#and everyone but the control team died

[uniquezombiedestiny]

screams

[wizardnuke]

thinks about the mighty nein. throws up blood

[jackass-jones]

Girl like. The reason he said "this is how it should be" and faced death with a smile....is cuz he wanted to die. For 2 years he sat there thinking he was worthless and deserved to die. If he hadn’t be shot, his death would’ve been suicide, he was fully planning to die in a gutter somewhere undetected. When saying "this is how it should be" hes literally saying "don’t cry because I’m dying, my death is a good thing actually because I fucking suck and you are better off without me". I don’t think that’s badass even slightly, it’s actually really sad and really shitty. Shinjiro is so convinced that he deserves to die and hates the idea of anyone giving a shit about him because he literally can’t wrap his mind around the idea that he will be missed when he’s gone, that his death is a bad thing actually. And his last words were meant to be comforting because he fully did not intend for anyone to be there when he died, he intended to die alone, so he says them as a reminder that he’s not worth crying over

Personally, if it were me, if I was holding my dying best friend in my arms who was deeply depressed and suicidal and he said "this is how it should be" uh. I wouldn’t admire him for it??? Like am I losing my mind when I say the way this game handles Shinji is bad or is anyone else seeing this too 😰

[girlivealwaysbean]

real

[wtfaniii]

oneshot in-ho x reader whos a player not bc of debt but because she was investigating with gi-hun? in-ho falls in love w her and protects her during the games (he knew abt her as he had stalked gi hun and his team duh)

thank u🙏🏻

Just when I read this I had just uploaded a one-shot more or less with that theme of the researcher girl.

I love it, thanks for reading🤎

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

Paparazzi

Summary: A private detective that Gi-hun had hired to investigate those games he participated in three years ago, is taken against her will without knowing that a certain man with power and money knew absolutely every detail about her.

Warnings: Just some harassment from this sexy man, violence and inappropriate language. Also, I made a modification to one of the games so that the reader could be with them

Note: Your wishes are my command! Orders will remain open and I will try to respond as soon as possible.

Her job was supposed to be just to do some research, collect names, dates and addresses, but fate had other things in store for she.

—Form lines to advance! It will be harder for the puppet to detect you that way —Gi-hun shouted to the players who were still alive after that massacre.

The girl was shaking uncontrollably. Unfortunately, she hadn't managed to get behind someone and now the doll was in her sights. Her hands didn't stop moving and clearly noticed how one of the weapons from heaven was pointing at her.

—Please... —She whispered shakily, yeah... maybe she was a coward but it's only because survival is not his specialty.

"Player 455" heard one of the guards through his communicator, he aimed directly at the head of the trembling girl but before pulling the trigger he heard the voice of his leader "Don't shoot, let her continue" and without protest he obeyed him order.

In a gilded room, with a huge screen in front of a single sofa and a small table next to it, rested the man who led and maintained order in these games.

Drinking a little more whiskey, In-ho kept his eyes on the screen and with the remote control he focused on player 455, the poor girl was terrified, it was not the first impression he expected from her after having read her entire file.

He had read that she was a great detective, top of her class, she was cunning, intelligent, and had a couple of master's degrees completed, but seeing her afraid of dying almost made him laugh.

It was amazing how being face to face with death changed people.

—Nobody shoot her —he added over the radio without taking his eyes off the screen.

He could see the girl's confusion at seeing thatwas still alive despite moving very slightly.

In-ho knew everything about her, he knew what she was weak on, her strengths, weaknesses, her way of operating, he even knew about that beloved cat she had in his childhood and died of old age.

He had taken the time and dedication to investigate even the smallest details about her, it was the least he could do after almost discovering his identity.

The detective was so close to discovering the entire empire of these games that he had to be her brought together with Gi-hun by force so as not to let her finish the task.

He twisted his lips as the whiskey vanished and the first game, green light, red light, was over.

He didn't want her dead, or at least not for now, until he knew a little more about her, one could almost say that she had the potential to be part of this if she weren't so correct.

He put on his mask and went to the control center.

[...]

Just as she thought, some players approached Gi-hun for advice for the next game, there were only those who believed in his words because some others called him a 'liar'.

Among them was player 001, whose name was claimed to be Young-il. He was no fool, he wouldn't say his real name without being sure how much information she had about all of this.

As night fell in the bedroom everyone was sleeping peacefully, except for the girl who was sitting in the middle of her bed playing with his pillowcase, folding it over and over again and then unfolding it and repeating the same act.

—Are you having trouble sleeping? –001 asked, approaching her, who shifted a little and made room on the bed for him to sit next to her.

—My head works better at night... —She murmured, looking at him and smiling friendly.

He looked down at her hands and how the moved on the pillowcase, her were precise and firm. —You know how to tie good knots.

She had many talents and In-ho knew them all.

Or well, almost all of them.

Her ability to tie excellent knots was developed by her father, who was captain of a fishing boat that she also sailed on from time to time.

They locked gazes again in silence. In-ho considered that long-distance photos were nothing compared to being face to face with her. For two years he had been investigating her, he had sent several guards to follow her closely for one reason only. At first considered her a threat. Her intelligence and curiosity could have unmasked him, but then he started following her out of routine.

Afterwards he just kept his gaze on her out of habit and finally he had her face to face.

—What's wrong? —She asked with a frown as noticed the intense gaze on his person.

—Nothing, you should rest, we must have energy for tomorrow's games.

When he was about to stand up and go to his respective bed but she stopped him by holding his hand. The girl, seeing his inappropriate act and with more confidence than she should have, quickly let him go. —Can we keep talking? Honestly... I'm too distressed to sleep right now.

—Of course...

The two continued to talk about trivial matters for a couple more hours, they tried to keep it low so as not to wake up the other players but every now and then they received an annoying 'shhh' from someone nearby who longed to be able to sleep peacefully.

Until she finally fell asleep with head resting on In-ho's shoulder, he didn't move, instead, he let her sleep and settled down so they could both rest better.

The next day, during the next game, they formed teams of six people.

Once they were all together, along with a pregnant woman named Jun-hee with the number 222, they sat on the floor as ordered and shared the games.

The activity was to play a series of games and each time they won they could advance, all this with their feet tied together.

It would be simple, each one was good at something and that made it easier for them to continue, they were the last players to participate which was good for the girl, so she wouldn't get nervous under the gaze of the other participants and as if heaven conspired in his favor one of the games was about making a rhombus with a rope.

—I did it! —She shouted euphorically showing the perfect rhombus in her hands made with rope and on the first try, the guard made a circle and the voice said "pass"

The others celebrated with her as they advanced, until now they achieved the games at the first opportunity and had plenty of time but when they reached the part where they had to spin a top on the ground Young-il lost his sanity after so many failed attempts.

As she bent down to pick up the top once more and wrap it in the string 001 began to curse and beat himself.

—What the hell is happening to me? I can't do anything right! I'm useless —She looked at him startled every time he hit himself, until she interrupted him by slapping on the left cheek, managing to silence him and making his head turn just a little.

In-ho's fake drama to scare them was going great until this sudden blow happened, he didn't expect it but there he was, looking at her with surprise and astonishment.

—You have to calm down! —She shouted, handing him the already finished top. —Try it again and if we die I swear I'll kill you.

He nodded and took the toy, she used those words to lighten the mood and try to give him confidence (which of course she did) but eyes don't lie and her gaze begged him to do it, she didn't want to die.

Miraculously he managed to spin the top and they moved on to the last game which Gi-hun was about to lose if it hadn't been for In-ho, although the last move was not correct he shouted "he did it" this being a small order camouflaged for the guard to give the affirmative signal.

They didn't know it but at that moment they would have died.

She was ignorant of this, she didn't know that if it weren't for In-ho she would already be dead since "green light, red light"

Unwittingly, In-ho saved her at every opportunity, protecting her life without realizing that perhaps following her had already become more than just a routine.

Little by little she got under him skin, first it was in his mind and now...

[wethotcrazy]

CAN'T CONTROL IT

pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 739

just something a little short and sweet for franco colapinto. also i think the can't control their mouth and can't control their face would suit him well?! idk bro

The F1 social media team had a new favorite hobby: catching YN's reactions to everything Franco Colapinto did.

It started during pre-season testing in Bahrain. Franco, fresh in his Williams racing suit, had spun on his installation lap – a rookie mistake that had the paddock chuckling. The TV director, whether by instinct or divine intervention, cut immediately to YN in the Alpine garage.

Her expression was poetry in motion: eyes rolling skyward, lips pressed together to suppress a smile, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I can't believe this" and "that's my idiot" in one fluid movement.

The clip went viral within hours.

"Have you seen this?" Franco bounded into the Alpine hospitality area, phone already extended. "'Every Time YN Dies Inside Watching Franco Colapinto: Testing Edition' – they even put sad violin music over your faces!"

YN didn't need to look. She'd already seen the compilation – a masterfully edited collection of her various reactions to Franco's testing adventures. Her personal favorite was the slow-motion zoom on her face when he'd described his first F1 car as "spicy."

"I'm starting to think you do these things on purpose," she muttered, but her treacherous face was already softening at his enthusiasm.

"Maybe I just like seeing your reactions," he winked, dropping into the seat beside her. "Remember in F3 when you said your face wasn't that expressive?"

"Remember in F2 when you said you'd learned to think before speaking?"

His laugh echoed through the hospitality area. "Some things never change, no?"

The Australian GP brought new material for the ever-growing collection of "YN Can't Control Her Face" content. As Alpine's reserve driver, she was in the garage when Franco scored his first F1 points – a remarkable P8 in a chaotic race.

His radio message was pure, unfiltered Franco: "P8! P8! YN, are you watching? Better than that time in F2 when you said I'd never score points because I was too busy talking!"

The cameras found her instantly: pride blooming across her features before she could school them into professional neutrality.

"Every time they show your face, the comments explode," Esteban teased later. "I think you've got more screen time than some of the actual drivers."

YN groaned. "Don't remind me. Someone made a TikTok trend out of my different 'Franco Reactions.'"

"At least you're not 'Can't Control His Mouth' Colapinto," Pierre chimed in. "Did you hear him in the press pen? He spent five minutes explaining how you once bet him he couldn't qualify top 10 without talking on team radio."

"Did he mention he lost that bet?"

"No, but your face when they asked you about it said everything."

Monaco was where things reached new heights. Franco, running in P6 during practice, had been providing commentary that somehow always circled back to YN:

"YN's watching, no? Tell her this is how you take the hairpin properly—" Franco spoke through team radio confidently before scraping through the hairpin.  "Ah. Maybe not like that."

The camera cuts to YN's perfect face-palm, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I knew it" and "why am I even surprised" in one swift motion.

The resulting clip went viral on Tiktok and became F1's most-watched social media post of the weekend.

"You know what I think?" Franco asked one evening, as they shared takeaway in the quiet of the paddock after everyone else had left. The cameras were finally off, but YN's face was as expressive as ever in the dim light.

"That's a dangerous start to any conversation with you."

He grinned, nudging her shoulder. "I think you like that I can't control my mouth."

"And what makes you say that?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral.

"Because every time I talk about you, you make this face – like you're trying not to smile but can't help it. It's my favorite one."

"I do not have a special face for when you talk about me."

"Si, you do! You're making it right now!"

She threw a napkin at him, but her smile – soft and genuine and completely uncontrolled – gave her away.

The next day, during the drivers' briefing, Alex caught Franco staring at YN with an expression that mirrored all of hers – soft and fond and entirely unguarded.

The photo went viral with the caption: "Looks like neither of them can control anything anymore 💕"

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen I love the ‘dicks being ostracized from his family and self destructs’ trope in fics however

I would like an inverse just once (I could write it but I want this fic to be good so I can enjoy it and I am not the greatest writer) where everyone blows up at him and flat out lays into him and he just goes… okay… if that’s how you feel?

Takes himself off of the patrol routes and rosters. He’s off the emergency calls and his ‘call for city wide emergency’ has been down graded to ‘call for world wide emergency’ he’s no longer on comms with oracle

He stops offering assistance to the other kids teams, doesn’t send info for investigation and doesn’t go within 100feet of Gotham.

Takes himself off the den-mother, baby sitter, trainer for all the younger teams lost that involve any and all bats

In the beginning he vacates his apartment and temporarily moves in with Donna in New York and things are good because of course they are. They’re Dick and Donna a world doesn’t exist where they aren’t okay.

And then his presence in New York leads to a lot of the og core five titans interacting and they realize that they miss each other like hell and start to work together more and more. Until news sites are like ‘teen titans grown up??’ ‘Original titans spotted doing hurricane aid in Florida!’

Because Dick loves his family but he knows when to bow out. And he chose the family he made in the new teen titans.

And then one day one of the bats track him down in nyc and breaks into what is now Dick and Donna’s apartment and are ready to argue that they need him back and need him there for a huge Gotham wide event.

And Dick says ‘sure okay let me get my stuff and we leave in half and hour’ as soon as the first sentence is out

No convincing or begging or asking for money (cough Jason cough)

Dick is patched into their comms and he’s working efficiently except he’s not… acting like himself.

He’s collaborating with whoever they tell him too, no problem, he’s discussing ideal plans and co-ops and teams and how to best get it under control.

But he’s talking to them the way he talks when he’s offering aid to teams he’s not a part of.

Like the hero version of an acquaintance and no one can call him out on it because he’s doing good work. Work that’s on par with his work before this whole fiasco. He explicitly isn’t letting their personal issues affect his work.

He’s speaking but not talking

And Bruce remembers this… he’s probably the only one who does because last time he was the only one included. The last time Dick acted like this is when he first visited Jason and him after he had been fired.

Whenever Bruce was in the room and Dick was forced to speak with him, the conversation never strayed past business casual especially around Jason.

Batman and Nightwing got into screaming matches

Bruce and Dick were strangers

And now they’re back to this, 7 kids later, a million ends of the world stopped, they’ve bled together, cried together and clung to each other in pure relief after they managed to clutch victory.

And Nightwing was treating Batman Inc like a new team stepping onto the scene.

Once they’ve secured everything and managed to keep Bruce from self destructing and making it worse. Dick just leaves and tells oracle that he’ll send over his debrief in 3-5 business days and it was nice working with them.

And then he’s gone

No cave, no manor, no Alfred, no med-bay because Dick doesn’t stay places he’s not welcome.

And after they all talk about that and how weird it was and Bruce reveals Dick did this before when he was Nightwing after Bruce fired, where Dick Grayson didn’t know Bruce Wayne.

And one of the kids asks when he broke and stopped the act and Bruce just says ‘the day he found out Jason died’

And the Batkids kinda freak bc what do you mean?? What is he only going to come back when someone dies? Thats not? There has to be another way?? And Bruce is like yeah no idea sorry (bc he’s helpful like that)

So then Steph the next day resolves to go visit him, Tim isn’t the only professional stalker. And she finds Dick and Donna’s apartment and well it’s daylight and she’s in civvies she’s if she climbs in through the window she might get reported to the NYPD and she doesn’t wanna get arrested or shot to door it is!

And so she goes and knocks and Dick opens the door and just lights up

Something something this is such a nice surprise something something it’s so good to see you.

Dick had taught Donna how to make some of his mother recipes when they were kids. So now whenever they’re together for a long time they cook together.

So Dick who is usually living in a cluttered apartment with no clean dishes and an exclusively grab and go food is now trying to force feed her some of his cooking.

Because he picked up the habit again since he’s the better cook between him and Donna.

And it’s delicious and he wants to catch up and hear everything that’s going on in her life, is she working with new people, dating anyone? How is her relationship with her mother etc etc.

It’s a nice day and she stays late and never confronts him on anything until she sees how long ago the sun set and she needs to get moving.

He hands her paper with his number and makes her promise not to give it to the others or she will lose access to it, he offers to help her on a conditional basis as nightwing but only her, she can call him about the rest if it’s an end of the world or they’re near death and need immediate aid.

And that’s like the fic because the key to winning nightwings assistance is like breathing (optional) but if you’re Dicks family you have to care or else. He’ll love you and help you, when you need it but he won’t tie his life up with yours, he’ll spend his time with people who value his opinion and the person behind the mask.

Anyway cue all the Batkids trying to do what Steph did and fail because they’re neurotic shits who think bonding involves doing casework together or a steak out.

(The next person to crack it is Damian, completely unintentionally he has a fight with Bruce and can’t ask him how the fuck he’s supposed to solve this equation in the new stupid way they’re teaching him no he can’t use the old method they’re supposed to show their work so he pulls up to Dick and Donna’s in a ratty ass hoodie like plz wtf do you mean you work top down explain Grayson- and dicks like awww no problem kid)

[bruhstories]

Bet V

p.1 here & p2. here & p.3 here & p.4 here

mandatory mdni. you were not tagged in this because you are not over 18.

summary: in his attempt to break you, in-ho breaks himself pairing: hwang in-ho/the front man x civilian!reader warnings & content: age gap, masturbation, voyeurism, afab!reader, slightly detailed descriptions of reader’s background for plot purposes, red text for in-ho, purple for reader, pre 33rd squid game, canon divergent, veeeery slow burn, reader’s dad is dead w/c: 2k

a/n: this is my half-assed attempt at writing a game lol. if you would like to be tagged for the next part, please check this post! thank you for reading! please remember that if you asked to be tagged but i can’t find your age on your blog, you will NOT be tagged. there will be smut and people dying lol.

Neolttwigi had been another success. The seesaw game eliminated 91 people, and with 97 remaining players, In-ho proceeded with tuho. He paid close attention to the masked soldiers who directed the survivors to the same place where they had previously played Red Light, Green Light, only the floor was divided by a bright blue line in the middle. The ceiling was open, letting players experience natural light for a second time in a row.

The game was awfully simple —  throwing arrows into the neck of a jar. In-ho remembered reading about that game in school, how it was played by royal families and the upper class before becoming a game for everyone, and the jar had a narrow neck, making it easy to miss the mark. He had rarely played it as a child, preferring juldarigi or squid, games he taught his younger brother.

It became a habit for him to check the cameras in his penthouse whenever you were there. It brought him a strange peace of mind knowing that Eunjoo was safe in your hands, but he couldn't, for the life of him, stop looking at the selfie you sent the day before. In-ho knew that walking into a lamppost was bullshit, but he didn't want to pressure you into telling him the truth. He needed you to trust him, to tell him willingly. 

Still, he examined the picture —  your cheek in particular — and concluded that you lied to him. In-ho took it as a triumph. He didn't win the bet just yet, there was still time for you to mess up, but the fact that you chose to not tell the truth only solidified his belief that you were the same as everyone else. In four days he would return to Seoul and win. The prize? He wasn’t sure. Perhaps just the satisfaction that he was above you.

Players entered the field, and the voice in the speaker instructed them to split into teams of two in less than thirty minutes, which was unfair to player 002, since there was an odd number of people. 002 was taken away by a guard, and the remaining 96 players grouped into pairs. While the objective was indeed simple — throw the arrows in the jar — it came with a twist. It always did. Each player was given four arrows, but one of them was blindfolded and threw the arrows while their teammate picked the jar up and tried to catch the arrow in it. Once all four arrows were thrown, the teammates switched places. If at least six out of eight arrows hit the mark, both players passed, but if one player threw four arrows and the other only two, they both died. 

The game took out fewer people than In-ho had hoped — 19 to be precise. Player 002 was alive and well, and the remaining 77 survivors returned to their chamber, where more and more beds had been removed, exposing the remaining three games on the walls — Hide and Seek, Yutnori and Ssireum. He remembered his time as a player, how he was the only one who paid attention to his surroundings and anticipated the following games. In-ho used all of his skills and knowledge as a detective and emerged as the sole survivor and winner. Did it bring his wife back? No, but it did make him feel so good when proved he earned his right to live.

Players were receiving less and less food, and from the comfort and safety of the control room, In-ho watched them slowly lose all traces of their humanity. He wondered how you would've performed in the games. Participants would have abused your kindness, and your good intentions would've gotten you killed. To make it worse, he was certain you would've sacrificed yourself to save someone else, someone you deemed worthy of winning. But in his eyes, only you deserved to live.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, and In-ho took it out to read the text from you. He knew it had to be you. Who else would text him at that time?

Hellooo, I took a look in the fridge and noticed the eggs and milk will go bad before you come back. I was wondering if I could give it to someone who needs it.

Damn it, you did it again. In-ho couldn't be sure that you actually gave the food to someone else — he had to take your word for it for now.

Of course. May I ask who you're giving it to?

Remember the family I told you about? The one I teach Korean to? The wife is pregnant and can't work. I think she's due to give birth soon, actually, and they could use all the help. Besides, it would be a shame to throw away perfectly good food :)

Don't you want it, miss? When we first met, you told me you didn't have a good financial situation.

Oh, no, no. I'll be fine. They need it more.

Very well, please give it to them.

Ah, I also remembered you left some money on your nightstand. With all due respect, Mr. Hwang, that's very irresponsible. Anyone could take it.

Were you lecturing him? Him? Cute. In-ho even chuckled at your reprimand, finding it adorably amusing. If only you knew the things he did, the people he killed. How would you react? That question was beginning to take over his mind like a maggot wriggling inside of his brain. Would you be disgusted? Would you go to the police? Would you agree with his ways of cleaning the world of its impurities? It was no different than how you cleaned his penthouse — you both got rid of trash.

You're right, miss. There is a safe hidden in my wardrobe. Please put the money there. The code is 1321.

Surely you would crack at the sight of so much money and try to take some. No one sane would miss such an opportunity. But then again, maybe you weren't sane. Maybe you just needed a little push, a little encouragement. In-ho poured himself a glass of whisky and thought about the wound on your cheek, and the night you were crying on his kitchen floor. Someone had hurt you, and he needed to find out who so he could exploit that. And then, you would break. 

He was, however, slightly conflicted, because he didn’t want to ruin you. In-ho merely wanted to make you see things eye to eye. Just like him, life had been unfair to you. And just like him, you needed to survive. Kindness wouldn't take you very far — you had to witness the cruelty of the world somehow, and the only possible way to do that was to play the game and survive it, something In-ho knew you would never do due to your values and morals. And he couldn't wait one more year to push you past your limits. He needed to think of something else, and he needed to do it fast — time was ticking and you were a project he refused to let slip through his fingers.

In-ho checked the cameras at the time you normally arrived at the penthouse, patiently waiting for you. He was pleased to see that you were in a better mood, cheerfully greeting Eunjoo as you went about with your tasks, but something was different. You appeared to be texting someone, and he never received any notifications on his phone, yet you were quite busy chatting back and forth. His stomach churned, an amalgamation of feelings bubbling and boiling in his core. Anxiety? Anger? Jealousy? 

Jealousy.

You always sent him a text upon your arrival. You always let him know that you were there, so who occupied your mind if not him? The sudden lack of the very little control he had over you made him trip in his room and lose balance, and he forcefully ripped the mask off and tossed it on the floor. 

In-ho was losing the bet he made with himself, and not in the way he had imagined.

It wasn't him who lived in your mind, but you who invaded his, and it infuriated him, because after his wife died, he refused to get attached, refused to fall in love. Luckily for him, it wasn't love that he felt for you, but an unhealthy obsession to watch you, to know your every move, to find out who hurt you and make you hurt them back. 

You performed your tasks with utmost perfection, and placed the money in his safe while ignoring the riches inside it, but you were distracted, constantly looking at your phone and half-smiling whenever it lit up. In-ho couldn't have that. 

How's Eunjoo?

Since you were so busy talking to someone, he expected you to frown at his text, to scoff and ignore it. But you did worse. You stopped folding his clothes and sat on the edge of his bed, beaming at the message on the screen.

She's alright! We had dinner and a cuddle, and now she's playing next to me. I'll send you a picture!

In-ho watched you struggle to take a photo of the cat — each time you took out your phone, Eunjoo stopped playing, so you swapped to the front camera, trying to sneak a picture. You even smoothed your hair and made yourself look presentable, and he found it quite adorable that you tried to look presentable for him.

I'm sorry you have to see my face, but she wouldn't sit still for a photo!

You were stunning. It was all In-ho could think about when he opened the photo. Your bright eyes were like a drug to him, instantly hooking him, forcing him to regain a shred of humanity.

Don't apologise, miss. You're beautiful.

There it was, the crack he so desperately sought for. You were practically hyperventilating in his bedroom, struggling to breathe, constantly rereading the words on your phone. And then he heard you talk to Eunjoo, heard you question your own sanity. But no, In-ho didn't like you. He was simply interested in breaking you, oblivious to how you were breaking him.

"Damn it. I promised Donghyun I'd go for a coffee after work tomorrow. I'm so confused now." Your distorted voice crackled through his speaker, and In-ho clenched his jaw, barely stopping himself from breaking his phone.

Who the fuck was Donghyun? And more importantly, why did he care? 

He didn't care, or at least that was what he told himself for the past few days. He didn't care. He didn't give a shit about you. He didn't-

The familiar words of Frank Sinatra's Fly Me To The Moon stopped him dead in his tracks. In-ho turned the volume up, still in disbelief that you knew the song, that you sung it in his bedroom like no one was watching you. It was impossible how similar you were to him, to how he was before life took a turn. But a song and a kind heart weren't enough to change him. It was far too late for that. The only possible outcome was for you to become like him, and he wouldn't accept anything else.

For the first time, In-ho didn't offer you privacy when you stepped into his bathroom. For the first time, he watched as you peeled off each layer of clothing, and for the first time, he saw every scar and scratch, every burn and bruise on your body, new and old, and he understood. You had already faced the realities of this cruel world, and you chose not to become vengeful. Your father died, your uncle abused you, and yet, you shined.

The unforeseen urge to protect you seeped through his veins, but not before you got your revenge. You deserved to get revenge more than anyone in the world. And if you didn't want that, he'd make you want it one way or another.

"Fuck." In-ho whispered when his cock twitched in his trousers at the sight of your bare body. So vulnerable. So weak. So perfect. 

He sat down, phone in one hand and his eyes only on you. It was pure instinct when he fisted his cock, pure instinct when your name spilled from his lips, pure instinct when he imagined you under him, wriggling and writhing, pure instinct when he came on his fingers, disgusted with himself.

Pure instinct. Nothing more.

tagging: @ri1liane  @anmert1  @syraxnyra  @frshluvcats  @lanyia  @mettreads  @nightdark-dreamdark  @bridge-always  @lovekm  @audrey223  @starkeyszn  @hobiesbrownsgf  @thoughtfulbelieverstrawberry  @maria-trisha @akiqvq @10hrs26mn @okaycharr @politicstanner @moonxknightx @googie-jeon @swthrtbyeol @mariiestfu @ratsnestinmyhair @missroro @talia-the-gemini @fortluocha @true-queen-of-mischief @ssa-callahan @bibliophile-yomna @wwastro @heartsforseo @marymun @glads-stuff @starryeddie @kisses2kanao @gagaga167 @l4venderia @scryi @lelisae @twicelover2 @ashtrosstuff @cruel-affair @cdej6 @veragrhm @nikos-a-clown @cchewhaz @pepsicolacoochie @lily-ann-b @red22wolf @nellabear  @unabletonotlovesatoru @happiness2112 @waterjewelsspite @luna-looniesblog @plan3t-plut0 @full-sunnies @warlabels @xcinnamonmalfoyx @rickgrimesismydaddy1 @jasonpetertoddismygod @marihoneywk @llghtsnoww @torkorpse @salivasupplier @okqur @jamiewritesfanfiction-blog @certifiedlevisimp @kiss-themoongoodbye @bluehourss @alexa554 @sinful-tawtute @ithoughtthinks @nacatna-blog @riri53 @alexisabirdie @houta-habtet-houta

[disaster-writer]

Tear You Apart

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Someone in the League of Villains has been drugging you and doing things to you, and you were going to find out who

Word Count: 6.5k

Rating: X 18+

Warnings: Dark fic, smut, noncon, dubcon, masochism, sadism, drugging, mentions of exhibitionism/vouyerism

Minors DNI

There was a cockroach on your bedroom floor.

Your bedroom that was technically a small storage room with only a small futon and a lamp.

It was staring at you.

So you stared back, as your tired eyes tried to adjust to the blurry cockroach that sat no more than five inches from your face as you lay in bed.

You felt like you were hit by a truck.

The cockroach glowed in the sunlight that filtered into the room… you were lucky enough to end up with a window at least. Even if the moonlight never did reach far enough into the far corner of the room, leaving your imagination to run rampant in the middle of the night as to what lay within those shadows.

Though, you don’t think your imagination held a light to your reality now.

The room was spinning, you had to keep adjusting your eyes to the disgusting insect in front of you.

You pulled your bedsheet back ever so slightly, your arm broke through the cocoon of blankets you had wrapped yourself in. Slowly you reached your arm out, pointer finger outstretched, and neared the bug. 

You touched it.

Almost immediately the fucking thing scurried, flipped, and chirped over and over again, running rampant all over the floor. Until after what would be an angonizingly long two minutes for the insect, it died.

Each organ shut down one by one, its little body physically unable to function with the amount of pain a single stroke of your finger caused it.

You pulled your arm back into your cocoon and you stared at the dead cockroach.

You don’t remember taking off your gloves last night. That went for the hoodie you always wore to bed… that went for your pants… that went for your underwear.

You also don’t remember drinking anything last night.

But you were hungover.

Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, you felt like you were going to throw up, and everything just fucking hurt. But the general soreness from the hangover didn’t overshadow the burning, throbbing pain that came from between your legs.

Which meant it had happened again.

You felt your eyes watering, burning tears stinging at your tear ducts.

The first time you tried to chalk it up to falling into bad habits again.

Getting black out drunk was no stranger to you. It had always been easier to turn to the bottle than learn how to control your quirk. It dulled your senses, lessened the harm you could inflict, made you forget what it was to be an outcast of society.

It was safer for everyone that way.

But ever since the broker found you, selling you sweet visions of the future. A future you could help fight for by teaming up with the League of Villains. You had fallen hook, line, and sinker. You quit your vices.

But even if you had decided to drink the night away, that didn’t explain the blood and what you could only assume was dried cum that caked the inside of your thighs.

It was even on your face and in your hair.

That’s what had sent you reeling.

No man, woman, animal, or insect could touch you without immediately doubling over to writhe in pain.

So who the fuck managed to put their cock in you.

You had been so caught up in the how that you never stopped to think about the who until now.

You didn’t want to think of the only logical explanation.

One of your comrades was drugging you and raping you in the middle of the night and now that it’s happened twice, there’s no denying it. No more denying what was clearly in front of you no matter how fucking insane or impossible it should have been.

A choked sob clawed at your dry throat.

Joining this ragtag team of villains was the only thing that ever gave you a sense of purpose in your waste of a life. 

You had nothing.

A father that blamed you for your mother’s death. Telling you that all the unending pain you caused her was the reason she put that gun in her mouth. Out on the streets by fifteen, left to mug people with your quirk just to get by. Getting caught by heroes left and right left you with a criminal record. Alcohol had been your only sense of comfort.

You couldn’t leave the League. You can’t go back to that life.

You don’t know how long you laid in bed covered in those dried fluids and waiting for the world to stop spinning, all you knew was that the sun was setting by the time you forced yourself up and your bladder was fucking killing you.

You extracted your naked body from your cocoon, side stepping the dead roach to gather your clothes from last night that were scattered everywhere.

You pulled your thick black hoodie over your head and your black sweatpants up, hiding the blood and cum so that you could properly take care of it in the bathroom. 

You put your gloves on and pulled your hood up and left the room.

~

“She’s alive! No she isn’t!” Was the first thing that greeted you when you had left the bathroom.

”Hey Twice,” you mumbled, trudging past him and to the bar. You sat down.

Sitting hurt.

You barely looked around the room. You didn’t have to see to know that the entirety of the League was hanging out in that bar. These days it seemed you all were just sitting on your asses and twiddling your thumbs, waiting for the opportunity to make a move.

”Would you like a drink?”

You looked up tiredly to Kurogiri who stood behind the bar and shook your head, the amount of sugar in the mocktail you had Kurogiri make for you sometimes would probably make your pounding headache worse, “Water’s fine.”

You folded your arms on the bar counter and buried your face into them.

You didn’t want to be here with any of them right now but going back to your bedroom with those disgusting stains all over your futon also made you sick.

Either way you were trapped.

You didn’t mind the idle chatter from the others though. You could hear Mr. Compress and Spinner talking behind you in the booth. Twice was on the floor with Toga and from the sounds of it was playing around with his quirk and random items from the bar. Kurogiri talked to Shigaraki to your right of the counter and to your left was a normally brooding Dabi.

One of them had raped you.

You heard a ‘clink’ next to your folded arms, and found Kurogiri placing your water in front of you.

”Thanks,” you mumbled, grasping and raising the glass to your dry lips.

You gulped down the water quickly, draining the glass. You were so, extremely dehydrated.

Placing your glass down you looked to the side, only to find Shigaraki staring at you from behind ‘Father’s’ hand.

Shigaraki always fucking stared.

’The fucking virgin just wants to fuck you. Probably wants to see how long he’d last before you make his dick fall off’

That’s what Dabi had told you after watching you shift uncomfortably in your seat under his unwavering gaze your first night there.

You couldn’t deny he was suspect number 1 on your list.

You pulled the drawstrings of your hood, putting your head back down.

”Where were you this morning. We had a meeting.” 

Fuck— now he was talking to you.

”I had a rough morning,” is what you replied with, words muffled by the fabric of your hoodie.

Your heart beat picked up, beginning to hammer in your ribcage as you heard him stand up.

He was moving closer, sitting himself in the seat next to yours.

He had said nothing for a few long beats and the uncomfortable proximity of his body to yours made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

”Someone was in your room last night.”  

It felt like the air was knocked out of you. 

You slowly peered up at him through your hood, finding Shigaraki watching in sick satisfaction as if he just caught you red handed.

The accusation hung heavily in the air as you tried to find the words. Was he self admitting? Or did he see something? Did he know who it was?

But he continued before you could respond.

”You told us no one could touch you without your quirk activating but you’re fucking all night and missing meetings in the morning. You lied to us.”

“No—“ you blurted, perhaps slightly too loud. You leaned in closer, “I—I don’t— it’s not my fault,” you panicked, “I don’t know what’s happening— I would never lie to you about something like that, please. The League is all I have.”

He eyed you and the tears that brimmed in your eyes. His scrutinizing gaze unwavering from your face as he decided whether or not to believe your words. 

“Fine,” he muttered.

”Do… do you know who it was?” You asked softly, still not completely sure it still wasn’t him to begin with, but if it wasn’t and he did know…

”You don’t know?” He asked, suddenly starting to scratch at his neck.

”No.” you replied, quickly wiping a tear that fell.

He was about to say something when someone cut in.

”Would you just leave the crybaby alone.”

Dabi.

“I’m not a crybaby,” you muttered, finally leaning away from Shigaraki, barely sparing Dabi a glance. 

Shigaraki started scratching with his other hand now, which meant Kurogiri was near, ready to talk him down from whatever ledge he was currently walking on.

”Yeah, sure,” he remarked sarcastically.

You should just go back to your room. You don’t think you can handle talking to someone else that could possibly be violating you.

Unlike Shigaraki, Dabi barely spared you a glance and rarely talked to you. And although he seemed to be more mentally there than some of your other teammates, you wouldn’t put it past him to hurt you.

He still had a cock after all.

Kurogiri refilled your glass.

”Thanks,” you muttered again, taking a sip.

This was too much. Too suffocating. You needed to be alone even if that meant seeing those stains on your bed.

You stood back up, taking your water with you.

”I’m going back to bed.”

With that, you left the room ignoring the stares and the ‘boos’ that followed after you from Toga for leaving so early.

You’d work with them but for now, they couldn’t be your friends.

Not until you found out which of those fuckers had touched you.

-

You isolated yourself after that.

You went through the motions. You did what you were supposed to. You did the quirk training Shigaraki’s master required of you. You went to the meetings. You tried finding new recruits now and then.

But you stopped hanging out with the others and you only spoke to them if it had to do with business with the League.

Toga and Twice seemed to be the most broken up about it, you had been the closest with those two prior to everything.

But the more you were left with your own thoughts the more everyone became a suspect.

Even Toga. She was a shapeshifter and even if it was unlikely, the fact that she even had the ability to transform into the others set you on edge.

And what if Twice was making clones. You knew he didn’t make clones of himself but what if he made that one exception. Or what if he made a clone of one of the others without them knowing and the clone was the one that raped you and Twice killed it after so not even a real person attacked you and you’re just losing your mind in front of everyone and they have no clue as to why-

‘What if, What if, What if’

You were losing your fucking mind.

You weren’t really even sleeping at night, three hours at most. You were too scared someone was going to sneak in. Whoever it was was clearly somewhat resistant to your quirk and your only line of defense you ever relied on was useless.

But you also refused to leave. You had run from every one of your problems your entire life. You weren’t about to do that here. You needed this— a purpose for your life. Hope for a better future.

You needed a plan.

You needed to figure out who was hurting you. How they were drugging you. How they were touching you.

You had just as much of a right to be here as the rest of them and you weren’t going to be trapped in fear.

You just needed a plan.

~

Dabi sat at the end of the bar, off in his own little world, away from the others and their bonding. Away from their talks about nothing that wouldn’t matter in the end anyway. 

It had been another fucking useless day, just a bunch of “villains” sitting around and hanging out.

His own efforts have proven fruitless, everyone out there was trash and finding new recruits was becoming harder and harder to find with each day.

Cyan eyes glanced at the group, some holding careless smiles and laughing, others brooding in their own little minds as well.

They were all there except you.

You hadn’t around them much these days but slowly and surely you had been coming out of your room more and more again. 

It seemed like you were starting to let your guard down again.

But right now you were busy in that old warehouse the League found for you to quirk train. 

Your training in particular was a cruel affair that he’s had the privilege of sitting in on once or twice.

It was more torture than anything else. Trying to see just how much pain you could inflict on unwitting strangers that had been swept off the streets for that reason and that reason alone.

He couldn’t be sure if you enjoyed it or not. Your face always passive and indecipherable in those moments. But you’d do it anyway. You did whatever ‘ol crusty and his master asked of you.

It pissed him off how willingly you followed after that fucking virgin.

It also pissed him off seeing how much Shigaraki enjoyed that.

Dabi sighed, raising his glass to his lips and taking a swig of the drink.

You’d be back any minute now and you’d be tired, exhausted even.

Maybe you’d want to have a quick drink with the others before heading to bed.

His jaw tensed at the thought and he drained the rest of his glass.

Or maybe you’d go straight to hiding in your room again. Barely sparing a glance or a few words with anyone.

Fuck.

He may have overdone it last time. 

But the sight of you beneath him, his hands spreading your thighs wide open, watching his cock thrusting in and out of your tight little cunt— each barbell pierced into his cock disappearing and reappearing one by one while you babbled whatever came to your inebriated mind, tits jolting with every thrust— it was too much. And Fuck— the way it hurt, every nerve ending a live fucking wire—

”Hey guys,” you mumbled tiredly.

He didn’t even hear the door open.

The others greeted you as he watched you approach them in his peripherals. Some greetings more animated than others, in Toga’s and Twice’s case specifically.

”How was quirk training!?” Toga asked with a toothy grin.

”Fine,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the bar next to Compress.

”Would you like a drink?” Kurogiri asked per routine.

”Yeah, surprise me. Just no alcohol,” you nodded, making Toga cheer, happy to see you spending time with them again. “Don’t get too excited. ‘M not staying up for long, I have more quirk training tomorrow morning so I’m going to bed after this one.”

”Aw boo—,” she grumbled. “No fun.”

”Hey, how’s the gun feel by the way?” Spinner asked.

”Still getting the hang of it, but it feels good. Thanks again.”

”Yeah, no problem.”

The conversation shifted as Twice started telling stories of his more adventurous exploits when he was younger. And there was Shigaraki eye fucking you again.

Dabi watched from the corner of his eye as Kurogiri made your drink.

Weeks had passed since that last time he visited you. Kurogiri had made you only four drinks since then.

And Dabi watched patiently as he poured in each ingredient.

But it was tonight that he used the pineapple juice.

You were the only one in the League that drank the pineapple juice.

He watched him place the glass down in front of you. 

He watched you take a sip.

A grin pulled on the corners of his mouth.

From here on out all he needed to do was wait. And Dabi was nothing if not patient. He had to wait for you to finish the drink, wait to hear you tell everyone you were tired and going to bed, and finally wait as each and every member of the League turned in for the night.

Usually by the time he could sneak into your room you were peacefully asleep. Never expecting Dabi to rouse you from your sleep, surprise taking your features every time.

Tonight was no different.

Just like clockwork you were the first to retreat to your room for the night… but not before draining your glass.

Fuck— he was getting excited.

One by one, each of his comrades decided to call it a night.

First Shigaraki and Kurogiri, then Compress, then Toga, Twice, Spinner…

And that made one.

Dabi cleared his throat, choking back the excited giggle that threatened to escape and climbed to his feet.

It had been too fucking long since he’s been able to indulge like this. With not much else to do these days he had been left with his own imagination and hand for too long.

Like a moth to a flame he found himself at your door, silently pushing it open and slipping inside.

His eyes nearly glowed in the dimly lit room as they landed on your curled up figure, laid peacefully on your futon, fast asleep.

Moonlight was the only thing to illuminate the room.

His cock throbbed, it was painfully hard as it had been for almost an hour now, precum smearing his boxers no doubt.

He palmed himself through his pants as he walked towards your peaceful form, pretty face becoming clearer the closer he got and the more his eyes adjusted to the lighting.

Unceremoniously, he collapsed to the floor, sitting down in front of you, no more than five inches from you. He watched your chest rise and fall with each of your breaths.

Carefully, he picked up a lock of hair and tugged.

You stirred but were far too drugged to wake up from the action.

He dropped the lock, fingertips now reaching for your face— your cheekbone, gently brushing them along your warm skin.

His breath hitched, little electrical shocks started in his fingers and danced up the length of his arm.

”Fuck, got my fucking cock throbbing, crybaby” he panted huskily, “Time to open those pretty eyes of yours now,” he said, giving your shoulder a shake.

“Hmm,” you whined.

”Wake up,” he said again, a harder shake this time.

You blinked your eyes open just slightly, before shutting them again.

You gave a confused hum, “Dabi?” You mumbled.

”That’s right crybaby.”

”What’re—why,” you slurred together.

He pushed your shoulder back— you were so pliant that he was able to effortlessly maneuver you onto your back.

You continued to mumble, trying to make sense in your drug addled mind as to why Dabi was in your room. All the while he was climbing onto the mattress and spreading your thighs as he settled between them. He tugged you down slightly, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing his clothed cock against you.

”Miss me crybaby? I’ve sure missed you,” he grinned, grabbing your gloved hand in his own and guiding it towards the tent in his pants, “See.” He exhaled breathily, using your hand to grasp his cock.

You tried opening your eyes again, waking up a bit more.

”Wha’s happenin’” you murmured, fingers wiggling in his hold as you tried shifting beneath him.

He only hummed, saying nothing as he lifted your hand up. He grasped the middle finger of your glove and pulled.

And just like every other time, your eyes shot open.

”No,” you whined.

”Yes,” he hissed back, pulling your glove completely off and discarding it to the side.

”Can’t touch,” you pulled your hand back and he let you cradle it to your chest. Instead shrugging his jacket off and pulling his shirt off before tossing them with your glove.

”Yes you can,” he grabbed your wrist, placing your hand on his abdomen.

Specifically on the deep purple scars.

Pain radiated from the surface of skin you touched, deep into the tissue. A shockwave of hurt burst from the center of his body, outwards.

His head fell back as a guttural groan clawed its way from his throat.

He ground his cock into you as wave after wave of pain wracked his body.

It was then that your sobs reached his ears.

He dropped your hand but the pain lingered blissfully, though it was dull.

“Fuck.”

The first touch was always the best. 

He grinned as he gazed at your tear stricken face.

”Let’s get you out of this,” he said, tugging your hoodie up.

You struggled but were too weak to stop him, every muscle in your body relaxed from the drugs.

You babbled nonsense, he didn’t even bother to try to make sense of what you were saying, just like every time before. Besides, the blood rushing in his ears was distracting anyway. 

You had no bra on, making his fingers move to the button of your jeans, fumbling with it as he eyed your tits heaving up and down with each of your breaths. He finally yanked them off your legs, along with your panties.

“Why are— does it hurt?” You continued to mumble, “How.”

“Hah—“ A laugh escaped Dabi. Tonight you seemed more concerned about hurting him rather than him stripping you down naked and getting ready to fuck you. “Wanna remember how good I can make you feel?” He asked, fingers now finding your wet cunt, stroking between your folds. That familiar, irresistible pain resumed in his hand as he pet you.

You gasped and wriggled, trying to move up the bed and get away, but the new grip on your hip prevented you from doing so.

Dabi’s head was reeling, pain and pleasure clouded his mind.

You were the only fucking girl that set his nerves ablaze in such a way. If it wasn’t for his vengeance set in a different, higher place he thinks he would never leave the bedroom with you.

Two fingers pressed into your cunt and slid in, making you squeal.

”Dabi no—“ you sobbed, continuing to wriggle in vain. “Why—“

“Shh,” he hushed, “Don’t think, just feel,” his thumb found your clit and rubbed tight little circles into it.

”Stop— I never— I’mma virgin.“

He barked out another laugh.

”You haven’t been a virgin for over a month now crybaby.”

You whimpered and cried, turning your head into your pillow as your voice became higher and higher pitched the longer this went on.

His free hand stroked your body, feeling the curve of your hips and the dip in your waist before gripping your breast. He then dived for the other, latching his lips around your nipple, pain sparking in his lips and tongue and the parts of his chest that brushed against you.

He continued to suck and tug on your nipples as his other hand continued to work you between your legs.

”Why, why, why—“ you cried, “Dabi why.”

”Because you’re mine you fucking idiot— now cum already.” He growled against your breast.

Your back arched as if his voice held any actual authority, and you came. Tears streaking your face with each spasm of your cunt.

When you came back down to earth you were a shivering, sniveling mess.

”See,” he sighed, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

You sniffled, keeping your eyes squeezed shut.

”None of that,” he pulled the hand from between your legs and cupped your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he smeared your fluids against your face. “No pretending you’re somewhere else. Open your eyes.” You blinked them open slowly, “Good.” He hummed, smacking your cheek lightly and sitting back up.

The pain you inflicted had finally turned into a duller thrum throughout his body. 

Meaning he had to fuck you now for his next fix.

He sucked your sticky wetness from his fingers before undoing his belt then his jeans.

He pulled his cock out, the feeling of it brushing against you making you inch away.

”See that baby?” He grunted, tilting his head back as he stroked his cock and cupped his balls, “You’ve got me so fucking pent up. Makin’ me wait almost an entire month.” He looked back down to you, eyeing you up like an animal. “Ready for my cock crybaby~” he taunted.

The words had fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.

”I’ll take that as a yes.”

He tugged you down by the hips, cock nestling between your folds. He gasped out and jolted at the sensation in his cock. 

There was no separation of the pain and pleasure you inflicted on him. It was one. Indivisible. 

And so much better than anyone else could ever offer.

He gripped his cock and lined it up at your entrance, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage.

His breathing came out hard and laborious, chest rising and falling dramatically as he psyched himself up to push into you.

That initial thrust would have him cumming. It did every time.

Fingers bit into your hips.

“1…” he growled, “2…” he shut his eyes.

”3.” Said the voice behind his ear.

Dabi’s eyes snapped open in time to see the bullet lodge itself between your eyes.

Your dead body turned to sludge, melting beneath him.

His ears rang as the unmistakable feel of a barrel of a gun pressed itself against the back of his head.

You held the gun, standing over Dabi’s kneeling figure.

As the ringing died in both yours and Dabi’s ears, the deafening silence became louder.

Bile crawled up the back of your throat as you looked over his shoulder.

His cock was still hard.

You cocked the gun, the little ‘click’ shattering the silence.

He sighed, shoulders slumping as he pushed his head back, leaning into the gun’s barrel.

”Maybe…” his raspy voice started, “I underestimated you.”

”I could kill you,” you replied coolly, “I should kill you.”

”But you won’t. I’m a pretty big player in all this League of Villains shit and you know that,” he started turning slowly, looking over his shoulder, bathing his profile in a bluish moonlight and illuminating the sick grin he wore, “So what exactly’s the plan then? Huh, crybaby?”

He was taunting you.

You set your jaw tightly and genuinely thought about pulling the trigger.

The nickname made you sick. You thought he was just being an asshole to you in the bar a few weeks ago when he called you that… you wouldn’t have thought it was a twisted little nickname he gave you after assaulting you.

”I want to talk.”

He scoffed, turning around, gazing up at you as he sat leisurely on your futon. He didn’t even bother to tuck his cock back into his pants. “I didn’t come in here to talk.”

”But that’s exactly what’s going to happen asshole or I’m going to tell Shigaraki—“

”He already knows crybaby. He watched.”

You faltered, face completely falling, “He- he what?”

Dabi grinned maliciously at you, “I let him watch last time, especially since you were such a good girl for me the first time I stopped by, taking my cock so well. I figured since he has such a hard time keeping his eyes off you then I’d really give him something to look at.”

“So,” you began shakily, “When he was interrogating me at the bar for missing that meeting—“

”Oh he knew why. He had been jerkin’ it to you the entire night.”

Fuck— tears were starting to collect in your tear ducts.

You blinked quickly in an attempt to hold them back.

You were just so fucking weak. How was it that you found yourself in progressively worse situations your entire life.

Joining these guys was supposed to mean something.

”Why,” you swallowed, gun shaking in your hand, “I thought we were supposed to be teammates.”

”I’d argue that we’re more than that now,” the words felt sinister, making you grow sicker by the second, “Do you want to know what the first thing I thought when the broker introduced you?”

You stayed silent, you didn’t want to play into this little game of his.

”I thought ‘now what cruel motherfucker would make someone that looked like you but wasn’t allowed to be touched’? But then,” he leaned back on his hands, nearly presenting his cock to you, “Once I was balls deep in that tight little virgin cunt, and you were shaking and crying in my arms I realized that you were made for me. I am the only man in this world that can fuck you. Your cunt belongs to me.”

Shit, shit, shit

”Don’t feel too bad though. This isn’t a one way street. I’ve never had pussy that’s made me fucking shake before, and that’s all you crybaby. You’re the only one that can offer me the kind of pain and pleasure that makes me forget about every crappy thing in my life.”

He was getting in your fucking head. 

“You’re insane.” You muttered hoarsely, throat suddenly dry, gun shaking even more in your hands.

”Well, what sane man would want you?”

You don’t know what possessed you, the weeks of anxiety? All the pent up anger he had caused?

Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You threw the gun across your little room and lunged at Dabi.

He wanted to feel pain? Then you’d show him what actual pain feels like. 

Your inebriated body couldn’t access the full potential of your quirk.

And you hadn’t been quirk training for nothing.

You tackled him to the futon and landed in the muddy remnants of your clone, straddling his waist as you placed both your palms against his bare chest.

Dabi’s hand flew to your wrists as… as a groan left his throat. It wasn’t a scream or a wail, it wasn’t what you expected. And the pinch in his eyebrows was anything but anguish.

His palms were hot but he wasn’t using his quirk to push you away.

You had seen and heard looks of agony and suffering on people more than you’d care to admit, but this was not that.

You pushed against his chest harder, against the deep purple scars and seams of his body, digging your fingers into the stapled flesh and drawing blood.

”Fuck— that’s different,” he groaned out, “Why’s it different.”

”Why aren’t you in more pain,” you snapped, “I’ve made grown men kill themselves after only brushing against my arm just to end their suffering. What the fuck is wrong with you!” You screamed into his face.

He only moaned in response.

Which was when you had realized he had reached down when you weren’t paying attention. He reached between the gap where you had either leg on either side of his body and was fisting his cock. He was jerking himself off while you were hurting him.

A disillusioned laugh escaped your throat, broken and choppy.

This was absurd.

This went against everything you believed about your quirk while growing up.

That your entire identity surrounded the fact that you inflicted pain and everyone and anything would always see you as the villain because of that. You were meant to be avoided and feared, never wanted or desired.

You were losing your goddamned mind.

”You’re a fucking freak,” you suddenly laughed louder at the realization, watching him drag his fist over his cock, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s ladder glinting in the moonlight. “You walk around here all tough and moody, acting like you’re better than everyone else but you’re just as fucking crazy as the rest of them.”

“You’re just as sick,” he choked out with a laugh of his own, “Watching me playing with your clone. You listened to her cry and beg me to stop and you just watched.”

”Shut up,” you hissed. You knew it was wrong, you had promised her you’d stop him before he touched her inappropriately, but when he started you couldn’t bring yourself to end things. 

A twisted part of you wanted to watch and it made you fucking sick.

Just as what you did next made you sick.

You reached down between your legs and grabbed his cock yourself, pushing his own hand away.

He threw his head back, letting out an even louder groan. You could tell this one hurt more than the hand on his chest and it made you smile knowing he was in pain no matter how much pleasure he got from it.

You started jerking him off yourself, listening to his heaving grunts and groans with every stroke of your hand. You paid no mind to the piercings in his cock, if he liked the pain then he could deal with any snagging.

He started tugging on your shirt, pushing it up higher. His hands pawing at your body until one reached your bra, pushing it up to grab your tits.

Your mind felt like it was splitting. You didn’t want him to touch you but you didn’t want to stop him.

But the nail in the coffin was when he tangled a hand in the back of your hair and tugged you down.

He was kissing you.

He tasted like burnt flesh and cigarettes.

His tongue forced itself past your lips and brushed against your own in broad strokes.

You didn’t pull away, you only kissed him back with equal fervor, biting his lips and letting him stick his tongue as far back into your mouth as he wanted to.

You moaned into the kiss, a moan that had been swallowed by his mouth, sending a flutter of excitement in the pit of your stomach.

He broke the kiss. Glowing cyan eyes boring into yours, “Ride me crybaby.”

You sat up, pulling your hoodie over your head and quickly undoing your bra, throwing them to the side as Dabi pulled at your pants.

You smacked his hands away, standing up to work them down your legs yourself before landing on top of him again.

He hissed at the pain as you touched him with a newly exposed body.

You ignored him, grabbing his cock and lining it up at your entrance. You sunk down slowly, adjusting to the size and the feeling of the piercings entering you.

But it wasn’t fast enough for Dabi because he was grabbing at your hips and pulling you down forcefully onto his cock.

You shook and cried out from the pain, collapsing against his chest as you sucked in breath after breath.

But Dabi shook harder from underneath you, pained moans of your name leaving his lips. You watched in curiosity, ignoring your own throbbing pain from between your legs as he started panting, body going slack.

You started laughing, you were pretty sure the fucking freak just came, ”Did you just—?” 

”It’ll get hard again, just start fucking moving,” he grunted, grabbing at your hips.

So you did.

You had no idea what your were doing so you just did whatever felt good, and grinding your clit against his pubic hair felt really good.

The feeling of his cock getting hard inside you again made you dig your fingers into his stapled flesh once more, drawing more blood.

”Shit— ride me better,” he hissed.

”I don’t know how—“

“Shut up,” he spat, holding your hips in a bruising grip as he bent his knees to get some leverage and began to thrust into you from underneath.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped. You had never felt anything like this before.

The next second he was slipping his arms around your back and switching your positions, slipping out of you but you had barely any time to process it as he slammed back into you as he was now hunched over your body.

You yelped at the brutal pace he set, hips pounding against yours. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass and every piercing dragging in and out of you.

Your high pitched, breathy moans mixed with his own deeply pained and pleasured grunts. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and all the lewd wet noises that came with every thrust made you blush deeply.

Next he was yanking your leg up, hooking it over his elbow, allowing him to reach deeper inside you.

You threw your head back, “There,” you breathed out.

You were getting close and Dabi could tell by the clenching and unclenching of your cunt. He snaked a hand down and found your clit, rubbing tight circles into it.

“Cum crybaby, show me this cunt belongs to me.”

You fucking hated that nickname. And you hated his entitlement.

You wrapped your hands around his throat, listening to those pained noises that were starting to make your head spin.

He fucked into you even harder.

Everything went white. 

You were cumming and then he was cumming, the two of you shaking in each others arms.

He had slid out with a hiss, collapsing beside you, careful not to touch you.

You stared up at your ceiling, listening to his pants. You turned to look at him.

He really was shaking. 

You reached over and touched his chest, grinning at the now truly pained reaction you got.

He activated his quirk making you hiss and pull away, cradling your now burned hand to your chest.

It was quiet for a few beats.

”Why are you able to touch me?” You finally asked.

”The doctor that put me back together said my pain receptors are fucked.”

”Oh,” that actually… made a lot of sense.

You looked back to him again. Eyeing his profile, following the slope of his nose and the subtle pout of his mouth. You looked at his scars, how the deep purple skin was being held together to his healthy skin by staples. You stared at the swollen seams where the skin was connected.

You were beginning to think he had it wrong.

He was actually made for you.

-

Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)

Deleted Scene

[thevoidstaredback]

"If I turn around and there's a hero, vigilante, anti hero, villain, anything or anyone related in anyway to the Justice League, I'm going to fucking lose."

It was quiet for a second, then, "Don't turn around?"

Red fucking Robin. "What did I just say?" Phantom turned on his heel to face the young vigilante.

The kid threw his hands up, "I told you not to turn around!"

"And yet here we are," he crossed his arms. "The hell do you want?"

"You seem awfully snippy today."

"Seeing as you and everyone under the sun has been stalking me, trying to get answers to questions I'm not going to answer, I think you can excuse my attitude."

With a huff, Red Robin also crossed his arms. "How do you know what I'm going to ask if no one else has been able to talk to you?"

"Because living beings are all the same. Curiosity of the unknown drags you around by your ear." Phantom turned back to continue walking away, "Now go away."

The kid matched his pace. "No way,"

His eyebrow twitched ever so slightly. "I have a meeting soon, kid. You can't come along." That was a total lie. He had nothing going on that demanded his attention now that Constantine had ditched him after getting the demon under control. Maybe he could drop by Fawcett and visit Billy?

"No you don't." This damn kid-! "You've been wandering aimlessly for the past hour."

Phantom turned again to face the vigilante. "First of all, stalking people is hella creepy. Second of all, my schedule is none of your damn business."

"Careful there, kid," Red Robin smirked, "You'll get scolded for having a potty mouth."

"I'm thirty-fucking-eight!"

"You're literally fourteen."

Phantom closed his eyes. "Nocturn give me patience," he then looked Red Robin directly in the eye, "We've had this conversation. I'm dead. I don't physically age. That doesn't change the fact that I have walked this planted for thirty-eight years. Is that simple enough for you to understand or do I need to dumb it down for you?"

Red Robin blinked, his mouth agape. What? Did he just- The nerve! The audacity! "I'll have you know," he huffed, "I'm smarter than Batman."

"He tell you that himself?"

"Yes." It was one of the only times Batman had ever praised him, so that interaction was held particularly close.

Phantom looked Red Robin up and down, his expression reading both 'are-you-serious' and 'what-do-want?-a-medal?' Without a word, he turned back to his path and began his march anew. Any attempts at conversation from Red Robin was ignored, much to the younger's chagrin. Maybe he'd go away if he ignored him long enough.

Phantom and Red Robin wandered for the better part of an hour, not so much as a word passing between them. Neither stopped for any reason, and neither broke the set pace. It could almost be considered a friendly stroll through the city, if one ignored the slight apprehension surrounding the two.

Red Robin took this time to observe Phantom. He'd never spent too much time around anyone from the JLD who wasn't Raven, so he took the opportunity to get to know another on the team.

Phantom insisted that he was thirty-eight, not fourteen, and that the reason he looks as young as he does is because he looks like he did when he died. Not a comforting thought in the slightest. He knew that, though, when B had briefed him on all the members of or associated with the Justice League.

His powerset was almost completely unknown. They'd all seen him use a flight/levitation ability, as well as some form of density shifting and a healing factor, but Red Robin was more than sre that Phantom had more up his sleeve than that. He worked as a part of the JLD team, so he had to have some magical understanding or capabilities. But Raven wouldn't tell him if she knew, no matter how much he pestered her.

Looking at the kid now, Red Robin seriously wondered if Phantom had a civilian disguise. Ether white hair, toxic green eyes, the glow he seems to give off, and the contrasting bright white and vantablack suit and gloves he wore could not be easy to hide.

There was also a slight sense of unease Red Robin felt when looking at or being around Phantom for a long time. He hadn't noticed it before, but now it was as obvious as a neon sign. It was a strange mix of Uncanny Valley and sinking horror. Why was he feeling like this?

Phantom stopped in his tracks in a dead end alley. Without turning around he said, "Alright, spit it out. What do you want to ask?"

Red Robin hesitated for a moment. Surely it couldn't be that easy? Was Phantom really going to answer his questions? He shook his head to snap himself out of it.

"Come on, kid," Phantom pulled a piece of chalk from his front pocket. "I don't have all day."

Red Robin wanted to scoff because he most certainly did have all day. But, he pushed it aside. He was about to get answers that not even the Justice League could get! He decided to start of easy. "When did you die?"

"Try again." was the growled response.

"What?"

"I said 'Try again'."

Okay, okay. Touchy. "Why'd you join the Justice League?"

"I was bored." It was clipped. Phantom's on edge. Why?

"What're the rest of your powers? I know you have more than what you've shown everyone."

Phantom walked to the wall and started to draw a door on it with the chalk. "Next question."

Red Robin rolled his eyes. "Fine. How did you die?"

Every movement from Phantom froze. Every minute, involuntary twitch, even the telling signs of breathing. For a long minute, nothing happened and Red Robin had the dawning sense that he'd just asked something he really shouldn't have.

Phantom drew a circle in the rectangle he'd drawn on the wall, completing the door. "I'm going to give you a piece of advice that you seem to have completely glossed over." The piece of chalk was hidden away as he gripped the now 3D door handle. "If you value your life, don't ask the dead how they died." He opened the door and stepped through before looking back at the red clad vigilante. "They won't be so nice about it." Then, the door closed and the chalk erased itself.

Part 6 Part 8

Tag List:

@zaiothe4th @someonebored0100 @wolfeyedwitch @angelheartgamer @nymanders @princessbelix @luminanightfall @kgne-k @bianca-hooks123 @reigning-catsanddogs @sassywombatranchhorse @dontfightmecauseillcry @soul-lime @anarinette @serasvictoria02 @the-chaos-goblin-child @confusedshades @caicie @fantasticstoryteller @randomshtickidk @itsberrydreemurstuff @blueliac @i-love-mangoes @nymanders @highimpactemotions @anarinette @sleepingdead96

[celaenaeiln]

“batman loves his nightwing” this and “batsibs love nightwing that”, what about the batsibs’ friends / team loving nightwing ‼️‼️

YES!!! They love him!

The thing about Dick Grayson is that he has such a unique quality that just draws people in and holds them captive.

Titans (2016) Issue #26

He has a charisma that's intense. People from all walks of life find themselves just constantly looking at him for friendship, advice, love, guidance, and just something that calls them to him.

It's the impact he has on people that's astounding.

Titans (2016) Issue #27

They love him so much and they respect him so much that his absence is like a huge gaping hole in their chest. People feel lost without him because they've come to rely so heavily on him. Gar and Steel literally only joined because Dick asked.

This is something Roy catches on to and is well-aware of. He practically hounds Dick into creating the Outsiders with him.

Outsiders (2003) Issue #1

But you think Roy is the only one to capitalize on Dick's Nightwing effect? Hell no.

Titans East Special

Dick isn't just a person. He's a home. He's the guiding hand and the ship's steer control. He's special to people because he's everything they want him to be. He's their lover, best friend, brother, and partner. Whatever role they're missing in life they find it him him because he makes himself versatile enough to fill whatever they're looking for.

Dark Crisis Issue #1

We say batsibs' teams but he's the whole Justice community's everything. He fills the connections of both Batman's side and Superman's side.

He IS the most well-connected person in the entire community.

Teen Titans (2003) Issue #23

Look at what Kon says -

"Nightwing and Starfire brought wave two. Which is just about everyone whose ever been a Titan. It's a natural thing when Nightwing shows up. None of us are conscious of it, really--but we all look to him for orders. Robin's lucky."

The sheer respect. That Kon has for Nightwing is indomitable. Oh, but you think that's all?

Do you know what the superhero community says about Nightwing? Kon will tell you what they think -

Teen Titans (2003) Issue #33

The Titans (1999) Issue #39

He calls. They answer.

Hero-worship of Nightwing is canonically universal. Renaming this the Nightwing Effect

Epilson

The Titans (1999)

Red Condor

Nightwing (2016) Annual #3

Hutch

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

Kara

Justice League of America (2006) Issue #49

Supergirl (2005) Issue #3

And sometimes this means more than friendship love but still born out of respect. It's so funny to me how Dick goes around friendzoning people.

Cassie

Even when people don't like what he wants they still do it because they respect him. Because he had an impact on them and they were were moved

Titans (2003) Issue #89

Aquaman, Ollie, John (Green Lantern)

JLA (1997) Issue #121

Kyle Rayner

Even people he's just met are like - this guy's pretty good!

Green Lantern (1990) Issue #81

Coming from a Green Lantern comic!! Not even a Wondergirl, Wonderwoman, Batman, or Nightwing writer. A green lantern!

Speaking of which, when Hal Jordon dies, a list of people are selected to be The Hal Jordon's replacement and guess who it is?

Action Comics (1938) Issue #642

Hal forces his soul back into his body and comes back to life but DC does a "what-if" thing and shows what it would be like if Dick actually became a Green Lantern.

Superman/Batman Issue #60

AND BRUCE'S REACTION!! His most favorite son combined with one of his least favorite people 🤣🤣

Superman/Batman Issue #60

But Bruce's faith in Dick actually elavtes his opinion of Hal.

ALSO!!-

Superman/Batman Issue #61

I JUST KNOW THAT BRUCE WAS WRITHING IN JEALOUSY!!

But anyway, shows to prove that no matter who Dick is and what identity he takes, he will always be the love of the hero community. Because in this world, each member is a combination of the Justice League AND the Titans.

Superman/Batman Issue #60

Yet Dick is still the center of it all.

A literal god

Nightwing (2016) Issue #49

Jon and the hero community

Justice League: Road to Dark Crisis Issue #1

"It would mean a LOT to people if you came and said--" "You're all overreacting." "We need you."

"You're all overreacting." - Clearly, this isn't the first time someone has already come to Dick about being the center of the community.

Not just by the batfam, but for everyone Dick is the most beloved person in the community. That is a fact.

[mister0ctopus]

Server Room (1)

mini series - jeon jungkook

Pairings: IT!JK x Reader

Summary:  Your new IT guy is quiet and shy. But when you accidentally caught him doing something in the server room, while moaning your name, you just had to pretend you didn’t see that, right?

Ratings: 18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Explicit language, Mature Contents

Au/Genre: Smut (X), Office au, Mini Series

Word Count: 1.5K

Note: I wanted to write more, seems like this is my hyperfocus rn, but I’m sick, you guys. I skipped our company’s year-end party tn, so here I am typing with snot, lol. Hope you enjoy this, please let me know what you think! More to come. 😊

🐙 Masterlist / AskMeeeeee!!!

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

The office floor buzzes with the noise of chatter and the clicking of keyboards. Four more hours to go, and you’re free from this torture. Work has been exhausting lately, with everyone scrambling to finish everything before year-end.

You’ve been typing furiously, finishing a report you need to present tomorrow, but when you hit the Enter key, nothing happens…

And as if the world is playing tricks on you, your screen turns blue…

Enter. Esc. asoyjebcvbcjkv.

No! No no no!

You stare at it in disbelief. You worked so hard on this report—there’s no way it didn’t save, right???

You suddenly stand up and rush to one of your friends at work, and your go-to guy in IT, Yoongi.

You open the door to the IT department and let out an exaggerated sigh before plopping down next to Yoongi’s desk. He’s wearing huge headphones and tinkering with a motherboard.

“I need your magical powers right now. You can retrieve my report after this thing died on me, right?” you say, shoving your laptop toward him.

Yoongi looks up at you, eyes wide in surprise.

“Oh… you’re not Yoongi.”

“Oh—uhm…” not-Yoongi stammers, quickly pulling off his headphones, clearly startled by your sudden appearance.

Big, round eyes stare at you for a moment, like a deer in headlights.

After a few seconds, you stand up, gently pulling your laptop away from his face.

“I’m sorry. I thought you were Yoongi. Is he—”

“He’s not here. He’s on PTO for a week. The rest of the team went to check the new equipment coming in. Uh— I’m new here,” he says, almost too quickly, before gulping nervously. “I started last week…” His words trail off abruptly, as if realizing he’s said too much.

“Oh! Right. I forgot about his PTO. Vacation. Yeah. Uhm…” You laugh at yourself, realizing you completely forgot about Yoongi’s vacation. He’s going fishing and camping with Jin, his brother, and wow, that actually sounds amazing. You really need a vacation too, but goddamn it, the report, YN! You really need that report!

“Yes. Report. I really really need your help. I’m YN btw, and you’re…?”

“Jungkook,” he says in a breathy voice.

“Right. Hi, Jungkook. I didn’t realize there was a new guy in IT. So, listen... my laptop just died, and I really need your help retrieving a report I’ve been working on for days. I’d be so grateful... please?” you smiled sweetly as you subtly leaned in, because lord, you’re desperate and running out of time.

He nods quietly and places your laptop on his desk. He inspects the device and types a few keys. After a few seconds, still without looking at you, he says, “I need to run some tests. It may take a while…”

“How long exactly?” You nervously bite your lip. There’s no way this report can’t be retrieved. You have no backup, obviously relying on the laptop to save everything.

“Maybe... tomorrow? I—I’ll try to fix it,” Jungkook stammers, his cheeks slightly pink as he types a few commands.

“No!” You cut him off a little too quickly, then softened your tone to control the panic rising in your chest. “I have a presentation first thing tomorrow, and I need it today. Tonight, at the latest.”

He still doesn’t look at you, focusing on the device.

“I’ll try my best. You can come back later before you go home.” That’s all he says before turning his chair away from you.

You were about to further insist on the urgency of this matter, but you don’t want to push him more. You’re at the mercy of this guy, and he’s the only one who can help you right now.

You nod, trying to keep your frustration in check. "Okay, I’ll be back before 5 pm." you say, giving him a small, grateful smile. “Thanks, Jungkook. I appreciate it.”

He simply nods back, still not making eye contact as he focuses on the device.

You leave the IT department, your mind racing as you think about how to explain to your boss if the report can’t be recovered.

4:07pm

You glanced at the clock for the eleventh time since leaving the IT room, your anxiety growing with each passing minute. You couldn’t wait any longer to find out if the laptop was fixed, so you decided to head back to the IT room, only to find it empty.

“Jungkook?” you call softly.

The room is small, with only four desks, so it’s easy to tell that no one is there—no one except for you.

You turn to leave when your eyes catch another door with a sign that reads “Server Room.”

Jungkook must be in there, so you approach the door and push it open. But just as soon as you step inside, you hear angry grunts and heavy breathing, as if someone is straining.

A sense of panic rushes over you, as though you’re not supposed to be here—should you be here?

You freeze, unsure of what to do next, but then you notice movement behind one of the racks directly in front of you. Colorful inked hand moves erratically, tugging at something angrily.

Up, down, forward, backward...

You hear the grunts shift into groans, and the heavy breathing turns into soft whines.

You hear slick, wet sounds and the pounding of your own heart. You know you’re not supposed to be looking, yet you can’t tear your eyes away.

Your eyes shift from his busy hands to his strained face, where you notice Jungkook biting his lip to stifle more sound from eliciting, his lip ring catching the light on his every movement, and you feel wetness soil you in your center, so you press your thighs together to try and soothe it.

You close your eyes because god why is this so wrong, and so fucking hot?

And you clench your cunt around nothing as you hear him call your name in the most strained voice, almost sounding like a plea.

“Fuck… YN, oh god of god oh goddd!” he whined, movements quicker now.

Your face goes numb with shock from the vulgarity, and you struggle to steady your breath as you quietly storm out of the server room, praying he didn’t notice you at all.

You hurriedly walk back to your desk, a wave of shame washing over you for what you saw and what you're feeling, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and need.

You fix your already neat hair, hoping no one notices the chaos you're feeling, but what you don’t realize is that Jungkook saw you leave the room, and that made him cum harder as he imagined his firm hands being your soft and wet hole instead.  

Still shaken from the incident, you finally gather yourself at exactly 5 PM and make your way back to the IT room. Desperation fuels your steps—there’s no way you can let what you saw, and the way it made you feel, stop you from retrieving your laptop.

As you step inside the room, expecting a dismissive Jungkook to greet you, you instead collide with something solid—a chest.

Jungkook’s chest.

Visuals of him from a few minutes ago flash through your mind, and you let out a small gasp. He is smirking, but his expression remains unreadable—a stark contrast to the shy and aloof Jungkook you had initially met.

"I fixed it. Your data is all there. I also made sure you're logged into the reporting CRM, so your presentation pulls real-time data via API. Basically—you have a backup," he said matter-of-factly, his tone professional—but his eyes are anything but.

He handed you the device, and you hesitantly took it, still processing everything.

With a sigh of relief, you offered him a sweet smile, your voice soft as you thanked him. "Thank you, Jungkook. You saved my life. I owe you," you murmured, though your mind was still racing, unable to shake the earlier scene.

 He nodded and remained quiet, simply watching you with a sly grin on his lips, his expression still unreadable.

The tension was unbearable. Unable to take it any longer, you quickly mumbled another "thanks" and made your exit.

When you finally reached home, exhaustion settled in, but relief quickly followed. You’d been running on adrenaline all day, but now that it was done, you could finally breathe. The changes Jungkook made were a game-changer—it fed you real-time data seamlessly, saving you hours of work.

After adding the final touches to your presentation for tomorrow, you got ready for bed. You couldn’t help but feel a mix of gratitude and awe as you closed your laptop for the night.

But your mind betrayed you—thoughts of Jungkook still lingered in your brain, refusing to let you rest.

His tattooed arm around his hardness…

The way his chest heaves…

The way he was beating his dick for you…

The way he sounded, his groans, his moans…

How the slick and wet noise filled the air…

How he looked so angry biting his lips, brows furrowed in frustration…

His dark hair stuck to his damp forehead…

The lip piercing that you were sure would feel cold against your warm folds…

You touch yourself with desperate need, pumping two fingers inside as your other hand circles your clit.

You yell his name over and over, as you buck your hips, feeling your release drench you further. Then you drift into slumber in soiled underwear and a sweet sweet smile, knowing you’ll see him again tomorrow.

[alaritheaurora]

Okay can we talk about Scott and his relationship with love and sacrifice throughout the seasons? Because like, there are some goddamn patterns First there's Third Life, and I like to say that this is Scott at his best. And by best I mean most emotionally available. Scott is very expressive during this season, because he loves Jimmy, and for that is keeping the peace. Scott is the mediator, he wants a happy life and he does his goddamn best to keep that life. And when he's forced to choose a side he does it with the people he's already friends with. And then Jimmy dies and he is heartbroken. And then when the self-sacrificing starts. Like Third Life is the definitive worst Scott has done and that's because he was entirely throwing caution out the window. He grieves Jimmy and then decides that it was due to him not being there, that if only he had been there (despite already dying and not having control of the situation) things would've been different. So he spends the rest of the season like a suicide-bomber, doing his best for his remaining friends. Then there's last life, and this is when Scott becomes closed off. After the grief of Jimmy and knowing how much feeling things hurts, he plays it different. He befriends Pearl because she's new and has something to give him, plus, she's volatile, a wild card. Chaos that can defend herself. So he treats it like a vacation. Of course he's still cautious, but now he's detached himself from his emotions. Obviously he stills cares about Pearl, she is his supposes reason for winning. But the way he treats emotions with Pearl and Jimmy are very different. He was way more earnestly open about his feelings with Jimmy. And when he decides to just go red from the boogeyman, that's another case of him loving his friends too much to go after them, and the only way he can help is to take action. When he wins it's for Pearl. But he doesn't end it with Pearl, he ends it with his pet axolotl. Something that is far less telling of his care for people.

And then when Double Life rolls around he realizes how much she actually cared about him. And that scares him. That scares him right off. The idea that if she gets him to open his heart again that he'll be hurt again. So he goes to Cleo who he knows won't care, they've always been closed off and sarcastic, they won't care if he upkeeps bonds or not, they won't care about the lovey-dovey. And throughout the whole season he's pushing Pearl away because he's scared of being opened back up. And at the end he knows he's done her wrong, so he does the thing Scott Smajor does best, decides that she deserves life more than him. Limited Life is god's most unhealthy coping mechanism ever. He went and got himself a surrogate husband who would ignore everything that would happen that season. Martyn does not give a damn about previous seasons unless your name is Ren. Scott picked the guy most likely to betray him and went "hey we're both sad and hurt, let's team up" and was sooo ready for Martyn to kill him. AND HE STILL CARES ABOUT HIM. He still checks up on him and helps with his Birthday and asks Martyn to kill him because he thinks his only use is dying for his loved ones. AND he offers up his life to both Cleo AND Jimmy this season. He is so twisted up in the past this season, and in an awkward phase of healing with Pearl. Secret Life is I think when we reach peak-standard happy-emotionless Scott. He's in his band and he is living life and ignoring the horrors. He's a friendly calm, collected, not showing fear guy. He says "I love you" to everyone and is infuriatingly collected when people spend entire sessions out to kill him. Of course he sacrifices himself to Gem TWICE this season. He has a problem. Real life is Pearl reconciliation hour. And then Wild Life. My god, Wild Life. Cleo is old reliable, Impulse is nice to team with, and he made up with Pearl. And for the first bit he's doing the norm, he's close, but not outwardly expressing it in tangible ways. And he's mister peacekeeper. But pearl and Impulse are messing it up, he's trying to be friends with Gem and Joel but his teammates are ruining this. And he's not the universal best friend. He's not the guy you casually hand around in his base with. He's teamed with Mister and Miss Chaos. AND HE ACQUIESCES, he goes "yeah, burn down their house. Yeah, kill that guy". His teammates, which he knows are the problem but goddammit Scott is loyal , so he decides Gem and Joel are ruining this. THEY have stripped away his persona. His trustworthy-ness. He guns it after both of them, his happy cracks and spills out anger. It's the second worst he's placed because he stopped trying to lie and listened to his emotions. +he's gotta let Pearl kill him, tis tradition. It's the fact that Scott within the life series is hated by the watchers due to his ability to LOVE. It's the fact they don't feed well off him because he doesn't hold tangible grudges. It's the fact that Scott loves so desperately and bad that he has tied his own well-being to how well others are doing, if Scott is doing well he gives it to his teammate because then it must be HIS fault that they're worse off. By being too nice and too calm, people don't realize his connections with people are real. And if they don't love him back then he won't have to be heartbroken. Scott has weaponized love, against the watchers, against his peers, and most importantly, against himself.

[xf-cases-solved]

guys, alex krycek is the Most Character of All Time

he's a bright young fbi agent. just kidding, he's secretly working for the shadow government syndicate. the syndicate hates him. so does everyone else. he killed mulder's father. he's a great assassin. he and his accomplice killed scully's sister on accident. he's a terrible assassin. he survived a car bombing. the bomb was put in the car to kill him specifically bc he's so bad at his job. he cannot have a single interaction with mulder that is not intensely homoerotic. mulder once beat the shit out of him in a chinese airport and then the wife of a french diver gave him the black oil virus in the bathroom. like that's not even a euphemism for anything, that's literally what happens. he's working for the syndicate again. he purges the black oil violently from his face and then gets abandoned behind a door underground. he is no longer working for the syndicate. he once beat the shit out of skinner in a stairwell. in retaliation, skinner later shirtlessly beats the shit out of him and handcuffs him to his balcony where he almost dies. it is just as homoerotic as it sounds. his parents were cold war immigrants and he's fluent in russian. we only learn this right before mulder is going to abandon him handcuffed to a car to go to russia. he and mulder go to russia. bad things are happening, but they're in it together. just kidding, krycek is working for the russian government. just kidding, now he is being held prone on the ground while people saw his left arm off. now he has a prosthetic arm. he's working for the russian government. he and marita are enemies. he and marita are fucking. it's probable that krycek doesn't know how to have relationships that aren't both erotic and filled with hate. he's on mulder's team now, he even kissed him about it. just kidding, he's working for the syndicate again. he has a remote that controls nanobots(???) inside skinner's body, allowing him to harm and/or kill him at will. it is just as homoerotic as it sounds. it's all going to hell and the only person he's going to save is himself. he helps get nearly the entire syndicate slaughtered. he throws cigarette smoking man down a flight of stairs to his death. he's a great assassin. he can save mulder's life. he's not going to save mulder's life. scully's child cannot be born. he will help them get her somewhere safe so the child can be born. he's going to take mulder's life. skinner takes his life instead. now he's a ghost. his ghost is on mulder's side. the cigarette smoking man outlives him. he's a terrible assassin

[thef1diary]

Omg di imagine crashing the car or a race doesn’t go as expected, so you blame the strategy and go off on the team on radio in rage and team principal carlos is NOT happy about it

— bon!! I love this so much! TP!carlos is not happy at all, and of course he’ll punish you for it…in front of the team and in your hotel room, with a lot less clothes. 18+ content below

The second you step out of the car, the tension is palpable. The garage is silent, all eyes darting between you and Carlos as you yank your helmet off, frustration still written all over your face. You’d gone off on the team over the radio after the race—an emotional, fiery tirade blaming the strategy for your poor result but it had majorly been your own fault.

Carlos is waiting for you, his arms crossed, jaw clenched, his dark eyes burning with restrained fury.

“Meeting. Now.” His voice is low, deadly calm, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You follow him to the debrief room, where the entire team also gathers, their expressions varying from uncomfortable to outright nervous. Carlos doesn’t sit; he looms at the head of the room, his presence commanding, his gaze fixed entirely on you.

“Care to explain yourself?” he asks, his tone clipped.

You stammer out a half-hearted explanation, but it’s clear he’s not interested in excuses. He cuts you off with a sharp gesture. “No. You don’t talk to the team like that. Ever.” His voice rises, but only slightly—it’s the controlled anger that has everyone on edge. “This team works day and night for you, and you repay them by humiliating them on an open channel? Unacceptable.”

You shrink under his scrutiny, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. When the meeting finally ends, he dismisses everyone but keeps his gaze locked on you.

Later, when the hotel room door slams shut, the sound echoing through the space, Carlos immediately spins you around and pins you against the wall. His hand fists in your hair, tugging just hard enough to make you gasp, and his lips graze the shell of your ear as he growls, “You embarrassed me. Humiliated the team. And now, you’re going to pay for it.”

His hands are unforgiving as they strip you of your clothes, each piece tossed carelessly aside until you’re bare before him. He doesn’t bother undressing at all, only rolling up his sleeves to his forearms. His eyes darken as he takes you in, his tongue sweeping across his bottom lip.

“On the bed,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You scramble to obey, lying back on the cool sheets, but Carlos shakes his head. “No. Knees.”

You shift onto all fours, your body trembling as he moves behind you. His large hands grip your hips, holding you still as he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear. “You think you can act like a spoiled brat over the radio and get away with it? You think you deserve to cum after that display?”

Before you can answer, his palm cracks against your ass, the sting sharp and biting. You yelp, but he doesn’t let up, delivering another, then another, each slap punctuated by his scolding.

“Count,” he snaps.

You stumble over the numbers, your voice shaky as the punishment blurs into something far more intoxicating.

By the time he’s done, your ass is flushed and littered with his handprints, your knees wobbling from the intensity. But Carlos doesn’t stop there. He flips you onto your back with ease, his hand wrapping around your throat—not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of his control.

His mouth is on you next, biting and sucking a trail down your neck, your chest, your stomach. He’s relentless, leaving marks in his wake, a reminder of this night that you’ll feel tomorrow.

He spreads your legs wide as he settles between them. His fingers slide through your wetness, teasing your clit just enough to make you squirm.

“You’re dripping,” he taunts, his lips curving into a wicked smirk. “Pathetic. But you’re not cumming. Not yet.”

His fingers thrust into you, slow and deliberate, curling just right to make you whimper. But every time your hips buck, desperate for more, he pulls away, slapping your clit sharply. The sting makes you cry out, your body jerking, but Carlos just chuckles darkly.

“You’re going to apologize to the entire team tomorrow,” he orders, his voice low and commanding, “until then, you’ve lost the right to cum.”

He keeps you on edge, working you up until your thighs shake, your breath ragged, only to stop the moment he feels you getting close. Each slap to your swollen clit is a punishment, a reminder of your outburst, and the sadistic gleam in his eyes tells you he’s enjoying every second of your torment.

“Say it,” he demands, his fingers circling your clit slowly, teasingly. “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” you gasp immediately, your voice barely above a whisper.

Carlos shakes his head, his fingers stopping entirely. “Louder. Like you mean it.”

“I’m sorry!” you cry out, desperation lacing your tone.

Satisfied, he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “Good. And if you ever pull a stunt like that again, this will seem like mercy. Understood?”

All you can do is nod, your body sore and your mind already spinning with the anticipation of what he might do next time.

He pulls away entirely, leaving you aching and needy, your body trembling as he smirks down at you. “Rest up, nena. You’ll need it for tomorrow.” And with that, he leaves you there, completely wrecked, your pussy still throbbing for the release he’s refused to give.

want more team!principal!carlos? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[theconstantsidekick]

I have so many questions for season 4

Reginald was an alien. They knew that and then they came back to life after he tried to murder them and just… never asked him about it? They were like ‘yeah cool wtv’?

How does Claire know that Klaus is immortal? Is she aware of everyone’s powers? Did Alison tell her all about her dysfunctional super family?

WHY DOES LUTHER GO SEMI APE MODE FROM THE MARIGOLD? It wasn’t a part of his original powers!

Why is the marigold they take this season janky? Like why do they get sick? Did Reginald’s wife spike it? Or was it simply that they consumed it as fully grown adults instead of being born with it?

How did Reginald control so much of the US of A?? Like his people are literally leading the charge against Jean and Gene? How?

Why did that girl break up with Viktor? What do you mean he knows? I wanna know too!

What was up with the hotel in season 3? Why did have that samurai thing? Idk I’m lost

WHO THE FUCK BUILT THE SUBWAY STATION THAT FIVE BLINKED TO? THERE WAS A MAP SO CLEARLY SOMEONE BUILT IT, right? RIGHT?

How did Five and Lila spend 7 years on that fucking train and never run across another version of Five?

Why is there a Five Doppelgänger Owned Deli in that subway station? Are we meant to understand that in several other timelines he loses his powers, ingests “janky” Marigold and then gets this specific power? Or was this part of his original power set and he just never discovered it? If so, then why was the colour his blinking aura changed to purple from his usual blue? What is happening?

How did Claire and Lila and Diego’s kids survive without ALISON, DIEGO AND LILA NEVER HAVING EXISTED? I don’t think that’s how genetics work???

Why do we only see a fucking field of the original timeline… is there nothing else in that world or…?

Does Klaus know how Ben died? Seeing as he could talk to, you know, BEN?? Did he ever tell his siblings? If not? If he too were brainwashed, did og Ben never tell him the truth?

WHO THE FUCK WAS THAT BEN ON THE SUBWAY, READING A BOOK AND WEARING GLASSES? Who was that? What was the point of seeing him in the post credit scene for season3 and then NEVER EVER AGAIN?

Why are any of them so invested in saving Sparrow Ben? He’s mostly a dick? Did they get some development off screen????

How did one version of Five establish the Commission and never hire any other version of Five than the one we saw? If he did, did he keep track of all the Fives under his employment? To make sure to avoid any paradoxes?

There is a 6 year time jump but when Viktor asks Alison if she’s double crossing them again by teaming up with Reginald, Alison categorically says, “I haven’t met the man in 5 years”…. Does that mean she used to go over to the mansion for brunch every Sunday for a year?

Where the fuck did that man with a goldfish for his head come from? Why did he have an entire body?

Why did Lila get a family but no one else did?

WHY DID JENNIFER COME OUT OF A FUCKING SQUID?

Why does Diego not have all the skills he should from all the training he was put through? Also why is he called fat the entire season only to be shown to have WASHBOARD ABS!!?

I’m sure there are logical answers to some of these but I don’t know any.