you feel the outline of his cock, making you moan against his neck. his hand slides up and under the hem of your skirt, squeezing your hip as you suck a bruise into his throat hard, teeth biting his flesh. he pulls away from you quickly, looking at you with fury. his hand grasps your neck, taking you by surprise and coaxing a moan from your lips before kissing you again.

it knocks the wind out of you with his force but you quickly recover, dragging your hands down his chest and tracing his bulge with your fingertips. he grunts as he pulls away and looks at you. his eyes bore in to you, his lips swollen.

"you want me so bad," he smirk, "that you'll let me fuck you right here in the diner? anybody could see." he whispers in your ear, fingers softly toying with your throbbing pussy through the your underwear.

you’re gasping but you recover your breath and shoot him a glare. “well? are you gonna fuck me or are you just going to stare at me like a goddamn airhead?” you spit. he glares at you and pulls you up by your shoulders, spinning you and bending you by the waist so your face is pressed against the cool of the counter.

“oh yeah, this is much better.” he replies snarkily as he pulls your skirt up and grinds against your ass. "so pretty without your fucking attitude." you moan quietly and you hear him undoing his belt buckle. you’re aching and you can feel excitement bubbling in your stomach, wiggling your hips slightly in need.

what you don’t expect is a harsh smack to land on your ass, making you gasp in arousal. his hands squeeze your ass and you look back to see him pumping himself, sliding your panties down your legs. your eyes widen slightly, noticing how big he is, but you groan in impatience, “can you hurry up already?” you spit.

he glares at you and shakes his head . "you're fucking pathetic. just begging to be fucked in this skirt, aren't you?"

through your ecstacy you hum, "pathetic?" you gasp, "cute coming from you, richie. you're basically dreaming about fucking me every day. don't think I don't see you look at me." his cheeks redden as you turn back to smirk at him. his hand snacks your ass forcefully, pulling another satisfying moan to fall from your mouth. "for such a dick, I'm surprised you could even get it up. good boy." you smirk. his face contorts, jaw clenching.

brows furrowed in anger, he thrusts in all at once, making you moan so loud it burns your throat; he fills you up perfectly and you drop your head to rest on the counter as he starts to thrust.

he’s not forgiving; he fucks into you hard and deep and you have to bite your hand to keep from moaning his name in pleasure. you wouldn't be caught dead moaning his name . you’d never hear the end of it. his hands grip your hips so tightly you know there’ll be marks tomorrow and he’s muttering swear words quietly, adding to the wetness between your legs.

he’s hitting the perfect spot inside you and one glance behind you shows his face just as contorted in pleasure as yours is. you hate to admit it, but he’s fucking hot and the expression is perfect on him.

he’s fucking you into the front counter, your sight falling to the diner windows across from you. he pulls your hips back to meet his thrusts you can’t help but whimper his name. you can hear his smirk in his voice, even when your eyes are clenched shut. “sorry, princess, I didn't hear that.”

you groan, half in pleasure and half because you hate how good he’s making you feel. “i fucking hate you s-so much, tozier.” you say, trying to stop your moans but failing miserably. his hips are snapping into yours and you clench around him, knowing you’re about to cum embarrassingly fast.

he hums at your words tauntingly, “say anything you want, slut. but i know it's been five minutes and you’re about to cum on my cock.” he mutters the words and you moan again, your toes curling in pleasure. he thrusts deeper into you and you let out a strangled scream as you hit your peak. your fingers grasp on the edge of the counter as richie plows through your high, chasing his own.

you start to whimper, feeling overly sensitive. he chuckles darkly, “so good. you’re fine.” he mutters, his hands squeezing your ass. he thrusts a few more times before his hips stutter and he finishes inside you with a low moan. his chest is pressed on your back and you can’t seem to catch your breath, feeling limp and extremely pleasured. your legs shake.

holy shit.

he pulls out of you, making you whimper at the sensation and he pulls up your panties, rubbing the seat of your clothed core with his thumb. the stimulation makes you jolt as he pulls your skirt down. you wait, not sure what to say, but richie doesn't waste one moment.

“fuck you.” he whispers in your ear and then he gets up, pulls his pants up, and walks towards the breakroom.

you stand up, to save the last bit of dignity you have, listening to him in the other room grab his keys and jacket, and leave eventually.

you stand there with the now burned old coffee, breathing heavily, unsure what the fuck just happened but knowing you loved it way too much.

tag list. @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozierr @sft-core @daughter-of-the-stars11 @oceandog13 @upamongthestars @fiantomartell @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @loverloserr @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffew @etaerealboyv @itlover8000

#richie tozier x reader #jewish richie tozier #richie tozier smut #losers club x reader #losers club smut #soulwillower remastered series

873 notes · View notes

mollyolikeme · 9 days

Text

Thoughts as I read TSC: A Stream of Conciousness Part Two!

Filthy Spoils!

classic kevin.

LOL keep saying i see how much you bench as if thats an indicator of someones ability to kickass

HA! i always forget about the sixteen hour days shit, i cannot, i find it too fucking funny it's fucking impossible. mfs would be DECEASED. like DEAD.

they are so hardcore this fantastical has me CACKLING every time

like a ken doll!

BLONDE.

ill advised thoughts....

uh oh jean, your crazy is showing.

goddamn. to hate but need. complicated and absolutely screwed up relationship dynamics are fascinating.

okay, i like to rag on our beloved kevin (because its fun and easy) but like props where props are due. i know we didn't get to see his transition from raven to fox but i honestly think the boy would have handled it a lot better than jean jean morose over here. boy isssssss messed up.

foreshadowwwwww SWIM SHORTS!

dangerously low? dangerous for who jean?

do not be slut shaming, lucas. thats fucking gross of you and i'm not even gonna mention the nonconsensual factor...........

oh. my. word. its not funny but i feel the morbid sense to laugh at the ravens dropping like flies.

bad therapist. you cant force it. where is Dobson?

OMG LOL i summoned her!

dont you worry about kevin babe, the foxes got him

thats two hands on chin! thats two!

he's got a big dick! lololololololol boys not tryna be gayyyy

oh the heat! the HEAT! yes jeremyyyyyyyy

fear of water.

what happens when he losses his grip......i want to see you lose control......... hi familiar phrasing and trauma, i ADORE you.

in my head, jean has a very french tsk of his tongue reaction to almost everything people do around him.

yesssss the foxes ARE synchronized.

you tell him jeremy! none of his raven intentionally injuring people bullshit

omg were gonna get a little kevin trip to cali! reunion of the abused buds! (again gotta take the morbid hilarity into account for my health)

LOL wheel throwing! Patrick Swayze where are you?!

not the self flagellating notebooks he kept.....

oooooo intense. it all comes to the surface. the truth will always come out.

this is clever, gives just enough info about the ravens without explaining the crime side of things. go nora.

okay damn lucas.... issues buddy. dont be comin after jean jean. you'll regret it.

chin grab number 3! this time by jeremy 🤩

omg cuuuuuuuute little motorcycle ride and seashell gifty

again. uh oh jean. your crazy is showing to the coaches now. this truth is really spilling out the cracks

pause.......... guys my sanity........ my INsanity upon reading this........... im losin it! ......... okay resume.

morbid laughing morbid laughing morbid laughing fuck fuck fuck

yo. to somehow make me feel like neilio's story is a positive tale................

wow lucas. doubling down are we. his character does have a very difficult truth to come to terms with. its fuckin rough and a hella interesting arc.

you should call dobsonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn

OH SHIT! neil's here! Thats not good news for you jean!

fy faen neil. you're kind of a gangster babe!

oh. dead sister. so sad. (typing it out like that looks sarcastic. It's not.)

yaaaaasssss thats the smart mouth we know and love! telling an agent he parked illegally!!! ahhhhh lolololololoolol

OMG Neil!!!! sweetheart! you care so much! awwwwwwwww wow nora seriously, what. a. treat! he cares about his buddy jean.

jeremy...... you got it so bad hun. always with the 'what do you need?' like just promise yourself to him forever and ever.

CHIN!!!!!!!!!! FOUR TIMES NOW.

woah Jer.

i like that jean actually doesn't like exy. such a good contrast to neils pov obsession.

im curious where this whole 'its not freedom its a pretty cage' thing is gonna go. like, yea i dont think you'll ever be 'free' free jean. but honestly this is pretty damn close. professional athletes lives are very straight forward. and if youre that good, fuckin easy.

#tsc spoilers #the sunshine court spoilers #jean moreau #jeremy knox #tsc #the sunshine court

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bellysoupset · 9 months

Note

yo dude i know you just worked your ass off on that vince fic (i can tell bro bc holy shit, like i genuinely think thats my new favorite all time fic i'll go back to for years to come), but rn im just so 🤩🤩 rn with the idea of the football boys playing a game, like maybe a little for-fun game of football, maybe they go to a recreational basketball/baseball field to play a little game that isnt football in their freetime, and someone gets hurt or sumn? damn idk what it is with me and suggesting seeing these boys hurt but GODDDD ITS SO 🤩🤩🤩🤩 (also probably vince wouldnt be the hurt one, as he just got absolutely smushed. he may not even be in said setting bc he's still having to not do anything due to the last fic, if everything is in chronological order)(IH MY GOD WHAT IF VINCE WAS STAYING WITH JONAH AND LEO AND LEO WAS OUT PLAYING THE GAME WITH THEM AND COMES HOME HURT AND THE TWO ARE LIKE "damn not you too")(if you decide to go thru with this ask, please dont feel rushed bc i dont want you to get burnt out yk? take your time 💪💪💪)

"Finally, I see the sun," Vince groaned, causing Leo to roll his eyes.

"It's been literally ten days, you drama queen," he said, removing his baseball cap and pushing his hair back, away from his sweaty forehead, then planting the cap back down, this time facing back.

"Ten days of captivity," Vince said, dramatically rubbing his good hand over his face, "is good to be out of jail."

"I'd like to think my food is a little better than jail's," Leo scoffed, turning around and walking backwards towards the field, "are you sure you wanna stay and watch? Doesn't sound very fun to me."

"I was going stir crazy in that apartment," Vince winced as the limping pulled on his wounded side. He was definitely dosed up on painkillers, but there was still a dull throbbing on his side that the drugs couldn't chase, made worse by all the hopping around, "even sitting and watching you guys play is better fun than watching another episode Rachel's bad romantic decisions."

Leo grinned, turning around so he could run ahead and join the remaining guys on the field and Vince took his time limping towards the bleachers. His shirt was covered in sweat by the time he sat down.

He didn't know all the players. Leo, yes, Spencer and Mikey from the team too. The other people he didn't know, it seemed they were an weird rag tag team of people's various acquaintances. By the way Leo waved to some of them, he guessed they were colleagues from the law firm.

It didn't matter, Vince was just overjoyed to be out of the fancy apartment and smelling freshly cut grass, with the sun shining down on him. He had not been made to sit around, there was too much energy running through him during all hours of the day and the worst part of this whole accident had been no longer being able to hit the gym or the field or, hell, he'd even take Wendy's hot yoga classes at this point.

"Hey!" Luke's voice startled Vince and he turned on the hot stone bleachers in order to see him. Luke jogged closer, "good to see you out of bed."

"You have no idea," Vin nodded, studying his best friend, "you good? Bella said the bug was brutal."

"Yeah, I'm fine," Luke had a huge smile on, much like Vince he hated lying about, although he looked a little paler than normal and his voice was scratchy, "wish us luck."

"Make them cry, captain" Vince teased, raising both thumbs up, his left one cradled in his chest since his arm was still resting on the sling.

Lucas tipped his baseball cap in a cowboy-esque way, "you got it, man."

They were playing baseball and Vince didn't much care for it. It was much too american for him, aside from football he had always been more fond of soccer, something he had in common with Jonah. In fact, Jon had proved to be a bit of a soccer addict, Vince had found in the past week living with him and Leo. He knew all the leagues, yelled at the TV and got sullen when his team lost. It was quite amusing to Vin that, for once, he wasn't the one with the blood pressure skyrocketing through the roof.

He leaned back lazily, barely paying attention to the game, enjoying the warmth. Now that he was sitting down for a bit, the ribs' aching had quieted down.

For the next two hours he watched his friends sprint across the field, shouting at each other, ignoring the yelling from the opposite team. Vince blamed it on the drugs and the sun scorching down, but he was feeling sleepy in no time. He cursed at it, it was such a bummer that everyone else was right and he needed to rest, when all he did was rest now.

"Time!" he heard Lucas say, voice booming. He had that characteristic about him, where he could speak loudly and be heard by everyone without looking like he was screaming.

The group dispersed and Luke jogged back to where Vince was sitting, Leo close behind him.

"Are we winning, son?" Vince teased, causing Lucas to chuckle and shove his knee.

"Didn't make 'em cry, yet, but we're winning," he said, competitiveness rolling off of him. He glanced past his shoulder and frowned, "why are you pouting?"

Vince looked away from Luke, to Leo, and raised his eyebrows. As Lucas said, the blonde had a big frown on and he was squinting at the grass. He angrily rubbed at his forehead, "I don't... I don't feel so good."

"Shit, LU-" Vince shouted, using his good hand to shove Lucas' arm, who leaped forward just in time to catch Leo as his knees gave up.

"What the fuck?!" Luke squealed, his voice breaking. He grabbed Leo by the armpits, manhandling him to sit on the edge of the bleacher's step, "Leo? Leo, c'mon, open your eyes-"

"Not fainting," Leo slurred, pushing Lucas' frantic hands away from his face, "nauseous."

Vince grimaced as he scooted closer, having to prop all his body weight on his right arm in order to lower himself to the step under his, where Leo was sitting. He grabbed Leo's shoulder and then moved his hand up to his neck and cheeks. Despite the fact his cheeks were blazing red and his hair still damp with sweat, his cheeks were dry and his skin felt cold, "oh kid," Vince sighed, "I think you got heatstroke."

Lucas, still looking nervous, cupped Leo's face too, hunching on himself to look him in the face, "aww, why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

Vince watched as Leo's throat bobbed dangerously and he glanced at Luke, "I think you better move..."

He barely had time to say this and Leo was folding in half, vomit jetting out of his mouth and covering the grass under them. Lucas jumped out of the way just in time, but not quick enough to avoid getting the tip of his sneakers covered in orange sick.

"Shit, Leo..." Vince sighed, holding on the back of his friend's muscle shirt, "okay, get it up, you'll feel better in a bit... Luke, can you drive us back...?" Vince voice trailed off as he realized that Lucas had a hand holding Leo's shoulder, but the other one was firmly pressed to his mouth, eyes shut, face pale, "uh... Luke?"

"Sorry-" he said in a muffle manner, then let go of Leo and staggered away from them, bracing against his knees and retching.

Leo groaned, almost falling off since Luke had let go of his arm and Vince squeezed his shirt a little tighter, "don't worry about him, he's fine..." he said, while Leo coughed up another round of brown liquid, "you're fine, right?!" Vince said a little louder and Luke raised a hand, thumb up, while still gagging mercilessly.

Leo spat, then leaned back and almost fell, his head meeting Vince's wounded shoulder and causing him to bite down a scream. He breathed through the pain, as the poor man groaned and leaned his head against his bicep.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry, I just-"

"It's okay, you can't help it," Vince said, voice strained, "we're going home, just- Here," he winced, reaching back to where he had been sitting and grabbing a water bottle, "take some sips."

"Won't stay down-" Leo groaned, taking the lukewarm bottle and then looking up as Lucas' heaved again, this time managing to bring up a pathetic amount of puke, "is he okay?"

"He's fine," Vince said, rolling his eyes, "drink your water."

Ahead of them Lucas straightened up, belching deeply into his fist and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, walking back to them, "sorry..."

"Since when you get sympathy sick?" Vince asked, while Leo took the smallest sip of water, gagging around the bottle's finish.

"I guess I'm not feeling a hundred percent still," Lucas' cheeks turned pink and he rubbed at his chest, "I'm better now, don't worry."

"Not worried," Vince lied, while Leo let out a moan again, hugging his stomach.

"This is awful, I feel really dizzy..."

"You just need to lie down in a cool place, get some electrolytes in you," Vin rubbed his nape, then glanced at Lucas, "can you drive?"

"Yeah, of course," the brunette nodded, although Vince wasn't feeling very reassured by how milky white Lucas looked. Sadly, there was no other option.

"C'mere," Lucas said, carefully side stepping the puddle on the ground and looping an arm around Leo's waist, "lean on me."

"I'm sorry I made you sick..."

"That was on me," Luke waved him off and Vince gestured for them to go ahead, since getting himself out of the bleachers was a struggle on its own.

By the time he reached them, Leo was sitting inside Luke's car, with the a/c blasting, while Luke was leaning outside of it, an arm wrapped around his stomach.

"I'm fine," Luke said preemptively, "I should've listened to Bell," he let out a sick burp, spat on the gravel and kicked the little rocks to cover up the mess, "really, stop looking at me like that."

"I'm just worried," Vince shrugged, or tried to, only to hiss as it pulled on his shoulder and ribs, "I can call Wendy if you can't drive. She's got the day off..."

'I can drive," Luke shook his head, "I just overdid it with all the running around and the mess..." he gagged fruitlessly against his hand, "I'm good."

"Clearly," Vince agreed sarcastically, then limped to the backseat.

Leo was slumped on the passenger seat, head leaning back, taking some deep, measured breaths.

"Hey, kid," Vin reached in and squeezed his arm, "just hang in there, this is going to pass soon."

Leo nodded, but he still looked dangerously pale, lips pressed in one thin line.

The drive was uneventful, Vince glancing nervously from Leo to Lucas and wondering how their evening had downgraded so quickly. Just as they got close, Leo suddenly hiccupped, slapping a hand over his mouth as a burp slipped out and with the other one he pushed Lucas' thigh "pull over-" his voice was muffled, punctuated by another belch at the end and Luke cringed, turning on the sign and pulling to the side of the road.

At least it was an uneventful Saturday, so the street was almost empty. Leo pushed the door, but didn't even have time to get out. He stuck his head out and coughed up another stream, letting out a whimper.

"Aw, kiddo..." Vince sighed, shoving himself in the space between the driver's seat and passenger one, so he could grab the back of Leo's pants and keep him sitting down. Lucas was no help, despite the guilty expression he had on, he had pressed his forehead to the steering wheel and was gulping nervously.

"It hurts..." Leo groaned, coughing and panting, "my head hurts so much."

"I know, I'm sorry," Vince said unhelpfully, rubbing his back, "get it up, Leo..."

He heard another pitiful whine and then more hurling, followed by a sigh, "I think... I think I'm done."

Or empty, Vince thought, keeping his hand on Leo's back. He glanced at Lucas and cringed. His friend's face was firmly in the gray territory, jaw clenched.

"Take a deep breath, I bet the carsickness isn't helping your situation," Vince said, squeezing Leo's bicep and fighting the anxiety inside of him. He hated not being able to help. He should be the one driving.

"I'm good," Leo slammed the door shut, "I just wanna get home."

"Just a couple minutes," Luke mumbled, his voice all thick and weird, "sorry, I-"

"It's okay, Luke," Leo said tiredly, "Jon gets sympathy sick too, I get it..." he rubbed at his forehead, "just drive, please?"

Once they finally arrived, without another incident, Vince almost groaned as he realized now there was twice as much walking around to be done. He sucked it up, carefully stepping out of the car and offering his good arm for Leo.

"Lean on me, kid," then to Lucas, who was just stepping out of the car, "no. You're not coming in, you're going straight home. Shooo."

"How do you intent on looking after him...?" Luke frowned, despite the pained lines on his face, "Vin, I can-"

"I'm fine," Leo groaned and while Vince could feel his grip was a little too tight for someone who was fine, he knew Lucas wasn't going to be any help, "go home, Luke. I'll text you later."

"...Promise?" Lucas glanced between the two of them, torn between wanting to help and feeling too sick.

"Yeah, we're fine," Vince nodded, ignoring the throbbing on his side, "go home. C'mon, Leo..."

The blonde waved one last goodbye to Luke, then slumped against Vince. Vin could tell he was trying to be mindful not to rest his full body weight on him, but he was doing a poor job of it. He bit down a groan, wrapping his good arm around Leo's waist and resting his back against the inside of the elevator.

"Shitty day," he groaned, causing the blonde to let out a tired chuckle.

"That seems to be a pattern lately," he mumbled, face pressed to Vince's bicep, "it's not as bad as it was out there."

"Good, you just need to rest a bit," Vin reassured him, breathing deeply through his mouth as pain spread all the way up his shoulder. They all but stumbled inside the house and Leo headed straight for the couch, while Vince braced against the desk near the front door and took deep, measured breaths.

"Vin? Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he lied, wiping the sweat from his upper lip, "probably just due my meds... Sit down and turn up the A/C, I'm gonna get you some water."

He didn't dare walking all the way to the bathroom to grab a washcloth. Instead Vince filled up Leo's gym bottle with cold water and then wet a dishcloth, deciding he'd rather face Jon's judgment than to walk all that distance. He limped back to the couch and met Leo's worried gaze, "I'm fine," Vince said, handing him the bottle and sitting down too, "here, lie down."

"You don't look very fine," Leo grumbled, but he was too lethargic to do anything about it. He took a gulp of the cold water and let out a relieved sigh when he rested his head on Vin's lap and the cold dishcloth met his forehead, "this feels much better."

"Uhm," Vince smiled, moving on the couch so he could put his feet up the coffee table. His sprained left foot was killing him, "c'mere, kid."

Easy like that, all the times he had done this to his own sisters came rushing back and he found himself playing with Leo's hair, combing the blonde strands and scratching at the scalp, "you're due a haircut," Vince mumbled, eyes slipping closed as he felt Leo relax against him.

"Jon says longer is hotter," he said quietly, "I've always wanted this, you know?"

"...What?" Vince frowned, opening his eyes and glancing down. Leo seemed almost asleep, the stress taking it's toll on him, "Leo?"

"Family," Leo sighed, cuddling closer and moving the wet cloth to cover his eyes, "it's almost weird to have it."

"Oh..." Vince's heart dropped and he squeezed the blonde's shoulder, fighting a smile, "well... Get used to it, Leo. This is your life now."

#mywriting #sickfic #heatstroke #emeto #sympathy sickness #leo wagner #lucas atwood #the fic in which Vin is like okay this is my brother now period - like legally i'm adopting him

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idgivemyeyesfor-mattmurdock · 1 year

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omg omg omg ok i just had the most random idea - this may be a slightly long one but

what if y/n is a teacher/nun in the church, and takes care of matt while he stays there post explosion. they get closer and eventually date, and y/n ends up pregnant. maggie argues with both of them and accidentally lets slip that she doesn't want y/n to live the same life that she did - because the murdock boys are the same

and thats how matt finds out who his mother is and y/n comforts him (awww)

sidenote: i'm just gonna stop asking anonymously lol

Part One:

hope ur ok - Olivia Rodrigo

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem reader Trigger Warning: if ur allergic to fluff then back away.

A teacher. You, a teacher?

Well, who could doubt it? you weren't that religious that you'd become a nun, but a teacher was a happy medium. Actually, you had never been to a church before, but you took the job offer when St.Agnes's was offering it... but truly you had always wanted to teach.

Teaching children was the equivalent to being the change. Truth was you were tired of complaining about the world, so you decided to do something about it.

You'd been a St.Agnes's for four years now. After getting your masters in education, you decided that staying in new york was the best option. Though, once you got you're first job-- thats when DareDevil decided to start playing around.

Your parents tried getting you to go back home, but-- what good were you going to do in (y/h/t)? teach the kids you grew up with and that's it? no. Yo New York you went and stayed

You hadn't prayed until He came to the church after the explosion. though, you didn't know it was a he because nobody every dared to mention his gender.

how would it feel? being blind and having no idea where you were at. It was a terrible two in one deal not a lot of people could deal with, especially for a group of older nuns who were ached and never had a day off.

today you allowed the kids to take the day off, along with the nuns, so it would just be you helping this mystery blind person for a day so that the sisters could get a rest.

It was what? five am when you walked in.

As you opened the door, the squeak woke Matt up, and so did you're footsteps. Though, he didn't recognize your scentl or the way you're weight shifted on the floorboards. his fiery vision was practically eliminated, so all he saw was a blank sheet of paper.

Once your eyes laid on him, you noticed that he was shirtless and sweating. He hadn't shaved in weeks, and his beard was nearly an inch long.

Your heart began to race as you got closer and laid your eyes on his tensed muscles. Though, you fixated your train of thought on the fact that he was sweating and obviously confused.

"Hello?" asked Matt as you got closer.

"Hi, yes, sorry-- are you hot? you're sweating."

"...I'm aware." said Matt with annoyance, "you're not Maggie."

"No, I am not." you firmly responded as you placed the bowl of water on the night stand, "Sister Maggie is taking a fast today from serving. Since you care so much, I am pleased to tell you that she will be back tomorrow."

"Thank god." whispered Matt with a sigh, "she doesnt give me a break."

"A break? who says I'm going to give you a break" you asked as you dipped the porcelain towel into the bowl of water.

"Your not?"

"why would I?" you asked as you sat on the wooden chair by his bed.

"Blind guy, just sitting here, what would you do with me?"

"Make you recite your times tables."

"intriguing." responded Matt as his de-focused eyes attempted to find your voice,

"why do you say that?" asked Matt as he felt you place the warm cloth over his chest.

"I'm a teacher, It's my job."

"you're a teacher." said Matt

As you stopped for a second, placing the cloth back into the water you asked, "you're surprised?"

"no, not surprised, just stunned."

"Stunned is a synonym for surprised."

as she squeezed the blood out of the rag, you looked over to Matt who was enjoying the argument, "I'm not stunned, surprised or astonished. Just, you don't sound like a teacher."

"well," you said as you placed the warm cloth back on his chest, and began to run it up his neck, "when you have to teach twenty five blind sixteen-year-olds how to read braille-- you learn to pick up on the attitude."

"you're a blind teacher?" asked Matt.

"you're full of questions."

"well, you're the teacher, so I'd expect you to have the answers."

Matt heard the muscles in your cheeks stretch as you replied in a lower tone, "To answer, you're question, yes. I am a blind teacher."

"what do you do?" asked Matt as he felt you press down on an area of his neck where he had stitches, "just braille?"

"everything." you responded as you removed the cloth and placed it on the side of the night stand, "chemistry, history, math, reading, writing-- social skills. Sometimes they teach me."

"they do?" asked Matt as he heard you open the drawer that was under the nightstand.

"well, --"

"Matthew, Matthew Murdock."

"Well, Matthew, I've never been blind. So, everyday I do get reminded how it feels to be blind. Like, I'd never thought a guy would dump his girlfriend just because she couldn't look at him."

his lips pressed into a fine line as you took out a black long sleeve from his drawer, you said, "I also get taught how some people are happy they can't see. I get to know the pleasure of somebody saying that they are happy they never have to see the face of their algebra 2 teacher again."

"i agree with that one." responded Matt with a laugh, "so," asked Matt as he heard you unfold the long sleeve, "what have I taught you teach?"

nicknames already?

"that you're not so different then my students."

#matt murderdock #requestsmattmudock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fic #mattmurdockxreader #please dont come at me #better than the movies #mattmurdock #matthewmurdock #dadock

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kodacozy · 3 months

Note

Kyoya smut/fluff headcanons or a one shot? if not Kyoya, could it be L from Death Note?

Of course! Thank you for the request! I went ahead and did headcannons for both :)

Kyoya Ootori

○ Do not date a host if you get insecure

○ this boy struggles with self expression. He can be kind but it will be in private

○ A hand hold alone in a classroom, a quick peck in the music room while he's doing expense reports

○ When word broke you two were dating, he expected to lose business, however quite the opposite happened

○ apparently these girls liked the idea of fighting for a man

○ Plus now they see that dating a host is possible

○ business boomed so the club got a happy Kyoya for a couple weeks

○ He will not stand for bullying, he has watchdogs making sure no other person is harassing you for dating him

○ He was nervous about introducing you to the club, luckily things went fine at first

○ He did smack Tamaki over the head with his notebook for flirting with you

○ He send you flowers constantly, every week you have a new bouquet at your door "To show how my love for you blossoms-Kyoya" on a little attached card

○ after a while of dating he will bring you home, he likes to lay in bed with you, just running his fingers through your hair

○ "Will you come join me tomorrow for lunch, my love?" He'll ask quietly while holding you. And he'll smile and hum at your affirmation

🚫🔞🚫 smut ahead!!

● More of a soft dom, bc of his father he doesn't like being too physically rough with someone.

● Big into dirty talk. he loves to say things that'll make your heart race

● Doesn't care about body size, big, little, he's probably seen a lot considering who he is, so no judgment

● Loves it when you dress up for him, not some skimpy lingerie though, he likes something classier. A neglige with some intricate bottoms maybe.

● He is assertive, won't yell, but he is naturally intimidating so he'll stare you down until you're squirming

● "You look cute," with a smirk and a raised brow "All for me?"

● !GROANS! not super vocal during it, but he groans low and long

● when he finishes he always make sure to pull out (even wearing a condom)

● Sorry if it disappoints, he can't risk a child with his families status.

● awkward with aftercare, he'll try though and bring you a clean damp rag and a water

● he'll have a servant bring some fruit and sweets up for you both afterwards

● Will hold you and kiss you until you fall asleep

he's a good boyfriend. Make sure to give him his space now and then, be honest, and give him time to be vulnerable and you two have a bright future!

L/Lawliet

○ You two met because of the police

○ Matsuda forgot some important documents and they sent you, the receptionist to deliver them

○ Wrong place wrong time

○ you were quickly apprehended by L's security and brought to an interrogation room

○ the officers working on the case saw you and cleared the confusion, due to the breach though he had you in a monitored room

○ L gave you a formal apology in writing and had it delivered to your room

○ You wrote a letter back and thats how this relationship started

○ He would watch you smile and wrote your letters to him

○ eventually you meet in person he was scared you'd be put off by his appearance and mannerisms, however you still smiled and bowed

○ He invited you to his observation room, a tower of sweets beside him, he sits down and you follow suit

○ You two talk for hours and enjoy the treats

○ as the night creeps on you decide to return to your room, standing up you lean over and kiss his cheek

○ once you're out of the room he reaches up and cups his face where you kissed

○ "I could actually fall for her..." He stares off, brain working at nitro speeds

○ "Watari? Tomorrow send a car for Mrs. y/n please, I'd like to take her to dinner."

○ no publicity, however he doesn't mind being close to you around his team

○ likes when you sit on his lap (you can't be too big for this man)

🚫🔞🚫 smut ahead!!

● Very soft and easy going

● he isn't experienced at all but he does plenty of research to make up for it

● makes sure he has all of the appropriate items to give you a good time

● he's a munch

● likes to lay down and have you sit on his face, he'll be content for hours

● Definitely has a thing for breeding

● He loves the idea of having a family with you and caring for you as his life partner

● He talks quite warm when you two are in the act

● Light moans and sighs

● Likes to hold you close, favorite position is you in his lap so he can hug you

● goes wild when you blow him

● hands gripping his desk, head thrown back

● one day you slide under his desk and pull his cock out, came immediately at the thought of being caught

● great at aftercare, holds you, gives you water and food, covers you in blankets and turns on the TV so you can cuddle up for a little while

He is a great boyfriend. When you see him that is. He is dedicated in every sense of the word. He will never cheat on you, but you may go awhile without talking to him. Hang tight for this to be over and your relationship will be stronger than ever

#kyoya ootori #ouran high school host club #ohsch #L lawliet #L death note #death note #L #lawliet

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undeaddevildom · 2 years

Text

Some heatwave headcanons because my power went out and its 108 degrees and I'm sweating my BAWLZ off 👎

(General hcs)

- Demons pant instead of sweat

- It shows off their pretty sharp teefs :)

(Cue a heatwave in the devildom.)

- lucifer has like 20 fans around his desk and its blowing around his paperwork someone cast a fucking cooling spell before he flips his shit. No one touch his thermostat or hes making you run on a hamster wheel that powers the ac. Touching the thermostat probably teleports you into a volcano or something. Since you thought the heat at the HOL was so damn bad.

-mammons splayed out on a tile floor or sitting in his car with the ac on. He runs hot and is NOT fairing well. Shirtless and insufferable the entire time. Cant make out a clear sentence because hes panting and gasping so hard so hes groaning and huffing. Boy if you dont shut the fu

- levis in his tank. Theres a "DO NOT TAP THE GLASS" sign on it now. Glares at you if you tap the glass. Do not. Tap. The glass. If his merch wasnt all over the room he would splash you so hard they'd have to wring your corpse out like a rag in order to cremate you.

- satans already flipping his shit. All his books are covering his air vents and oh my hes breathed in dust from panting so hard. Hey maybe throwing a tantrum is making you a hotter- you know what nevermind. Your flailing about is causing a nice breeze in here.

- you know when they said it was gonna be a hot gurl summer Asmo didnt think they meant it like this. He's in his big ass bathtub in cool water and is absolutely naked. Not a pair of britches in sight. Cheeked up. Cheeks out. Whatever. His makeup ia fucking melting because its so hot and he has to put it in the fridge. Enter Beel. I think you know what tragedy happens next :)

- Beels got his head in the (empty) freezer probably licking the metal or something. Hes 10 seconds from politely asking the next person who walks in to slam the door on his head until he drops. He can't work out because he can't fucking breathe. SOMEONE!!! ate all the ice cream. And ice. And anything else that was in the freezer. But thats besides the point! hes licked the freezer and now his tongue is stuck to it so he cant pant properly. Someone fucking help him

- Belphies in the (empty) fridge under Beel. He originally had only his head in there but in Beels panic to get unstuck he accidentally shoved belphie in and closed the door. Now Beels leaning against it and Belphie cant push it open. But thats ok because its cold and its dark and no one can bother him in here... Zzz.... Why is there fucking mascara in here... Zzz...

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#omswd #obey me! Lucifer #obey me! mammon #obey me! levi #obey me! asmo #obey me! beelzebub #obey me! belphie #obey me! memes #obey me! crack

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delqcate · 2 years

Text

happy birthday, little flower.

summary- y/n gives her little flower a special gift for his birthday

warnings- ok how do i explain all this- smut, oral and handjob (male receiving), teasing, cussing, mention of mommy, safeword and consent is in place, i think that might be all

pairing- sub d.m. and dom y.n.

a/n- this is my first smut so this might be terrible and reader calls draco so much nicknames :') also stan sub draco

creds to gif owner

to my little flower,

happy birthday draco! i let you sleep a little longer so i could prepare a little suprise, this is one of many gifts you're receiving today so enjoy.

love, y/n.

once draco finishes reading the note he feels a pair of soft lips leave a kiss on his cheek, he turns his head around to see y/n.

"morning, little flower. How did you sleep, hm?" y/n asks him.

"m'slept good..." draco replies back as he yawns

"well thats good.” y/n trails kisses all the way down to his lips, giving him a gentle kiss, trailing her hands to his hand as he kisses back the same gentle way.

y/n starts to trail kisses to his neck, leaving a few love bites all over his neck. "y- y/n please..." draco whimpers out, wanting more from her. "what is it, dray? need mommy?"

draco nods vigorously, breathing heavily. "m-mhmm.." he whispers. "i can't hear you." y/n replies, sternness laced in her voice. "f- fuck, yes!" draco says louder, y/n smirks and kisses his cheek. "what did i say about innocent boys cussing?" she smirks.

"s-sorry..but please!" draco whimpers out loud. y/n kisses him again and pulls his gray joggers down enough just for his cock to come out, y/n smirks at the beautiful sight infront of her, draco's tip red and his cock hard and twitching.

"so beautiful, baby." she starts to slowly pump his red, twitching cock slowly as draco bucks his hips us, y/n would usually tell him not to do that but since it was his day she let him do whatever he wanted.

"r-really..?" draco whimpers quietly. "mhm, the best little pet ever." y/n replies back as she pumps faster.

"y-y/n- oh p-please!" draco whimpers and squirms a little.

"please, what? need anything, cause i don't think you do." y/n smirks, loving how squirmy he gets.

"n-need y'mouth!" draco whimpers more, his eyes shut.

"i would punish you for your little attitude, pet but i'll let it slide." y/n growls a little and adjusts her position and starts to kitty lick his tip, making draco's eyes already roll back and buck his hips, moaning so angelic.

"m-mommy oh! please more, more!" draco bucks his hips more and grips onto y/n's hair, making her hiss a little but lowers her head down more, her tounge swirling around his cock and coating it with her saliva.

as y/n sucks more draco can feel the knot in his stomach tighten, whimpering and moaning more and biting his lip down, as he squirms y/n holds down his hips down and sucks faster, making draco moan loudy.

"m-mommy! m-m'c- " before draco could finish his sentence the knot in him snaps and he hits his climax as y/n swallows it all, once he calms down y/n gets up and pets him gently. "such a good boy for mommy..." she coos softly, draco whimpers and nuzzles his head in her neck.

y/n gets up and grabs a wet rag, cleaning him up. once she finishes cleaning him up she sits beside him and places him on her lap and showers him with kisses as he giggles.

"how about we rest for a little as i feed you some breakfast, watch your favorite show and then we go out to shop for some presents, hm?" y/n asks him as he feeds him a slice of bacon, draco nods and takes the bacon happily with a small smile.

as y/n fixes everything draco nuzzles his head into her neck and mumbles. "best birthday morning ever"

taglist: @slytherin-princess247 @thehalfbloodedwitch @n0agranger @drayslove @jexnrey @miss-celestial-being

#📜 c's parchment #🕯 draco my love #draco malfoy x female reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco smut #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy smut #sub!draco

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blacknailsandheartbreak · 2 years

Text

Another Zuko x FemReader fic :o

So I’ve been away for a bit and saw quite a few likes on my past Zuko fics so ok yeah, Another Zuko fic for y’all. Found this one was kinda longer but one of my better ones :)

This one kinda plays off a previous plot of one of my past ones but just hang in there. This one will for sure tickle your feels, especially for the protective grump boy and innocent sweet girl trope we all love.

Here we go: 1500+ word count, Zuko is 19, girl is like 17, feel like they would be aged up in this scenario, not really following plot, stanning the long Zuko hair.

TW: Nothing really, kinda weird gross men sexually talking and broken bone and burns but thats about it.

OK HERE WE GO, IMAGINE THIS.....

So Zuko and Iroh are out at sea in the lower quarters mapping out their next route. Zuko is over the map and Iroh is sitting comfortably drinking his tea. They hear scrambling and shouts on the main deck of the boat. Zuko shoots up and a guard swings open the door, panting, he alerts them of a ship wreck. Zuko and Iroh move to the upper deck and look out into the water, where there was a demolished sinking ship a few yards away. Out of nowhere, crew members collectively called out and pointed to a person clinging to a broken piece of board. Zuko commanded to bring the survivor aboard. The crew lowered a paddle boat down to the water and hauled aboard the lone figure, they hardly moved. While this happened, upon the main deck, Zuko and Iroh discussed what could’ve happened to the ship and concluded pirates. They turn around and head towards the paddle boat being hoisted up, the crew members empty out and carry the individual on board and onto the ground. Zuko approached and knelt down, it was a girl, soaking wet, her clothing was tattered, ripped, her breathing was ragged and shallow. He ordered a crew member to take her below deck, leave her in his chamber for the night and to bring her water, a robe and a blanket. Zuko spoke with Iroh, staying above deck that night and agreed it would be good to get some information. He could take on whatever came his way but being prepared never hurt anyone.

Zuko made his way below deck the next morning and ordered the guards to leave as he entered his chamber with some tea and rice for the girl. He opened the door and saw her with a blanket around her shoulders. She was in a red robe, holding her empty water cup standing in front of a mural on the wall. Her head spun quickly towards him and he motioned his hands upward carefully and told her he meant no harm. She kept her eyes trained on him and he walked over, sat down at the table and asked her to join him. She wearily took a seat as he handed her the tea and rice, then asked her about what happened. She was very quiet and quick to the point but confirmed his suspicions about pirates. She seemed quite rattled, he could imagine what she had seen and endured, but he could respect someone who knows how to keep their wits afterwards too. She didn’t tell Zuko much about herself when he’d asked, staying very silent, shy, almost, innocent. He told her he would let her go at the closest town, he explained they shouldn't carry passengers on this boat, only prisoners, so they had to find something fast. Quickly cutting off their conversation, the boat came to a halt that stumbles both of them. Zuko tells the girl to stay down in the chamber while he goes and checks what caused the sudden stop.

Zuko emerges from the lower quarters onto the main deck to see a Fire Nation ship boarding his own. As he walks over to his uncle, General Zhao comes into view. Zuko grits his teeth and asks what's the meaning of the hold up, Zhao smugly informs him that all passing ships need inspection and that this boat was no exception. Iroh plays neutral and excuses Zuko's mannerism, inviting him for some tea, hoping to get him talking and forgetting about this “routine” check. The men sit and talk for some time. A while ago Zhao had asked for something stronger than tea, so out came an old ginger liqueur. The three men drank away, Zhao going to town, Iroh only having a couple drinks, while Zuko had none, all thrown over his shoulder. With the bottle almost gone and the conversation dying, Zuko was ready to get this man off his ship.

They all get up and prepare to escort General Zhao off the ship, with many thanks and happy gestures leading them towards the other ship, the man laughs and says, not so fast, and insists on continuing his inspection. Zuko clenched his fists, tries to keep cool. but that's out the window as he watches him make his way down the stairs to the lower deck. He follows down hastily and catches him poking at crates in the hallway, Iroh is quickly behind him.

Zuko catches up with Zhao and impatiently insists he is wasting everyone's time. Zhao turns a lazy head to Zuko, heavy eyelids and slurred speech explaining he’s almost done, turns his eyes towards Zuko's quarters, and only takes one step before Zuko is in front of him, chest to chest blocking his way. Stone cold face, he says there’s nothing for him to inspect, that is his private quarter where nobody is to enter. General Zhao stops for a second and laughs. But Zuko doesn’t laugh. The laugh turns into a chuckle and dies quickly, Zhao asks if Zuko is hiding anything, but there is no response. His face was flat, no emotion. General Zhao lights up and accuses him of hiding something, or someone. Zuko stared at him as a warning. Zhao took a small step back, looking down the hall at his shut door, asking if it was a girl. Maybe someone he picked up to play with or to keep entertained from a local city. Zhao groaned in a repulsive manner, Zuko felt his rage turning over inside him.

Meanwhile, down the hallway on the other side of the door, the girl sat on the floor, tea in hand, alone, scared, huddled in the blanket, awaiting word from the boy who had spoken to her earlier, who gave her a bit of ease.

General Zhao pushed at Zuko, Asking if she was just hiding back there to keep his bed warm. Zuko's eyes could set towns on fire with the amount of burning hatred for this man. Zhao told him if he ain’t leaving her with some bruises or tears then he ain’t doing it right. Zuko stared at him wide eyed, like a dragon ready to rip apart its next prey, when Zhao put a hand on Zuko's shoulder, then leaned in close and asked zuko to give him a share of the girl back there, that he’d be quick with her. He snapped, and Iroh saw it, but before he could do anything Zuko was quick and grabbed General Zhao around the wrist and elbow and began to burn the spots he held, Zhao screamed and Iroh yelled for Zuko to stop, but everything was just a blurb of sound until the crack of General Zhao forearm snapping over Zuko's knee brought him back. Stunned silence fell for only a second. Zuko released the man and he fell to the ground with a loud wail, his arm broken, flopping about covered in blood and burns. Guards began running and flooding down the steps.

The girl shot up, hearing the screaming coming from close outside the door and running above head, she began to panic. She couldn’t do another sinking ship, but this ship wasn’t sinking, it wasn’t hit. She was told to stay put but was torn, risking seeing what was going on or staying hidden.

Few of General Zhao’s men came down as well as Zukos, Zuko said he was much too intoxicated and had fallen, commanding them to take the waist of a man off his ship. As they did, Iroh stood by his side, eyes closed, not one word. Zuko was quiet, but said it was nothing a basic water tribe healer couldn’t fix. flexing his hands and calming his breath, they heard the creek of the door open behind them, Iroh and Zuko carefully turned around, the girl stood half in the doorway. She looked so vulnerable, so small and defenceless. Zuko's heart fell a bit, he couldn’t stop the thought of if Zhao's ship had found her first, he balled his fist at the thought, the things he was saying to him mere minutes before, spirits, his face contorted for a second with anger, wanting to break his other arm. The girl said nothing, Zuko slowly walked towards the girl and motioned Iroh to go on the main deck and man for a while.

The girl and Zuko went back into his quarters, keeping the door open, he explained to her what the plan was, he tried to make it so clear that it was safer for her below deck but she was free to do as she pleased, so she may roam the main deck for a short time if she wished. He told her he would bring her some food and water whenever she wanted, and he had offered to be her personal escort into the first nearby town to buy her some clothes. Zuko wasn’t going to tell her what had happened in the hallway or what things were said. But, he did offer for her to remain on his ship if she pleases, he had made a promise to keep her safe, and that was exactly what he was going to do.

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