#I'm gonna shift. But I won't leave | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

murderofravens · 8 days ago

Text

BABY, I'M RIGHT HERE

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

warnings: large age gap (20 vs late 40s) angst. slow burn. slight infantilization. no use of y/n. codependency. obsession from both sides. unhealthy dynamics. plot with porn. fingering. oral fixation. brat tamer inho. sub!reader. reader is very touch starved. a little yandere vibes. emotional manipulation. i made him very fatherly but toxic oops.

summary: he promised that you will make it out alive. he will make sure of it, no matter what it takes.

word count: 8k more or less

SEQUEL TO: DUSK TILL DAWN

FINAL PART: FLY ME TO THE MOON

SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

please ignore mistakes.

you can't remember half of it. everything happened so quickly— your little moment of bliss shattered by 388's quick warning. the lights went out. one moment you were in young-il's arms, the next he was dragging you down towards 456, who was hiding under another bed. he shifted to make room for you and you crawled to his side. young-il followed.

"stay quiet," 456 whispered, looking around. not much was visible in the dark, but soon enough, the loud noise of bottles shattering and people screaming began echoing through the hall.

"they're killing each other—" you whisper, eyes wide. you shift slightly, raising your head. you try to sit up. "they're killing our side of the people—"

young-il halted your movements with a hand on your arm, "don't move." he hissed. "we can't leave till the guards come in."

"what?" you snap, voice hushed, "if they kill all our people, what's gonna happen in the next vote? we'll lose!"

"there won't be a next vote," 456 added, flinching slightly at another sharp cry. he looked determined. "we're stopping this today."

you glanced at him, heartbroken. you looked out again, heartbeat picking up as you saw player 380 run away from nam-gyu. he was on her tail, visibly trying to kill her. a bottle lay there by the bed, and before young-il could stop you, you slid it out. nam-gyu tripped on it and fell on his face. luckily, it was too dark and he was too worked up to check who it was. you just hoped it gave player 380 enough time to hide.

young-il restrained you then, pushing you down slightly so you were fully sandwiched between him and 456, "don't compromise our position!"

"how much longer?" you whispered, ignoring him. you winced as more sounds of bones cracking and people choking on their own blood took over the entire room. neither of them answered, but even 456 jumped a little as the body of one of the girls on your side fell to the floor.

your eyes widened as the girl's eyes met yours, and then she sputtered out blood before laying there, lifeless.

"don't look." young-il voiced out, craning his neck down to meet your gaze. he clenched his jaw, settling you with a cold glare, "look at me."

"you should've told me this was the plan," you hissed through gritted teeth, squinting as the flashing of lights overwhelmed your senses, "would you be okay if that was m—mphh!"

he put a finger to your lips, shaking slightly as he gave you another warning glare. 456 watched with bated breath, as if counting all the people dying.

the lights go off again, and the room remains dark. only the noises of people fighting can be heard.

"time to move," 456 tells young-il, who nods and begins shifting out of the bed. you follow along, but he pushes you back in, "don't get out until i tell you."

"what?" you frown, confused. your words are quick, "you expect me to hide here while you go out there to do god knows what—

as you speak, young-il grits his teeth, frustrated. he's desperate as he grabs your shoulders. he glances back, makes sure no one sees before silencing you with a kiss. it leaves you breathless. he cups your face and looks into your eyes intensely, "don't get out until i tell you to." his voice is urgent, "close your eyes, put your hands to your ears. trust me, and listen to me for once."

you blink rapidly before nodding, still a little out of it. you don't think you'll ever get used to how good kissing him feels. you wish you could feel it again and again, under better circumstances.

456 hisses for young-il, and he pats your head before rushing away as soon as the doors open. the guards come in, rapidly firing their machine guns towards the ceiling, stopping the fight. you watch carefully, heart dropping to your stomach as young-il and 456 lay there, as if dead, along with 390 and 388. you almost rush out to check on them, but young-il's previous words hold you back. you watch as the guards start putting those devices to the dead bodies' ears, and when they reach your team members, 456 suddenly attacks. the rest of the team similarly manages to take their guns away, and kill the remaining guards. you almost jump out of your skin as a firing match starts— and young-il and player 120 skillfully kill most of them. you look on with bated breath, flinching as the guards fall to the floors. you begin to get out from under the bed, panting. one of the guards was still hiding, and he immediately aimed the gun at you. before you could move, young-il shoots him dead.

you look around the room, swallowing the lump in your throat at the sight of all the dead bodies. so many people with hopes and dreams. people with families, laying there, lifeless. cautiously, you looked around with purpose, before your eyes fell on player 380's body.

she couldn't hide.

you look away, sweat rolling down the side of your head. you clench your jaw and glare at the other team, eyes narrowing with resentment as you catch sight of nam-gyu. swallowing hard, you walk past the bodies, careful not to step on them. your eyes fell on your team members gathering the guards' weapons.

so this was the plan. you frown, rushing forward to help them. the guns are heavy, but you manage to place many of them along with some ammo on the bedsheet laying there.

456 announces the plan— something about capturing the ones who captured them all, and going to their headquarters to make them pay. you shift your gaze to young-il, who stares ahead blankly, as if thinking hard. you wonder if he's scared.

"anyone who knows how to use guns and wishes to join us—" 456 calls out, "please step forward!"

the players are silent, frozen. cowards, you think to yourself. you step forward immediately, and young-il's face hardens so dramatically, it almost makes you laugh. he takes a step towards you, "absolutely not!" he snaps, "stay right there."

"you need all the help you can get!" you argue back sharply. you point an accusatory finger at player 100 and his team. "don't you see? even these so called tough guys aren't willing to go with you! don't put your trust in these people, i can help more than they can! my aim's great!"

while you talk, young-il pinches the bridge of his nose, calls your name again gruffly. a warning.

"don't drag us into this!" player 100 interrupts angrily, his lip curling with disgust. "this is madness! you don't stand a chance against them!"

you quite literally snarl as you rush towards him, jabbing a finger to his chest. it makes him stumble backwards, "you had no issue with risking our lives and your own for money, but standing up to those who caught you is where you draw the line?" you glower at him, scoff at the rest of his team. to emphasize your point, you gather saliva in your mouth, spit it by his shoe. "fucking pussy !"

young-il quite literally snatches you away by the collar of your jacket before the other team can do anything. it's a little baffling how swiftly he moves, even while carrying such a big gun. he takes you to your side of the bunker, shoves you onto the bed, "don't make me tie you up." he grunts threateningly, "you are not going and that's final. you're built like a bird, you won't stand a chance against armed guards. i refuse to watch you get killed."

456 calls out for you, voice soft but urgent, "it's best if you stay here. we won't be able to focus if he's— if we're worried about you."

you grit your teeth as you scowl at young-il with glassy eyes. they're tears of anger. you want to scream at him. you want to pull him towards you and never let him go. you look at your team, watch with longing as player 120 guides them on how to use their guns. she's brave and badass, it makes you want to be like her.

"and you're okay with getting killed?" you drift your attention back to young-il, voice cracking. "what am i supposed to do if something happens to you?"

young-il sighs, gaze softening as he kneels before you . your lips wobble as you glare daggers at him, eyes narrowed. he shakes his head, "i'll come back to you alive."

you scoff bitterly. "how can you be so sure?"

"i just am."

"promise me." you hold your pinky up, clenching your jaw as you stare at him intensely, "promise me you won't die. promise me you'll come back for me."

he looks at your pinky, and then at you. you've always found him harder to read than other people. but you see reluctance in his eyes. he sighs, before raising his own pinky, joining it with yours. the contrast between your hands would've been comical if you were not in this shithole. he gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

"i promise."

you can hear player 100 yelling at his team, clearly talking shit about you. you look over young-il's shoulder, and he glances at the old man too before turning to you knowingly.

"don't get in any trouble while i'm gone." he whispers softly. he reaches behind his back. "and just in case— i want you to have this."

it's a pistol. he probably took it from one of the dead guards. your eyes widen and you look at young-il. he teaches you how to unload it, and reload it, and how to work the safety, before placing it in your palm. your gaze never leaves his face. questioning.

"you've made enemies here," he explains, as if it's obvious, "if any of the men there try anything—"

"you want me to kill them?" you quirk an eyebrow.

his mouth curls into a smirk, "i want you to be safe."

he gets up, and as player 100 looks at you again, you jokingly aim the gun towards him. he jumps back in fear, stumbling into the younger men at his side. you chuckle, and young-il lowers your hand. "behave."

it makes your heart jump.

"why does that kid get a gun and we don't?!" one of the younger men yells. young-il ignores him.

you grin at him almost childishly. he shakes his head before addressing 149— the old lady who got here with her son.

"don't let her leave," he tells her, giving you a stern, sidelong glance. you roll your eyes.

before he can leave, you grab his hand and look at him intensely. you can only hope your eyes can convey what you can't verbally, not in front of people. for his sake.

"be careful." you decide to say, voice cracking. you memorize every feature of his face, with only one thought in your mind.

you're not allowed to leave me.

he nods, looking away before walking to his team. you yell at them too, telling them to be careful and watch as they carefully exit. you look on with longing as you watch them go, before glancing down at the gun in your hand, and then at the door again. soon enough, you can hear the faint sounds of guns firing. it makes you jump, but player 149 puts a hand on your shoulder, comfortingly guiding you to sit beside her.

you almost contemplate rushing out, what would these people even do? stop you? you have a gun in your hand, although you wouldn't want to pull it on 149. she's a good lady. people are already scared. you don't want to make it worse.

so you stay, and hope that young-il keeps his promise. pinky promises are sacred. you either keep them, or you die.

you decide that if he dies, you'll just bring him back to life somehow and kill him again.

you don't remember how long you wait. multiple times, you stand up and pace around the room. agitated, scared. every gunshot has you looking at the door again and again, hoping that somehow young-il will decide to burst through it. 149 tells you to be calm, tries to distract you with your life outside the games. it doesn't work.

thankfully, the pistol in your hand had scared the other team enough to not try anything with you. they talk within themselves, trying to busy themselves with conversations and anxiously bouncing their legs as they look at the ceiling. you wonder how they can be so calm after killing your team.

"you people are cowards." you say to no one in particular. the message hits the target though, because the ones who weren't willing to go and help shift uncomfortably.

"you'd rather die losing to a stupid game instead of a noble death trying to help people," you chide, chuckling bitterly. 149 tries to stop you from talking, but you shrug her words off with a shake of your head. you stand up and face the other team again. "it's shameful. you had no problem killing others who were in the same position as you, but your oppressors is where you decide to stop?" you gesture towards the dead bodies. the sight of blood doesn't make you squeamish anymore. it just makes you sad.

"these people died because you wanted to keep playing." you hiss, "you killed them."

the people on the other side don't respond, instead lowering their gaze to the floor. you look at nam-gyu sitting on the side, fiddling with something. you want to kill him. you want to kill everyone who stopped you from going home, who became the reason more innocent people died. your morals are a bit fucked, you think, but you're okay with it. people who do bad things deserve to die. you raise the gun, aim it at player 100. he flinches, and sits straight up, raising his hands. his team members shuffle away from him, and it makes you snicker. when he's on death's door, they abandon him. "have you gone crazy!?"

"game or no game, you were meant to die." you clench your jaw, your mouth twitching. "shall i kill you, old man?"

you don't get to pull the trigger. you're interrupted by player 388 rushing inside, panicked and covered in blood. your eyes widen, and you go straight to him, grabbing his shoulders. he looks shaken up, "what happened? where's 001? is he okay? did you find—"

"gather all the remaining ammo," he says shakily, fumbling over his words, "we ran out. i need to take some back."

you nod, and 149's son comes to help you check the dead guards' gear and gather the remaining ammunition. 388 wraps it up in a jacket, and rushes to the door, before suddenly stopping. you pause, looking at him, sweat breaking out across your skin. there's a bad feeling in your stomach. "what's wrong? aren't you going?"

he doesn't respond. you can't see his face because his back is turned to you. a moment passes and you step forward cautiously. he drops the walkie talkie, and your eyes fall to the floor where it lands— where you can hear the voice of player 120 asking where he is. they have no ammo.

"i can't do it." 388 whispers, shaking. he rushes back to his bed, drops the little makeshift bag full of ammo and cowers into himself. your eyes widen. you look at the walkie talkie, and back to him. if they don't get ammo soon, they're going to die. you rush to the bed, shoot 388 a frown— you consider comforting him, but you have another priority now. you grab the bundle and turn to leave.

149 runs after you along with a few others, pulling you by the sleeve of your jacket. she's trembling with worry. "your father told me not to let you leave—"

amidst the chaos, you let out a chuckle.

"he's not my father," you reply, yanking your jacket from her grip and composing yourself. the sentence would've had you cackling in a better situation. you can't wait to tell young-il about it. you can understand why she'd think so, even though you and young-il look literally nothing alike. the opposite, really. he's like a father in spirit.

your face hardens and you address the crowd. "they need help. is anyone gonna come with me?”

nobody moves. you scoff bitterly. predictable.

149 looks at you helplessly, pushes her son to grab you. when he advances towards you, you pull out the gun and hold it to his head, eyes crazed as you pull the safety. you warn him dangerously, "step back."

he raises his hands and steps back, lowering his gaze. holding the bundle to your chest, you walk backwards, aiming the gun to both sides of the room and ensuring no one grabs you. you look at 149, meet her crushed gaze and mouth an 'im sorry' to her before running out as fast as you can.

you're quite sure you got lost. you're running as fast as you can, trying to follow the sounds of the gunshots, and looking for any bullet holes or signs of struggle. you look up and see broken cameras, and recall 120 shooting them back in the hall. you follow them until one of the red guards encounters you, immediately raising his gun. he's slow, infuriatingly so— but it doesn't matter because in your panicked haze, you shoot him in the stomach, then rush forward and kick his gun away before running off.

you can see your team. you let out a breath of relief, and as soon as 120 meets your gaze, she gasps. you shake your head and quickly slide over to her, giving her the rest of the ammunition. she quickly reloads, and you toss the rest to the other players, before looking around frantically, flinching at the gunshots. "where's 001 and 456?" you ask her.

"control room!" she points towards the end of the hallway, and you nod before advancing. she tries to protest but you're quicker, and she's preoccupied with firing. luckily, the guards never seem to fire at you.

there are two sides. you hesitate, before finally taking the left one where you just heard two gunshots. you quickly rush forward, pistol held protectively. the whole area looks like some sort of purple maze, and you're wary as you walk, scared that a guard might jump out and shoot you.

finally, you see your young-il's back. he's crouching on the floor, looking at a dying player. the relief you feel is baffling. your eyes widen, and you call out his name. "young-il sir!"

he tenses, turning back so fast that you worry he'd get a whiplash. visibly stressed, he rushes towards you, shaking his head, "no— no, no, no, no, no, what are you doing here!”

you run towards him, almost tripping on the stairs. he grabs your shoulders, shakes you aggressively, "i told you not to fucking leave!"

you almost flinch at his tone. it's strange to see him swear. you answer him shakily, panting, "they— they ran out of ammo, i couldn't leave you!"

he looks upset and shaken up, clenching his jaw as he pinches the bridge of his nose, mumbling incoherently to himself. you turn towards the dying player, your expression pained. he tries to point at something, but you don't understand what. you kneel towards him, and his hand falls down. his croaking stops.

suddenly, you hear the footsteps of guards heading towards you. before you can move, you're surrounded. you hold onto your gun, shaking as you quickly stand up. you swallow hard, unblinking as they aim their guns at you.

that’s when you notice it.

they're aiming at only you, and not young-il. it makes you feel strange.

you look at him, and he's taking sharp breaths, as if trying to compose himself. or trying not to scream with rage. it's odd, how relaxed he looks. tense in the face, but relaxed in the way that he didn't take an offensive stance, or feel surprised at the sight of the guards. you frown in confusion, before he flicks his hand. the guards lower their guns.

you blink a few times, swallowing the lump in your throat, dread settling in your stomach. you look at the guards, then at young-il, who refuses to meet your gaze. you repeat the action.

guards. young-il. guards. young-il. then the players on the floor. then back at young-il's face. and it takes you a moment, but the realization sets in.

the guard letting you go to the restroom when young-il was by your side, him conveniently appearing to save you when you went exploring, him walking with that air of authority. how the guards never seemed to look at him too long. how easily he killed the man during mingle without a second thought. how one look from him had the guard lowering his gun during voting. how he was sure he wouldn't die. things that you never should've looked over.

you step back, your breathing getting ragged as you slowly raise your gun towards young-il. the guards point their guns at you again, ready to shoot. he stops them by raising his hand in warning. he clenches his jaw, his eyes unreadable and guarded.

"who are you." you demand tightly. your voice shakes pathetically, it makes you wince. you've never been this scared of anything in your life. not even the games.

"it doesn't have to be this way." he says quietly. his voice seems different, deeper. gravely. he holds his hand out to you in what he hopes is a comforting fashion. "put the gun down."

you step back, putting your finger on the trigger, just the way he taught you. ‘i want you to be safe,’ he'd said.

"i asked you a fucking question!" you yell, voice cracking. your gun feels slippery in your hands. it almost falls. you fumble trying to keep a tight grip on it. all this time, the prospect of death felt a little comforting with the idea that you'd have young-il by your side if it happened. but now, it just terrifies you. it looks bleak.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as fresh tears roll down your cheeks. you were always fucking unlucky. the first time you like a man this much, he turns out to be the bad guy. you feel utterly pathetic and terrified.

his eyes dart all over your panicked face before he gestures towards one of the guards, who raises his gun. there's a flash of guilt in his eyes that you can't miss. it makes your blood freeze. you refuse to die alone.

you straighten your aim towards young-il and pull the trigger. two gunshots ring out, and you don't get the time to react before something stings your chest, and you fall to the ground.

your vision goes black.

there are no dreams, no last memories. no flashes of your life. there's this heaviness in your chest, like someone is suffocating you.

you wake up with a startled gasp, sitting up immediately. your vision looks blurry, but with a few blinks you can make out a room. a lavish room with a closed window on the side. you frown in confusion, before putting your hand to your chest. there's no bleeding, no pain except the one in your muscles.

you swallow hard, your throat feeling dry. for a moment you wonder if it was all a dream, but when you try to move, you realize your right hand is chained to the side of the bed— with those strong black straps with locks that they used in the second game. you pull at it a few times, breathing getting heavy as you look down on yourself. your bloodied green jersey has been replaced by a comfortable pair of pink pyjamas that cover your arms and legs. you raise your hand to your head, and there's a small bandage on the right side of your face that you remember previously scratching in the bathroom.

you struggle a little, try to look for a way to unlock the straps, but it's like the room is purposely empty. absolutely no sharp or heavy objects to help you escape. like a prison cell.

you think of young-il. is he dead? you remember pulling the trigger. you knew the risk that came with aiming the gun at him when you were surrounded by guards— you just had this thought that if you were going to die, you would drag him with you. he won't get to live after what he'd done.

you don't get to brood about your thoughts for long, because the door opens and he steps inside— a man dressed in black, with a creepy mask. it makes you feel uneasy. you touch your chest again, look at him with a questioning gaze.

“it was just a tranquilizer.” he answers your silent question, voice distorted through the mask.

“is this really necessary?” you ask dryly, rattling the chain on your right hand.

“do you feel comfortable?” the man asks, gesturing towards your clothes.

you grit your teeth, “cut the bullshit. who are you?”

the man sighs, looking down, as if disappointed. he looks at you again before taking off the mask, and you feel like throwing up.

his hair looks different — slicked back with gel. his eyes look tired, even more so than back at the games. he looks more intimidating this way. you feel a strong urge to leap across the bed and ruffle his hair so he can look familiar again.

you have so much to say.

why did you do this? who the fuck are you? how are you still here, when i so clearly remember shooting you?

“you're alive,” you instead remark dryly. young-il gives you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

“your aim needs more practice,” he says quietly, patting his right shoulder. “barely grazed me.”

the idea of having hurt him almost makes your chest ache, but you remind yourself of who he is.

you sniffle, lips wobbling as you look at him. your dear young-il. who comforted you, protected you, held you and kissed you so dearly. he really made a fucking fool out of you.

“and what's all that for?” you tilt your head towards his hand. trying to put on a mask, just like him. a brave face.

he places the mask on the table, walks over to sit on the side of the bed. you flinch, moving away from him slightly.

he notices, and it hurts more than getting shot. he doesn't dare reveal that on his face.

“is your name even young-il?” you ask quietly, voice strained.

he shakes his head. you snort bitterly.

“i'm guessing you're the big boss then.” you remark flatly, looking around the room. forcing yourself to appear nonchalant. he wants to tell you to drop the act, because he can still hear your voice faltering.

he nods, “something like that. i design the games.”

you bite down on your lower lip to stop it from wobbling. nobody knows the strength it takes trying not to cry. you lower your gaze to your lap.

your next question is pathetic. you would expect yourself to scream and threaten him to let you go, but there's only one thing on your mind.

“was i a game to you too?” you ask quietly. you don't want to know the answer. perhaps you would've preferred it if he killed you.

he sighs, averting his gaze. he utters your name softly, and you feel like a weak woman because you still like the way he says it.

your voice almost waivers when you ask, “are you going to hurt me?”

he looks at you, blinks a few times before answering honestly. “don't make me.”

you hold back the urge to sob. your left hand comes up to clap over your mouth, and he looks away as you cower in on yourself. how can he say that, after covering your eyes and pulling you into him to ensure you didn't get scared by people getting killed? you wish there was atleast a lamp on the side table, maybe you could've cracked his skull to free yourself from this fear. and to take revenge for playing with your heart.

“you ruined everything.” he admits, voice growing tight. solemn. he clenches his jaw, mouth twitching with barely disguised anger. “i went into the games because of gi-hun, to make sure he doesn't stop the game. and then ended up paying more attention to you than him.”

you release a shaky breath, pulling your knees to your chest. your mouth twists with emotion. gi-hun. player 456. your eyes widen, heart leaping out of your throat.

“is he okay?” you ask, voice cracking with concern, “is he alive?”

his head snaps up— gaze hardening almost dramatically. his eye twitches, and he gives you a tight smile. it doesn't suit him because it's not the one you're familiar with. “are you worried about him?”

you glare at him, eyes narrowing.

“he’ll be fine.” he adds nonchalantly. his voice sounds different— cold in a way that makes goosebumps rise on your skin. “would you rather be with him than me?”

you snort bitterly, looking away with a roll of your eyes. he can't be fucking serious. he has the audacity to be jealous after what he's done to you. he is so unbelievably ridiculous.

“put me back in the game.” you hiss through gritted teeth.

“i can't do that.” he shakes his head, “you will die in there. you won't survive the next games. i made sure they get increasingly difficult—”

“i'll win!” you argue, “i’ll beat them all and win, stop treating me like a fucking child—”

“you are a fucking child compared to me!” he bellows, making you flinch. your gaze never falters as you grit your teeth, looking at him with all the rage you can muster. he grabs your jaw, squishing your cheeks so hard that your lips pucker. he would've kissed you if he wasn't so fucking angry. his voice is harsh as he continues, shaking your head. “you! are quite literally a baby compared to me and the others in there. they're ruthless animals who won't hesitate to rip you apart to win. you're going to die in there and i wouldn't be there to save you!”

his words have your stomach churning, because he's right. but that doesn't matter to you.

“since when do you care?!” you snap challengingly. your words come out muffled.

he glares back at you, his nostrils flaring with anger, “i wish i didn't care.” he hisses, voice low. hoarse. he leans towards you. “oh how desperately i wish i didn't care about you.”

your heart begins to race as you stare at him, dumbfounded, unable to speak. he looks into your eyes, then glances down at your lips, before making eye contact again. he lets go of your face and straightens up, composing himself.

“you almost ruined my entire plan.” his voice is collected, almost guarded. “you consume my every waking thought ever since i felt your head against my chest. do you know how many times i had to warn my guards not to shoot you? especially with how many times you kept crossing the line?”

your breath hitches, and you open your mouth to argue. he doesn't give you a moment to speak.

“i'm not sending you back in the games where you can die.” he continues darkly. he brings his hand to tuck your hair behind your ear. the action is gentle— a stark contrast against what he previously did. the situation you're in, the kind of man he is. you blink at him, eyes teary. his gaze softens just slightly. “you made me promise not to abandon you. I don't plan to.”

“you're a sick man,” you whisper. you can't believe he's holding that against you— your promises from when he was deceiving you, “you designed those fucking games. you can stop them anytime you wanted. i got stuck here because of you, you killed all those innocent people. you're a sadistic, psychotic asshole—”

he shoots you a warning glare, pressing his hand against your mouth. “don’t test me, brat. ”

you sniffle, letting out a pained whimper. you push his hand off your mouth, “let me go.”

he looks unamused, “i can't do that.”

“were you not planning to leave me?” you try to reason with him, desperate. “when you left with the rest of the team? you wouldn't have come back after that—”

“i would've found a way to get you home.” he admits quietly. “i had a plan. but then you came running after me like the brat you are. you never listen.”

“then let me go now!” you protest heatedly. his words have your heart hurting. if that's true, then you're the one who sealed your fate. another impulsive decision ruined your life. “i told you about me. i told you about my mom! i miss her. she and my sister—" you almost choke on a sob as you croak the words out, the mere thought of them driving you to insanity, "they need me."

“i've settled your father's debt,” he mentions after a moment of silence, looking deeply into your eyes. he hopes it gives you some comfort, stops you from wanting to leave him. “you don't have to go back. they'll live a life of ease.”

your blood runs cold. that means he knows where they are.

“do you expect me to fucking thank you?” you can't hold back the tears rolling down your cheeks, shaking your head, “i wanna go home.” you sniffle, “you ruined our lives. you played with my feelings and my life. people are dead because of you. how can you say you'd have let me go home one moment, and then refuse it the next?”

"don't hurt them," you speak again, leaning forward almost pleadingly. perhaps you shouldn't piss him off. you're not the kind to beg for your life. but your family? now that's another thing. "please keep them out of this. dont hurt them, please."

"i won't," he says airily, his dark eyes deeply boring into yours, "not if you don't give me a reason to. just be good."

you sniffle, violently trembling. be good. you'll be good. for your family's sake.

his hands cup your face and you flinch. his thumbs brush the tears away. you avert your gaze. you can't meet his eyes— you resent him.

you resent yourself because his touch still makes you feel an odd sense of comfort.

"this is torture," you choke out, "why are you doing this to me?"

he says your name softly, guides your face up to look at him, “i’m selfish.” he admits. “the moments i spent with you.. was the happiest i've been in a… long, long time. i'm not ready to let go of that. ever. ”

he has lost everything. his wife, his baby. his brother. his humanity. only now he has control over his life, enough resources. he can change fate with a flick of his finger. he's not going to lose you, not after you've made him feel human again, for the first time in years. you've ripped open his ribcage and climbed inside, sealed it shut with your touch. he hasn't been needed by anyone like this— it gives him a sense of purpose. he doesn't trust himself to not lose his mind if you're ever out of his sight. he'll make sure you're by his side, where he can hold you and comfort you. whatever it takes.

you shake your head, lips wobbling. you try to pull away, your free hand coming up to hold onto his, to pry it off your face. he doesn't let up, instead climbing towards you and invading your personal space as he presses your foreheads together.

“i don't know about you kids, but in my time, pinky promises were a big deal,” he says lowly, the side of his mouth quirking up. he's trying to joke, he wants to see you smile again. the way you did when you looked at him— with stars in your eyes. like he's your hero. nothing else has ever made him feel more alive. “i’m afraid i can't let you go.”

you let out a shudder, squeezing your eyes shut as he pushes you till your back collides with the bed. you shake your head, voice tired. “just kill me.”

his face drops, and he looks at you coldly, “you think i'd have you here like this if i planned to kill you?”

you don't respond to that, your chest heaving. everything hurts. your head is pounding, and you feel faint.

his thumb brushes across your cheekbone. he looks at you tenderly, analyzing every feature of your face.

“you know, i really expected you to struggle harder against me.” he observes. the words make you feel embarrassed. your skin heats up with shame, and you clear your throat, looking anywhere but him.

he might be right, you think. you've struggled a little, yes, but he can tell you have the ability to be so much more insufferable. but you're not, not yet. it's fucked up. because even after everything, for some reason you can't seem to brush him off you. you can't seem to let go of the comfort and hope he provided you in one of the most terrifying moments of your life.

you convince yourself it's because your family's life is on the line. not because of your personal feelings.

you don't answer him. you don't have to either, because judging by the small smirk creeping on his face, he knows.

“i'll take care of you,” his face softens. he's trying to convince you. there's a desperate edge to his voice. you look so utterly beautiful to him— your complexion glowing even more because of the pink pyjamas he got for you. in that moment he makes a mental note of what color clothes he'd shower you in the most. “those people down there that you're so desperate to save? they would've thrown you under the bus to win. they don't care about you. i'll make sure you're safe. the life you were living before was worthless. let me look after you.”

“i hate you,” you whisper, voice cracking. another tear rolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away. you don't mean it. he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“i know.”

you don't get to speak again, because he tilts your head up and crashes his mouth onto yours in a bruising, punishing kiss. it makes you wince, and you choke on a soft sob. against your better judgement, you kiss him back.

the moment your mouth parts under his, he takes the chance to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding in. he moans into your mouth, holding your face as he climbs over you completely. you contemplate biting his tongue off, but you don't. as if reading your mind, his hand comes down to gently squeeze your throat— just enough to make you feel a little lightheaded. you gasp softly, eyes blinking dazedly at him. he pulls his mouth away, then places a soft peck upon your lips. then another. and another. you take greedy breaths as you squirm under him. his hand leaves your throat and slips under your top and you jolt at the feeling of his warm hands against your tummy. his mouth trails down, leaving soft kisses across the smooth skin of your neck.

“you’re sick.” you gasp shakily, throwing your head back, giving him more room to place his wet kisses upon you.

“you're the one letting a man like me touch you,” he whispers hoarsely against your neck, voice slightly teasing. “maybe you're just as sick as i am.”

his words make you shiver. you consider them, and you force yourself to think of all the people back there in the hall, ready to march to their deaths tomorrow. your eyes open and you snap out of your trance.

you use your free hand to push slightly at his chest, gaze pleading, “don't kill them,” you whisper. “let them go. atleast our team. they're good people—”

“are you really doing this?” the switch in his voice has you quivering slightly. his hand comes up, grabs your hair. it stings just slightly. a warning. "do you think they would've been this desperate to save you?"

you let out a noise of protest, looking at him helplessly. trying to touch a string of empathy within him. he has none, not anymore.

“they knew what they were getting themselves into. there's no favoritism. you either win, or die.”

your ears ring, heart pounding against your chest. “then what am i?”

he smirks, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

“you're my little girl.” he noses the side of your neck. goosebumps rise on your skin, “don't bring that up again.”

you grit your teeth, feeling even more remorseful. is there no way to change his mind? even being responsive to his affection doesn't help.

but you're not being docile to change his mind.

you realize you're pliant because you like being under him.

your logical side forces you to speak. your guilty conscience doesn't allow you to get too comfortable under a killer. "this feels wrong."

he stops, clenches his jaw with restrained anger. he squeezes his eyes shut, mentally counts from 1-10 to avoid doing anything he might regret later.

"let me make you an offer," he pulls back, cocking his head to the side. his eyes are unreadable, voice flat, "i'll let them go on one condition."

your eyes widen with hope, and you nod enthusiastically, eager for him to speak.

"with every player i leave alive—" a small smirk appears on his face, despite his best efforts to hide it. "i'll kill someone you love."

the way terror seized you was suffocating. your throat immediately felt dry, eyes widening with shock. you stared at him, motionless, images of your family, your friends, flashing through your head. his hand gently splayed across your stomach, pressing down a little.

"a life for a life." he announced again, giving you a tight lipped smile, "how does that sound?"

"no." you warned, clasping his wrist desperately with your free hand, breathing rapidly. "no— no. please don't. i'll— i'll stay with you. i'll do anything you say, just—" you held back a sob, "please don't hurt them."

in life threatening situations— people only look out for two types of people. themselves, and the ones dearest to them.

he smiled fully then, amused. predictable, he thinks, before leaning back down, "then conversation's over."

"you made the right choice," he whispered. you didn't bother struggling, squeezing your eyes shut. his hand pulls down your top just enough. his mouth quite literally waters as he bites down on your exposed skin, leaving cherry red bruises across your collarbones.

you have no choice, you tell yourself. it's okay to get comfortable now. you couldn't have done anything.

you mewl, and he slips two of his fingers in your mouth, watching intently with a hungry gaze as you suck on them enthusiastically— just like back in the hall. your eyes flutter, and you mumble incoherently as his fingers gently thrust in and out of your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. it’s messy and sloppy, and the sight of your saliva slipping down your chin makes him moan softly, “my pretty baby.”

you whimper as his hand slides down to your bottoms. you wait with bated breath as you look at him with hazy eyes. his hand slips down into your panties, and a desperate moan escapes your bruised lips.

“i just want to ruin you,” he chuckles breathlessly, teasing your entrance. he hovers over you, looks at you like a starving man as he pinches your clit. you yelp slightly. he taunts you, gaze full of faux innocence as he raises his eyebrows. “does it hurt, huh, sweetheart? do you want daddy to make you feel good?”

“oh fuck—” the moment that word comes out of his mouth, in his soft, breathy voice— you moan. you're pathetic. it's whiney and high pitched and so utterly desperate, it makes him proud to get a reaction like that out of you. and suddenly he understands a little more why you got so attached to him. he pecks your lips again, and smirks against your mouth. he teases your entrance with a single finger.

you whine, “please.”

“what did you say, hm?” he pretends not to hear you, pushing two fingers in. you've never been brave enough to use two even while masturbating— and his are long and thick. the stretch makes you wince. “come on, baby, tell your old man what you said.”

you try to capture his lips with yours again in hopes that he would stop teasing you. he chuckles breathlessly, then lets out a soft moan at the way your walls clench around him.

“i’m a sadistic, psychotic asshole, right?” he throws your words back at you, and you wince. you squeeze your eyes shut, bite down on your lips to hold back a needy whine. his fingers pull back and then thrust again, curling slightly. his thumb goes to your clit, rubbing it. you take a sharp breath, squirming on the bed as you moan again. he doesn't let up, “is that not what you called me? and now you want me to make you feel good?”

his voice grows serious again, face hardening. his motions stop. “apologize.”

your eyes snap open, and you look at him, surprised. “huh?”

“apologize,” he repeats, “for everything you said earlier. and i'll consider making you cum.”

that gets you to clench your jaw. you glare at him with narrowed eyes, chest heaving with frustration. but you won't do it. if anyone should be apologizing— it's him. he was the one who deceived you and ruined your life. and he hasn't apologized even once. he must think you're stupid. hell would freeze over before you apologize.

you almost reconsider your decision— but then again, his threat only stands if he leaves the players alive. he didn't say anything about language. you shake your head, your previous stubbornness taking over. “not a chance in hell.”

he snorts, looking at you, unamused. his facial expressions don't change, but you can see it in his eyes. little things like a twitch give him away. your heart drops as he pulls his hand out completely, his fingers glistening and wet. he brings them to his mouth, sucks the juices off so casually that it leaves you dumbfounded and flustered.

“i have no patience for brats.” he nods, standing up. you stutter over your words, mouth opening and closing like a fish. much like it did when you first met.

“b-but—”

“i have some work to do.” he announces coldly. you wonder if he's going to do something bad. he's having the time of his life, sexually and emotionally tormenting you. “i'll be back in a bit. i asked the guards to bring you some chocolate milk. feel free to tell them your favourite food for dinner.”

the sudden change in events has you so unbelievably baffled that you can't say a thing as he begins to leave. it's brutal, and it almost makes you want to cry.

“sir?” you call out softly, almost timidly. unsure of how to address him. you're not going to take a risk.

he stops midway, before sighing to himself. he turns to you, looks at the desperation in your eyes.

“inho is fine.” he remarks flatly, swallowing hard. he doesn't know why he decided to reveal his name to you.

perhaps because it would give him another excuse to not let go of you.

you keep looking at him, a devastated expression on your face. like you're dying inside. and maybe you are.

your only source of comfort is gone. you'd gotten too used to it in the past few days. now you wish you'd never met him.

the emotion on his face is unreadable as he walks back to you. he places a soft kiss to your forehead and turns to leave. you grab his hand. the prospect of being alone leaves you terrified. maybe if you can convince him to stay, be good for him, he wouldn't hurt your loved ones. you'll behave.

you start to miss how things used to be.

if things were different, he would have come back to you. he would smile as he walked through the door, and you would finally feel your heart pumping blood as you run to him. he'd drop his gun and hold you, and you'd cry into his chest. he'd ask you if you caused any trouble, and you would take him to your bed and tell him everything. you would tell him that 149 called him your father, and he would laugh— his old man laugh which sounds so sweet and makes his eyes crinkle. he would ruffle your hair and say something along the lines of, ‘with how many times i've saved your ass, i might as well be.’

from a younger age, all you've ever desired is comfort, something you never received. someone to hold you when you cry, to take care of you. protect you. you're sick of being the tough one. the mere idea of it was so far away for you, that the first show of affection and reassurance had you getting this terribly attached. perhaps, inho's biggest crime was taking that away from you.

“inho.” you whisper, visibly crushed. you don't even feel horny anymore. you just miss his comfort, his soft words of reassurance. his laugh. your eyes grow teary. “please don't leave me.”

he looks at you, contemplating. he sighs defeatedly, before grasping your hand properly. it's so warm, and you choke on a soft sob as the reality of your situation sinks in again. you're done for. there's no escape. you're alone, and there's no one to save you. your young-il will not come swooping in to protect you, because he was never there in the first place. you don't even realize when you break down into heartbreaking sobs, breathing ragged.

he isn't used to showing much physical affection. not after what he went through, not until you. and now with you like this, something softens within him. he sits back down on the bed, wordlessly leaning into you, his arms open. you feel utterly pathetic at how quickly you crawl into his lap, burying your face in his chest. you feel like you're betraying your team, but do you have a choice? perhaps you did. you could've chosen to be tough and refuse his affection. but the stakes are different now. your family's life is on the line.

you never stood a chance, not after you met him.

and you don't want to think of a single instance where you don't get to experience being held by him.

your morals are more fucked than you thought. even after all the threats, after him practically forcing you to stay, you can't help but desire his affection. you'll be selfish for once. what could you have done anyway? you would've died in there, and your family would be alone. if what he said is true, atleast now they can live a life of ease without any debts.

as for your team, 456 will look out for them. he's alive, afterall.

you force your mind to be silent.

“i miss you,” you wail painfully, your free hand clutching the fabric of his shirt.

he holds you like a child, a hand pressing your head close, the other wrapping around your waist. he shushes you gently, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. he doesn't regret anything he did. you'd made him promise to come back for you, afterall. he always keeps his word. “i'm right here.”

you lean into his neck, and breathe in the smell of him. you squeeze your eyes shut till your sobs die down into the occasional hiccup. the stretch of your right hand and the rattling of the chains is another reminder of where you are.

perhaps if you stay hidden against his chest, you can try to convince yourself it's still your young-il holding you like this.

A/N: so! that's the end of dusk till dawn. this story truly was my joker. i tend to add a lot of psychological elements and character interactions so the fic feels more immersive and realistic, like you're really part of the game. i hope you liked it. can y'all tell who my favourite characters are? lol. also, i'm very horrible with smut so i really tried but i just can't write too much 💔 I'm mostly an angst girl as you can tell. anyways, this was a little self indulgent. thank you so much for the support you guys showed me, it truly means everything! i might write blurbs related to this specific couple from time to time, but no promises! maybe if i get good ideas or requests. anyways i rambled a lot. thank you for reading. feedback is always motivating.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali

#raven writes #frontman x reader #the frontman x reader smut #hwang inho x reader #hwang inho x you #squid game x reader #squid game x reader smut #squid game fanfic #salesman x reader #player 001 x reader #player 456 #young-il x reader #lee byung hun x reader

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mameillieureennemie · 2 months ago

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halloooo can I request a short fic of modern au college vi x reader, reader is vi's room mate and a nursing student that needs to review for her exams and memorize human anatomy and what the muscles are called. Since Vi is pretty fit she comes up with this joke that she can write the muscle names on Vi's body, and Vi surprisingly agrees to it and I'll leave the rest up to u :3

this was so much fun to write! thank you, anon, i'm buzzing.

college roommates!vi x reader, modern au, nursing student!reader, rated m

You knew this would be a bad idea.

You were highly aware of it when you thought of it, and even more so when you asked. But you didn't know what else to do, and honestly, you had always been a visual learner.

Plus Vi was your roommate and was always talking about if you needed any help, you should never hesitate to ask her.

But asking for help like this was...bold...and brave...and maybe a little bit stupid.

Even if you did initially joke about it because this was never supposed to come to fruition.

There was no turning back now, though.

"So you just want me to take off my shirt?" Vi asks, both of you stood in the middle of your living room. She's looking at you, inquisitive, and you manage a nod while trying to find your voice.

Which is hard, considering you're so close to seeing Vi with her shirt off. Which isn't new because Vi walks around shirtless all the time. She basically lives in her sports bra when she's at home, but this is different.

You'll be getting up close and personal with a shirtless Vi. Running your fingers over her defined muscles as you memorise them. Feeling the heat of her skin against yours because she always runs hot. It's tricky territory that you're falling into, especially considering your preexisting feelings for the woman in front of you.

Damn you and your stupid jokes.

Damn Vi for entertaining your stupid jokes and making them real.

You watch as Vi takes her shirt off in that infuriatingly attractive way. Both of her hands crossed at the hem of her shirt before pulling it over her head. Your eyes are instantly drawn to her abs and the flex of her arms and you may not survive this.

Vi smiles at you, pretty and gorgeous, and so beautiful it hurts and spreads her arms open as if saying come at me.

The gesture makes you snort but also has you feeling a little warm. Especially with how her muscles shift beneath her skin at every move she makes. It's so hypotising.

"Okay, so I'm gonna write on you, and I'm gonna get real close because anatomy," you explain lamely, but Vi nods, listening seriously. "If you get uncomfortable or it's too much, then just tell me, and we'll stop."

Vi nods again, smiling. "Thanks, sweetheart. But I highly doubt that will be a problem." She says and you hum, curious.

"And why's that?" You asks, uncapping a washable marker and nearing Vi's left bicep.

Vi shrugs, turns her head away for a second, and when you glance at her face, you swear you see a hint of pink across her cheeks.

"Because it's you," she murmurs, quiet but loud enough for you to hear and oh.

"I see," you mumble, all warm on the inside and without an answer to give.

You take your time memorising Vi's body, writing down scientific names over the correct parts, and changing up the marker's colour to add fun to it.

Vi seems genuinely interested in what you're doing, even asking questions that help with your memorisation. The once tender atmosphere is light with your chatter and laughter, both of you smiling as you go through anatomy together.

Running the tip of the marker over Vi's collarbone has her squirming because she's ticklish, and you can't help but write over the bone again. You do it twice more, grinning as Vi tells you to knock it off. You tell her you won't, and she makes you swear, but that lasts for about ten seconds before you're back to it.

"You're such a jerk!" Vi exclaims, laughing as she tries to snatch the marker from you. But you're fast, and you end up dancing away from her as she attempts to grab at it.

"How can you not grab this from me?" You tease as you dodge another one of her reaches. "And you work out way more than me. This is an embarrassing moment for you."

Vi growls (oh, that's an interesting noise), and you squeal as she lunges with a speed she hadn't bothered to showcase until now. Your attempt at dodging is pathetic, and Vi has an arm around your waist as she presses you against the living room wall. Her other arm has its hand wrapped around your marker-wielding wrist and trapped above your head.

"You were saying how this was embarrassing for me?" Vi murmurs, sounding triumphant, and you'd hit back with a snarky retort but you can't because your tongue is tied.

Vi's pressed up against you, chest to chest, skin to skin, and she's so warm. Her face is mere inches away from yours, the tip of her nose almost touching yours, and you can see just how blue her eyes are. Just how red her lips are and how plump they look.

Your eyes dart up from her lips, and you catch Vi doing the same. That has your head spinning, seeing that she's also looking at you like that.

Like she wants to...

"Vi," you whisper for no reason you can decipher. You don't know why you're calling her name, but all you know is that you're burning up, and your heart is beating too loudly in your ears.

But then Vi takes that leap, lets loose a soft whimper before whispering, "Can I...? Please can I...?"

You're nodding your head faster than you can speak, but Vi's on your lips before you can even say yes.

The way she kisses you has your knees weakening. Her lips are surprisingly soft and taste like the strawberries she ate with her lunch. The inside of her mouth is even sweeter, and she echoes your moan as her arm around your waist tigthens. Her hand holding yours against the wall comes down to grasp your chin, tilting your head to the side to deepen the kiss and ah.

You pull away for air, cheeks flushed, and vision hazy as Vi trails open-mouth kisses down your neck. Your hands slide into her hair, nails grazing over her scalp, and you gasp as her deep groan sinks to your skin.

Then she's making her way back to your mouth, and you pull her in greedily, allowing her to lift you up so your legs wrap around her waist.

"Sweetheart," Vi rasps, managing to pull away for a moment. She barely resists you drawing her in for another kiss, your hands cradling her cheeks. "Sweetheart, what about your exams? I wouldn't—wouldn't want you to fail and—?"

"Vi," you say breathlessly, resting your index finger over her lips. "Pretty girl, what's another way for one to learn about anatomy?"

Vi looks at you before the blues of her eyes darken further, and she's nipping at your jaw.

"I can think of one way."

#vi x reader #vi x you #arcane x reader #vi arcane #arcane #arcane league of legends #my writing #then they BOOMBAYAH #gotta love anatomy and stuff

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multi-fandom-imagine · 1 year ago

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Hi I would like to request a smut fem reader x Adam morning sex

A/n: Finally writing that Adam smut I promised I was gonna write.

Clinging desperately to you, Adam nuzzled into your neck as his hands then snakes around your hips as he pulled you into him. A small grunt leaving his lips as you felt his morning wood press into your backside.

"Really Adam."

A sleepy grin formed on his face as he let his fingers cup your breast's giving it a harsh squeeze. "Can you blame me sweetheart? How do you not expect me to wake up hard when I got a goddess layin on me."

Rolling your eyes, a small chuckle escaped your lips as you rubbed yourself against him. "Lazy morning sex?"

"You read my mind darlin." Adam muttered as he placed a kiss to the nape of your neck.

Letting out a soft laugh, you turned your body so you were laying under neath your lover.

Adam's eyes narrow with a mix of desire and possessiveness watching you, he couldn't pull his gaze away. You were so beautiful, the most beautiful woman in Heaven. He can sense the urgency and need in your gaze, and it only fuels his own desire to claim you completely.

"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low, commanding growl. He positions himself at your entrance, teasingly brushing against your slick folds, before slowly pushing himself inside you.

A deep, guttural groan escapes his lips as he feels the tight, velvety grip of your walls around him. He begins to move, setting a slow and deliberate pace, savoring the sensation of your body enveloping him.

His hands find their way to your hips, gripping them firmly as he increases the rhythm, his thrusts becoming more intense. Each thrust is filled with a mix of possessiveness and adoration, as he claims you as his own.

Leaning down, Adam captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he continues to move within you. His body pressing into you, good you felt so good, so fucking perfect.

Breaking the kiss, his hand clutched your hips.The sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through out the room as he broke the kiss. His voice husky as he looked down at you with adoration in is eyes. "You feel so fucking good.So fucking tight and wet around my cock. You were made for me, to be filled by me."

His pace quickens, his thrusts becoming more urgent and powerful. He can feel the coil of pleasure building within him, and he knows he won't be able to hold back much longer. But he wants to bring you to the edge first, to watch you unravel beneath him.

With each thrust, he seeks out your most sensitive spots, his fingers digging into your hips. "You gunna cum for me?. Show me how much you want me. Show me how I make you feel. I wanna feel this pretty pussy clench around my cock."

Dropping one hand from your hips, Adam let his thumb rub you clit in small circles.

Chest heaving, you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. His name spilled from your lips, a cry tore from your lips as your orgasm hit you, your walls clamping down on his cock.

Adam's eyes darken with primal satisfaction as he feels your walls clamping down around him, signaling your release. He revels in the sound of your cry, knowing that he's the one who brought you to such a peak of pleasure.

He continues to thrust into you, riding out the waves of your orgasm, prolonging the sensation for both of you. His voice is a low, husky growl as he watches your blissed-out expression. "That's it, my girl. Let go for me. Give yourself completely to the pleasure I'm giving you."

Feeling the tightness of your walls and the overwhelming pleasure coursing through his own body, Adam can no longer hold back and with a guttural groan, he releases himself inside you, filling you with his warmth.

He didn't care about staining the sheets, the only thing that mattered was marking you, filling you so everyone can know who you belong to.

Shifting his body, Adam moved so he wouldn't crush you, his body trembling with aftershocks of pleasure. "Shit...you always know how to make me feel beautiful."

Pulling out from your warmth, he then gave you a lazy kiss hugging you close. "Love you."

Letting out a soft laugh you ran his fingers through his hair. "Love you too Adam."

#drabbles #drabble #adam #adam smut #adam x reader #adam x you #adam x y/n #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel smut #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n

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bigwishes · 7 months ago

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Big's Perma Bulk!

(Community Requested Story, about me perma bulking) What's good bros! It's your favourite wish granting genie here to go on my own transformation journey. Normally I send this kind of thing off to another writer but a lot of you wanted me to be transformation using my own Genie gifts so I've waved my hands and started it off.

I made sure to completely forget about what you guys wanted for me to make it even more surprising but considering all you lot drool at a bicep vein I think I'm in good hands.

After waking up I definitely didn't have anything to worry about. I knew all of you just wanted me to become some big sweaty himbo. Just take a look.

Big arms, thick thighs and a solid chest. I won't lie if I were to make a choice I would of ended up so much bigger than this but hey, it's what you all wanted to I guess I gotta get used to being a himbo stud.

Woah...I guess day two was a little different. I'm a lot bigger ladz so cheers for that but damn, some of this definition is starting to fade. It looks like I'm sliding more to the tank side of the spectrum that the stud side. I'm pretty sure if I move wrong this tank is gonna split in too and my fucking stomach won't stop rumbling, every time I walk in my kitchen I down half a box of cereal, fuck, I should probably take a couple sandwiches back to my desk before I load up some games with the boys.

'BUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRPP'

aw fuck, sorry about that ladz but damn. I woke up this morning and my stomach feels so tight, it feels like my abs are about to split in half. My shorts are so tight around my ass.

Damn what the fuck did you guys wish to happen to me? A slab of muscle instead of abs is one thing but fuck my gut is so bloated, ah man

'UURRRRRRRRRRPP!!!'

whoops, sorry dudes, fuck this is so tight but I still feel hungry, maybe a protein shake and a bowl of rice wont gut, surely this can't get any tighter.

ahhh fuck what time is it? 3am?? why the fuck am I so hungry. I didn't even know it was possible to feel hungry and bloated at the same-

BUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPPPPP

ah man, what do I have in the fridge, mmmmm half a pizza, well I'm sure a couple of slices won't hurt. I hit the gym pretty hard today, its probably my body wanting to fuel up. mmm yeah just 3 maybe 6 slices and I'll be good for the night, probably best to turn the light switch on so I don't make a mess...

w--what the fuck happened to me! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST I'M SO FUCKING BULKY, OH FUCK

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPP

DAMN....fuck well....at least it doesn't jiggle, probably just bloated from how much I've been eating recently, who knew having such big muscles would make me so hungry all the time...

hmmm, I probably shouldn't leave just 3 slices of pizza in the fridge on their, own, that's not even a snack, 9 slices is alright at this time of night yeah?

On the bright side, my muscles have continued to blow up to freakish size, my bicep is bigger than most dude's heads. On the other hand....I can't shift this tank around my mid section. I've been trying to eat less to get my abs back but fuck I can't help it, my stomach growls and I gotta eat enough to feed at least 3 people or else it feels like my stomach is gonna eat itself. It's okay, Ill just cut when summer rolls around, use this time to grow as big as I can, bet my abs will look fucking insane in a few months/

Guess the bright side is I can order that nice chocolate cake with my pizza tonight...I'm pretty sure it's cheat night tonight, or was it last night? hmm, no yeah it is definitely tonight?

UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

ah fuck, wh- UUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPP

what happened - uurp - to me?

a few *hic* days ago I was a lean mean lifting machine

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRPPPPPPPPP

and now...fuck *hic* uuurp- I'm a big, bulky brute

fuu-UUUUUUUURPPPP-ck, my gut is so tight, moving feels like a chore....I'm so fuckin stuffed and hungry at the same time. Who knew my fans would want me to blow up into a 300lsb bulky beast...

damn...I need a shower but, I could really go for a double cheese burger and a snickers protein thick shake, I'm sure it can wait -uuurrpp- maybe I should grab a couple protein bars for the road..

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!!

I can still feel the spell under my skin, I wonder how much bigger these guys will make me, or what else they'll do...

#male transformation #muscle #muscle transformation #male tf #tf story #transformation #gay transformation #reality change #musk

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writteninkat · 6 months ago

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MHA GUYS' FAVORITE PUBLIC PLACES TO FUCK YOU

w/ Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki, Kaminari

warning: smut, nsfw, exhibitionism, oral(f!reader & m!characters receiving), unprotected sex

a/n: sorry denki's seemed super rushed i have a terrible headache and i have a feeling leaving this unfinished won't help:")

navigation

KATSUKI BAKUGOU

this man loves taking you in high places.

balconies, rooftops, pressing you against the floor to ceiling windows of his office located at the very top floor.

there's something about your moans travelling long distances that has him thinking—that's right, extras. listen to how good i make my girl feel. she's just for me, though. feel free to listen as i fuck her so good.

mmhmm, he loves to show off. he loves to show you off.

that's why your breasts are constantly being pressed against his office windows whenever you visit him during lunch

"imagine the fuckers looking up at you right now." he growls in your ear as his fingers busy themselves on your clit, your eyes rolling back in ecstacy as the simple thought of a stranger witnessing this act have you gushing

"yeah that's right, you loving showing others what a slut you are for me, right?" he sucks on the side of your neck, flicking on your clit making your legs wobble in bliss.

at home? your back is digging against the railings of your balcony as your boyfriend sucks on your tits, your fingers swimming through his blond locks with your legs locked around his waist, heels pressing against his round ass

"oh god! oh my fucking god!" you moan loudly, hoping your neighbors hear. hoping they know just how amazing of a fuck pro hero dynamight gives.

"yeah, call for your god all you want baby, i'll still eat you up." katsuki growls, sinking his teeth on the crook of your neck, the pain pushing an orgasm out of you

EIJIROU KIRISHIMA

the obsession this man has with going grocery shopping with you is unparalleled

mainly because he gets to finger and tongue fuck you in every hidden corner you find at the store

"fuck- fuck, eiji!" you gasp loudly, looking around to make sure no one walks in on your boyfriend on his knees in front of you with your leg propper on his shoulder as you press onto the wall, hoping you wont topple over

in the scary case of the act being seen or worse- videotaped, the only person being recognized will be you, as eijirou's head is covered by the flowy skirt of your dress. and that has you grinding your hips on his mouth

"jesus christ, i'm gonna cum baby!" you whisper, feeling his tongue thrusting inside you as he sucks on your clit, electricity running up your spine as you near the top

"c'mon baby," you hear your boyfriend's muffled voice feom underneath you, "cum for me, lemme drink that sweet, sweet juice."

and you do. once a good girl, always a good girl. you can never say no to the sweet boy between your legs.

but the grocery isn't the only place eijirou loves visiting with you.

taking a stroll at the park in the dead of night will have you on your knees behind a tree with your hands tied behind your back by whatever your boyfriend brings or finds.

tonight, he found an unused handkerchief in his pocket, and decided to make use of it.

"god, fuck, baby..." his moans inspire you to take him deeper, watching him through your lashes as he tilts his head back, pressing it against the tree

"fuck, that mouth should be considered a sin." he grunts, tightening his grip on your hair as he moves you himself

his hips move on their own, his hip moving in your throat as your vision begins to dim with the lack of oxygen

"swallow me up baby, lemme feel your throat tightening around me."

and you do as you're told, using the last bit of your energy to swallow him as bast as you can, feeling him burst with thick, hot cum inside

SHOTO TODOROKI

oh how he loves it when you ride him in any of his cars, but he absolutely goes feral when you choose to take the tesla

it means he can shift it to auto and have nothing to worry about. he loves the way his surroundings move past him as your tits bounce above him, your hips shaking in circular motions

it's one of the reasons he lightened his tints. just light enough for the people outside to make out what's going on, but dark enough for your face to be concealed

he lied about others being able to see you though. he knows you want to be seen, but he'll kill before someone gets to see you in this state

"fuck, oh fuck, sho!" you whine, "god fuck your dick feels so good!"

shoto grits his teeth, taking a handful of your tit as the other squeezes your waist, guiding you up and down his shaft

"give them a great show, baby. let them see what they're missing." he urges, allowing your back to arch as your scream in your euphoric state.

the both of you shake the car as it drives, selfishly chasing your own highs until your walls clamp around shoto, milking him for what he's worth

you think that's all? he goes feral whenever he fucks you on his office desk with his door unlocked

as one of the most demanded heros, he always has people calling for him. on the phone, or in person

when he's in the middle of abusing your cunt and his phone rings off? he looks at you in expectation, urging you to answer the call for him

without his rough pace faltering, you sink your teeth on your bottom lip, pressing the 'answer' button and putting the call on speaker

"good morning, mr. todoroki! regarding the press conference..." the caller blabs on about boring details you could barely comprehend as you focus on staying silent.

"mmm," your eyes widen as your boyfriend moans. "i think that venue will be perfect. what does dynamight and deku think about it?"

"they already gave the go signal, sir! mr. dynamight even told me not to call him about such trivial matters..." the man laughs awkwardly throught the phone.

as you feel your orgasm near you, your squeeze on shoto's bicep, alerting him

the fucker simply smirks at you before saying a few more words to the call, your muscles seizing up at the difficulty of holding your orgasm in

as soon as you hear the familiar beep of ending a call, your back archs as pleasure takes over your mind and body

"fuck! you're squeezing me so tightly baby." shoto gasps but you pay him no mind as your eyes roll to the back of your head, core tightening as your hips move on their own, hoping for a better high

as you begin to calm down, your breasts rise and fall rapidly as your hair stick to your forehead. shoto presses a soft kiss on your forehead before slowly pulling out, hissing

you make out the lewd feeling of his cum dripping out of you, making you want for a second round

three knocks are heard on his office doors before a familiar voice announces, "i'm coming in."

you immediately roll over, dropping to your hands and knees as you thank you boyfriend for installing soft as shit carpets. the same boyfriend who had already fixed himself up and is now chatting with Iida like you aren't hidden behind his desk, boobs out and cunt dripping of cum

DENKI KAMINARI

apart from being a hero, your boyfriend likes to play games and interact with his fans through livestreams

and every now and then, when he's being too loud, you like to shut him up by crawling undreneath his table and pulling his sweatpants down

"heal! i need someone to heal me-" your movements cut him off, making him snap his head down at you. eyes wide and jaw slack, a moment of silence passes and you thank every higher being for the peace and quiet before it's being taken away once again

"sorry, lost connection. i'm still dying, you guys!"

you roll your eyes, fully pulling his pants down, surprised at the sight of him already hard. one thing about your boyfriend? everything you do gets him hard.

your mouth waters at the precum leaking from his tip, your tongue immediately darting over to lick it off

you hear denki hiss before telling whoever he's playing with "don't worry about it, stubbed my toe"

you wrap your lips around the tip, looking up to see your boyfriend smiling widely with a deep blush across his cheeks

swirling your tongue around his bulbous head, you suck softly, earning a hiss from him before wiping your tongue over the slit

"huh? yeah, no yeah i'm fine" the continuous sounds of buttons being pressed give you the go signal to finally take him properly inside your mouth

"fuck-" he hisses the moment his head presses against the back of your throat, clearing his throat when your fingers dance towards his balls, cupping them

"i mean, fuck i'm sorry i missed, guys. maybe i should stop the game-" you squeeze the bas of his cock in warning

denki's jaw hardens with his eyes still trained to his screen. he knew if he looked down again, he'll be raising suspicions from his viewers

"nevermind, let's just finish this as soon as we can. 'm gettin' tired." you're unsure whether he's talking to you or his friends anymore, but you continue bobbing your head, making sure you don't hit the table

"guys! guys!" he pants, his grip on his controller tight as his thighs flex

"sorry- i just need medic!" he tries covering up his actions

your boyfriend is the kind who moans the entire house down. he needs to tell you how good you feel, he needs to tell you when he's about to cum and when he is cumming. he's simply a vocal lover, and when he doesn't have the freedom to do that, it fucks with his head

"so fucking good," he pants, "this game is so fucking good you guys!" that was a weak ass save

your tongue runs up the underside of his cock before taking him whole inside your mouth once more, his hisses and occassional huffs like music to your ears

his jaw continues to grind as his fingertips whiten with how hard he's gripping his controller

you play with his balls, watching his brows furrow. he's pissed.

aggressively tapping on the buttons, a moment passes when his undivided attention is on his screen before he slams his controller on his desk. "we won, i hard carried you motherfuckers, thanks for watching, see you all never."

he says it all so quickly before turning the live off, you barely have any time to think when he stands up, pulling you up with him

he spins you around, pushing you against his desk as he fiddles with his mouse, opening the camera app on his desktop

without another word, your boyfriend pushes himself inside you needy cunt, squeezing your nape as he begins to fuck you roughly, hips snappy

"think that was a good idea teasing me like that?" denki asks as he looks at you through his screen, watching your expression slowly fall at the feeling of your orgasm building

"this'd be what they'll see, baby. this'll be how you look like." he says, cupping your jaw and angling it straigh to make sure you see how bad he's wrecking you right now

"a hundred and fifty thousand people would see my pretty girl being fucked like the dirty slut she is." he bites on the corner of your ear, making you gasp. "and she'd love it."

and that was true. the thought of hundreds upon thousands of people watching denki have his way with you would fix a hundred and one of your problems

denki's thrusts become rougher, his desk moving and his equipment shaking as he pulls back, wrapping your hair around his fist, pulling on it tightly

"yeah, fuck yeah. you were made for me, baby." your response comes in loud moans and breathy whines, feeling your orgasm slowly bloom in your belly

"denki! fuck, denki!"

"gonna come for me, pretty girl?" you reply with an eager nod, earning a vile chuckle from him.

"then come all over this cock baby, i'll be right there behind you."

denki was not, in fact, right there behind you. the feeling of his thick, hot load is what pushes you over the edge

you turn around, glaring at the blond as he rolls his eyes sassily. "oh, shut up. my dick was being tortured way longer."

without pulling out, he carries you by your thighs, your back pressing against his chest. he walks over to your shared bed, setting you down softly before the both of you lay on your sides

he pulls the blanket on your bodies, pressing a light kiss on the side of your forehead before telling you he loves you

uhuh. he isn' as much of an exhibitionist as the other guys, but he's addicted to cockwarming

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lacydollette · 2 months ago

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doll!reader wants to take control during sex but bf!rafe isn’t gonna submit that easily, so she has to find another way

warnings: pure smut, established relationship, making out, turning dom!rafe sub, forced submission (?) kinda, handcuffs, praise, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving)

“hngh..feels so good rafey.” you hummed, your hips continuing to roll against his still clothed cock, feeling him getting harder the more seconds pass. His lips were still attached to the sensitive skin on your neck as he sucked and licked on your sweet spot.

Rafe was leaning against the headboard, his fingers digging into your hips, pulling you closer, unable to get enough of you. Just as his lips began to trail down to your collarbone you pulled back slightly, a mischievous smile on your pink and glossy lips. He gazed up at you, his ocean blue eyes filled with lust and complete adoration. “You’re driving me crazy, doll.” he murmured, hands still clinging to your body.

“Good.” you whispered, leaning back down to nip at his jawline, his stubble slightly rough against your soft lips. As your kisses trailed down his neck, something in you shifted. You hadn’t planned for it to unfold like this, feeling kinda strange. Usually, Rafe was the one in charge, his dominant nature pulling you into submission so effortlessly that you never questioned it. You loved the way he took control, how he made you feel small and cared for. But what if you, just once, took the lead?

You weren’t sure where it all came from, but you also weren’t scared to find out. Maybe deep down you’d always wanted to see how far you could push him, to make him yours like he did to you. As your heart began to race you realized that the idea really turned you on, the wet spot on your panties only growing bigger.

Your fingers slid up his chest, brushing over his collarbone before settling at his neck. Your grip tightened slightly, feeling a bit nervous and just adding a playful pressure to start things off. Rafe tensed beneath you almost immediately, his hands shooting up to catch your wrists.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, his tone sharp as his blue eyes locked on yours. You froze, and for a second you thought about chickening out, to just leave it to him, but then a new found courage came rushing through you. “Just trying something new..”

Rafe let out a frustrated sigh, loosening his hold on your wrists but keeping them steady. "Doll, that's not really my thing. You know I'm not into—"

"Please," you interrupted, your voice a mixture of pleading and determination. Your hands moved to cup his face instead, thumbs brushing over his cheeks. "Rafe, I promise l'll make you feel good.“

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed to weigh your words. Rafe wasn't used to giving up control—not to anyone, and most of the time not even to you. But the way you looked at him, your big, hopeful eyes and your sweet pout, made it impossible for him to say no. You were his doll, his everything, and despite his doubts, he didn't want to disappoint you.

"Fine," he finally gave in. "But don't push it." Your face lit up with excitement, not thinking that he’d actually agree. "You won't regret it," you promised, lips brushing against his again as your hands adjusted their grip, softer this time, testing his limits. You could feel the tension in his body as Rafe fought the instinct to pull away, his breathing uneven under your touch.

"Relax," you murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his neck, your lips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm. "Let me take care of you." A playful smirk was plastered on your lips as you placed your hands on Rafe's broad chest, gently pushing him back against the pillows. "Just trust me, okay?" You whispered, your tone dripping with sweetness, though your eyes sparkled with something malicious.

Rafe let you guide him, his hands resting loosely on your bare thighs. "Why do I feel like you're up to something?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, though he couldn't help but smirk back at you. "Close your eyes," you instructed, voice soft but firm. The blonde boy raised an eyebrow, clearly hesitant. "y/n-"

"Just do it," you interrupted, leaning down to kiss him again, silencing his protests. It was a kiss that left him momentarily dazed, and when you pulled back, he complied with a small groan, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Reaching over to your nightstand you slid the drawer open carefully, trying not to give yourself away as you pulled out the fluffy pink handcuffs you’d stashed there, finally finding an opportunity to use them. The rattling and soft clicking sounds as you adjusted them immediately made Rafe's brow furrow, even with his eyes shut.

"What's that?" he asked, his voice sharp, the hint of suspicion growing stronger. "Shh," you cooed, leaning down to kiss him again, but this time he didn't fall for the distraction. His eyes snapped open just as you had clasped one of the cuffs around his wrist and secured it to the headboard.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Rafe protested, tugging his arm instinctively, but you were quicker. You grabbed his other wrist and clicked the second cuff into place before he could stop you. His eyes widened as he pulled at the restraints, the fluffy pink cuffs holding him securely against the headboard.

"Doll, what the fuck is this? Get ‘em off."

You sat back on his hips, earning a low grunt from him while twirling the tiny key between your fingers with a smug grin. "Mmm, I don't think so," you said, voice dripping with confidence. "You're not in charge here, Rafey. I am."

Rafe's breath hitched slightly, his jaw clenching as he looked up at you. There was a flicker of something in his expression— frustration, maybe even a little fear, but also an undeniable heat in his blue eyes as he registered your words. He was done for.

“y/n, I swear to God-" he began, but you cut him off.

"Swear all you want," you giggled sadistically, leaning down until your lips were just a breath away from his ear. "You're mine now, Cameron. And you're gonna sit there and take whatever I decide to give you." Your voice was unusually low, commanding, and laced with a sultry edge that made Rafe’s body react before his brain could catch up.

He squirmed beneath you, his face flushing as he realized just how much your words affected him. "Baby, come on," he said, his tone wavering between irritation and something softer, almost vulnerable. "This isn't funny."

"Oh, I'm not laughing," you replied, grin widening as you watched him tug at the cuffs, the muscles in his arms flexing uselessly. Your pussy clenching at the sight, he was so unbelievably hot like this. You reached out, brushing your fingers along his jawline.

"Baby.." he muttered, his voice strained as he tried to muster up some semblance of control. But the way you looked at him, the power you held—it made him feel small in a way that was both frustrating and oddly thriling, feeling the buldge in his boxers grow. The way you were acting drove him crazy, thoughts running wild with all possible scenarios. It was all so new to him and seeing you in control definitely flipped a switch inside of Rafe.

You fully ignored his complaints, the outline of his cock definitely was enough for you to keep going, your fingers dipped below the waistline of his boxers, pulling them down as his erection sprang free. you held his already leaking cock in your hand, running your thumb along the tip before licking a stripe all the way to up his base. you repeated this action a few more times, then fully taking him in your mouth as far as you could go.

“fuck, baby..” rafe groaned, helplessly pulling at the handcuffs. you began to swirl your tongue around his cock, your hand wrapping around the inches that you couldn't get in your mouth. you continued to suck him off, pulling all the way off and then taking him back in. his grunts became louder, hips buckling up into you, while his tip hit the back of your throat.

Gagging and slurping sounds filled the four walls of your room, your saliva mixed with Rafe’s precum making your mouth move smoothly around him. You could tell he was close by the way he squirmed underneath you, tugging on the cuffs with all of his strength, completely trapped.

“You’re gonna cum for me, pretty boy?” You chuckled up at him, hands replacing your mouth for a second as he watched you with hazy eyes, fully emerging into submission, nodding hastily. “Y-yes..fuck.”

You began jerking him off at a fast and rough pace, your hand gliding along his thick shaft with ease as you watched him twitch, quickly wrapping your lips back around his tip. Just as your tongue tasted him again you felt Rafe release, white ropes of cum pouring down your throat as you moaned, your own arousal running down the insides of your thighs.

Pulling yourself off him with a plopping sound you smirked satisfied, licking the corner of your swollen lips while Rafes chest was raising heavily up and down, trying to catch his breath. You leaned over Rafe, your fingers working quickly to unlock the fluffy pink handcuffs that had kept him restrained for far longer than he'd anticipated—or admitted he'd tolerate. The click of the cuffs releasing was followed by a deep exhale from your boyfriend as he brought his arms down, rubbing his sore wrists briefly, his lips curving into a slow, devilish smile.

"Enjoy yourself, Doll?" he asked, his tone low and teasing, but there was a dangerous edge beneath it that sent a shiver through your body. You were unable stop grinning triumphantly as you sat back on your heels. “Maybe I did," you teased, brushing your hair out of your face. "And maybe I'll do it again."

Rafe chuckled, sitting up slightly, his movements deliberate and slow, like a predator sizing up his prey. "Yeah?" he asked, his voice silky smooth, though his eyes burned with intensity. "You did a good job, I'll give you that. Might even let you take control more often... if you're lucky."

Your confidence flared at his words, lips parting to say something smug, but before you could get a word out, Rafe’s hands shot out, grabbing your waist and flipping you effortlessly onto your back. A surprised squeal escaped your lips as he hovered over you, his body pinning yours to the mattress in one swift motion.

"Rafe!" You gasped, your cheeks flushing as you squirmed beneath him, your earlier dominance quickly turning into nervous laughter. "What are you-" "Shh," he interrupted, pressing a finger gently to your lips before leaning in closer, his nose brushing against yours.

“You really thought that you could just tie me up and have your way with me without consequences..?”

my first time writing for doll!reader and im already obsessed with her and rafe’s relationship 🎀

feedback and requests are greatly appreciated !!

tags 🏷️ @gibson-g1rl @starkeysprincess @drewspinkbunny @drewsarms @rafescokewhore @rafeslacy @rafesangelita @rafey-baby @nativegirltapes @maybanksbaby @httpsdrewstarkey @dolcekissy @moremaybank @cherrygirlfriend @beausling @cosmicanakin

#works ₊˚⊹♡#doll!reader x rafe cameron 𝜗𝜚 #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron #outer banks fic #rafe fic #rafe cameron smut

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leashybebes · 3 months ago

Text

i was yapping at @sazzynatural about my hurdle headcanon and then my hand slipped and now here we are, i guess!

tweaked a little and posted on ao3 [here]. thanks, y'all!

"Hey, Evan?"

"Yeah?" Buck calls, from where he's checking through his cupboards, making a shopping list. Tommy doesn't respond immediately and he turns back from where he's surveying the spice rack to look at him. "What's up?"

Tommy has that fond look on his face that, as far as Buck is concerned, might as well just be what his face looks like. The way that Tommy looks at him lights him up inside. He doesn't think anyone has ever looked at him that way, the way that he catches Tommy looking, so soft and endeared, like just looking at Buck makes him happy. It's -

"I love you."

Buck's heartbeat roars in his ears.

"Y-you - um. What? No, wait, I mean. I heard you. Tommy, that's - "

"Evan." He still looks fond, and that should be impossible, because Buck is screwing up, he has ring-side seats to this, is actively watching himself screw up, and Tommy's still looking at him like - like that. "Stop spiraling. You don't need to say it back, I just wanted you to - "

"No, no, it's not - uh - I, uh. I said I'd meet Maddie for coffee during her shift and if I don't leave now I'm gonna be late, so I, um. C-can we talk about this later? O-over dinner, maybe?"

Tommy's shoulders slump a little at that. "Uh. Sure. If you like."

"Uh-huh, yeah, that'd be great, I'll be back, don't uh - don't go anywhere, I won't be long, I just really - really need to get that coffee with Maddie, I can't be late but uh - that's - that's great, Tommy."

He sees Tommy's eyebrows go up, sees him mouth great, and then he's out the door.

Oh, shit.

***

The drive to dispatch goes in a blur, and he must look pretty freaked out because as soon as Maddie sees him, she quickly finishes her call and drags him into the breakroom.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I - I thought we could get coffee," Buck says lamely, and she gives him the big sister eyebrows. "Really," Buck says a bit frantically. "Can - can we have coffee?"

Maddie rolls her eyes, but she pours them both a coffee and hands him his, putting the table between them and leaning against it.

"I have fifteen minutes. Talk."

"Tommy said he loves me," Buck blurts.

"Buck, wow. That's amazing." Maddie's eyes widen at him over her coffee cup. "Wait. Not amazing?"

"I didn't - uh. I didn't say it back?" Buck says, and feels his heart sink.

"Wait, you didn't?" Maddie tilts her head, looks honestly baffled. Which - fair. Buck is a little obsessed. "Do you - not?"

Of course I do, Buck thinks. How could I not?

"I - I'm being intentional," Buck says, and it sounds hollow already. "I don't wanna rush it and I had like - a timeline."

"Did - did you tell him about the timeline?"

"N-not in so many words," Buck admits.

"Evan! Please tell me you didn't just run out on the poor guy," Maddie pleads, over the sound of the breakroom door opening again. Buck doesn't even care about a potential audience, he's so suddenly miserable at the way he left Tommy at the loft.

"I - I didn't run," he says although - it was probably a close thing. "I…I told him I had to get coffee with you and we'd talk about it later," he admits, his voice getting smaller with every word.

Maddie's face does the thing - the scrunched up pout like she's holding back on telling him that he's a damn moron. Buck scrubs his hands over his face.

"Is this Buck's hot pilot?" Josh asks from where he's pouring coffee.

Buck hears Maddie's mm-hm.

"He said he loves me," he says, still hiding behind his hands.

"Con…gratulations?" Josh says dubiously. "Or, how awful for you? I'm really not clear on the desired response here."

"He thinks it's too soon," Maddie says. "He had a timeline. Which he did not share."

"We were taking it slow!"

"I hate to break it to you, but the way that man looks at you is not slow," Josh says.

"He's not wrong," Maddie says, and Buck hangs his head. Because they're right. They're both right.

"Look, you know me. I stumble into things, I end up too serious too fast and it blows up in my face. I - I really didn't want it to blow up in my face. And then he just goes and - and looks at me like that, and says that, and I don't - guys, I think I really screwed up."

Maddie gives him a sympathetic look.

Josh gives him a deeply, deeply unsympathetic one. "Oh, I have totally dated a Tommy."

"I'm sorry, what?" Buck glares at Josh who looks supremely unimpressed.

"Calm down, ankles," he tuts, and Buck is absolutely going to kill Eddie. Or Chim. He's going to kill someone. How does everyone know about that? "I said I dated a Tommy, your man's virtue is safe."

"What does that mean, you dated a Tommy?"

"Look, not everyone knows when they're five like me, and not everyone goes from adorably clueless to out and proud as fast as you. Sometimes, and I know this might be a little revolutionary for you, Buck, but sometimes the queer experience? Fucking miserable for a really long time. So sometimes you just want to grab happiness where you can find it, as soon as you find it."

Buck thinks about the things he's learned about Tommy over the months they've been seeing each other, each one a little treasure to be hoarded, a part of the puzzle that makes up the man that he already can't imagine life without - the asshole father, the dead mom, the army, the closet, the loneliness - and he wants to slap himself.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, his heart sinking further at the message Tommy's sent.

Do you want me to cancel the reservation?

Buck turns his phone to show Maddie and Josh the message.

"What reservation?" Maddie asks

"Dinner," Buck says miserably. "Date night."

"Okay," Josh says. "Some of us are supposed to be working and don't have time for your little baby bi crisis. Evan Buckley, are you actually going to fumble that man? Before you answer, be aware that two thirds of the population of WeHo will get a hard-on the moment he's back on the market even if they won't know why."

"He's not going back on the market," Buck snaps. "I just - I just need to talk to him."

"There we go," Josh says, rolling his eyes and disappearing with his mug of coffee, and an idiot called back over his shoulder.

Maddie's a little kinder, hugging him quickly. "Tell him how you feel, Buck. Talk it out."

***

By the time Buck gets back to the loft, he has another message from Tommy.

Hey, I headed back to my place. Let me know if you want to talk, or if you want dinner. I'm sorry if that was too much. It doesn't have to change anything.

"Goddamnit," Buck grumbles, throwing the Jeep back into gear. The drive to Tommy's has never felt so long, and he sits outside for long enough that the neighbor across the street is just openly staring through the blinds. It's enough to propel him out of the car and up to the door.

It takes Tommy a minute to answer when Buck knocks and he looks - surprised to see him, honestly. Buck feels a horrible twist of guilt.

"Can I come in?"

"Evan. Of course. You want a coffee or something?"

"No," Buck says, trailing Tommy into the kitchen. "I - I did have one with Maddie, I'm kinda…vibrating out of my skin enough as it is."

"I'm sorry. That's not what I was aiming for."

"Y-you don't need to be - Tommy, I - "

"Hey, look, it's fine," Tommy says, and it looks like he really believes it. Like it really is completely fine that he told Buck he loves him and Buck's response was to buffer internally for a minute and then run out of his own damn apartment like his ass was on fire. Tommy taps his knuckles on the table between them in what Buck recognises as a nervous gesture. "I know that I'm not - I'm not the forever guy, and that's okay. I didn't say it to make you say it back. I said it because it's true and I wanted you to know."

"What are you talking about?"

"That I - " Tommy honestly looks a little puzzled. "What I said, this morning. It wasn't - there weren't any strings attached."

"You're not the forever guy? What the hell does that mean?"

"Just that - that I know I'm not exactly a…long-term prospect, and that's okay."

Okay? It's so far from okay. It's the worst thing Buck has ever heard.

"How are you not a long-term prospect? That's - that's the dumbest thing I ever heard, take that back."

"Evan. I used the L word and you couldn't get out of there fast enough. It's okay. You don't have to try to make me feel better. It's fine."

"It's not fine," Buck snaps, rounding the table to get closer to Tommy, catching hold of his wrist. "I'm not - look, I had a timeline, which, Maddie pointed out I didn't actually tell you about that, so that's my bad. But it was a timeline for me, to stop me going too fast and falling too hard and - and going full Buck. I didn't expect that you would - "

"Stomp all over this mysterious timeline?" Tommy asks, his eyebrows going up.

"And I'm now realizing how stupid that was. Did - did you mean it?"

"Evan. Of course I meant it." He glances down at where Buck is still squeezing his wrist, not quite holding his hand "I - honestly, I didn't think it would come as a surprise, I'm not exactly - "

"I love you."

Tommy blinks. "Evan - "

"Please believe me. Tommy. God, I screwed this up so bad, but - I do. I do love you. You are the forever guy. You're my forever guy. I promise. I just - I was just scared. But about me, not about you. Never about you. Tommy, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and I - "

"Evan. Say it again."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Buck lets himself sway forward, lets his forehead meet Tommy's shoulder. "Not the forever guy. You're a goddamn idiot is what you are."

"I'm your idiot," Tommy promises, and Buck laughs shakily.

They love each other. They love each other.

#911 fic #bucktommy #episode 6 spec #except not really i don't actually think this will be the thing #i think the thing will be something weirder than i can possibly imagine #but i do love the idea that tommy's visible from space hearteyes might cause a bit of consternation

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charmedimsure · 14 days ago

Text

Wake Up Call

pairing: Thanos/Choi Su-bong x f!reader

summary: Thanos is you're least favorite regular at the club you bartend for. But when you find him passed out against the building one night, you can't just leave him there. No debt/no games AU.

word count: 2.4k

warnings: drinking, drugs, addiction, depression

A/N: i'm really proud of this fic. expect a second part sometime soonish (gonna work on requests first tho). if you find any mistakes no you didn't <3

The music in Club Pentagon is so loud it feels like it's inside of you. You're placing the olives in a dry martini a patron is waiting for, handing it to them with a smile. You're one of the most popular bartenders at Club Pentagon. Men order from you because they're drunk and want to fuck you, and women order from you because they're more comfortable drinking cocktails that have been made by another woman.

"Señorita, over here!" A voice yells out to you and you sigh at the familiar voice.

You turn and put a hand on your hip, spotting the telltale purple hair of your least favorite regular. "What do you want?"

He puts a hand over his heart. "Ouch, you hurt me, baby. I just wanted to see my favorite girl."

You roll your eyes, grabbing a nearby towel and quickly wiping drops of different liquors off the bar. "Well, you saw me, so you can leave now."

He takes a glance at his little posse around him, consisting of guys hoping to get famous, girls wanting to say they slept with a rapper, and your least favorite coworker Nam-gyu. You have no idea how the runner still has a job here, considering he spends more time licking the failed rapper's boots than actually running anything.

"You know, I have an extra space at my table," he says. "I'd love if you came over after your shift. Thanos will treat you well."

You groan. The boy has been relentless in asking you out ever since you started working at the club. "I would rather sit with the movie villain than you." You look over his shoulder at your coworker. "Nam-gyu, take him away or I'm gonna volunteer you to clean the floors."

With a hiss, Nam-gyu puts his hands on Thanos' shoulders and steers him away from you. Thanos smiles over his shoulder, waving at you. "I'll see you tomorrow night, Señorita!"

You cringe, knowing that you most definitely will see him again tomorrow.

The next night goes by much too slow for your liking. You spend your shift mixing the same drinks over and over, putting up with the men who flirt with you, and calling security on some men who won't leave girls alone. You had of course seen Thanos, but the club was so busy that you didn't even have the time to reject him, instead just huffing at him and turning to another person waiting at the bar.

Once your shift is over and you've finished everything you need to do, you step out through the back door, taking a deep breath of air that doesn't smell like smoke or alcohol.

As you walk toward the street to hail a cab, you spot a flash of purple against the wall. Getting a bit closer, you recognize the passed out body of Thanos.

While a small part of your mind is telling you to just leave him there, you know you can't do that. You crouch down next to him, putting your fingers on his pulse point and letting out a sigh of relief when you feel his heartbeat. You look down at him, furrowing your brows when you notice that the cross that always hangs around his neck is slightly open.

Carefully picking it up, you take a peek inside and see an assortment of multi-colored pills. Shit, he's lucky he's just passed out. Had you known he'd been on... whatever this shit is... you would've banned all bartenders from serving him drinks. He may be the bane of your existence, but you're not going to let him die.

You close the cross and remove it from around his neck, shoving it in your pocket. You lightly slap his cheek a few times until he blinks his eyes open, looking around him. He looks at you, eyes adjusting to the light.

"Hey, Señorita," he slurs. "Where is everybody? Where's Nam-su? He was supposed to take me home."

You let out a small chuckle at the name he called your coworker. "They aren't here."

He frowns, trying to stand up. "I need another drink."

You grab onto his shoulders, supporting his weight as he nearly topples to the ground. "I think you've had enough, Thanos. It's time to get you home."

He makes a sound of protest, but doesn't have the strength to stop you from dragging him to the curb as you wave down a taxi. The car pulls up and you help Thanos into the back seat before sliding in next to him.

"Where to, Miss?"

The plan was to take Thanos to his place, but you don't know where he lives and the odds of him telling you or the cab driver right now are slim. He also can't be left alone in the state he's in. One more pill could send him over the edge.

With a sigh, you tell the driver the address of your apartment building, holding Thanos upright as he pulls away from the club.

Thanos wakes up, his head pounding worse than ever. He reaches for his cross to pop a pill to get rid of the headache, but instead of finding the necklace, his hands just grab his shirt.

He opens his eyes, hissing when the light makes a pang of pain go through his head. Looking down, Thanos' cross is nowhere to be found. That's when he realizes that he's not in his bed, or any bed, for that matter. He's laying on the couch in an unknown place, a small garbage can on the floor next to him. On the coffee table in front of him is a glass of water. He reaches for it, downing the whole glass in one go. Spotting a small note next to the glass, he picks it up and reads it.

'If you barf I'll make you clean it up. Use the garbage.'

He hears a noise coming from the other room and stands up, wanting to figure out what is happening and where he is. When he steps into the kitchen, he nearly gasps when he sees you with your messy hair and oversized t-shirt on.

You turn to look at him. "Oh good, you're not dead. I really didn't want to deal with that." You walk over to the fridge. "Blue or red?"

He gives you a confused look. "What?"

"Gatorade," you clarify. "Blue or red?"

"Oh, uhh, blue."

You grab the blue bottle and place it on the table. "Drink that. The electrolytes are good for hangovers."

Thanos walks slowly to the table, picking up the bottle and taking a sip. "Do you have a bathroom?"

"No, I just pee out the window," you deadpan without thinking. You see him look down, a look of embarrassment and shame taking over his face. You sigh. "Down the hall to the left."

The boy nods and disappears down the hallway. He walks into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He feels in his pockets, taking out his phone and huffing when he sees the battery is dead. Looking inside your medicine cabinet, he frowns when he can't find what he's looking for. How can you have no painkillers? Instead he takes the mouthwash, taking two big gulps. Mouthwash has alcohol, and he needs it. When he doesn't feel the familiar sting, he looks down at the label.

'Alcohol free'.

Just his fucking luck.

He puts the bottle back in the cabinet and closes it, coming face-to-face with himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes have never been darker, at least not that he can remember. His skin looks pale, and his hair is disgusting. He turns the knob for the sink, splashing his face with cold water.

When he walks back into the kitchen, you're no longer there. He moves to the table, seeing a plate with scrambled eggs and toast sitting next to his drink. Thanos hesitates, not really knowing what to do.

"That's for you, you know."

He jumps a bit when he hears your voice behind him. You come out of your room dressed in your casual clothes.

You smile slightly at his expression. "Do you not like eggs?"

He shakes his head. "No, eggs are good."

Your smile grows. "Good because that's all I know how to make. Do you want any hot sauce with it or something?" You put the rest of the eggs from the pan onto your own plate and leave the pan to cool off.

"Do you have pepper?" Thanos asks.

You nod, walking to the table and putting your plate down on the opposite side of his. "It's on the table."

Thanos cautiously sits down in his seat, reaching for the pepper and putting it on his eggs. He takes a bite, pleased to find that they are cooked just right. He watches you as you eat your breakfast in silence, scrolling through your phone mindlessly. A shot of pain going through his head and he winces. "Do you have any painkillers?"

You shake your head, not taking your eyes away from the screen. "I do, but I think you've mixed enough substances with whatever's in that cross you carry."

Thanos feels his entire body tense at the mention of his cross. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing ends up coming out.

You lock your phone and put it face-down on the table. "Don't worry, I didn't throw it out. It's in a safe place, along with the painkillers and anything else that could potentially be abused."

The boy lets out a breath and nods, continuing to eat slowly. He looks you over silently. Your face is bare of makeup and your hair is still messy. Thanos has liked you since the moment he first saw you at the club, but you've never looked more beautiful than you do right now. "What happened? How did I get here?"

"I found you passed out outside the club last night when I was leaving," you explain. "You said Nam-gyu was supposed to bring you home but I couldn't find him, so I took you back here."

Thanos huffs. "Fucking idiot," he says under his breath.

You snort out a laugh, and Thanos thinks it might just be the most beautiful noise he's ever heard. He wants to know what he can do to hear that noise again.

You both finish your food in a comfortable silence, you looking at your phone and Thanos looking at you. At one point you catch him looking at you and raise an eyebrow. "Everything okay?"

He takes a deep breath. "Why are you helping me? Why are you being nice to me? I've been nothing but an asshole to you."

You sigh. "Honestly, I've been asking myself the same question. I think I just saw you there, alone and in need, and I thought that I would've wanted someone to help me had they found me like that. You have been an ass, but I think that's more the pills than you."

Thanos nods slowly, taking in your words. "Well, thank you."

You nod. "Just please don't make me regret showing you where my apartment is. I don't wanna move."

The boy chuckles, and you feel the corners of your mouth twitch up at the sound. "I won't. I promise."

"Good." You stand, taking your plate and his and bringing them to the sink. "I have off today. You're welcome to stay here for a bit until you're feeling better. I'll call a cab for you when you're ready."

Thanos goes back to the couch he woke up on, sitting down. He finds a charger for his phone and plugs it in. You come into the room, putting a new bottle of gatorade on the coffee table in front of him. He thanks you and cracks the seal.

The two of you end up talking for hours. He tells you about how he got into music, and you tell him that you always wanted to try learning to play the guitar, though you've never had enough money to buy one or the other equipment. Thanos feels his heart grow fuller with every laugh he is able to get out of you. He gets more satisfaction from these few hours spent with you than he has every night drinking his life away at Club Pentagon.

At one point, you look at him, a lazy smile on your face. "What's your name?"

He gives you a look of confusion.

"Your real name. I doubt your real name is Thanos."

He lets out a nervous laugh. He hasn't gone by his real name in at least a year. "It's Su-bong," he says shyly. "Choi Su-bong."

"Su-bong," you repeat, as if trying out how it feels. You smile at him. "I like Su-bong. You should be him more often."

Later, as you stand outside your building calling for a taxi, you turn to look at the boy next to you. "You know, you could be so much more than this."

He looks at you with wide eyes. "What do you mean?"

"You have talent and heart, more than you've ever shown while out of your mind drunk and stoned," you say. "So many people's lives are ruined because they keep chasing that high. Don't be one of those people. Please. You're meant for better."

A cab pulls to the curb in front of you. As Su-bong opens the door, you put an arm on his shoulder, stopping him. Digging into your pocket, you pull out his cross and hand it to him. "The choice is yours. And if you decide you want to give your life another chance, I'll be here to support you." You hand him a slip of paper with your phone number. "This is for support. If you text me the way that you talk to me at the club, I'm going to block you. Do not make me regret this."

He smiles as he takes the cross and the paper from you. Once he sits in the car, he rolls the window down. "Thank you again, for everything."

You give him a small smile and wave before walking back into your apartment building.

Once inside his own apartment, Thanos walks to his bathroom. He takes the cross out of his pocket, opening it to find his pills. He picks one up, examining it. With a sigh, he drops the pill into the toilet, turning the cross over so the others follow. He watches as the bright pills swirl around bowl before disappearing down the drain. He doesn't want to be this person anymore. He wants to be someone that you can be proud of. Someone that he can be proud of.

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #x reader #player 230 #thanos #thanos squid game #thanos x reader #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #t.o.p

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coldilikeit · 1 month ago

Text

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 13

______________________________

"We have to get off this ship" Annabeth whispers "the amount of monsters here aren't normal, something is going on" she says

You were about to agree then a loud clang was heard, you four quickly hid

Looking at the window you see straw dummies with orange camp half-blood shirts, a Dracaenae (dragon women) rips the dummies and the other monsters cheer

"—Don't push me Agrius!" You feel both Annabeth and Percy stiffen as the sudden voice seeps into your ears

"Luke..." Percy shudders, This Luke guy and his friend were arguing, something about gambling, wait no- that's a metaphor for taking a risk

"it will pay off!" Luke yells "They'll take the bait... Now let's check in the casket"

Tyson whimpered "Leave now?"

Silence...

"please..." He muttered after

The remaining three of you came to an agreement, Percy looked eager and Annabeth looked worried

You sigh "We can't, if this guy is talking about something that relates to camp or something worse, we have to find out"

And if possible beat the shit out of him and drag him back to camp to explain

Annabeth volunteered to go alone, saying she had a camp that turned her invisible so it'd be fine, it was met with both you and Percy objecting and saying everyone will go or no one will

"I vote no one goes! Pretty please?" Tyson pleaded, and it ended with three kids crawling and walking like spies with a big cyclops nervously chewing his fingernails trotting behind

Someone opens the door for Luke and the monster, not another monster... A demigod!

"that's Chris Rodriguez! From the Hermes cabin!?" You exclaim and then you clasp your hands to your mouth after realizing you were too loud

Annabeth looked heartbroken "there are more traitors...?"

______________________________

A certain king of Atlantis is sat across Bruce, the looming presence between the two, but there is a sense of respect shared

"As a father myself I feel like you should know something" Aquaman sighs

The blonde haired king reminisces the feeling of losing a child, his baby was abducted by someone he trusted and he got his little boy back at the end, it was a dreadful feeling

The feeling that no matter how many good you'll do next, the person you wanted it to be for won't be here to benefit, "Diana was mistaken, Your child was spotted by one of my merguards on the sea, they're alive and I thought you should know-"

"Where?! Where is my kid right now?" Bruce had jumped from the table to shake Aquaman's shoulders

"they are at sea on a ship... And I'm afraid they might be in danger, as the ship is heading for the sea of monsters- or what you humans call the Bermuda triangle, and I can't stop it-"

"Why not!? Aren't you the king of the ocean!??"

"Calm down, I am the king of Atlantis, not the sea nor the ocean, do not mistake me for my emperor, Lord Poseidon"

Bruce takes a deep breath, "Why is my baby there?, how can I get them?"

"I believe your child is on a quest, a quest given by the gods, mortals cannot interfere, you only have to wait for it to be over, there is also a chance they may not get out of the quest alive, Bruce... Don't try anything" Aquaman tries to warn

"I'm not letting my child stay in a place called the sea of monsters, I'll find them" he says

The king looks at him with sadness "Unfortunately you cannot find the sea of monsters, it finds you, it doesn't matter if you search the whole ocean, if the sea does not want you finding it, you won't, you are gonna have to trust your child that they have the means to survive this"

Silence took over, then a gentle heartbroken voice appeared "you just told me my baby is alive, and if they die again, I don't know how I'll pull through this time"

"I'm so sorry Bruce, I'll take my leave"

______________________________

"We are SO gonna die here" you whisper in Percy's ear

Annabeth shifts as to the four of you tiptoe into the Captain's door, that's when you hear them, muffled sounds, you push your ear through the door

Luke talking about a casket and a golden fleece, the fleece you guys are looking for! What will Luke use it on?

"I can't hear anything!" Percy frustratingly says, Tyson pushes his ear through the door and speaks, he speaks in Luke's voice

"—the prophecies ourselves, those fools won't know which way to turn" Tyson says

He copied Luke's voice... You forgot cyclops can do that, how... Creepy.

Nevermind the visible uncomfortable tension that Tyson veiled on the you, Percy and for some reason especially Annabeth, Tyson continues to mimic voice, this time a deeper gruffer voice "you really think the old horseman is gone for good?"

You gasp, they are talking about Chiron, then Tyson laughed, it was Luke's laugh "They can't trust him anymore, not with the skeletons in his closet, the poisoning of Thalia's tree was the last straw"

Annabeth shivered, then she yelled "Tyson stop! That's creepy!", Tyson shrunk "I was just listening"

"keep listening" Percy says

Tyson closed his eyes again "—Quiet! I heard something, just outside the door" and before I could tell everyone to hide

Luke opened the door and saw us

A cyclops, a child of Aphrodite, Athena and Poseidon

"Percy! Anne! Long time no see... Who are these two?" Luke gestures to me and Tyson

Fuck.

______________________________

Bruce: I hope my baby is strong enough to complete their quest so we can reunite

(Name): I am so going to die here

@yunloyal @sirenetheblogger @00hellohello00 @spqce-bun @casspen-starlight @eyeless-kun @ghostdoodlen @ratchetprime211 @delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven @sweetconnoisseurgardener @dhanyasri @bella-wolf100 @shortnsweetsposts @roseapov @d3sperate-enuf @d3kstar @sheep-from-rad

#warmyanderepjoxdc #dc universe #percy jackon and the olympians #dcu #percy pjo #percy jackson #yandere batfam #yandere #yandere platonic #yandere tim drake #yandere jason todd #yandere dick grayson #yandere duke thomas #yandere damian wayne #yandere bruce wayne #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown

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mcrdvcks · 1 month ago

Text

what are hands for?

chapter summary: After an offhand comment from your father shakes your confidence, you find yourself spiraling into self-doubt.

word count: 2.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: i'm not even gonna lie, this is extremely self-indulgent. i've barely been home for a week and my dad's already called me fat once and it definitely won't be the last time

anyways, i basically wrote this for myself but i thought i'd share it because i know for some people, being home for the holidays is rough! and the only thing i need is for logan to tell me he loves me and everything would be perfect

warnings/tags: insecure!reader, reader has a brother, skipping meals, implied that reader has received rude comments from family before, reader describes herself as 5'7" and over 200 lbs one time (like i said, self-indulgent), curvy!reader, angst, fluff

You have always had mixed feelings about going to your parents’ house for the holidays, or even during your breaks during college. You loved home, it was where you grew up so naturally you were supposed to love it.

But you also hated it. Hated the comments, the looks, the yelling—all of it.

And somehow here you were, standing in your parent’s quaint house, your younger brother and his girlfriend already in the dining room helping your mom with dinner while your dad greeted you and Logan.

"Hey, kiddo," your dad said, pulling you into a quick, half-hearted hug before turning to Logan with a small smile. "Logan. Good to see you again."

Logan gave a polite nod. "Good to see you too, sir."

Your dad’s gaze flicked between the two of you for a moment before gesturing toward the dining room. "Everyone’s in there. Why don’t you join them? Dinner’s almost ready."

Logan looked at you briefly, a silent check-in, before heading off. "I’ll go see if they need help," he murmured, squeezing your hand lightly as he passed.

The air shifted the second Logan stepped out of earshot. Your dad turned back to you, giving you a once-over that was a little too long for comfort.

"You’ve put on a little weight, haven’t you?" he asked, his tone casual, as if he hadn’t just landed a verbal punch to your gut. "Must be all that mansion food."

Your chest tightened, heat creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to respond—what, you weren’t sure—but he didn’t wait for an answer. He just patted your shoulder like it was nothing, muttered something about checking on the turkey, and walked off, leaving you standing there alone.

In the back of your mind, you knew you should’ve put on a different shirt, this one was just a tad bit too tight. But it was one of Logan’s favorite’s, so you didn’t pay too much attention to it.

You pulled on your blouse a few times, trying to get it to not stick to your stomach before walking into the dining room like you always did when you were younger, with a fake smile.

---

You huffed, yanking the seventh shirt over your head and tossing it onto the growing pile on the bed. Nothing looked right—nothing felt right. Every shirt clung too much, hung awkwardly, or just didn’t sit right. And with each outfit failure, the voice in your head grew louder, echoing your dad’s casual remark.

You tugged at the hem of your tank top, staring at your reflection in the mirror with narrowed eyes. “Stupid,” you muttered, turning to the side to inspect your profile. “It’s just a shirt. It’s fine.” But it didn’t feel fine.

After another long minute, you grabbed a loose hoodie from the closet and pulled it on, letting it drown you. It wasn’t what you’d planned to wear, but at least it hid everything you didn’t want to see.

You made your way downstairs to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before your class. On the counter were a box of donuts, and without thinking you grabbed the two you normally did in a napkin and made your way out.

But not before pausing at the doorway, a bite already taken out of one donut as you looked down at the food in your hand. You took another bite and threw both away, making your way to your classroom before the kids got there.

You got to the classroom a good twenty minutes early, dropping your bag onto the desk with a sigh. The hoodie you’d thrown on still felt too heavy, too obvious, but you didn’t have the energy to deal with it right now. The two bites of the donut you’d managed to eat sat like a stone in your stomach.

You busied yourself setting up for the day, pulling worksheets out of your bag and lining them up on the desk. It wasn’t much, but focusing on something, anything, kept your mind from wandering too far down the spiral. The kids would be filing in soon, their chatter filling the space, and that would make it easier. It always did.

But for now, the silence was suffocating.

There was a soft knock on the doorframe, and you looked up, expecting one of the students. Instead, it was Ororo. She leaned casually against the frame, a warm, curious smile on her face.

“Morning, Y/N,” she greeted, stepping into the room. “You’re here early. Everything okay?”

You forced a smile, nodding as you shuffled a few papers around unnecessarily. “Yeah, just… wanted to get a head start. You know how Mondays are.”

Ororo tilted her head, clearly unconvinced but kind enough not to push. “If you say so,” she said, her tone light but probing. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a second on the oversized hoodie before she caught herself. “Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do. Thanks, ‘Ro.” You gave her another tight-lipped smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

She hesitated for a beat before nodding and stepping back into the hallway. As soon as she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

The classroom slowly came to life as the students trickled in, their energy filling the room and pushing your thoughts to the background. By the time the lesson was underway, you were almost able to pretend nothing was wrong. Almost.

It wasn’t until later that day, during lunch, that it all came rushing back. The teachers’ lounge was unusually crowded, laughter and conversations bouncing off the walls. You slipped in quietly, grabbing a bottle of water and a granola bar from the counter before finding a corner to sit in.

From across the room, Logan caught your eye. He was leaning back in one of the chairs, arms crossed, but the second he saw you, his expression softened. He gave you a small nod—his way of checking in. You nodded back, offering a faint smile.

You didn’t miss the way his brow furrowed slightly, though, or the way his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he turned back to his conversation with Scott. It wasn’t like Logan to hover or push, but you knew he noticed things. And he never let them go.

---

After classes you went into the kitchen to put your mug in the sink from hours ago. Out of habit, you grabbed a few cookies Ororo had made yesterday before stopping yourself.

You stared at the cookies in your hand, your frown deepening as your dad’s words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Your stomach churned, and for a moment, you felt like throwing the cookies straight into the trash.

“What’d those cookies ever do to you, darlin’?” Logan’s voice startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze wasn’t accusing, just… observant.

You hesitated, gripping the cookies tighter. “Nothing,” you muttered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Just… wasn’t really hungry.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, pushing off the doorframe to step into the kitchen. “Didn’t seem like you were thinkin’ about that a second ago,” he said, his tone teasing but gentle. “Something on your mind?”

You shook your head quickly, putting the cookies back on the plate. “Nope. Just tired. Long day.”

He didn’t look convinced. Logan had a way of reading you like an open book, and you hated it sometimes. Hated how hard it was to hide from him, even when you wanted to.

“Darlin’…” His voice was softer now, his hand reaching out to brush yours. “What’s goin’ on?”

You sighed, leaning against the counter and crossing your arms. “It’s nothing, Logan. Seriously.”

He stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your eyes. “Y/N, you know I don’t buy that. You’ve been off since we got back from your folks’ place.” His voice was low, steady. “Talk to me.”

You hesitated, chewing the inside of your cheek. The last thing you wanted was to unload all this on him. But the look in his eyes—genuine, steady, patient—made it impossible to deflect.

“It’s just… something my dad said,” you admitted finally, your voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s jaw tightened, his expression hardening. “What’d he say?”

“It’s not a big deal—”

“Y/N.” His tone was firm, but not unkind. “What’d he say?”

You exhaled sharply, avoiding his gaze. “He… made a comment about my weight,” you mumbled, feeling your face heat up. “Said I’ve been eating too much mansion food.”

Logan’s expression darkened, his brows knitting together. “He said that?” His voice was low, dangerous. You nodded, still not looking at him. “That’s bullshit,” he muttered, his hands clenching into fists at his sides.

“It’s not—he didn’t mean it like that,” you tried to defend weakly, though you weren’t sure why. “It’s just how he is. And, it’s not like he’s wrong either, I could lose some weight. I’m 5’7” and over 200 pounds, and sometimes my old pants don’t even go over my thighs or hips. And—”

Logan held up a hand, cutting you off gently but firmly. “Alright, stop. Just stop.” His voice was low, steady, but there was a protective edge to it. “First off, I don’t give a damn what your old pants fit like. And second, your dad? He’s got no right to talk to you like that. None.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Logan stepped closer, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “Nope. Not hearin’ it, Y/N. You’re sittin’ here pickin’ yourself apart ‘cause of some stupid thing he said, and that’s not fair. Not to you.”

“But he’s not wrong,” you muttered, looking away. “I mean, look at me. I’m—”

“Perfect,” Logan interrupted, his voice firm. “You’re perfect. And I don’t wanna hear you say otherwise.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re just saying that.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who just says things?” Logan shot back, raising an eyebrow. “Princess, I’m the last person to sugarcoat anything.”

You hesitated, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. Logan sighed, stepping closer and resting his hands lightly on your hips. “Y/N, you’re strong. You’re smart. And yeah, you’ve got curves—and I happen to like ‘em. A lot.”

Your face heated at his words, but Logan wasn’t done. He gave your hips a gentle squeeze, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You think I’d be standin’ here, chasin’ after you, if I didn’t think you were incredible? Come on now.”

“I’m not fishing for compliments, Logan,” you said quietly, still not quite meeting his eyes.

“I know you’re not,” he replied. “But I’m givin’ ‘em anyway, ‘cause you need to hear it. And because it’s the damn truth.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite yourself. Logan grinned, clearly pleased to have gotten a reaction out of you. “There’s that smile,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Missed that.”

The knot in your chest loosened just a bit, and you let out a shaky sigh. “Thanks, Logan,” you murmured. “I just… I don’t feel like myself sometimes, you know?”

“I get it,” Logan said, his voice softer now. “We all got our crap to deal with. But you don’t gotta deal with it alone. Not when I’m here.”

You gave him a small nod, the corners of your mouth twitching upward. Logan’s smirk returned, and his hands slid from your hips to the curve of your thighs, his fingers grazing lightly. “Besides,” he said, his tone turning teasing, “you know what these thighs are for, right?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He grinned, his hands squeezing gently before lifting you up. “For my hands. Nothin’ else they need to do, far as I’m concerned.”

You yelped in surprise, grabbing onto his shoulders. “Logan! Put me down!”

“Nope,” he said, a smug grin plastered on his face. “Not until you stop talkin’ nonsense about yourself.”

You glared at him, though the heat rushing to your cheeks betrayed your indignation. “I’m serious, Logan. I’m not exactly lightweight—”

“Good thing I’m not exactly weak,” he interrupted smoothly, his grin widening. “You think a couple extra pounds are gonna make me break a sweat? Sweetheart, I’ve fought Sentinels and lived to tell the tale. Trust me, I got this.”

You groaned, your hands tightening on his shoulders as he adjusted his grip, holding you securely. “This is ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is you thinkin’ you’re anything less than perfect,” Logan countered, his tone softening just a bit. “Now, you gonna stop beatin’ yourself up, or am I gonna have to carry you around all day until you do?”

“Logan, we’re in the kitchen,” you hissed, glancing toward the doorway. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let ‘em,” he said with a shrug. “Not like they don’t already know you’re my girl.” He leaned in closer, his nose brushing against yours. “Besides, anyone’s got a problem with me lovin’ on you? They can take it up with me.”

You huffed, but your lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, but you like me anyway,” he teased, setting you down gently but keeping his hands on your hips. “Now, what do you say we grab those cookies and actually enjoy ‘em? ‘Ro made ‘em for us, after all.”

Your gaze flicked to the plate of cookies, and for a moment, doubt crept back in. But Logan’s steady hands on your hips and the unwavering warmth in his eyes grounded you. “Okay,” you said softly. “Let’s eat the cookies.”

“That’s my girl,” Logan said, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reaching for the plate. He handed you one, grabbing one for himself, and took a big bite, chewing with exaggerated enthusiasm. “Damn, these are good. Think she’d notice if we finished the whole plate?”

You laughed, the sound lighter than it had felt all day. “Pretty sure she’d kill us.”

“Worth it,” he said with a smirk, taking another bite.

You rolled your eyes but bit into your cookie, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue. For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest eased just a little.

And when Logan leaned in to steal a crumb from the corner of your mouth, you couldn’t even find it in yourself to protest.

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