#But like i shouldn’t have done that and I’m trying to find a good place to switch it back LMAO

[the-abyssal-system]

Singlets stop talking about systems as if you’re an expert because you follow some on tumblr challenge (also warning the tags here are a huge rant so feel free to ignore that)

[bronzefuryfic]

also chapters and chapters of continuity about Rhae’s injury now being able to payoff in shared experience of recovery with Aemond>>

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫 || 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary_ where the salesman discovers his wife is a recruiter like him and punishes her for keeping the secret.

warnings_ AGE GAP (not specified), wife!reader, crumbs of frontman x reader, angst, fluff, the worst smut you’ll ever read, piv sex and kinky stuff, blood play, gun play, both are little freaks do not romanticize this irl, NOT PROOFREAD

notes_ 49 people liked my gong yoo playlist, and it’s a bad playlist lmfao

♫ ♪ the worst playlist 4 gong yoo

✰ Index (+ fics here)

୨ৎ───୨ৎ───୨ৎ———୨ৎ───୨ৎ

Looking through the little window of the kitchen, you noticed it was going to be a cloudy day.

Rain was forecasted but the air was kind of warm, either way, you would take the subway. Your hands pour two coffee cups and soon you place them perfectly on the table.

You return to serve the scrambled eggs with sausage you made, very occidental given the circumstances.

Two big hands snake around your hips and you roll your eyes, giggling.

“You shouldn’t spoil me this much, blossom,” your husband says, kissing your cheek and making you feel utterly in love.

“I can and I will, baby” you reply, spinning around, his hands remain on your hips and you step on your tiptoes to give him a soft kiss.

He had a grey suit already on. His hair was perfectly combed and his well-mannered composure displaying too.

“I was thinking on something…” your husband says, tracing circles over the fabric of your pajama sweats. “What if?… We have a date?”

“A date? Aren’t our usual hangouts dates, love?” You ask confidently, you can hear him huffing but in a playful way.

“It’s different. We married three years ago…” you nod at him, a silly smile plastered across your face.

“And where are you taking me?” your sultry tone makes him grope your hips harder and it almost makes you gasp.

“That’s a surprise…” your husband says, grabbing the plates with food and walking away. “Fine, dear. Surprise me then…”

As you both eat dinner, you remember your tasks of the day, making you eat slowly.

“I’m staying a couple of extra hours in my office, I have three scheduled meetings with students to counsel” you explain.

“I still believe you’ll be home earlier than me…”

“Well, just in case, I already left chicken breasts marinating and the vegetables are disinfected” Your husband eyes you with curiosity, already thinking why you would take longer. “Just cook the chicken and pour the vegetables in a bowl. I’ll make the salad and drinks if I’m late”

He nods, smiling at you with ease. But his thoughts are running high already.

Soon he is at the door putting on his shiny black shoes while you slip into your low maroon heels.

“See you tonight,” you say, stepping forward and kissing him so passionately that he almost closes the door to throw you on the couch.

“Love you,” you said.

“Love you too” the salesman answered.

…

Your fingers twirl around the red keys you had hanging in your office. The computer was on and the announcement of a zoom call ended was on display. You unlock a drawer with said keys and you grab a cellphone.

It was cold and off. As soon as you turn it on, you stand up to close the door and that’s when it starts vibrating.

“Are you alone?” The deep voice on the other side asks. “All clear…”

“Good” You can tell how imposing his voice is, he was your boss after all. “Have you read the archive of the games of 2020?”

“Yes, sir” you answer confidently.

“Player 456, Seong Gi-hun is trying to find us…” you remembered the morning you put aside your counselor job to read the archives and search most of the profiles of the late players of the squid game of 2020.

“We have located his intern. Get rid of him and the work he has done so far…” you silently sigh at his words. In your hand, the phone vibrates again, alerting you of a new message, probably containing the address of the intern.

“Do you need proof of my job?”

“I trust you enough to complete your task without doubts” he says and it almost made your cheeks burn.

You stay silent, already accepting you would be late for dinner.

“Can you do that for me? Or do you have to get home to your husband?” He is mocking you, you roll your eyes, standing up and ready to leave.

“Don’t push my buttons, Hwang In-ho” and with that, you hang up.

…

The washing machine of the apartment was too quiet. At given times, it almost made you forget you had clothes washing. You stand in front of the machine, your arms crossed and looking at the clothes spinning inside. You could still see the dress shirt of your husband and the tiny droplet of dry blood, slowly turning pink and then dissapearing completely.

The salesman didn’t ask you why you took longer than expected the night before. You has already warned him you could be late. he respected it.

In the morning he woke up hard and you gladly spread your legs for him. You whispered his name in his ear until you couldn’t help but moan loudly. Your husband was always soft but hard. Sometimes you wondered if he had more unveiling under his perfectly neat aura. He once said his job was dangerous, but both of you were getting to know each other and were drunk. What if it wasn’t a joke?

He was a businessman, but ever since you met him, you hadn’t questioned with sincerity what he specifically worked for.

As you see how the blood disappeared from his dressing shirt, you wonder if he was also lying to you.

What if he was cheating? Women could get freaky and draw some blood if things went messy in the sheets.

No. He was head over heels for you.

The salesman picked you and never let you go. He asked for a fruit cake slice and you asked for a crème brûlée at the same time. The girl at the counter asked if you two were a couple and both of you chuckled, pointing out you were strangers.

It made more sense your husband was in some dirty job.

Just like you…

But you did it because you needed extra money to send to your home. Your parents needed a house, new cars, you just couldn’t ask your husband to sustain them as well.

What was his reason?….

You shake your head, realizing you were overthinking and your husband probably was just working at some office. You would keep your lie as long as possible.

And that was it, for a moment…

…

It had been raining all night. The streets were quiet but the sense of tranquility flooded the air. Your heels clicked with every step you gave through the station.

You were slightly far from home, at the Busan station. The frontman wanted you to meet with a recruiter to count how many cards both of you have handed out and how many were left.

It didn’t made a lot of sense but there you were; waiting for a tall man with navy suit and black tie.

You look around, trying to spot said man. Coming down the streets you saw a briefcase.

And nothing prepared you to discover said recruiter was your dear husband.

Your blood pressure lowered, and on the verge of feeling dizzy, you turned after seeing your husband looking around.

Your first thought was to take off your shoes and coat. The grey heels and red coat would easily give you away.

As you do so, you start walking away, feeling extremely uneasy.

Your heels start sounding louder as you start running. You know it will start drawing unwanted attention, possibly your husband’s as well.

He couldn’t see you, he heard some heels and looked for the person wearing them. But he only distinguished the silhouette of a woman.

She looked a lot like you.

The salesman hurried to move across the busy station. Everyone was waiting the arrival of the train. He immediately started wondering if it was actually you. And what were you doing in Busan?

When he tried to reach the woman, she was already out of the station. And the salesman realized he should have paid more attention to your sudden changes. If he didn’t love you as much as he did, he would’ve tracked you down every single day until he was able to unmask the truth.

But your husband loved you. Even when he was insane.

He pulled out his phone and dialed your number.

You grabbed a cab and set the route back home. Your phone ringed and you tried to calm yourself before answering.

“Yes?”

“Are you still at the office?” Your husband asked with feigned innocence.

“No. I made an appointment to get my hair done” he nods, feeling slightly relived for some reason.

“And you?” You suddenly feel insecure. Because you saw him at the station.

“I’m still at the workplace…”

Liar…

“Oh, okay, honey. I’ll see you tonight…” you say, smiling.

But how bad could you feel when you were also lying? You had a hair appointment but it was a couple of blocks away from the apartment.

The salesman sat on the train. He never did so, he always stood straight, ready to walk out. But the odd moment was making him more uneasy than it should.

His phone vibrated, but it wasn’t the phone he used just for you. It was his work phone.

He opened the message and he stared at it in silence.

A picture of you at the station. With the red coat and grey heels he saw you wearing in the morning.

“Tell your wife to send the record of the people she recruited”

The salesman couldn’t hide his surprise.

…

You didn’t consider the way restaurants decorated everything with hearts and too many balloons, making the place look like too much. You loved it.

The place your husband picked was gorgeous. Both of you had nearly finished a bottle of wine, with exquisite plates and a tiramisu to die for.

“I love the way your new haircut looks” your husband admits, making you blush immediately. “Really? Thanks, love”

“Did you get it done before or after going to Busan to recruit players?” he was smiling, not sweetly but cynically.

“What?” he chuckles at your shy question.

“Now, don’t be shy, blossom” You sip at your glass of wine as he hands his credit card to a waitress. “I asked you a question. Answer me…”

You sigh, brushing some hair away from your forehead.

“Because I will gladly reveal to you that I’m also a recruiter….” half of you were relieved but the other was extremely confused. “I was once a pink guard. I knew the thrill of killing my father as he lost a game would get me far”

You gasp, almost covering your mouth.

He had said his father fell ill after the war and eventually perished.

“I love the face of the poor souls that play with me and feel like they’ve won” There’s something about his behavior that alerts you. About an unknown side of your husband. “Then I remind them how fucked up they are, the desperation they carry”

He knows you are analyzing every word and gesture he is doing. He doesn’t mean to scare you. He is testing you.

“I did to help my parents” You can’t look him in the eye, you are shocked. “To help them pay their bills and buy a new home. I wasn’t going to ask you for help with this”

“I would’ve traveled to your hometown and handed them every single dollar in person, y/n,” he says with a cheeky and proud smile. “With every single thing I do, you’re on my mind. Every single person I hand a card to, I hope you’ve never known them. Every single person I kill, I check to walk home neat and clean. All so I don’t have to scare you…”

Your husband was insane.

“And you think I wouldn’t have helped you pay your parent’s bills? Be honest with yourself, my dear wife…” you gulp, you feel like he is drinking your fear. “You accepted the job because you also fill the thrill like me…”

Was he right? You didn’t know yet. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it.

“I have been doing this for two months, you have been in this for years!” you don’t let your broken voice expose you. “Let’s not point anyone here”

The salesman sits there, with his hands under his chin and looking neutrally odd for the situation. However, he had never seen you mad at him before. Just once a couple of months after you started dating. But now, as a marriage, it felt odd, worse.

Your teary eyes make him feel almost wrong. He never wanted to be the reason for your cries.

And yet, he felt a burning rage, because you lied to him.

You turn away, standing up.

“Where are you going?” He asks patiently.

“Home, I’ll see you there…” you say between the tears.

Everything feels so odd. You can’t completely control your emotions at that moment. You just walk some blocks away.

You want to overthink the situation, but you can’t.

All you knew was that it scared you more to admit you were as twisted and evil as your husband than to accept he was actually like that.

Your work phone vibrates and you already know who sent the “See me in room 14, red building” message.

…

You carelessly blow out the smoke of your cigar inside the room. One arm under your breasts and the other holding the cigar between your index and middle finger.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me my husband was also part of this?” You ask looking through the big crystal window. You could see the long line outside of the restaurant you had left half an hour ago.

“Because I didn’t know at the beginning” you huff, smoking again, ignoring the way you could feel his eyes wandering across your figure. “And then I understood my best salesman was married to my best saleswoman”

The moment you stepped inside and the frontman met you sat on a leather couch with his mask on, you prayed you to be home with your sociopathic husband.

“This will prove our ‘till death do us part’…” you attempt to joke, without smiling or trying to sound funny.

In-ho stands up and you feel him stand behind you.

You remain still when his hands land on your hips, it doesn’t feel the same as when your husband does it.

“This is the first time we’ll try to host two games per year. One in the spring and one in the fall…” he says slowly. “I have to go because I’m a busy man, you know that, dear y/n”

“And what is my job?” In-ho smiles, eager to see your face but willing to wait until you finish your cigar.

“You and your husband must soothe the waters so Seong Gi-hun will stop trying to find us…” you sigh, not prepared to start working with your husband.

“Very romantic” you blurt out, stepping on the cigar and then the hands in your hips made you twist around so you could face your boss properly.

“Make me proud, blossom” you almost spitted at him.

Only your husband made it sound normal whenever he gave you a nickname.

“Yes, sir…” But it doesn’t matter, you can’t fight. You would protect your husband at any cost. And defying the frontman meant danger. Why provoke it?

“Good girl,” he says, turning away.

…

It couldn’t be because of money. The salesman was wealthy enough to take care of you in every single aspect. He never told you to quit your job because he knew you loved it and you felt proud for contributing financially with him.

A lover? You didn’t have male friends for starters. Your husband was aware that you were a rare case of contained extroversion due to a lack of friends.

He was crazy enough to deal with you and get so used to end up falling in love.

But yes, he believed you it was because of the money. Your family was so important to you. He never understood, because he never experienced the same love as you.

He took off his blazer, grabbed a bottle of soju sat in the living room, and loosened his black tie.

The clock marked 12:40 pm, you were taking longer than expected.

Then the door opened.

You were drenched in blood.

It didn’t surprise the salesman. He stared at you and you briefly eyed him, then turned to take your keys.

At that point, it didn’t matter anymore. He knew you weren’t as sweet as you appeared. And you knew your husband wasn’t as good as he looked. You had to kill a man for almost exposing part of the organization.

You sighed and walked past your husband.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You hear his deep voice.

He was manspreading on the big couch and looked utterly consumed by his thoughts.

“We’re talking after I take a shower. I won’t do it while I’m drenched in blood…” he chuckles, making you realize he might not be tremendously surprised. He wasn’t even shocked about the blood. He already knew your true nature.

“Come here, darling…” The way he speaks is demanding.

You hesitate but step forward until you end up standing between his legs.

“Take off your clothes, please…” you scoff, chuckling, he doesn’t change his cold expression. “What?”

“Take off your clothes, blossom…”

You lock your eyes with him and do as he says.

It felt like a little competition. But nobody was winning.

Your flesh was exposed. Just like you were brought to earth. Your husband started to look down.

Maroon painting your neck, chest, and legs.

He makes you lay on the fancy carpet of the living room.

The blood is almost dry, but splotches still ruin the light brown carpet in the living room. You feel the deep gaze of your husband, but you only stare at the ceiling, feeling a little bold. You had no problem with showing him that he couldn’t easily scare you.

And then you hear him pulling something out.

A gun…

The cold unleashes some fire in your lower belly as your husband holds a revolver and starts tracing imaginary patterns from your neck, down to the valley of your breasts.

“You have been lying to me…” he pretends to be offended, you suppress a moan when he keeps lowering the gun, inches away from your pelvis. “I thought there were no lies between us…”

“I didn’t know how to tell you” you admit, closing your eyes, trying not to look like you are taking so much pleasure from your husband showing you a hidden side of himself. “And it seems like you didn’t know how to tell me either…”

“No, no, no. You knew my job was dangerous” He pouts, dragging the gun up and down your wet folds. “I just never told you exactly what it was about”

“Who cares? It’s the only secret we’ve kept from each other, let’s work in our commutation and that’s it…”

“I don’t think so, love” he objects, slipping the gun inside you, erupting a moan from you, he smirked. “I’m going to show why good girls shouldn’t lie to their husbands”

He set a restlessly low pace that made you lift your hips, but he pushed them back against the couch.

When you least expect it, you had already gushed around his gun, probably ruining it. He was naked and fucking you in a possessive matting press position.

“Tell me how much you love,” he says in between breaths.

“Fuck- I-, I love you so fucking much” you moan”

He was another man, you were another woman. Suddenly the marriage felt renewed, to the max.

“Say you’re sorry” he demands, fucking you harder, your eyes close in pleasure but you are thinking clearly. “Say you’re sorry too” you fight back, his hips align better and you can’t help but feel your eyes get teary as his tip brushes a special spot. You can’t help it…

“Oh- god- I’m sorry” you admit, little tears sliding down, but your husband is insane so he leans and without slowing down his pace, he licks your tears. “I’m sorry too”

It feels too good, more than usual. You feel your core tightening and your hips trying to meet him impossibly closer.

“Admit it, you are not as innocent as you want to appear” he spats out, his moans leading you closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “You take joy in the chaos of having some power others don’t have…”

Busted.

You know something has changed. Like a superscar freshly appearing in your marriage. And somehow, you don’t feel bad about it anymore.

“Admit and you’ll see why we perfectly fitted like puzzle pieces since the beginning” he urges you.

“I do…” you confess.

The air feels lighter, your stomach tenses, and your back arches.

As you throw back your head and close your eyes, you hear your husband say he loves you again.

His warm cum floods your walls and you feel full. And satisfied…

There’s no turning back. You were bound to recruit people for some deadly games, to track down people and kill them if necessary. All along your husband.

“I knew I was right about you,” he says, pressing his forehead between your breasts.

“You’re the love of my life” you don’t say anything for some minutes, you only stare at the perfect ceilings of the apartment. But you think too much about his touch.

Your husband loved you. He could drain all the blood from a corpse with his hands and make love to you with said hands. He would leave aside his insane nature just to come home and make you happy. And he would accept your also insane nature and love you the same. If not, more…

“You’re the love of my life too” you finally answer, cradling his face and kissing him in the lips.

________________________

Man, I need to start the silent sea to write for another gong yoo character

[steddieas-shegoes]

“any regrets? anything you’d do differently?”

eddie knows the interviewer is just doing her job, probably doesn’t even realize that’s the worst question she could ask. but the guys tense and the air gets thick and something shifts inside eddie’s chest.

“it’s been two years and i still haven’t apologized.”

the interviewer doesn’t know what the fuck he’s talking about, but she doesn’t need to. he’s not gonna explain more than that and he doesn’t care if people make their own connections and excuses.

maybe steve will hear it. maybe robin will. maybe dustin will convince steve to call him.

or maybe he was cryptic for nothing and steve will keep ignoring his calls. he used to think his timing sucked until mike let it slip that he lets all calls go to his answering machine to avoid picking up when eddie calls him.

eddie only calls on bad nights, if he’s drunk or high, or sometimes on the nights that could only be better if steve was by his side. eddie calls most nights.

the interview is done and eddie is being whisked away, getting berated by their publicist about his answer to a question that can never have a good one. the guys are pretending not to listen, but failing. eddie loves them for trying.

the next interview, he stays quiet, at least as much as he can get away with. he fakes a smile, a laugh, whatever it takes to seem like he didn’t just admit that he fucked up on live television.

they get to sleep in their own beds tonight, but tomorrow is the start of their radio show tour to promote their album. it’ll be two weeks long, hitting the major stations daily until they’ve answered all the hard hitting questions like if gareth snores or if they ever find time to eat healthy on tour.

but his bed is his least favorite place to sleep, and no amount of tossing and turning is gonna give him what he needs.

so he calls steve.

“harrington’s house, you’ve reached the harrington who actually lives here.”

eddie’s so shocked that steve answered he barely even registers his words.

“hello?” steve’s voice turns serious. “anyone there?”

“stevie?”

eddie shouldn’t have started with that, but he wasn’t in control of his body anymore.

steve hangs up.

somehow it’s worse than if he hadn’t answered at all.

but eddie is fine. he is.

he’s gonna close his eyes and go to sleep and maybe not dream about dying or fucking up the only good thing he ever had.

his phone rings and he’s almost certain he’s dreaming already.

“hello?”

“sorry i panicked.”

steve’s voice is like a reverb in an arena, sending chills down eddie’s arms.

“you’re not the only one.”

“but…you called me.”

“because you never answer.”

“so why call? if i’m never gonna answer.”

“because if you do answer, i can hear your voice.”

steve sits with that answer for a minute before he speaks.

“dustin played me the interview.”

“yeah.”

“was it me? was i your regret?”

how could steve think that? how could the man who saved his life ever believe he was anything less than a gift? in no universe would eddie regret steve.

“no. my regret is making you ever think that you could be a mistake.”

eddie should end it there, let steve marinate with that. he knows no amount of apologies will actually help, but he could give it a try anyway.

“i’m sorry i left when you needed me. i’m sorry i was selfish and chose to get out and leave you behind. and i’m sorry none of my sorries even matter because it’s too late.”

for a minute—yes, eddie counts— there’s silence. and then there’s a small shuffling sound and eddie’s almost sure that steve’s gonna hang up.

instead, steve sounds like he’s holding back tears when he speaks.

“are you gonna come back?”

eddie can’t. he can’t just put a pause on the band or any of their plans. it’s not fair to the guys or the fans or himself.

but he can do something he should’ve done two years ago.

“will you come with me?”

the question hangs in the air for what feels like forever. steve may say no. that’s part of why eddie didn’t even ask the first time. but he may say-

“yes.”

“you will?”

“on one condition.”

“anything.”

“you stop trying to forget all the bad parts. the bad parts sucked, but they brought us together. running from them means running from me. at least hold my hand so i can run with you.”

eddie thinks maybe he could write a song about that.

and he thinks he’d like to hold steve’s hand while he does.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How about batboys reacting to seeing their lover’s nip piercings through their shirt? like that’s the first time they’ve seen them? (i’m getting mine done soon i’m hyped)

Nipple piercings are so fucking cool dude! Funny enough I have a friend who’s got their nips pierced, all I know it’s a sensitive spot to get pierced but they look really cool. Also I now got snakebites…eating will be a little different but I’ll be okay.

Dick is fighting for his life, gnawing at the bars of his enclosure the moment he got a little peak of your nipple piercings.

He’s trying not to groan aloud at all because nipple piercings are his weakness and of course you have to go get them and turn him with them. They look beautiful, stunning, gorgeous on you even that he can’t help but take sneak peaks now and then at your tits, hoping to catch a glimpse of the metal piercing through your shirt.

He loves your piercings, they’re his favourite things to look at in all honesty and he’ll look at them all day if he could.

‘Looking good babe!’ He’d say upon first seeing them and you couldn’t help but smile, knowing damn well that the moment you got them done that Dick would be all over you like a rash.

‘Thank you sweetie, nice to know you noticed I got them done in the first place.’ You said with a chuckle as you gestured towards your chest and feeling his eyes there immediately it was humorous.

‘I notice everything babe and I must say they’re looking gorgeous.’ Dick replied as he gazes at the metal bars through your shirt with adoration, fascination and a little bit of lust. ‘Need me to give them some aftercare?’ He adds wiggling his eyebrows playfully as you laugh. ‘As much as I would love that but these puppies are fresh and I’ve been given strict rules to follow if I want them to heal correctly.’ You tell him and see his shoulders defeat and a pout crosses his lips, he was so dramatic that even your own nipple piercings weren’t safe.

‘Fine, I’ll wait until they get better and then I’ll give them some tender loving care of my own.’ Dick promises and you didn’t doubt that for a single second, after all nipple piercings were a little weakness of his.

Tim is looking away immediately, he didn’t mean to look at all and felt as though he’s overstepping some boundaries by looking and that’s not what he wants to do.

He’ll twiddle his thumbs or play with his phone so that he doesn’t accidentally look directly at your nipple piercings through your shirt and you catch him doing so by pure coincidence. Tim seriously think he might faint if he saw pierced nipples as it was an sensitive part of your body as well as an intimate area to have done, though that doesn’t mean he won’t compliment your piercing sheepishly.

‘They look wonderful honey.’ He’d say with a flustered expression, the imagine of your pierced nipples now engraved in that photographic mind of his, which was a blessing and a curse. Poor boy just wanted to say you have nice piercings without coming across as weird or creepy for staring there at the first place, regardless of whether he was your partner or not.

‘You can look Tim, I really don’t mind.’ You tell him as you watch him internally struggle with himself and decided to end the conflict for him instead, not wanting to see him so worried like he was right now as he gripped his phone so tight you fear he’d break it.

Tim peaks at the corner of his eye to look at your piercings through your shit and he swallows thickly, a piercing shouldn’t have this much affect over him but here he was finding a simple piercing pretty and enticing. It suited you that was for certain and Tim couldn’t help but admire the way they looked beneath your shirt, it was almost like a little tease of what was there and it would be enough to send anyone mad with want.

However Tim only looked at them and admired your ability to go through with it and getting them pierced, even despite the knowledge that they’ll hurt you went through with it anyway and came out with something, ‘beautiful, they look beautiful.’

Jason may look like he’ll stare at your nipple piercings but is actually trying his hardest to not looks at them unless you want him to.

‘Jason! I got my nipples pierced! Look!’ You’d exclaim, lifting your shirt to show him the metal bars that pierced through your now erect nipples with shining pride.

‘You look gorgeous sweetheart.’ Jason would say truthfully as he gazed upon your piercings, before his mind wondered to the pain you endured to get them pierced, seeing as how nipples were notorious sensitive and piercing them only seemed to make Jason wince internally. ‘But that must’ve killed to get done chipmunk.’ He adds and you only smiled as you dropped your shirt, making sure it didn’t catch your piercings and shrug.

‘I mean yeah it did but they look came out looking fantastic don’t you think jay bird?’ You asked as you gestured towards your piercings. Jason swallowed thickly as he was quick to agree with your statement, not wanting to show just how affected he was by your pretty piercings. ‘There’s no doubt about that sweetheart, none at all.’ He says as you walked over and held his face, fingers trailing towards his pulse point that was beating faster than usual, and giggling softly.

‘It’s okay for you to look, look all you want I really don’t mind because at least someone other than myself is going to admire them and who better than my handsome partner.’ You teased as you kissed his lip before pulling away.

‘Sweetheart you’re going to kill me one of these days.’ Jason groaned as he pulled you in close while being careful with your piercings, having read somewhere that torso related piercings can take up to six moths recovering, with nipple related piercings needing a maximum of a month in fresh nursing pads. He just wants your piercings to heal without any problems or worries and so he’ll put aside his desire to get closely acquainted with them.

You smiled as you kissed his cheek. ‘But you love me for it.’

[muletia]

[tfp] starscream x human!reader

summary: starscream wakes you up to see the sunrise

cw: fluff, pinch of angst, starscream has feelings for you, silliness, bad writing, i may have butchered his character a bit but i want him to be happy for once

word count: 1365

Aggressive tapping on the window ripped you from a cozy sleep. You quickly propped yourself up on your arms, looking for the source of the sound. The warm blanket slipped off your shoulders, waking you even more. Your sleepy mind tried to shake off the fog with rapid blinking as you looked around, alarmed.

You tapped twice on the screen of your phone lying on the table next to your bed. Four o'clock. Good Lord. So much for sleeping in.

Who would even go through the trouble of reaching your house (crossing acres of untouched forest), tapping on the window hard enough to wake you up, and then disappearing without a trace? A thief? you thought. No, a thief would take extra care not to wake you. And would probably use the front door. With your still-clouded mind, you tried to remember who knew you lived here, but only two names came to mind: your mother and…

Red light pierced through the window, illuminating your bedroom.

Oh, right. He.

You slid out of bed and shuffled to the window. Even with limited light, you could make out the look of impatience on his elongated, metal face. You’d taken too long.

"Finally! Does it take humans this long to wake up?"

"Hi, Starscream," you greeted him. After a few months of acquaintance, you’d learned to ignore his jabs directed at you and your species. "May I ask what you need from me at four"—you emphasized the hour—"in the morning?"

You yawned, and he grimaced, his optics flicking away.

"I need you to finally step outside. Then you're coming with me."

"But it’s so early…"

"Will you be more encouraged if I punch a hole through your wall and take you by force?"

"Honestly, I'm surprised you haven't done that already."

"Don’t tempt me," he warned.

Your mind flashed back to the incident four months ago when he actually demolished half your wall because you apparently hadn’t come outside fast enough. Those were the days of testing his patience, which, as you quickly and painfully learned, was more fragile than porcelain.

"Get out. I'm not giving you a third warning."

You sighed because, unfortunately, he was right; you could soon end up in his servo, your house with yet another unwanted window. You put on your warmest coat, an old shearling from your mother, and left your cozy little home, making sure to lock the door behind you. It was still dark outside, but the first hints of dawn were breaking through the treetops. Sunrise was near.

"Finally! I can’t believe such a simple task took you this long."

"I’m sorry, alright. I just don't want to freeze to death."

One moment, you were standing quietly on the ground, bantering with your alien companion, and the next, he scooped you up in his claws and placed you in his servo. You held tight to his thumb, pressing against the only anchor point several meters above the ground. He was warm, which still amazed you. You nestled closer to his slender finger.

Starscream’s optics lingered on you for a moment, ensuring you were alright. You noticed.

"I’m fine," you assured him, smiling softly.

He looked away, embarrassed to be caught in such a state; you shouldn’t see him like this. You shouldn’t know that he cared, that he was trying to be gentler with your body; that his spark shone brighter when he was with you, that your companionship mattered to him.

The problem was, you did know. The humans he thought were primitives did have well-developed emotional intelligence, and you were no exception. It took you just a few weeks to see right through him. At first, he thought it was about finding his weakness, then stab him in the back, contact the right people or Autobots, and turn him in. Betray him. But each week, the betrayal he almost expected never came, and before he knew it, he started to trust you. And he hoped you trusted him, too—otherwise, you wouldn’t have stepped out of your house at such an early hour to meet him, right? He wanted to call it foolishness and naivety, but he knew you too well by now. You weren't either.

"I haven’t seen you in a while," you remarked after a moment of silence. "Are you okay?"

His wings fluttered happily. If you noticed, you chose not to comment on it, and he was forever grateful for that.

"Yes, I’m alright," he replied briefly.

"I’m glad."

His spark flickered with joy. It was nice to have someone who cared. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone of his kind had asked him something like that. Maybe no one ever had.

"Where are we going?" you asked. You didn’t expect a clear answer, but just listening to his voice gave you comfort. You missed this diva.

"Patience," he deflected. "I don’t want to spoil the surprise."

Oh. You beamed. With one sentence, he made you feel special, not to mention excited. Suddenly, the night’s chill stopped biting your cheeks, and the last traces of irritation at being woken up early faded away.

Starscream noticed the sudden shift in your body language, allowing himself to catch the mood. A dangerous thought popped into his processor—he’d like to see you smiling more, him being the reason for your smile. He wanted to make you happy, not occasionally, not out of whim or boredom; he wanted your smile to be genuine, brought on by his gestures or words. He held onto the hope that his surprise would have a similar effect.

As you climbed the forested hill, Starscream pondered when you stopped being just another human and became [Your Name]. Was it when you didn’t hesitate to express disapproval of Megatron, who had tormented him for most of his long life only to abandon him on an alien planet? Or maybe when you outright told him that you cared for him and that his opinion mattered to you when he wasn’t pointing a weapon at you?

You’d both fallen hard, but he was at the bottom.

"I think I know what this surprise is," you whispered as the forest thinned out, revealing a meadow dotted with rocks. "You remembered that I love sunrises."

"It’s hard to forget when someone keeps pestering you about it."

He was bluffing; you saw right through it. You’d only mentioned it once, a long time ago, but you let him win, not wanting to spoil the moment.

"Thank you," you whispered.

He muttered something under his breath, but his wings lifted proudly, betraying his true emotions.

Starscream stopped in front of a large rock jutting from the ground in the middle of the clearing. He placed his hand on the hard, dewy surface so you could step down and admire the view in front of you.

"Wow," you whispered.

You’d arrived just in time for the sunrise, which was slowly emerging from behind thick clouds, creating an orange gradient, fading into muted pinks and shades of gray. The panorama before you was raw and ethereal. Untouchable. It formed an image Starscream had reserved just for you. And that meant so, so much to you.

"I think I’m going to cry," you sniffled.

"What? Why?" he squawked, stunned.

Did you not like it? Humans only cried when they were sad, right? For Primus’s sake, he’d messed up again, as always. But before his worry could turn to anger, your response reassured him.

"I’m just… so happy. You have no idea how much. Thank you for bringing me here; I’ll never forget it."

There it was again. That pleasant churning in his spark, throwing him off his calculated balance. Would you be just as thrilled if he gave you a star from the sky?

"The pleasure’s all mine," he replied, now focusing his entire attention on you.

Impulsively, he reached out towards you. A sharp claw, designed to cause suffering, now gently brushed your back with the utmost care. Starscream soaked in your contentment like forbidden nectar, losing himself in the moment, wishing it would last forever.

[macabrebr4t]

cw ! dark nsfw. gun play — sarah cameron x reader

summary: sarah finds your gun and wants to have sume fun. content contains— smut. vaginal penetration with gun. spit. reader is deepthroated by a gun.

she found it while she was going through your closet. tucked away in the far corner, inside a shoe box. admiring the cold metal against her finger tips— turning the weapon around, feeling it and, checking to see if its loaded before letting her mind wander. legs clenched.

you find sarah sat on your bed, gun in hand. her head perks up at the sound of the door creaking, a smile gracing her face at the sight of you. “oh hey, you’re back.” lifting up the gun. “i didn’t know you had one. though i shouldn’t be surprised.”

her eyebrows are furrowed as she stares at the weapon. you watch as she stands to face you— raising her arm to point the gun right at you. your hands go up in surrender. eyes wide. even though you know its not loaded.

“what are you doing sare?” you cringe at the way your voice cracked.

sarah moves closer to you. her nose almost touching yours. shes beginning to smirk now. slowly, she caresses your cheek with the gun. “i want to try something.” before placing it to your lips. “suck”

your eyebrows raise but you comply nonetheless. parting your lips, you feel the barrel on the flat of your tongue. swirling your tongue over the cold metal like a lollipop. licking every bit of the weapon. eyes never leaving hers until she pushes the gun further. you gag, a trail of spit running down your jaw.

back and forth. she thrusted the gun into your mouth, almost to your throat. tears welling up in your eyes as sarah tests your limits. “you’re doung so good for me.” she tilts her head loving how sloppy you look. her cunt throbbing at the sound of your gags. you’re no better either. theres a wet spot in your panties formed from the darkness in sarahs eyes, the way she abuses your throat.

wiggling the gun deeper into your throat, you choke. before slowly removing it all together. her hand covered in your spit.

bringing you into a sloppy kiss before you can catch your breath, hand on the back of your neck.

“get on the bed. i’m not done with you.”

you feel so exposed as you lay bare, sprawled out on the bed while sarah is fully clothed. she moves the gun towards your body, running itl down from your chest to pubic bone. she presses the barrel to your core, pupils wide as she watches the way you arch your back, lettingout a sharp gasp at the cold.

“you’re gonna be good for me and take it, yeah” her voice is raspy as she stares in to your eyes. pressing the gun hardwe against you when you nod. “words, baby.”

“yes! i-i’ll be good for you. i can take it.”

“hm.” she crawls in next to you. warm against your side. biting your cheek before kissing the mark.

she then slowly pushes the gun into your aching cunt. you inhale deeply at the strange feeling. “you’re so tight, baby. relax for me.” a kiss to your forehead to your cheek to your neck. “can’t fuck you if you’re so tensed up.”

sarah loves how pathetic you look as you nod against her. bottom lip tucked between your teeth. the gun enters you inch by inch as she pushes it deeper. she lets out a laugh as she watches barrel disappear into you. “spread your legs a bit more.” shakily you do as she says. “thats it.” steadily she thrusts the gun in and out of you. it hits all your sweet spots making you cry and whimper.

sarah kisses you deep. spit making a mess over both of your faces. she sucks on your tongue as she fucks you harder. body shaking at the sensations. sarah clouding all your senses. your hips rocking with the movements of the gun. she swallows all your moans before releasing your tongue. “look at me. look in tonmy eyes as you cum.”

“sarah!” you grip her wrist as you feel the knot form in your tummy. half lidded eyes stare back in to hers as a few mire thrusts push over the edge. you clench hard and your orgasm crashes over you as sarah continues to thrust it in to you. feeling nothing but heat and pure bliss until it becomes too much and youre weakly pushing her away at the overstimulation. liquid gushing from your core, soaking the sheets.

slowly the sarah removes the gun as your chest heaves up and down. staring at the slick coated weapon, she brings it to her lips, lapping at the metal. moaning at the taste of you.

“oh youre sick sare.” you’re breathless, unable to move an inch.

she pulls off the barrel with a ‘pop’ before licking your lips. “you love it.”

[dollarbils]

ruin it | b.eilish

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. billie doesn’t want to ruin your friendship so she keeps her feelings to herself

warnings. angst, kissing, not proof read

masterlist

“I had a great time.” she concluded as she walked you up the stairs to your apartment, having driven you home due to the late hour of the night.

“me too, thanks for driving me home.” you replied when she smiled and leaned in for a hug.

“it was my pleasure.” as you waved her off you gave yourself a second to find your keys and prepare yourself from entering the apartment. you’d decided to give the girl a second chance, after the disaster that was the first date, against your roommate’s wishes. you were desperately hoping she was asleep. the keys turned in the lock and you pushed the door open quietly and headed straight for your room, having heard the tv on in the living room.

“not so fast.” her voice boomed as you heard her footsteps approach the hallway near your bedroom. you cursed yourself silently.

“i thought you’d be asleep?” she crossed her arms once she placed herself in front of you.

“why were you out so late?” her tone was somewhat angry, as if you’d done something wrong. and despite disagreeing with this statement, you grew exceedingly nervous.

“that’s none of your business billie.” your response came off harsher than intended.

“since when is anything none of my business?” she seemed annoyed by your reply.

“billie, c’mon. it’s not a big deal.” you turned away from her in attempt to escape the conversation but she piped up again.

“were you with her?” she asked and you turned to face her. it gave her the answer she needed. “seriously?” she seemed disappointed.

“was she late again? did she show up sober this time?” she referred to what a dick the girl had been last time you’d gone out with her.

“yes actually, she was perfectly nice.” billie almost laughed.

“yeah okay, does she still think your name is bella?” she scolded you. on the first date she’d gotten your name wrong consistently, and billie never missed an opportunity to bring it up.

“no..” you replied sheepishly.

“well that certainly makes up for it. why did you go out with her again? you know you deserve better.” there was hints of sadness in her words as she spoke.

“not everyone gets as many hoes as you billie. i don’t necessarily get to be picky.” she furrowed her brows as you said this.

“why not? even if it means waiting you shouldn’t lower your standards.” it was frustrating dealing with her, she never approved of your romantic choices. it didn’t matter who it was she’d always point out a flaw.

“why do you even care so much? just let me make bad decisions.” you sighed, tired of this conversation. this argument you’d have every-time you came back from a date.

“i care about you. you deserve better, so much better than that fucking loser.” she seemed disgusted by the thought of her.

“why do you always have to ruin my chance at a happy relationship?” you raised your voice, annoyed at her persistence.

“because i know you wouldn’t be happy!” she seethed, trying desperately to get her point across.

“so i can’t be happy with anyone? what am i supposed to do then?” she opened her mouth to speak but stayed silent, not wanting to say something she’d regret.

“of course, no excuse. as per fucking usual. i mean what is it? are you jealous? do you ruin my relationships because you think we won’t be as close?” she stayed silent, contemplating her words. her silence however, gave you an answer in itself.

“oh my god… you’re jealous!” you couldn’t believe it, but her eyes widened at the conclusion you’d come to and she dismissed it.

“i’m not jealous.” she said defensively.

“then what is it?” you searched her eyes for an answer but she didn’t seem to have one herself.

“they don’t deserve you, none of them. you’re too good for any of them.” she repeated herself.

“what the fuck does that even mean at this point? you keep saying it, but it seems like you think there’s nobody that deserves me. stop fucking with me billie i don’t want to hear it anymore.” her expression softened.

“that’s not what i meant.” she was having trouble expressing herself.

“i don’t understand bils, help me understand because it’s driving a wedge between us when there’s no reason for it to.” you were pleading her to explain. explain the truth, tell you what she was holding back.

“you don’t get it.” she said simply, throwing her head back in frustration.

“billie, if you’re just gonna deflect, i’m going to sleep. i can’t deal with your shit tonight.” she lowered her head, scouring her brain for what to say next. what to say to convince you.

“wait!” she grabbed your arm, holding you back.

“no, billie. if you’re gonna be all cryptic and confusing i don’t wanna hear it.” her grip was insisting, pulling you back to her.

“i just don’t want to ruin it.” her words as cryptic as ever, proving your previous point. your curiosity took control though.

“ruin what?” it was a question with a lot of weight.

“this. our friendship.” her words bled with hurt and fear, a combination that broke your heart every-time you’d hear it.

“they don’t deserve you because, i do.” it hit you in several ways, not fully understanding the extent of the meaning behind it.

“what?” you asked for clarification, hesitantly she complied.

“i’d treat you right, give you what you deserve.” she admitted finally, and your thoughts were spoken aloud.

“billie..”

“no. listen to me. you mean more to me than anyone ever has, and i can’t stand to see these idiots mistreat you. and what i really can’t stand, is the fact that you let them.” she waited silently for a response, already accepting that you might not be able to give her one.

“billie.” it was weak, no motion to it, nothing it was destined to be.

“yeah?” her hope was slowly diminishing.

“just..” she tilted her head, confused at your lip taking residence between your teeth.

“hm?” she bit her cheek, nausea forming in the pit of her stomach. the fear of having ruined years of friendship consuming her mind.

“just kiss me then.”

“what?” she was still trying to process your words and you gave her time to do so.

“kiss me how i deserve to be kissed. make me happy.”

“no, don’t do this to me. you’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.” she shook her head, stepping away from you.

“billie.” she lifted her head to look at you. “i’m dead serious.” she raised an eyebrow and let you approach her.

“but won’t it ruin it? ruin us?” she was hesitant when she stepped closer to you.

“not if we don’t let it.” you countered, easing your way into her embrace. “besides, you can’t say that shit without acting on it. at that point you may as-well call me bella, it’d hurt less.” she laughed, the sound vibrating in your ears.

“okay.” she held your face tenderly as her lips reached yours. she backed you against your bedroom door as she continued to kiss you, your hands lost in her hair and her groans lost in your throat. her hips attached to yours, moving in a rhythm of passion.

“see, you didn’t ruin it.” you were breathless, smiling like an idiot. she smirked before speaking.

“not yet.” she gripped your ass, biting her lip at your little jump. you wouldn’t have expected this from her, you’d never imagined yourself in this position. but by no means was it a complaint.

“you couldn’t ruin me, not even if you tried.” she saw it as a challenge, and then her lips feathered yours as she formed her words.

“watch me.”

note: oops, i disappeared for a while 🫣 i promise it was with good reason and i’ll start getting back to my requests now. love youuuu

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Naughty or Nice?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: smut, fem!receiving

Summary: This year, you’re going to ask Santa for something only you have been able to give you thus far. Orgasms.

Square Filled: Christmas (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Normally, the mall is a place you and your friends avoid during the holiday season, but you heard that they were hosting auditions for Santa this year. Rumor has it, that someone super attractive got it. Again, you’re not one to go man-hunting at a crowded mall with children and families running everywhere, but here you are.

Your dating life hasn’t been all that great. It mostly consists of hookups and one-night stands that can never get you to orgasm. Only your pink ice cream clit vibrator has ever been able to do the job, so you’re hoping to come here and maybe meet a willing Santa to take home. Maybe if you sit on his lap and wish for orgasms, he’ll be inclined to give you one.

It’s worth a shot.

“I can’t believe you’re going to do this,” your friend, Beth, says.

“What? Men who audition for Santa usually aren’t men from this town. They’re all married and they don’t want to take the joy away from their kids. Whoever it is, is from out of town, which means he can be hot, single, and eager for a hookup.”

“I thought you were done with those.”

“No, I am done with hookups from men who only think about themselves. I’ll be able to take one look at this Santa and know if he can jingle my bells if you know what I mean.”

Beth laughs and shakes her head. “I don’t think parents would allow their children to sit on a sexy man’s lap.”

“Only one way to find out. Come on.”

The area where kids are meeting Santa is already crowded with families, and the line is already three stores down from the start. When Dean heard about the Santa auditions, he put in his name when he was drunk. What harm would it do if he decided to be Santa for a night? On one hand, he can make a lot of children’s days by being Santa. On the other hand, he could meet a kid’s single mom or their sexy aunt and take them home. It’s a win-win.

“Okay, I thought you were joking before, but you’re really going to do this?” Sam asks his brother.

Dean pulls on the red coat and smirks at his brother. “Hot chicks, Sammy.”

“Kids, Dean.”

Dean shrugs. “It comes with the job. Just go find something to do. This shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”

“You’re relentless.”

“Dedicated, Sam,” Dean smirks.

Sam rolls his eyes and leaves the room. He decides to head back to the motel room instead of sticking around. Dean finishes getting ready and walks out with one of the mall coordinators. As soon as the kids see him, they cheer at the thought of being with Santa even for a minute. He stays true to his character and plays the best Santa he can be for the kids also while looking out for anyone single and willing to go home with him.

“Looks to me like he’s a regular guy,” Beth says to you as you inch closer to the front of the line.

“Beth, you are married so I don’t expect you to see this but I caught a glimpse of him as he was putting his costume on. I think he was carved by the Gods themselves.”

“You’re relentless,” she rolls her eyes.

“What? I am just trying to participate in Christmas traditions.”

“You don’t even have any kids.”

“I’m practicing…?”

“By asking Santa for,” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “orgasms?”

“Yes.”

Beth laughs, and you get closer to the front of the line. Dean takes a picture with one of the little girls who just asked for a pony when he locks eyes with you. For just a few seconds, it’s like time has slowed down just for the two of you. Even from where you’re standing, you can see how green his eyes are.

“Next!” the mall attendant yells.

“Good luck,” Beth whispers and steps off to the side where the parents wait.

The mall attendant gives you a weird look, especially when you step up on the platform where Dean is. She doesn’t say anything because she doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it even though you’re getting some dirty looks from parents in line.

“Well, who do we have here? What’s your name?” Dean drawls when you sit on his lap.

“Y/N.”

“And have you been a good girl this year?”

You smirk when you hear the double meaning in his words.

“Oh, I’ve been a very bad girl.”

Dean’s eyes darken. “You know the deal. Bad girls don’t get presents.”

“Might you make an exception?”

He licks his lips, and you can’t help but watch his tongue. “I might. Depends on what you want.”

You lean in so that your mouth is close to your ear. You don’t need everyone in the mall to hear this.

“Orgasms.”

“Bad girl or not, I think I can help with that.”

“I’d hope you would,” you grin.

“Meet me after in front of Barnes and Noble.”

You forgo the picture and leave to give the kids what they came here for. Dean shifts in his seat to hide the erection you gave him. He’s not trying to scar any children or piss off any parents.

“Did you ask him?” Beth asks when you walk away from the place.

“Yes. God, he was so much more attractive up close. He was so… firm. I’m going to meet him after he’s done. Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime. I have to get back to Jared. He already started drinking eggnog without me.”

“Okay. I’ll let you know how it goes,” you wink.

You wait anxiously in front of Barnes and Noble until the very last child has had her turn with Santa. The more you’re by yourself, the more you psych yourself out. Was this a good idea? You don’t even know the man. He could be a murderer for all you know. Okay, maybe not that but he could have dark secrets in his closet.

Before you can convince yourself to leave, a man who you believe is Santa walks over to you wearing flannel, jeans, and a black jacket.

“So, have you decided if you want to be naughty or nice?”

“Whichever is more fun,” you grin.

“Naughty it is.” He holds his hand out and you take it. “I’m Dean.”

“Y/N, but you already know that.”

He even has a hot car. Once you see the shiny black Impala, you decide you’re going to milk Dean for everything he’s got before he leaves. He might very well be the best one-night stand you’ll ever have.

Dean takes you back to his motel room where Sam is reading a lore book. He looks up when the door opens, and he shakes his head when he sees his brother isn’t alone.

“Out, Sammy.”

“Dude.”

“Would you rather watch me fuck her?”

“That’s something I’m not opposed to if you’re into that sort of thing,” you say.

“No, thanks,” Sam pouts. “I’m going to get a room far from yours.”

As soon as Sam leaves, Dean pulls you into him and presses light kisses down your neck.

“So, are you going to unwrap me?”

“Damn right, I am, and I’m going to take all night to do it.” Dean lays you down on the bed and runs his hands down your legs. “Are you wet for me?”

“Undress me and find out.”

Dean practically rips your clothes away, and you don’t even think about needing them tomorrow at the moment. All you want right now is his mouth and fingers on you. Dean cups your pussy and runs two fingers through your slit to confirm that yes, you are wet and ready for him. He falls to his knees and you spread your legs open wide for him.

He grips your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed before burying his face between your legs. Some of the men you’ve been with hated going down on you, so you haven’t had a man down there in a while. Just the simple act of Dean sliding his tongue through your folds is enough to bring a squeal out of you.

“Fuck, Dean, that feels so good,” you moan and grab his hair.

“Good. I’m not stopping until you’re dripping down my chin.”

Dean massaged your clit with his tongue before sliding down to your entrance. He tongues you rapidly while rubbing your clit with his thumb. You can’t come unless your clit is stimulated, but you honestly think Dean could just lick you and you’d explode for him. Maybe you’ll test that theory later tonight when you go for another round. Dean is the kind of man you go multiple rounds with.

“Shit, Dean, that feels so good. I’m gonna come.”

“Come all over my face.”

You don’t wait another second before exploding around his tongue, and he laps up every drop you’re giving him.

“God, you taste like Heaven,” Dean moans.

He kisses your clit once before standing up. You stand and kiss him even though you can taste yourself on his lips. You undress him until you’re both naked, and he turns you so that you’re facing the bed. He gently pushes down on your back until you’re on your hands and knees, and he grips your hips and tugs you hard enough for you to lose your balance. You fall face first on the bed with your ass in the air, just how he wants you.

He grabs the base of his cock and squeezes to prevent his release from coming too soon. He pumps twice before sliding the head of his cock between your pussy lips.

“Dean, skip the formalities. Please, fuck me.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

He grabs both sides of your hips and slides into your pussy slowly so that you can feel every inch. You gasp from the stretch but he doesn’t stop until you’re completely full of him. You grip the sheets and push back into him as much as you can from your position. Dean pulls out only to slam back in, and you can’t help the loud moan from coming out.

“Fuck, Y/N, how are you so tight?”

“You feel so good, Dean,” you moan.

Thankfully Sam isn’t next door or else he’d hear the sound of skin slapping against skin and your beautiful moans.

“Rub your clit for me, baby. Get yourself closer to the edge. I want to come with you.”

You reach down and rub your clit in fast hard circles. It’s been so long that you’re approaching the edge faster than you’d thought you would.

“Fuck, Dean, I’m close again.”

“Come all over my cock.”

You do as he says and explode all around him. You squeeze his cock several times which brings Dean over the edge. He slows his thrusting to ride out both of your highs until neither of you can give anything more. He pulls out of you and falls onto the bed next to you.

“I hope you’ve got more than one round in you.”

He smirks. “Baby, I can go all night.”

You love Christmas time.

x

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[runninriot]

keep your pretty face out of trouble

written for @steddieangstyaugust day 20

prompt: "I didn't know where else to go." | rated: T | wc: 2.596 | cw: mentions of blood, injuries, homophobia | tags: Steve Harrington is a mess, and so is his face, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Friends to Lovers | also on ao3

Eddie didn’t really know what to expect when he entered the Henderson’s home. Dustin had been quite vague on the phone, didn’t say much at all to be honest, nothing of substance at least. Nothing that could’ve prepared Eddie for what he finds when he steps into the living room where, next to his little pal, he finds none other than Steve Harrington sitting on the couch.

And as if that isn’t confusing enough, what’s really concerning is the way he looks.

His face is fucked. Beaten, bruised, mush. There is blood on his lower lip and dripping out from his nose into a tissue that’s already soaked.

Dustin is sitting by his side, holding what seems to be a bag of frozen peas against the older boy’s neck.

   “Dustin, what the fu-“

He doesn’t get to finish his question because Steve suddenly looks up, eyes wide in shock like he’s just now becoming aware of Eddie’s presence, before turning to Dustin with an expression that isn’t at all hard to read.

    What’s he doing here?

Dustin lets go of the frozen goods in order to hold both hands up defensively.

   “Hey, don’t look at me like that! I didn’t know what to do, so I called Eddie.”

   “You shouldn’t have done that. I’m fine.”

   “You are very clearly not fine, Steve!”

They’re doing this weird but kinda adorable staring competition they often do when they’re arguing and it would be amusing to watch if it weren’t for whatever the fuck is going on with Steve’s face.

Dustin doesn’t waver, holds Steve’s disapproving gaze seemingly unimpressed but Eddie could hear the tremble in his voice, knows Dustin is only barely keeping it together.

Always trying to keep up a brave face, Dustin is, but Eddie knows his vulnerable side, too. Maybe that’s why Dustin called him instead of Wheeler or any of the other Gremlins when Steve- what? Appeared on his doorstep all beat-up? Or where they out together when it happened? Is Dustin hurt, too?

Eddie shakes himself out of his thoughts, lets his eyes wander between the two, both hands on his hips like he’s seen Steve do whenever he’s trying to make a point.

   “Alright, enough! Can someone please tell me what happened?” Eddie asks as he steps closer, watching Steve’s shoulders tense immediately.

   “I told you, I’m fine. I just- I didn’t know where else to go! Robin’s not home and-”

Okay, ouch! Eddie feels slightly offended. Steve could’ve come to him instead of-

Nevermind. There are bigger problems at hand.

   “It was stupid, I’m sorry. I’ll be out of your hair.”

Steve makes an attempt to stand up but his body betrays him as soon as he’s on his feet, swaying slightly into Eddie’s direction, who catches him instinctively, steadies him with a hand on his arm.

   “Woah there, big boy! You’re gonna sit your ass back down for me, okay?”

Eddie can sense that Steve wants to put up a fight but thankfully, he doesn’t. Instead, he lets Eddie guide him back down.

   “Some assholes did this to him,” Dustin finally says. “I don’t know who but Steve said he got into a fight.”

   “I only came here because it was closer than my place,” Steve grumbles, obviously regretting his decision now.

   “You scared the shit out of me, Steve! So I called Eddie because- well, I don’t know. I thought maybe he could help talk some sense into you. You need to go to the hospital! Or a doctor, I don’t care but someone’s gotta take care of that.” Dustin says, pointing at the mess that is Steve’s face.

   “I don’t need a doctor. I’m fine, really. See, it already stopped bleeding.”

Steve retrieves the once-white-now-red tissue to prove that the bleeding has stopped, which it has. But Eddie can see in Dustin’s eyes that the boy is still not convinced enough to let him off the hook.

   “Let me have a look?” Eddie gently takes hold of Steve’s chin to tilt his head up, feels his courage falter for a split-second when Steve’s pupils suddenly dilate and he can see by the bob of his Adam’s apple, that he has to swallow down hard.

    God, even with his face bloody and bruised Steve is fucking gorgeous. It’s really not fair, if you asked Eddie. That guy is beyond anything he could ever wish to-

    No, no. Focus, Munson.

   “Let’s see if we gotta be worried about your pretty face being blemished by a broken nose, ey?” Eddie jokes just to cover his own nervousness.

   “How would you know if it’s broken? You’re not a doctor.” Dustin protests, rightfully sceptical about Eddie’s ability to come up with a valid diagnosis.

   “Ah, see, when you’ve had your nose broken several times, you kinda know what to look for,” Eddie replies nonchalantly as he examines the swelling around Steve’s nose, ignoring the sad, kind of pitying look in Steve’s eyes at his statement.

   “I think you’re good, Harrington. Still straight and beautiful as ever. It’ll hurt for a few days but you’ll live,” Eddie says with a wink, hesitating to let go of his face even if there’s no need to hold him still anymore.

For a moment, their eyes are locked in on each other, both staring wide-eyed and kind of lost in some spellbound haze that makes it impossible for either of them to look away.

Unfortunately – or rather, lucky for him – Dustin’s voice breaks through the static crackling in Eddie’s ears and brings him back to reality.

   “I don’t know Eddie. Are you sure it’s not broken?”

Eddie finally lets go of Steve, not without an instant feeling of regret at the loss of contact, and turns to the younger boy.

   “I’m sure, Dusty. Believe me, when you’ve been beat up as often as I have, you quickly learn to know the difference between injuries that’ll hurt like a bitch but are otherwise harmless, and injuries that need medical attention.”

It does look worse than it is, thankfully. And with a bit of ice and some rest, Steve will be back on his feet in no time.

This, however, brings Eddie back to wondering what even got Steve in the state he’s currently in.

   “Wanna tell me who did this? What happened?”

Steve looks down at his hands, fumbling with an invisible thread on his neat jeans.

   “I, uh- got into a fight with some guys because they were talking shit about, uh-“

His eyes dart up to Eddie, just for the flicker of a moment, looking almost ashamed with that light blush creeping up from his cheeks to his ears, before he finds his voice again.

“About someone I care a lot about. They were being mean, called them some disgusting shit, made assumptions about them without knowing them. They-“ Steve looks at Dustin, obviously contemplating whether to say out loud what’s on his mind.

   “They said these things like, how someone should teach them a lesson. To, uh, to set them straight.”

Steve swallows thickly, and the shuddering inhale tells Eddie that he’s trying his best not to break. That whatever it is he’s trying to say really gets to him.

Eddie is confused; he has a feeling that there’s more to Steve’s words. Like, maybe he doesn’t want to alert Dustin with the harsh reality of what they really meant.

    ‘Teach them a lesson’, the words echo in Eddie’s mind, ‘Set them straight.’

And suddenly, it dawns on him.

Suddenly, he understands what Steve is trying to say.

Did they- this is about Robin, right? Steve said they were talking shit about someone he cares a lot about.

Did these fuckers, whoever they might be, threaten to harm her for being... a lesbian? Is that it? It must be, right? It’s the only thing that makes sense, would explain why he’s all choked-up about it because everyone knows how deep their friendship is. How much Steve cares for Robin.

Fucking small-minded small-town dickheads and their outdated view on how things should be. God, Eddie hates it. Hates everything about them being stuck in a town where people still have to be afraid of openly showing who they are and who they love.

It’s why he never had a relationship. Why he flees to Indy and beyond on the weekends, whenever he’s desperate enough. He’ll never find love as long as he’s stuck here – for multiple reasons.

Robin is so much braver than him. Said fuck it a few weeks ago when she finally found the courage to ask out that girl she’s had a crush on forever. It was the talk of town the next day – ‘Did you hear that? Someone saw that Buckley girl kiss another girl! Can you believe that? What a disgrace. Displaying this filthy behaviour without any shame.’

Fucking assholes.

Thankfully, like with most gossip, people eventually lost interest and moved on to whatever next thing it was they found to deflect from their own miserable lives. But the damage had already been done. Ever since, Robin has been walking around with a big, fat, neon sign on her forehead, saying ‘I’m queer and proud’ – which should be liberating, a cause for celebration, but it’s not.

Not here, anyway.

   “Eddie?”

The warmth of Steve’s palm on his arm brings him back.

   “Huh? What? What is it?”

   “You, uh... kinda zoned out there for a moment. Are you okay?”

This startles a laugh out of him. Of course, Steve would ask him if he’s okay, when he’s the one with a swollen face. Typical.

   “Yeah, sorry. It’s just- tell me who.”

   “What?”

   “Who where those guys. I’m feeling petty and I haven’t been in a fight for a while.”

Eddie wiggles his brows at Steve and grins, makes it sound like a joke. But Steve must see the rage in his eyes, must sense that he means it because there’s suddenly so much worry in his eyes, the kind of honest concern that makes Eddie’s heart melt.

   “I don’t- No, Eddie. I won’t tell you. You need to stay away from those guys! That’s what they’d want and I don’t want anything to happen to you!”

Steve seems frantic, like the mere thought of Eddie getting into a fight with them is making him panic.

But why would he-

      “They’re a bunch of assholes! And I told them, if they ever dare to lay a hand on you, they’ll wish they’d finish what they started today. I will not let some intolerant bigots hurt you!”

    Oh.

This has never been about Robin, has it?

They’ve been talking shit about Eddie.

And Steve-

   “Why would you get into a fight over me?!”

Eddie jumps off the sofa, both hands in his hair, tugging roughly at his own curls.

   “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I?” Steve replies sounding perplexed. “I care about you, Eddie! And it’s not okay that these- these fuckers think that only because you’re- only because you are who you are, it’s okay to treat you like that. Doesn’t matter if it’s behind your back or to your face!”

Steve takes a deep breath trying to calm his voice.

“To say shit like they’re going to do- bad things to you? How can I stand there and listen to that and do nothing?”

This is too much for Eddie. It’s too much for so many reasons, most of which he’s not ready to explain.

The worst and most important one, though, is that Steve’s face is covered in bruises because he was protecting Eddie. Steve got into a fight because someone threatened to hurt Eddie and in return, got hurt because of him.

   “Well, look where that got you! You don’t have to always be the hero, Steve.” It’s not meant as an insult, although it must sound like one.

“I’m used to people talking shit about me. I can live with that.”

Steve opens his mouth to say something but Eddie beats him to it.

   “What I can’t live with, is knowing that you could’ve gotten seriously injured because you were trying to defend me.”

Dustin stays uncharacteristically quiet the whole time, just alternates his gaze between Steve and Eddie, stunned into silence by whatever weird scene it is that’s unravelling before his eyes.

Eddie can’t blame him, can’t really wrap his head around any of it himself.

Why are they shouting? What are they even arguing about? And why the fuck is Steve suddenly so close? Why is he holding his hands? And why does he look at him like he-

   “Steve, I really appreciate you looking out for me, okay? But I can’t take it to see you get hurt. You’re face is too pretty to be covered in blood.”

Eddie huffs out a tentative laugh and to his relief, Steve does too, but not without rolling his eyes in fake annoyance at Eddie’s cheesy line.

   “Are you guys gonna make out now?”

They both turn around only to find Dustin standing there with a shit-eating grin on his face.

   “Because as much I love you, I think there are some things my innocent eyes do not have to see.”

   “Shut up you little shit!” Eddie scolds him but does so with a smile on his lips because-

Because Dustin might be onto something here. Or at least that’s what it feels like. Because Steve still hasn’t let go of his hands. And while Eddie is trying his best not to completely drown in Steve’s eyes by looking at Dustin instead, he can still feel Steve’s eyes on him.

And when he turns back, Steve has this fond, almost loving look on his face; an expression so soft not even the swollen nose or the dried blood can take away from the beauty of it.

Just for a moment, Eddie allows himself to dream. To wonder if maybe he can find love in this godforsaken town after all. Thinks, foolishly, that if Robin can have her happy ending, maybe he can, too.

   “For real, guys. The tension is killing me. Can you either speed this up or take it somewhere else because I can’t take it.”

   “Get used to it, shithead,” Steve says without looking at him, eyes still trained on Eddie.

   “Yeah, Dusty. Get used to it because I’m gonna be so annoying once your babysitter’s face is all healed up,” Eddie teasingly agrees, ignoring Dustin’s defeated sigh.

   “Does that mean you want to kiss me?” Steve asks a little breathless.

Eddie leans closer to him and whispers “Want nothing more. But I wouldn’t want our first kiss to hurt so it’s gotta wait. And you need to keep your pretty face out of trouble. Understood?”

He doesn’t know where this sudden rush of bravery is coming from but he takes it, needs it because-

   “I might be a little bit in love with you, Stevie. So I need you take better care of yourself, okay? I can’t let you get hurt.”

Somewhere in the room, Dustin is making fake gagging noises but Eddie’s focus is set on Steve who looks like he’s in trance, like he can’t believe what Eddie just told him.

   “I will, promise,” he finally says and sure, Eddie might have hoped for a little love confession in return for his own but he doesn’t need Steve to say it to know that this isn’t a one-sided crush.

And he’ll make damn sure Steve keeps his promise because he really wants that kiss as soon as possible.

[saintobio]

blue christmas

a sincerely yours christmas special. non-canon. angst. 900 wc. part of the sy side-stories.

It was quiet that night. 

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the scent of pine and cinnamon lingered in the air while the warm glow of Christmas lights twinkled on the tree. Outside, snow drifted lazily to the ground, covering the surroundings of your home in a soft, pile of white. It felt peaceful—almost too peaceful—and you sat back on the couch, lounging after a nice Christmas dinner with your teenage son, Sachiro, who cradled a mug of cocoa in his hands beside you.

You smiled faintly, admiring how much he had grown, and how this quiet night seemed so far removed from the all the drama that had once filled your life. But the comfort of the moment didn’t last long before he spoke. His voice, deep like his father’s, broke the silence of your supposed peaceful night. 

“Mom,” he began, “Why didn’t you ever choose to remarry Dad?”

The question hit you harder than expected, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. Really, what were the right words? You had never been good at talking about these things, and you didn’t expect that your son would put you on the hot seat like this. The past, especially those connected to Satoru—sometimes it felt easier to leave them untouched, forgotten. As it should be. 

You glanced at your son, unsure of how to explain the complicated web of emotions that tangled inside you. “I thought... it was for the best,” you said quietly, voice soft as you searched for something that sounded right. His question was too sudden to be given a decent answer. “You know your Dad and I just couldn’t make it work. And for you, for us, it was better this way.”

Sachiro nodded slowly as if he already knew the answer, yet his fingers tightened around the mug. You could see the way he was processing your words, as if he was hoping for better reasoning. He had never even known the sibling he had lost until recently, the gap that finally forced his father out of your lives. Sachiro only saw the quiet love that both his parents shared, but it wasn’t enough, not for either of you.

“Do you ever wonder what it would be like if my sibling were here?” he asked, clearly inciting. “If you kept her, mom. Would she be celebrating with us tonight?”

You felt the ache in your chest as the question landed. You knew Sachiro’s question came from a place of grudge, aiming really well at a spot that hurt the most. And it did good at bringing you a pang of grief from a memory you had tried to bury long ago. You weren’t numb. Of course the loss still stung, even all these years later.

“I think about it all the time,” you murmured, unable to hide the shame in your voice. “What she would’ve been like. How she would’ve looked like. But... I don’t want to remember, Sachiro. I’ve made peace with it.”

But he wasn’t done. “Then, why didn’t you try again?” His voice was so gentle, yet so curious. “Why didn’t you remarry anyone else? I mean... Dad’s married to someone else now. And they’re having another baby. Shouldn’t that be a sign?”

The words felt like a stab to your chest, your heart shattering with an emotion you couldn’t name. Satoru’s life had moved on without you, far far too long ago, yet every reminder of it still cut deep. 

“I’m happy for him,” you said softly, the words stuck in your throat. “But that doesn’t mean I want the same outcome for myself. It’s... complicated.”

Marrying someone else again was not in your books. 

You could feel the intensity of Sachiro’s gaze on you, as if waiting for more. But you didn’t have more to give. You didn’t know how to explain the parts of you that had been shattered, the pieces that had never fully healed. Even if your own son hated you for it. 

“I just want you to be happy, Mom,” Sachiro said, turning away from you, his gaze landing on the Christmas tree. “I want you to have what you deserve. When I have my own family someday, I don’t want you to be spending your Christmas all alone.”

You wanted to tell him everything. How much you loved him, how much you would do for him. How hard it was to move on, how hard it was to see his father moving on with someone else. But the words needn’t be said. At least, not for tonight. 

And then, just as quickly as the moment had come, it faded into a kaleidoscope of memories. The world around you shifted, and the warmth of the fire and the smell of Christmas began to dissolve. Suddenly, you were back in your bed, heart pounding recklessly in the darkness.

You woke up eyes wide in surprise, until the reality of your room finally made sense to you. You blinked, trying to steady yourself. It was a dream. It was all a dream. 

Sighing, you let your head fall into your hands. And just for a moment, you let yourself mourn the future you would never have. The family you would never see, the happiness you could never quite reach.

But as the soft glow of the Christmas lights flickered in the silent night, you slowly allowed yourself to breathe. Tomorrow would come. But tonight, you would let the dream linger just a little longer.

[fangswbenefits]

Tracking

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Breeding kink. Period talk. Miguel going all scientific and keeping track of fertility windows for maximum efficacy. Dry humping. Inspired by this ask.

Miguel was in a bad mood that afternoon. You could see it coming a mile off, because having spent that much time around him over the past years had revealed many warning signs.

The circular platform was lowered all the way down to the floor by the time you walked past the door.

Miguel not turning to acknowledge your presence was warning sign number one.

You strode up to it warily, as if expecting him to explode at any given moment. Trying to lighten the mood, you tip toed to place a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He grumbled in response.

Warning sign number two.

His eyes were fixed on the multiple of screen sprawled in a half-moon in front of him, occasionally tapping and moving them around when needed.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you teased.

“I’m nearly done here.”

“Hello to you, too, grumpy,” you nudged his arm with a smile.

Miguel merely nodded.

Warning sign number three.

At this point, you figured something was definitely going on.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

You sighed. “You look and sound off.”

He tapped on a screen to his left. “You’re on your period.”

“What?”

Usually, that sort of remark would earn any man a slap at worst or a ‘fuck you’ at best. There was no shortage of men who would use women’s hormones as an easy way to deflect their feelings.

But there was something in Miguel’s tone that resembled… disappointment?

He scowled deeply, turning to face you. “You’re not pregnant.”

You stared at him for a long time, before bursting into laughter. “Is that why you’re all grumpy?”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.

You stopped at once. “Wait… how would you know that?”

He returned his attention to the hovering screens in front of him. “Know what?”

“That I’m on my period?” you asked, suspicion rising inside you. “And I still haven’t gotten it, by the way.”

And just like that, Miguel’s crimson eyes were on you expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

You folded your arms while tapping your foot lightly. “No. You answer me first.”

Miguel knew better than to antagonise you, especially now that you had information that interested him.

Dragging his index finger across the panel, you saw a file pop up with your name. That didn’t seem odd at all. Every spider in Nueva York was required to have one that displayed several strategic details as well as bio data that was fed by the dimensional travel watch. Your heart rate was at a steady 67 beats per minute.

“What about it?”

He tapped on a second tab that read ‘Fertility’.

Nothing could have prepared you for the influx of information you were about to be bombarded with.

And what it concerned.

July 4th

Cycle day 1 - low chance of pregnancy

Fertility window - 12 to 18

Ovulation day - 17 (high chances of pregnancy)

“You’re tracking my period?!” you snapped in utter disbelief.

“I’m tracking your fertility window.”

You glared at him. “How is that any different?”

“It’s not. Just nomenclature,” he shrugged casually as if talking about the change of weather outside.

You shot Miguel a death glare, before shoving him to the side, gaining full access to the flickering orange screen. The data collected went back as far as three months ago.

Miguel had been tracking your fertility window for months now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shifted to stand behind you, easily towering with his impressive height. “It’s my responsibility to get you pregnant.”

Your eyes widened partially in disbelief, but mostly at the realisation that this shouldn’t be a shocking revelation.

Miguel had to be in control at all times. It was embedded in his genetic code. A few months ago you had casually joked that you wouldn’t mind having a child soon.

It seemed that it was all the motivation he needed to begin his quest.

Now it made perfect sense why he had been so insistent on always cumming inside you. You just didn’t think he would be this dedicated.

Joke’s on you.

“But it seems the data is wrong,” he said lowly, arms circling around you to have his hands atop yours on the keyboard. “You can edit it,” he whispered, pressing himself fully against you.

The added pressure pushed your lower half gently against the control table, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Are you trying to seduce me, so I ignore all of this?” you whispered, enjoying how the proximity was having a noticeable effect on his cock.

He rolled against you slowly. “Me? Of course not.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, and you watched your heart rate on the screen soar to 78 beats per minutes.

You fought back a whimper, as he was nipping at your neck, fangs lightly poking at sensitive skin. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively, you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

90 beats per minute.

“Let me get a blood sample so I can test out,” he said, his erection pressed against your ass.

“Someone really wants to be a dad,” you said with a teasing smile.

99 beats per minute.

His other hand came to grip your jaw, tilting your head until you met his eyes. “I need you to get pregnant.”

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants as he kept humping you at a steady and torturous pace.

“You mean… you need to breed me, right?”

109 beats per minute.

His eyeds widened lightly and he thrusted harshly into you, causing a jolt of pleasure to travel all the way down to your clit. “That’s the same thing, cariño.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Nomenclature and all that.”

Masterlist

[darnell-la]

i’m actually so in love with your writing! Could i request Oldman!Logan x married reader having sex for the first time in forever bc he’s getting sick and age is showing in him and he isn’t healing but he wants to prove he can still keep up

note: Logan and his little emotional ass…

———

“Logan, what are you doing here? What happened!?” Y/n asked, worried after seeing his state. The man had bullet holes in him. He was bleeding and looked like he was close to passing out.

“Need you, bub,” Logan said, meaning it in so many different ways, but y/n only thought of one as she pulled him into her shared house.

Y/n dragged the man to her shared room and pulled him to the bathroom. “The fuck, Logan — I thought you were done with that shit,” y/n felt horrible seeing him like this.

He went down after she broke up with him because of his unemotional ways. He didn’t show emotion when she left the mansion, but people noticed the change in his mood.

Logan was always an asshole, but he had a soft spot for sweet people. After y/n left, he felt no need to be that man anymore.

“Just a little fight. Nothin’ serious, princess,” Logan said as y/n sat him on the toilet. “Logan, not right now, please,” Y/n said before she went into her closet to find things to help him.

Logan was confused for a second, wondering why she didn’t like the nickname until he remembered. He took a look at her hand and noticed the ring he prayed wasn’t real.

After hearing the news of her marriage, he couldn’t take it. He tried reaching out to her, but she was a ghost.

After finally finding her, he noticed how happy she looked. That was decades ago, and since then, he’s just kept his distance. Still watching her, but never approaching.

“You’re still with him, huh?” Logan asked, sounding heartbroken all over again. “Yes, I am, and he gets home tomorrow night, so I need you out of here quick,” y/n said, aching the man.

“Can’t stay until he gets here? Maybe meet the man or something?” Logan asked, making y/n sigh loudly as she finally found what she needed. “No, Logan — Me and you haven’t talked in years, so there’s no need,”

“We haven’t talked because of you,” the man said in a low voice. “Yeah, because-“ y/n cut herself off as she noticed her tone getting higher. She shouldn’t be upset anymore. They’re done.

“Just- Let’s get you cleaned up,” y/n walked back over to Logan. The two stayed quiet as she took his shirt off to see what she had to work with. “Fuckin’ hell, Logan,” y/n shooter her head.

Even though this wasn’t the man’s fault, he looked down with a sad look, disappointed that he got worse over the years, and never better for her to see and maybe want him back.

“He treats you good?” Logan asked, trying to get rid of the silence. It’s been too many years of silence. “Alright,” y/n said, answering drily because she felt embarrassed about her life.

“Why just alright? I see he buys you stuff- On social media — I-I have you on social media,” Logan saved himself after y/n gave him a confused look. Y/n sighed with a nod, not wanting to tell him or anyone why he gave her those gifts.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Logan asked with a slightly serious face after noticing her body language. After all these years, Logan could tell when something was wrong.

“Please, just- Let’s get this done, okay?” Y/n said before using a pair of tweezers to pull one of the bullets out. “Fuck! Fuck- wait,” Logan softly grabbed the girl's wrists as he stood up. “I’ve got this part,”

Logan slowly walked over to the bathroom sink to lean on it, resting and taking deep breaths for what he was about to do.

Y/n was confused until the man began pushing out bullets with low groans, trying to hide the pain he was in.

Y/n placed a hand on his back, comforting him so he would mentally feel better about this all. She couldn’t look at him like this.

“Just a few stitches, okay?” Y/n rubbed the man’s back after he got all of the bullets out. “No, it’ll heal itself. Just need it cleaned,” the man said before sitting back down on the toilet, already missing her back touched.

y/n wanted to ask why he came here if he wouldn't help him stitch up, but she kept her mouth closed and didn't ask. He finally had a small reason to show up and be let in her house.

“Lo — Logan, you need it,” y/n slipped up by calling him by the nickname she gave the man. Logan looked up at the woman, eyes lighting up at her words, but face expression tired.

He was tired of life. He was tired of living without y/n. He was tired of being distant from y/n. He was tired of going home and having an empty bed while she came home to whoever the man was she married.

“I need you,” Logan said, making y/n scoff, feeling tears fill her eyes in an instant. “Logan, if you’re not gonna let me help you, then you have to leave,” she hated saying.

“C’mon, baby — Just take me back,” Logan on off of the toilet and stepped towards her. Y/n instantly turned around, not wanting to look at him. She can’t. She’s married now.

“C’mere,” Logan said softly as he hugged y/n from the back, leaning down to sniff her neck. “You still smell good,” he said under his breath as his hands rubbed her waist and stomach.

“Logan, I can’t,” y/n said, not pushing him off, but hoping he’d pull back. She couldn’t bring herself to push his old but missing scent away.

“C’mon, baby — If you couldn’t, then you would’ve pushed him off a while ago,” he said, and he was right. That’s when y/n turned around and placed her hands on his chest, pushing, but he grabbed them, keeping her hands on him.

“I’m sorry, y/n — I wasn’t good back then, but I am now. I’ll do anything to get you back. To get all of those years without you, back,” Logan’s hands softly grabbed her cheeks.

“I-I can’t, Logan — I have a husband, and he- He treats me right,” y/n lied, and he knew it instantly. All the years away from his girl, he still knew when she was lying and not doing well. Her slight body language change does not lie.

“You don’t have to lie to me, princess. If he doesn’t treat you right, I won’t laugh, judge or make you feel like shit,” Logan said as tears slipped past her eyelids.

“Hey, hey — Don’t cry, okay? This is my fault. You’re with him because I wasn’t man enough to deal with love. I was scared, and I let us get together knowing I should’ve ghosted you. I should’ve fuckin’ stopped it right then, but I didn’t because I love you, y/n,”

“I’m so stupid,” y/n buried her face in the man’s chest as she cried. Logan’s own tears slipped past his eyelids, hearing y/n cry like this after all of these years.

If only he had been a better man, a better boyfriend, she wouldn’t be like this. What has she been going through, through all these years? Anything negative was his fault. All of it.

“Baby, no, you’re not. I am. If I just did better, you’d be with me. We’d both be happier,” Logan pulled y/n’s face back as he wiped her tears. “Need you to stitch me up like you wanted. Take care of me, then I’ll take care of you. Till the day I die,”

Y/n isn’t invincible, but she does take a bit longer to die off. She’s nothing like Logan though, so getting together at this time, especially since his regenerating powers aren’t working well anymore, is perfect.

“Mhmkay,” y/n said low, feeling her heart grow for the man again. “Please stop crying, baby. Gonna make me feel bad,” Logan playfully pouted as he lifted her chin. “Good,” she giggled low.

“So good, baby. Always so fuckin’ good, baby,” Logan whispered in the girl's ear after slipping past her folds, filling her up until he had no more to give. She took him so well. Like they have not stopped being together.

“Oh my god, Logan,” y/n cried as she scratched his back, drawing a little blood. He almost forgot how strong she was. He never really paid attention. She was always his sweet little girl.

He cursed himself for being an asshole towards her. All he had to do was tell her when he felt down. All he had to do was ask for help. All he had to do was accept that it’s okay to not be okay. She would’ve been happy to help.

“Gonna keep you, baby. Gonna take you from your sad excuse of a husband,” Logan snapped his hips, shaking at the feeling of being someone he hadn’t been in for years. Since her, he hasn’t been with anyone. Not one soul.

“Ima treat you better, baby. Gonna show him how to be a man,” Logan didn’t know how the man was. He knew nothing about him, only the fake news he puts out on social media, but by the way, y/n was clenching around him and not calling her husband to get Logan out of their home, he knew the man was a dick.

“You’re gonna tell me everything about him, y/n. Don’t miss one detail. Gonna show him what happens when he makes my girl cry at the thought of him,”

Logan’s hands rubbed y/n’s cheek, watching her jaw go slack as his hips bucked up into his, chasing after her orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Forgot about that rich prick. Knew he wasn’t no good,” Logan talked like he knew the man personally. Even if he wasn’t a bad person, Logan didn’t care. Y/n was his, and his only.

“Fuckin’ hell — Still squeezin’ me tight like back in the day, when you cum,” Logan reminded the woman as she came all over his cock. “So pretty when you did it too. Now you look better because we’re finally officially,”

Y/n was confused at first until he spoke. “You’re my wife. And I’m your husband. You’ve always been mine, and I’ll show you that. Gonna show you all the years you’ve missed out on me, baby,”

Logan smashed his lips onto y/n’s, hungrily kissing her as he pounded, making sure to fuck her into the mattress. He was old, and his body ached, but the adrenaline was still there. He wanted to fuck her for hours. Mark her for hours. He wanted to do everything with her for hours until her shitty husband came back to the sight of her taking his cock better than she could ever take her husbands.

“That’s it, baby — Gonna fill this little girl up like I should’ve done years ago. Trap you with me and never let you go,” Logan’s hands found hers and locked. He pinned them beside her head and leaned into her neck, sucking as he groan.

The man couldn’t help himself, sniffing and growling into the girl's neck as he spilled into her, hard. Cumming so deep, she swore she felt it swirl in her stomach.

“F-Fuck,” y/n cried low, feeling complete. The feeling of him in her, marking her, and telling her she was his, made her heart grow. Fuck her husband. She couldn’t wait until he came home to the sight of Logan claiming her.

[soonyoungs]

what about maybe angst/hurt to comfort with mingyu, it could be a really stupid argument they’re both feeling stubborn over & then some cute fluff/smut at the end 🥹🙏🏻

ఇ mingyu and gn!reader

ఇ warnings: smut! alcohol consumption mentioned! not proof read! written while sleepy so i hope it makes sense!

ఇ wc: 1,597 (this was really only supposed to be a short blurb)

ఇ notes: i’m so sorry this took forever! i’ve been so busy with work. i hope this is alright! 💗

[4:33 am]

“you’re drunk,” you say to him, voice monotone “i’m done talking about this until you’ve sobered up and i’ve calmed down”. you close the front door behind him, as he stumbles in. he crosses his arms and juts out a hip in annoyance. if he wasn’t as drunk as he is now you know he’d roll his eyes, but at the moment he can’t even manage that.

he huffs, starting to move passed you and shakes his head “whatever,” he wobbles on unsteady legs, running into the entry wall. you move to help him level himself and in pure, emotional, instinct he pushes your hand away. “ve’got it,” he mumbles, just barely securing his footing and slowly walks by you. bending over to take off your shoes, you sigh at his outburst. hearing you he stops in his tracks, whipping his body back around “got a problem?” he makes his way back to you, softly running into you as he does so.

“no, gyu” you say, slowly “no problem, just tired. let’s talk about this after we’ve gotten some rest, yeah” you straighten your back and pat him on the shoulder “im going to bed, good night”. you stand on your tip-toes and leave a small peck on his cheek, letting your face linger next to his longer than you had meant to. you’re thinking of all the things you want to say, all of the bones you’ve got to pick with him, but before you know it he has his mouth pressed against yours and your back pushed against the front door. a small moan leaves your throat and your eyes widen in surprise, your hands resting on his arms for support.

mingyu lifts his hand to your face, holding it gently in place, as he deepens the kiss. you open your mouth slightly, only allowing him minimal access. in his state of inebriation he is quick to gently nip at your bottom lip warning you before applying more pressure and giving it a good tug before bringing his head back to make eye contact with you. “what were you saying,” he asks as you’re both trying to catch your breath. you honestly can’t even remember what you had been arguing about anymore. was it because mingyu doesn’t know how to turn off the flirtatious charm when he’s speaking to others? was it because he’d had one too many to drink when he told you he’d “only have one”? or was it because you had accepted a drink from a stranger and mingyu made a scene? no matter the reason, all that mattered now was that mingyu finish what he started.

“dunno,” you whisper, reaching up to grab at the hair on the nape of his neck. “not upset anymore,” there’s a mischievous smirk on your lips as you move forward to start where you’d left off. mingyu pushes himself back and picks you up, planning to drag you to your shared bedroom. he’s wobbling around and you’re scared for your life the entire way but, eventually, you make it to your room in one piece.

you’re unceremoniously tossed on to the bed, body bouncing on the mattress a few times at the impact. you’re about to complain when mingyu crawls onto the bed with you, hovering over your body. he sighs before bending his neck, resting his head on your shoulder mumbling something that sounded like an apology. “what,” you cock your head to the side, freeing him from his comfort space so you could hear him clearly.

“sorry i embarrassed you,” he shakes his head, his tresses tickling you as he does so “shouldn’t have made a scene. couldn’t stand to see some weirdo give you something,” you could tell there was more he wanted to say, he’s just struggling to find the words. you stay silent as you allow him time to think and when he’s ready he begins again “was worried about what they gave you too. you took it so easily and didn’t even seem to care, it could’ve been anything in that cup!” he’s not aggressive with his statement but his voice continues to grow louder as he speaks. you finally remember what had you both so heated on your way home. 

mingyu had brought you along to a party with some of his coworkers and left you unattended for a while to mingle. being the unsocial butterfly that you are you stayed close to the bar, so as not to get lost. as you were finishing up your drink someone, uninvited, took the seat next to you and had begun to try and strike up uncomfortable small-talk conversation. when the drink in question had been offered, you readily accepted it, thinking that it might just help you get through this painfully awkward moment. as soon as mingyu saw you accept the strangers drink, and throw it back in one go, he was on his way to you. ready to let this stranger know you weren’t available and to take a hike.

“baby,” you coo, running your fingers through his hair “i’m sorry i worried you. i didn’t mean to, i was just trying to get them to go away” you giggle softly, leaving kisses on his head. mingyu moves and peppers small kisses to your lips as his hands travel down to the hem of his shirt, removing it, separating from you to take it off. mingyu makes quick work of your clothes, tossing it to the floor and leaving you both naked.

mingyu is already rearing to go and he’s  sincerely hoping the alcohol is to blame, otherwise his neediness for you is much more embarrassing than he’d like to admit. you’re not much better than he is, as you’re quick to reach down and take him in your hand, stroking him. he groans as you apply pressure and tease his tip. mingyu sits up and throws his head back, allowing you to do as you please with him. “so good,” he’s whining “baby slow down, i’m already sensitive” he’s scrunching his nose and furrowing his brows in concentration. he knows he won’t last long but he wants to make the most of it, and cumming before he can even touch you is not the move.

mingyu puts his hand on yours, helping you stroke him for a bit before he stops your movements and starts rubbing his cock against you, teasing you in return. you let out a groan at the feeling of him rutting against you. “gyu,” you huff “mingyu, put it in soon, please” you’re borderline begging him. he hums in acknowledgment, but continues moving against you, hoping that you’ll climax once before he’s inside of you. you’re close when mingyu bends down and kisses the side of your neck, then you’re cheek and finally he’s tugging on your earlobe. you can hear him pant against your ear, as he’s struggling to keep his composure as he’s rutting his hips against you faster now. you finally tip over the edge and throw your head back, hips jumping as you become increasingly more sensitive.

“one more,” mingyu asks of you as he finally slides himself inside your warm walls “god please, give me one more?” you’re clawing down his back at the stretch of him and before you can even adjust he’s hitting the spots he knows only he can. “feel so good, i’m gonna cum soon,” he’s practically laying flat against you, lifting his hips and dropping them down to pound himself inside of you. mingyu’s got your head cradled in his hands as he burrows his face in your neck, licking a stripe the entire length of it before moving to kiss you. he’s so close, he can feel it in his gut. separating himself from your lips, he begins panting in your ear again. “gonna cum,” he’s repeating to you, breath tickling your neck.

“i’m so close mingyu, please don’t stop” you’re just as desperate to cum as mingyu is. you’re lifting your hips to help him fuck himself deeper inside of you. mingyu briefly lets go of your head to sling your legs over his arms, moving up your body, bringing them against your chest. mingyu takes hold of your head again, making eye contact as he presses his forehead against yours. he gives you a small peck before fucking you at a rapid pace, again. you arch your back, pressing your chest against his own and allowing him to hit deeper inside of you than before. “close, ‘m so close,” you’re eyes are glazing over in pleasure as mingyu begins to reach his peak. he takes hold of your ankles, moving your legs and stretching you to your limit. mingyu’s thrusts lose their rhythm as he begins chasing his high. he’s hitting you in all the right places, deep and fast. before you can even comprehend it you’re thrown into your own orgasm. you throw your head back and rake your nails down the expanse of his shoulders as you cry out his name. mingyu continues to fuck you through it, as you begin to babble. 

once you’ve both come down from your highs and mingyu has taken care of you, he lays you down, tucks you in and moves to snuggle as you settle down to sleep. “love you gyu, im sorry i made you feel upset. i won’t ever take something from a stranger again,” you pout, giving him a quick peck on the nose before running a finger down his chest, teasingly, “or maybe i will, we’ll see.”

[saerins]

𝒊𝒏 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆

+ nagi seishiro x f!reader | wc 2.4k | content: fluff, high school setting!, some cursing

notes: this was something requested by an anon !! i realised this prompt was also done in my other fic whole except nagi was the second lead :’) also pleaseeeee excuse me if this is ass because i haven’t written in a long time T_T but i’m working on getting back properly !! <3

summary: he didn’t ask you out because he wanted to, yet nagi gets more than he bargained for in the end.

“so, um, nagi, why’d you ask me out all of a sudden?”

it’s kind of an awkward situation to be in, you think, as you look around the arcade, shuffling your feet beside where nagi’s seated, trying to win some tickets from what you can only assume to be a music machine.

when he’d asked you out on a date yesterday, you didn’t think he’d take you to an arcade, of all places. (then again, nagi asking anyone out is sort of unbelievable, honestly.) if you knew sooner (or if nagi had bothered to tell you), you wouldn’t have worn such a nice dress for today.

besides, you’re not even sure why you’d agreed. call your state half-flustered or whatever, because you heard that nagi seishiro of all people does not bother with human relationships much. you’ve only ever seen him interact with mikage reo anyway—and you’d just chalked it up to him wanting it that way. nagi had never shown interest in girls or romance or that kind of shit, so cue your surprise when he asked you out yesterday, when he saw you at the bus stop.

“hey, wanna go on a date tomorrow?”

you blinked at him, utterly surprised because that was the first time that nagi had ever spoken to you.

“um, where to?” (you were still malfunctioning over the fact that he was asking you out on a date.)

nagi scratched the back of his head, and you could faintly make out reo a few ways behind him, watching on.

“hmm, not sure, i’ll text you tomorrow morning?” he suggested, pulling out his phone. “what’s your number?”

okay sure, you could’ve asked for more details, but it was hard getting nagi to respond to you at all. you’re pretty sure he was gaming, that’s why.

“oh, ‘cause reo asked me to.”

that… was not the answer you were expecting. “reo asked you to?”

nagi has a bad habit of not elaborating. you don’t really like that, because you don’t like asking questions, but you can’t help yourself now. this is too bizarre for you to let go.

“yeah, something about how he’s sick of me playing games all day long, told me to go get a date, then he’d return me my switch,” nagi mumbles, and you can’t help but think that reo’s plan may have backfired, considering how he’s on a date and still playing games.

while nagi’s grey eyes are focused on the screen in front of him, you find yourself drawn to the way he’s sucking in his cheek as he concentrates, the way his bangs fall over his eyes and how his fingers can respond so quickly to the lines on the screen.

“you’re pretty good at this,” you tell him, getting lost in how well he’s playing. the points on the screen gets so high he’s almost nearing the high score.

for a moment, nagi’s distracted by how close you are to him; your hair smells like citrus and it’s really smooth. it’s also the only time anyone other than reo has been this close and you’re not anyone so he doesn’t really see why you’re able to steal his focus from the game.

someone like you shouldn’t make him notice things that aren’t about games or himself.

but you do—and he misses the first note since the start of the game, though he recovers fairly easily.

he doesn’t know much about you, only that you’re in his class and you’re very pretty (now that he’s actually looking at you). you have a really cute laugh too, he realises, right when he wins the game and probably what’s a thousand tickets, with you rejoicing happily beside him.

“oh my god, you’re so fucking good at this,” you’re jumping and giggly and nothing like how quiet you are in school and why does he feel a little giddy knowing that he’s getting to see this firsthand? this doesn’t make sense. “okay, move aside, teach me, i wanna do it too.”

nagi obliges. it’s a pain having to teach someone else compared to doing it himself, he gets to know, as you miss probably half the notes on screen even when he tries to tell you how to do it. hell, he’s not really a good teacher.

you win about 300 tickets.

“not bad for a rookie,” nagi comments as you grab your own pile and stack it in your shared basket. the neon red and blue flashes pretty against your skin. it makes you even prettier, he feels.

you raise a brow. “nagi seishiro, wanna play a bet?”

no, not really. but somehow, he can’t quite turn down a game when it’s from you.

“what’re you betting?”

you hold out the basket in front of you. “i’m gonna find a game where i can beat you.” your chest is puffed out, like you’re determined, like you really believe you can. “if i lose, you can decide my punishment.”

nagi blinks at you. you’re… weird. you make his heart beat faster than usual. it’s a little concerning. “and if you win?”

grinning, you wink at him, “let’s leave that to later.”

whatever possessed him to spend the entire day following you around the arcade and watching you fail, he doesn’t know. you’re pretty bad at everything compared to him, but it’s not really fair—he’s probably spent ten times as much of his days in the arcade than you.

have you ever even set foot in here before?

nagi observes as you try desperately to beat him in ddr. you fail, naturally. your feet coordination really isn’t that good, but it’s pretty cute how hard you’re trying. you’re still pretty even at the end of it, even when you’re sweating and some of your hair is matted against your skin. he keeps that to himself though.

throughout the entire day, nagi finds himself entertained by your persistent insistence to beat him at something. it’s funny how you’re awful at the arcade games. it’s also funny how you’re honestly trying. it’s really no use but here you are, sweating once again from shooting hoops.

your 64 versus nagi’s 154.

“wow, you’re really bad at all these games,” nagi murmurs when he sees your score. “wanna go somewhere else?”

you’re quick to open your mouth but it takes you just as quick to shut it, probably knowing you’ll never beat him. at least, not today. “fine, you win,” you say through gritted teeth. you’re a little prideful; nagi’s learning a lot about you. “what do you want?”

nagi seems to have forgotten your earlier bet. he just shrugs and tells you to choose what you want at the exchange counter.

“you don’t want anything?”

nagi looks at the prizes with such disinterest it makes you wonder what can interest a guy like him. he shakes his head, “i can get anything i want anytime anyway.”

(the underlying insinuation that coming to the arcade with him is your only chance to win prizes flies right over your head.)

but when nagi looks at your slightly disappointed face, he tries to backtrack. “i’ll let you know when i think of something i want since i won,” he says, looking away from you. “but you choose one of the prizes today.”

turns out it’s so easy to please you. just like that and that smile is back on your face.

you choose a big goddamn pink teddy bear by the way. nagi sighs as he leaves the arcade with you. it’s probably a character nagi doesn’t know. he’s judging you, but then you hug it and smile at him and he forgets what he’s thinking about.

“i know this was only because reo asked you to, but…” you mumble after you and nagi both finished eating dinner, sitting across from each other at the ramen shop. “it was fun.”

nagi’s not sure what this is. just a customary thing where you’re showing appreciation for the time you two spent together today? you’re looking away from him though, he’s pretty sure normal customs don’t dictate that. he’s pretty sure you’re supposed to look at him when you say that.

“why’re you looking away?”

you look at him in blank shock (an expression that he doesn’t know how to process—what’s so weird about asking you that?) before you smile helplessly. “you’re very weird, nagi seishiro.”

“what do you mean?” nagi’s clueless, in that nagi seishiro way only he can be.

a few seconds of silence pass when you try to make up your mind. it’s unnerving how big and wide his eyes are, especially when they’re focused only on you and nothing else. in the end, you manage with a shake of your head.

“it’s nothing,” you decide. telling him of your possible crush on him would not do any good, you guess.

something bugs nagi; he can’t understand what it is. he just knows something feels off but it’s not like he’s ever felt this particular kind of irk—he doesn’t know what to do.

when the time comes to leave the restaurant, nagi finds himself walking the opposite way to his home because you started walking first.

somehow, his feet follows you.

it’s stupid—walking this far away from the direction of his home is troublesome. it’ll be a hassle to get home when his bus is on the other side of the long gone restaurant. why is he walking you to the train station again when he’ll just see you next week anyway? you’re in the same class.

“oh, are you gonna take the train too?”

nagi blinks at you, drawing a blank at your question. he must’ve completely zoned out. did the both of you get here in complete silence?

“no,” he answers honestly. he doesn’t elaborate. as usual.

by now, that doesn’t surprise you. instead you just nod your head, a hesitance borne in the shuffling of your feet. “well,” you drawl out, dragging the syllable, somehow hoping this wasn’t the end of the night but it is. “this was a nice one-time date,” you settle for, smiling. you’re about to just say goodbye, but you bite on your bottom lip, contemplating, before you slip his phone out of his hand and slide the screen to the side, taking a picture of the both of you together, nagi looking at the screen in surprise and you winking beside him.

when you hand it back to him, you bite your inner mouth, trying not to grin. “in case reo asks for evidence,” you offer as an excuse. you totally didn’t want to take a picture with nagi. “he better give you your game back!”

nagi gets this fleeting feeling that he doesn’t know how to explain when he sees you smiling at him. like how you remind him of the color gray. not because it’s bland but because it’s his favourite color. you remind him of spring and the cool breeze and how refreshing it feels.

“it was a nice one-time date, nagi seishiro,” you chuckle before you turn around, ready to head into the station and probably never spend such time with nagi again. you’ll probably get over the sadness of what could’ve been pretty quickly. you think.

but just before you can enter, you hear the firm steadiness in nagi’s voice. “no.”

you whip your head around, not quite sure you heard him right. “no?” you narrow your stare a little, moving out of other people’s way as they push past you into the station. “as in, you didn’t like it?”

you hope he doesn’t mean it like that.

nagi looks away, earnestly processing it. it came blurting out of him, he didn’t even know what he said until he said it. “i won the bet and what i want is… this. again. with you.”

the implications of his words slowly sink in and it has you feeling giddy. nagi, the guy who barely cares about anything nor makes the time for anyone—is he actually telling you this? is he really saying he’d take you out more?

meanwhile, nagi’s feet stay firmly planted where he is, wondering why you make him feel like this, why you make him feel like he can’t get enough. you’re just… you. before today, he could honestly say you were insignificant. but just the way you are; how you speak, your smile, your laugh and your resilience—nagi likes it, finds comfort in it, somehow.

“then,” you say as you enter the station, face giddy with the excitement of something new blossoming. “i’ll wait for more dates with you, sei.”

the way you call him that makes his heart skip a beat and he’s left blankly staring at your figure as you retreat into the station, stealing his heart with you.

“fine, fine,” reo sighs. it’s two days later on a monday and reo grudgingly gives nagi back his switch. “so, what’d you two do anyway?” he asks, shifting his gaze between nagi and you, though you’re at the other end of the classroom, talking excitedly to your friends.

nagi’s attention quickly transfers to his switch, already opening up a game to play. “nothing much,” is all he offers, and reo’s beginning to think maybe it was more of a punishment for you than a date.

reo sighs again, ready to lecture nagi for being the worst date ever when he pulls up his phone to look at the time. but he accidentally takes nagi’s phone instead, unlocking it to find his own chat thread—to which nagi doesn’t even bother saving his name (reo side eyes him but nagi doesn’t even realise).

that doesn’t surprise him, but what does is when reo realises your contact is saved—with the icon being a picture of the two of you together. you must really be something to be able to make nagi do something so idiotic like this.

“oi, nagi.”

nagi only responds with a raise of his brow. he’s still clicking away at the controls. reo guesses it must be a racing game from those sounds.

“if you guys get married i better be the best man for being your matchmaker,” reo teases, his grin filling his face.

even though nagi doesn’t respond, the champagne pink that brushes across his cheeks is enough indication to reo of nagi’s feelings for you.

looks like he never needed to worry after all.

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCXDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 5)

—

Tw: torture scene (GiW agent receiving), general angst, canon-typical violence (DC), nobody is having a good time

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Masterlist/subscription post)

—

It was pretty easy for Danny to forget that Dr. Crane was a rogue at times.

Most of the time he wasn’t comically evil, like what he’d expect of a Gotham rogue. He was helping Danny, even if only because he didn’t want to be taken in by the GiW as well. He was even downright nice most of the time, or at least neutral.

Sure, he had a strange obsession with fear and psychology, but that wasn’t really out of the ordinary for Danny. It didn’t feel like living with a rogue, just like…staying with a distant relative, or something.

He seemed like just an ordinary person.

Today, though, Danny was brought back to reality.

The GiW agent they’d tracked down together writhed on the ground, screaming in pain and terror. Scarecrow was sat a few feet away, setting up a syringe of the antidote he’d made.

After a few more moments, he injected the man with the antidote, watching him like a hawk the entire time.

Suddenly, the man surged forward, lunging at Scarecrow with a feral scream.

Unluckily for him, though, he was still weak from the fear toxin in his system, and from the beatings he’d received prior. Scarecrow easily wrestled him to the ground, settling himself on the broad part of the agent’s back with a vice grip on one of his arms.

“Let’s try again,” he said sharply, all of the warmth Danny had grown used to gone from his voice. “Where is the GiW base of operations?”

The agent took several shuddering breaths before spitting at Scarecrow, defiance and hatred written all over his face.

For just a moment, the room was utterly silent.

“Fine, have it your way.”

Scarecrow began to twist the man’s arm further. It wasn’t long before the agent began to squirm, then writhe, beneath him. Danny’s stomach churned.

“You know,” Scarecrow began, almost conversationally, “there are plenty of jobs that one can get without the use of their legs, especially with the level of education you have. Anything that doesn’t involve hard labor, really.”

The man’s face was beginning to turn red in his struggle not to scream. He took in gasping breaths, the way that his mouth moved almost reminding Danny of a goldfish.

(He felt awful for the comparison, but it was true.)

“However,” Scarecrow continued, “I find you’d be rather hard-pressed to find a job without the use of your arms. Especially in a place like Gotham, where you can always be replaced by someone eager to do your job for even less money. Of course, you could most likely coast off of savings and severance pay for a while, but…”

He leaned closer to the man’s head, his voice lowering.

“Would you be able to live like that? To live with yourself, if you no longer have a purpose?”

He allowed the agent a few seconds of rest before increasing the pressure on his arm. The agent gasped, letting out a strangled hiss. His arm bones were making fascinating noises in response to the strain. Danny felt sick.

“You seem like a rather driven young man. I’m sure your family would hate to see you unmotivated, directionless. Would they resent you, do you think?”

“Fuck you, you—”

The man was cut off by his own scream as Scarecrow finally allowed his arm to break, audibly splintering into thousands of useless shards of bone.

He had the exact pressure memorized. Clearly, he had done this before.

This was wrong. This was wrong.

Shouldn’t Danny step in, do something?

“That won’t heal cleanly. Even with the best medical care in the world, you’ll end up with permanent damage.”

The man below him wheezed and sobbed, choking on air as Scarecrow let go of his arm carelessly, letting it flop back onto the ground.

“Just the sort of thing something like you deserves,” Scarecrow hissed, his voice cold.

“You tortured a child, and you enjoyed it. You laughed with your friends about it. In your notes, one of your friends complained about the screaming,” Scarecrow brought his leg around, grinding his boot into the man’s broken arm. He howled in agony, writhing uncontrollably.

“Was it inconvenient to him, do you think? Too loud? If you were joking about it, clearly you thought so, too. I could fix that as well.”

He drew out another needle, this one once again filled with fear toxin.

“Scarecrow, wait,” Danny choked out.

Scarecrow turned to look at him.

Even his posture was different than usual. He looked… stiff, more like an animal than a man. When he tilted his head at Danny in a silent question, it looked like something in his neck had snapped, his head lolling to the side.

Danny wondered if he was consciously moving like that, or if it was habit at this point.

“You—we don’t have to do this. We can get information some other way, right? You don’t have to…”

Danny looked down at the GiW agent below Scarecrow. He didn’t even have it in him to glare up at Danny like he had before. Instead he laid limply on the ground, tremors rolling through his body uncontrollably.

“We’ve exhausted every other option and you know it,” Scarecrow said, his voice low, “this is the only way we can move forward.”

“Still, I—I don’t,” Danny swallowed, his throat tight, “this isn’t—this isn’t right. Isn’t there some other way to do this? Like—a truth serum, or something?”

“Truth serums are notoriously unreliable. They’re almost as bad as lie detectors. We’re much more likely to get a reliable result from this.”

Danny just stared at the GiW agent and his splintered, ruined arm. He began to weakly wriggle in Scarecrow’s grasp, which was graciously ignored.

He vaguely remembered himself doing the same thing when he was on the operating table; even if he knew there was no chance of escape, he still thrashed and screamed, desperate to get away. The jagged I-shaped incision on his torso felt uncomfortably warm.

What was there left to say?

“The Bat does the same thing at times, you know,” Scarecrow said, “him and the rest of his brood. By using my toxin, I’m actually lessening the amount of permanent damage that I’m doing. Physically.”

“Still, that doesn’t make it right,” Danny said desperately. “Even if—even if everyone in the world did this, it wouldn’t make it right.”

Scarecrow hummed.

They were both silent for a moment.

His next words were gentle, absurdly so when compared to the scene in front of him.

“I would love an alternative. But…”

He shrugged, hand coming to rest on the break in the GiW agent’s arm. Even without applying any pressure, the man stopped squirming immediately.

“There aren’t any other options,” Danny repeated, his voice flat and his body numb.

“Yes,” Scarecrow said. “I’m sorry.”

There was a pause. No one moved a muscle. Eventually Scarecrow spoke again, his voice strangely empty.

“You can stand outside and keep watch, if you’d like. At such a short distance their radars won’t pick us up.”

Danny said nothing, leaving the room silently.

He sat outside for quite a while.

He was grateful that Scarecrow had, with his help, dragged the agent to one of his previous hideouts. It was soundproofed, after all.

He was glad that he didn’t have to hear the rest of what Scarecrow did to the man.

After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Crane left the building, joining him outside. He guided Danny back to his beat up old truck and they drove home in silence.

“Did you at least…do you know where they are, now?” Danny asked as they entered the apartment, his voice small.

“They didn’t share the details of all of their locations with any one person. I know where one of their locations are, but not their main base of operations.”

Danny felt disgusted. With himself, with Dr. Crane, with the GiW.

He was disgusted by the agent, too. Did he just hate the restless dead so much that he would prefer to be tortured than to give them the upper hand? Did he really think he was in the right?

Was there a chance that he was?

Danny felt very, very small, and very stupid. Stupid and weak and cowardly.

“Danny,” Dr. Crane spoke, his voice soft.

“I’m truly sorry that this is happening to you. I really, truly wish that you didn’t have to endure my company. I…”

He fell quiet. Danny wondered if he was just saying this to pacify him, or if he truly meant it. He wondered if it really mattered in the end.

After a few moments of silence, Dr. Crane sighed, looking truly pained.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Danny was quiet.

“I’m going to bed early,” he finally said, turning away and leaving without a second glance.

—