#and it's a damn shame they aren't used more enough

[nimadjart]

Happy halloweeen. :)

This is the commentary track(?) to my digitober. It's just rambling, so don't expect anything too interesting.

This first picture came out on a whim, I originally didn't intend to do anything for this october. I had just arrived home from helping my mom out with something, and was in a good mood. I think this picture, as sketchy as it looks, reflects that feeling. I'm content with it - and it's halloween themed! All the better.

For the second, I tried to follow the "official inktober" list (something I'd drop quickly in the following days). I'm disastrous at making backgrounds, so I gave it a shot for practice sake. I think it's not a bad result, it almost kinda tells something of a story.

"Boots", hah. It's not terrible, but it's also missing a lot of polish. I think the idea behind it works well for a cute/sexy picture of Angewomon. Maybe some day I'll revisit it? I should put more practice into drawing the human form in the meanwhile lol.

I really dislike the fourth one. I think Lianpunmon deserves better art, so I'll definitely do it again some day. My skills are so undeveloped, it's very obvious seeing this poor hatching.

Speaking of hatching, I bit more than I can chew with this one. The composition isn't interesting enough either, and just like with Lianpunmon there's no story here. At least Angewomon seemed to be interacting with the viewer lol.

The sixth is something I liked better. It's kinda shody, but there's something of an urban fantasy thing going on.

The Vamdemon one I can see the faults: I need better line control, the shapes aren't locked in as well as they should be. Yet, I'm partial to it…

Rapidmon deserves better lol. I still really dig the idea behind this drawing, I just wish I'd have given myself the patience and time needed to render a kickass explosion.

SkullGreymon, I have little to comment. It has zero story, but it's carried by the vibes. It's the first (and arguably last lmao) time I think I was cooking with the halftones.

The tenth is arguably the peak of the entire month. It has some story, a neat composition, and acceptable execution. Strangely enough it was one of the quickest to make: I had an idea, and it came out in a few minutes (compared to some other drawings where I was fighting for my life), and it ultimately was one of the most interacted with drawings in my entire blog. Funny how that goes.

I like a lot the Piemon one, as bland as it is. It's like a design piece, more than a drawing. It helps that the perspective deformation hides my poor linework haha.

I went too hard on the Mephismon X one, to the detriment of the piece. Instead of adding texture, it just looks dirty. Damn.

The thirteenth one was my poor attempt at making a background. Originally, Bakemon was gonna have this devious, whimsical look, but as I finished drawing the stairs I thought "I'd be kinda tired after climbing a few floors", so I changed Bakemon's expression to reflect that. Just a little trivia.

The Jesmon is what I'd argue was my peak. Shapes are locked (as best as my skill lets them), values worked well, it told a story. It's my favourite of the month.

Fiftenth was made, mostly, trying to catch some Adventure buff to the ammount of interactions I'd get. I mean, I had fun drawing the characters, but the reality is that I had petty reasons. I don't dislike it though.

I know exactly what I wanted to do with the sixteenth, and I didn't achieve it. Looking back, I think I should've done it in BW, rather than grayscale, to make it pop more. Fix the composition too. It's too plain. Shame, I really like Lilithmon X's design.

Seventeenth was also one where I just phoned it in. I think the values are all over the place; though I do like the harsh light. Impmon is a lot of fun to draw, all things considered.

Greymon was fun, lots of fun to draw. But this was another piece where I went too crazy trying to use halftones, I ended up making something that lacked impact or presence. I do like, in a self deprecating way, how the background seems okay until you look at it directly and see that it's kinda bad lol.

I made Nefertimon's torso too long! I only realized when I was doing the finishing touches lol. Yet I like the whole thing a lot, I think the texture and lightning kinda sells it as a photo (the white border was an attempt at selling that further). Saw someone refer to it as "the last thing I see before I die", and that comment might stay with me forever lol.

The twentieth is another I had a clear picture in my head as to what I was actually hoping to make, but failed to. Instead of landing some sort of finish, it's on a weird gray (lol) area. Making clouds is hard y'all.

Twenty one is one where I managed to stick the landing to what I had in mind. I think the composition needed a few more minutes of baking, but overall I'm content with the result. Death-X-DORUgoramon is a complex design, so any degree of succesful translation is a win in my book.

I think I needed to draw some more background Kuramon for the twenty second. Y'know, to really sell the swarm thing. It's kinda too clean.

Before twenty three, I had never given myself the time to draw a tree shilouette. It was fun to turn off my brainfor a bit and just draw line, after line, after line, after line. I did the tree first, and then I tried to figure out how to make Shurimon. Originally, I wanted him to be hunched over more dramatically, almost as if he was climbing down the tree, but I was incapable of drawing it in a satisfactory manner. So this is what I got.

Twenty four is so bad! I think Monitamon came out fine, but the background elements are so poorly done! I'm so embarrassed! lol

Kabuterimon was really fun, very dramatic looking. I think it has some serious readability issues with the hands, but I don't dislike the idea I had at all.

Hackmon's drawing was done almost like a sibling piece to the fourteenth, Jesmon's. Like, Huckmon is somehow watching his exhausted future, yet he stands stoic. On it's own, I think it's plain. Like, it has some charm, but it's lacking in impact compared to the fourteenth. But maybe that's for the best of the story?

The Wizarmon sticker came through me realizing I wasn't practicing my lineart! So I did a sticker instead. This was actually version two, but number one was so bad I had to redo it. Despite it being a humble sticker chibi, it's overall the day I spent the most time drawing.

Twenty eight came from me realizing I hadn't done any Alphamon! So I did what I thought would look badass. As much as I like Alphamon, though, his shapes are difficult for me to grasp so it came out shoddy and weak lol.

Twenty nine, Ragna Lordmon vs Ragnamon, was hurt by me recording it. While an exciting thing to do, I felt like I wasn't allowed to do anything but move forward quickly, or to change things (I'd have moved both Ragnamon and the main Ragna Lordmon body closer to the center) that would've made the composition flow better. It's not an abject failure, and the video is fun to watch, but still…

Dorumon is a simple piece that I was a bit surprised to make. My birthday is not information I tell people, but I was just compelled to share a bit of myself. I dunno, it feels weird. I'm weird. It came out cute at least.

And at the last! Noble Pumpmon again. I'd love to tell you that I applied everything I learned throughout the month and it's my best piece and stuff, but that isn't the reality. It's a better show for a similar amount of effort compared to the October 1st drawing, but it's not some crazy good display of betterment. A bit, yes, but less than I had hoped.

If you made it this far into this silly wall of text I wrote, I thank you. I thank everyone who interacted with my drawings, it pleases me a lot to see that someone gave it a like, or a share, or a comment. I learned about myself, and my limits, through this experience. It was tiring, but setting myself the goal of "make a drawing a day" was, paradoxically, liberating. Like, now I had a reason to draw! (despite me having some comission work to do lmfao). It was nice. This was one of the most entertaining octobers in recent years. Thanks again to everyone who participated in some fashion.

[sticksbatnix]

I know its super late, but on your Batman Beyond thoughts, I always wonder where all these powerful and weird looking misfit teenagers become Jokerz?

Or like does Bonk have parents, if so did they care about his death?

You make a very good point here, anon.

The show, as great as it is, fails to elaborate much on The Jokerz's past as a whole. Sure, there are tidbits here and there but more should have been added to properly explain how and why they joined The Jokerz in the first place.

Sure, make the point they were dumb teens who didn't know better, but there's more than that, there always is.

So let's explain it further by the five W’s.

Who, What, Where, When, and Why.

Who?

Who are the characters presented to us?

Ghoul, DeeDee, Chucko, Wolf, and Bonk.

And whoever other teenager dressing up is similar to either The Joker or Harley Quinn herself.

What?

What is happening to these characters and the people around them?

Simple, a group of misfit teenagers go out of their way to cause chaos and mischief wherever they go. Of course, lacking general empathy, causing property damage, and directly or indirectly murdering people whether they were innocent or not. And to be stopped by either law enforcement or by The Batman.

Where?

Gotham City, more specifically Neo-Gotham City.

The various old and decrepit buildings of what Gotham City was like before were long forgotten. Likely, used for the citizens of Gotham who couldn't afford the luxurious apartments and homes near and within Neo-Gotham.

When?

The future.

A time beyond Batman’s prime in time for a new Batman to take place. Just in time to handle the new and chaotic criminals that run or fly freely across the city. New technology, new law enforcement, new drugs, and new opportunities to cause havoc upon the citizens of the futuristic city.

Why?

Many reasons, few predictable, others reasonable, and the rest unexplainable.

Throughout the show, it's shown that various teenagers who go into a life of crime have rough backgrounds. Abusive or neglectful parents, low income, bullying, or even the corruption of authorities.

Bonk’s death, while brief, shows the cruel reality that many of these young criminal teenagers would face. Yes, they may be having fun, but over time they’ll be able to face life-threatening situations that may end their life. It could be painful, it could be painless, or it could have long-lasting effects if they survived. In Bonk’s case, he made the fatal mistake of going up against The Joker, paying dearly for it, and dying with a permanent smile on his face.

His body might as well be disposed of near or in a trashcan. I doubt DeeDee would go the extra mile to deliver his body to his parents, but if they did I can't imagine the horror his parents would have finding his corpse laid out on their front porch. Now, whether or not they cared for Bonk is unknown, but judging his brutish personality I could only speculate he cared for himself and likely hated being seen as lesser than everyone else. Especially his parents.

The other Jokerz can be speculated as well.

Ghoul came from a rich family, likely running off to live a life without rules and regulations. I've written a few scenarios about this on this blog about this. His family likely disowned him because of his involvement with The Jokerz as I never see them visit him when he's captured.

DeeDee are related to Harley Quinn, now whether they know about that is up in the air. But it's obvious they were inspired despite how much their ‘Nana Harley’ despised them for it. They seem to enjoy the limelight of joining forces to cause havoc and chaos all at once despite everyone telling them not to.

Chucko is a bully who loves inflicting misery on others. Likely joined The Jokerz to bully others without consequences and cause mass amounts of destruction. Whether or not he came from a bad family, it's clear that Chucko enjoys bullying others he sees as lesser than him.

Wolf was human before being spliced with hyena DNA and became the rabid creature we all know. It's possible that he felt a clear connection with animals, specifically dogs, rather than with his own family. Maybe he felt like being a dog/hyena made him feel more complete rather than living his life out like a human.

And we already talked about Bonk.

God knows about the other Jokerz members.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen in the next ten years for these characters and where they’ll be then.

Would they be dead? Would they get proper help and move on? Would they still be in jail? Would they change their whole gimmick and become like the villains from the past?

This reminds me, I found an artist on Devianart who specifically drew The Jokerz gang if they took part in the inspirations of past villains. Ghoul as Scarecrow, Wolf as Killer Croc, and Bonk as Bane. It's very creative and I feel like it should get more attention for how creative they all were.

Nonetheless, The Jokerz gang should be talked more about not only for their missed potential but for their capability to do so much more.

[toxicanonymity]

EVERY INCH 3.

4.4k words, m!ghostface x f!reader

Every inch 🔪 Every inch 2 🔪 MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: Ghostface watches you and calls you. He gets bored, and one of your friends gets killed. You try to swear ghostface off, but he stalks you. You want revenge.

A/N: THANK YOU for all the love. Masked Ghostface, inspired by canon gfs & night walks. HC who you want. Enough recap in the first paragraph to read as a one shot.

WARNINGS: I8+ noncon p in v, exhibitionism, voyeurism, gun play, choking, degradation, slut shaming, drugs, creampie, noncon breeding, phone sex, masturbation, knife play, a modicum of canon-typical plot/violence. Gf calls himself daddy. DEAD DOVE. NO USE OF Y/N. Starts in GHOSTFACE POV.

You aren't doing yourself any favors by thinking about him every time you get off. You should get on tinder. Go on another date. Get a boyfriend. But there's too much now. You've got a video of him whimpering with his cock out after you had your way with him, and a picture of him with cum all over his robe a minute later. And then there's the mirror pic he took in your bathroom. He's behind you, holding you naked in front of him.  There's a look of arousal on your face, and you must be so ashamed, but you keep coming back to look at it every night. . .and you're not the only one. 

Ghostface air dropped it to himself right after he took the pic. You should really be more careful with your settings. And your blinds, and your curtains. But you don't wanna be more careful, do you?  You've got everything the cops could need to put him away. You even had his DNA, and you kept it to yourself. Allll to yourself. And you’d like to have more of it, wouldn't you? It's fascinating, really, how bad you want his cock. 

You haven't heard from him in weeks, but he still comes by every once in a while.  He sees your neighbor check in on you, and you keep looking at the time on your apple watch until he leaves.  He sees you try on your slutty Halloween costumes– your backside looks best in that tight ass nurse dress, but god damn, your tits in that pleather.  What a pretty pussy you are. Meow.  He sees you get dressed for bed, and just in time. 

You check your phone and glance out your bedroom window before you take out your vibrator.  Ghostface takes out his cock and lifts his mask to spit on it. This is his season, you know. You must think about him all the time. Every time you see one of those phony Stab costumes. Every time you carve a pumpkin.  He lets you get a head start building to your climax. God damn, you want that cock, and you do an awful job hiding it when you see the call from a restricted number.  You look at your phone, biting your lip, and let it ring for a few seconds before you wet your lips and answer it. But you don't say anything.  Ohh, playin’ hard to get, are ya?

Ghostface admires the stiffness of his cock in his hand and strokes it while he watches you try not to speak first.  It's quite the game of chicken–at least a full minute of silence. He breathes heavier as he strokes himself, and then he hears the buzz of your toy. 

"Mmm, good kitty."

"What do you want?" Your breathing is heavy, too. 

"Wanna know how bad ya want this cock."

"Is your cock all you think about?"

He breathes a laugh. "That'd make two of us, wouldn't it?" 

You scoff, still touching yourself, teasing your clit with your vibrator.  

"Yeah that's it," he pants, and you arch your back. "Come for daddy."  You come so fast it's pitiful. 

You're easy. Too easy. He's getting bored. 

You're a bad, bad girl, and he wants to find out how bad. You know, he's never much cared for your "friend" Marla. He suspects you don't either, based on the way you tense at her hug in the bookstore.

—-----you-------

A DILF cop comes by your house. Must be new to the force since you've never seen him. You're used to them checking on you. The COP asks if he can come in, probably trying to be thorough,  you think.  But he asks you to take a seat, and he sits down next to you on your sofa.  When he has trouble meeting your eyes, your pulse quickens. 

He knows. He must know somehow. He knows you're a sick fuck who has phone sex with ghostface and gets off to his dick pics every night. Maybe he even knows you fucked him. He might even know you forced him. You're blanking on excuses if they find the photos in your phone. The cop leans forward and his biceps strain the short sleeves of his tan uniform.  He wrings his large, veiny hands as he turns his head to look at you.  Finally, his big brown eyes meet your gaze, and he tells you, "He's back. Got a crime scene down the block"

The relief lasts about ten seconds, and then you don't have to feign your horror. The blood rushes from your head to your pounding heart. You foolishly thought his killing days might be behind him. 

"Officer. . ." 

"Call me Javi."

"How do you know it's him, Javi?" You challenge him. 

"You really wanna know?" He raises his eyebrows at you. 

"It's him, sweetheart." He puts a big, warm hand on your upper back, then slides it up to squeeze your shoulder. "Got someone who can stay with ya?"

You take a few seconds to answer, then whisper, “yeah.” 

"Well, if not . . . " he sighs and leans way back on the sofa to reach into his uniform pants for his wallet. "Got a pen?" 

He writes his personal number on a business card and leaves it with you.  As you let him out the front door, sirens are wailing. 

Later, you see the crime scene online. Marla isn't just dead, she's stabbed, slit, and bled dry. The water runs red in the fountain you pass every day on the way out of your neighborhood.  A needed reminder of the sicko you’re dealing with. 

Over the next few days, you delete the ghostface photos and the video. You get a call from a restricted number and don’t answer it. You get a text from an unsaved number: don’t tell me you thought I changed. 

You delete it. When you’re leaving the neighborhood one day, you spot Javi in an unmarked car. When you get to your destination, you text him “why are you following me?” 

Like a boomer, he calls you instead of texting back.  You don’t answer. Then he replies, “Why don’t you have company? You shouldn’t be alone.” 

You send back, “If I have company, will you leave me alone?”

“I can give you some space, sure. But I have a job to do.”

“And what’s that?”

“Keeping you safe.”

—--

You’re not going to let ghostface control your life. You don’t know what would happen if you ran into him now, and you try not to think about it, although you do find yourself going into the trash folder on your phone to look at what you deleted. You make plans to go out with friends. It’s the first weekend of October, and there’s a huge Halloween festival. You put on your nurse costume.

An hour before your friends arrive, your doorbell rings. You look at your app and it’s Javi. Well, this is awkward, you think as you finish pulling up your black, thigh-high fishnets. You answer the door and let Javi in, trying not to let your eyes linger on the way his arms stretch his sleeves. You decline to sit down. 

“Look, if you’re gonna go out, you should carry this,” he says, then looks you up and down and his gaze lingers on your cleavage. You clear your throat. He swallows and gives a subtle smile like yeah so what?  “Gonna wear a purse?” he asks. 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” You roll your eyes. 

You reluctantly change into the cat costume and wear a bat purse. You go out with your friends and everyone gets way too drunk. Your friend Sam gets in an altercation after a frat party, and your other friends have to restrain her and walk her home. You’re tired and you don’t want to deal with it. You insist you’ll be fine since you’re armed.  You decide to walk a couple blocks before you order your ride home so you can wait somewhere with more people around. 

—--ghostface—-

You filthy little slut. Are you enjoying yourself? Ignoring him, playing hard to get, acting like you’re not flattered, then teasing him, prancing around Woodsboro looking like a handjob costs $20. Walking alone through an alley – you really are a dumb bitch, aren’t you? 

Ghostface knows where you’re headed. He’s seen you take this route before, so he gets ahead of you and waits.  He’s vaping in the shadows behind a fire escape in the alley. When he hears the click of your slutty boots, he hits send: a dark alley? lmao. He hears the ding on your phone and the click of your heels slows down right before you reach the fire escape.  no point running, he sends. Then he brings the vape pen under his mask and sucks in a mouth full of smoke, and your phone illuminates your face and your eyes widen.

—--you—--

The alley smells like weed. You’re reading the texts when ghostace appears from behind the fire escape, coming at you with his robe flowing behind him.  He only has one glove on. His gloved hand grabs your throat and he pins you to the wall. You choke and gasp for air. He tilts his mask and a small amount of smoke billows out of the dark mesh at the top of his long, black mouth. He eases up on your throat only to move his hand to your jaw and tighten his grip, squeezing your cheeks to keep your mouth open as the smoke billows thicker and closer. His mask is only an inch from your mouth. You close your eyes and breathe in, and as he releases the smoke into your mouth, your clit throbs.  You've got butterflies in your chest, being close to him again. You cough. 

"Good girl," he says as he relaxes his grip on your jaw.  Then his knee nudges your purse out of the way and wedges your thighs open. 

“Bet ya miss me more than Marla, don’t ya?”

If only he wasn’t right. There’s a fire burning in the pit of your stomach just being close to him. But Javi will probably be here any minute, and you need to put up a fight so they won't be onto you. You abruptly knee ghostface in the groin. He grunts and falls backward only slightly. 

"Bad kitty." He takes you by the throat again as you try to fight back. “Bad, bad girl.” He hasn't brandished his knife, but you know he has it. You can't get your gun out quickly enough. You look at your phone and it flies out of your hand as Ghostface grabs your wrist. 

He lets go of you and picks your phone up off the ground, then walks away, robe trailing behind him as he disappears into the night.  

You try to follow him, but he loses you. The audacity–he shotguns you, gets you all riled up, takes your phone, and leaves you, just assuming you won’t do anything about it. Assuming you’ll chase him. You think about the fountain scene. You think about him leaving you. Rage eclipses your desire. If you see him, you might actually shoot him.  Now all you have is your metro card to get home, and luckily you’re close enough to the train station.  

–-

Scattered groups of drunk college students stumble around, bicker, and laugh. 

The train doors are open and you jog to make it in time, just barely squeezing in before the door closes behind you.  The car is full, but not packed. A Freddy Kruger makes room for you, and you stand with your hand braced on the pole. You get a message on your apple watch, meaning ghostface must be in bluetooth distance. 

always wanted to see you on the pole. 

You look behind you, and there he is, sitting at the back of the car.  You should run, but you’re gonna get your phone back at the very least. There’s too much damage he could do with what’s on it.  As the passengers finish unloading, you discreetly open your purse and put your hand on your gun, then set your sights on ghostface, who’s manspreading and sitting back.  The only other company in the back of the train car is a Michael Myers who looks to be passed out drunk. 

You take out the gun and turn the safety off as you approach ghostface in your slutty cat costume. He pulls back his head and cowers in an exaggerated oh, i’m scared move. He stays quiet, for once. 

“My phone,” you tell him. 

He looks around, pretending like he has no idea what you’re talking about. 

“Now,” you order and put your finger on the trigger. He takes a phone out of his pocket, but it’s not yours. 

“What the hell’s wrong with you,” you ask. The train jolts and you’re propelled onto him.  You brace yourself with your free hand on his strong shoulder, and when you feel his hard muscle, butterflies swarm to your core. If he isn’t going to offer up your phone, you’ll have to find it yourself.  You press the muzzle of the gun into his neck, through the fabric of his mask. He freezes. You reach under his robe and pat him down, finding nothing in the front pockets of his jeans. You should check his back pockets, but first you grab his crotch while you’re at it and laugh when he’s semi-hard. 

“Cock’s the only thing you’re good for, and this is what you’ve got for me?” His mask tilts down, watching you grope him.  You savor the feeling of control. “Worthless,” you spit.  Desire bubbles between your thighs as you feel him harden in your grip. Fuck it, you’re gonna take him one last time. You don’t want the last memory of all this to be him dominating you in your bathroom. You wanna go out on top. You fumble with his button and zipper with your free hand, then command, “Take it out.” 

He tilts his mask at you, then looks behind you as though seeing who’s around. 

“No one’s looking,” you mutter. “Stop fucking around.” You hold the gun to his neck and he urgently takes his hard cock out. You reach down for it. It’s thick and warm in your hand. “Don’t feel half as big as ya look on camera,” you tell him. “Pretty sad.” You spit in your hand and reach for his cock again. “So desperate for my attention,” you mock him. “You’ll do anything, wont ya?”

This is fine, you tell yourself, You’ll tell the cops he forced you, and then you’ll even have his DNA, and they can catch him, and this can all be over. . .after one last ride. 

You put your knees on the seat on either side of him.  You hover over his cock and use your free hand to run the head through your dripping folds, then you sink onto him and bottom out with ease. His cock twitches against your walls, and a shiver races down your spine. Your nipples harden, visible even through your pleather top.  The sheer arousal pisses you off.  He feels too good. A man like this doesn't deserve to be so good at dicking you down, without even trying. Without doing anything.  You move up and down him, and he does exactly nothing. He knows it gets you off. You hate how full he makes you feel. You resent the incomparable pleasure that will linger in your mind, in your whole body, for days. Maybe forever. 

He moans soft enough that the voice changer doesn't pick it up. You wince at the sound of his humanity. 

Something comes over you. “Shut the fuck up,” you tell him as you bring yourself down on his cock again. . “I don't wanna hear your voice." You raise yourself up. "I don’t wanna know who you are." You roll your hips into him.  "I don’t fucking care. I don’t care about you at all," you bite, fucking yourself on his cock, dripping wetter and wetter.  You keep degrading him as you fuck him.  "You’re nothing to me." In your lower belly, a climax is building.  "You’re a faceless cock. Always have been.” He sits motionless as you ride him harder. Maybe it was the weed, but you can’t get enough.

When the train reaches the next stop, you tug down your dress as much as you can and sit still on his cock. You hide the gun between your bodies.

Your watch dings with a notification–an unsaved number. 

how's the 🍆

A shadow eclipses you from behind, and you hear the snap of a picture. Your face goes ice cold. 

"Oh you're a reeeeeal bad girl, aren't ya?" The real ghostface says behind you. All the hair on your body stands up, and your heart pounds as you look at the costume in front of you. The lack of gloves, the quality of fabric, the jeans under it. The cock of a stranger twitches inside you and the gun shakes in your hand. "What the fuck," you mutter. You start to get off the man, but the real ghostface slams you back down on him. 

"Oh don't stop now, kitty. " 

He holds you down on the man's cock. "Lovin’ this Halloween special. sure he is, too. Ain't ya, buddy?" 

"What the hell’s goin' on," the man mutters in a regular voice.

You’re about to berate the man for deceiving you. "You let me,"  then you feel the heavy weight of the gun in your hand and stop short, shame rushing into every blood vessel of your body. 

"Better finish what ya started," the real Ghostface says. "A happy customer won't snitch, right brother?"

When you don't move, Ghostface says, "god damnit," then squats down and wraps his arm around you. "Do I have to do everything?" He lifts you up a little, so the man's cock almost falls out, then drops you back down. He lifts you up and down the man's hard cock, and it's horrifically erotic having Ghostface fuck you on another man's dick. The real Ghostface cock is hard against your back. 

Ghostface adjusts his grip and grabs a tit as he forces you up and down.  The man’s Stab mask tilts down, watching his cock disappear into you again and again. Your lips part, and a moan slips out. 

"Oh, you filthy, filthy girl," Ghostface chides. 

"Shut up," you snap as Ghostface sheaths the man’s cock with you again. 

"Gonna cum for him, pumpkin? Milk his cock?"  

No, God no, this random guy can't cum inside you. Your body stiffens and you shake your head no.

"Oh, c'mon, kitty." 

"No," you whimper.

Ghostface sighs in exasperation and one of his arms leaves your torso for a moment. Then he points his knife at the man you're riding. "Ten seconds." 

Ghostface holds the knife to your throat as he keeps manhandling you on the guy's cock, counting down, "ten," he lifts and lowers you, "nine," stuffing you with the man's cock, "eight,"  and he's only at "seven," when the man flattens his back and arms against the subway seats and shudders as he lifts his hips into you. Ghostface forces you down, and you cry, "no," drowned out by the man's groan as he cums.  You moan at his pulsations. It's sick, disgustingly hot, getting pumped full of this stranger's cum on a subway car with Ghostface holding a knife to your throat. Your spine arches and you begin to convulse, milking the stranger’s cock just like Ghostface told you to. 

"Hellll yeahhh." Ghostface gropes your tit. His cock twitches against your back. He addresses the stranger, "She's hot for a serial rapist, right?" as he lets your weight fully down onto the man. He lets you push yourself off the man, and ghostface holds you by your neck so you won't run.  As the man's cock flops sloppily onto his open jeans, Ghostface tells him, "now get the fuck outta here." The man in the ghostface mask is still zipping up his pants when Ghostface adds, "this one needs a real big cock." Then Ghostface asks you, "don't ya, pumpkin?" And takes the man's seat. 

The train comes to a stop and as the man scurries out of the subway car, he warns other riders not to board the car. He’s removing his mask as the train pulls away, but you don’t get to see him.  Ghostface takes the man's seat and hikes up his robe, revealing his pj pants.  He takes his cock out and manhandles you onto his lap.  You hover. You're not about to hop on his dick, but let’s face it, you’re not gonna put up a fight, either. You're tired. You're confused. You're horny as hell. There must be something in that weed. 

Out the window, everyone is staring as the train slowly pulls away. 

Ghostface hikes your dress all the way up and stares between your legs with the stranger's cum seeping out of you.  

"Look at this mess," he catches the cum with the flat of the knife, cool against your folds. He slowly drags the knife toward himself, then angles it up toward your mound. Then he takes the knife off you.  He wraps his hand around your ass and the handle of the knife rests against your skin.  “Now sit on daddy’s cock.” 

He lifts you onto his cock. He hesitates with his tip notched at your entrance, and you twitch with need. Then he pulls you down, and his thick cock stretches you – a pleasant, easy stretch – as you sink onto him. He's bigger than the cock you just had. 

"What's my favorite movie?" He asks, then begins to move you on his cock. He holds you still. You're dying for friction. "Strangers on a train," he answers for you, and you ignore him.   "Hitchcock's overrated,” Ghostface says. “Now I've got my *own*.” Great, he took a video, too.  This is bad for you, really bad, but all you can think about is the big, hard cock inside you.  He's still not moving, and neither are you.  Your clit is throbbing. You begin to rock your hips as the train slows down . 

Ghostface slaps your ass with his bare hand. "Made for the screen, baby." His hips begin to move under you, finally. You close your eyes, feeling his thick shaft pump in and out of you, sliding with ease through the other man's cum. "Sure can take a cock."  He feels so fucking good.  Why did he have to kill again? Why can't he just fuck you? God his cock feels good. "Bet ya coulda taken us both," ghostface says and his cock twitches inside you. "Ohh, fuck." The train stops. He puts down his knife and takes the gun from you. "Yeah, this hole could take two, no problem." His crude words are making you throb more. You feel people watching from the train window, and your face is hot, but you can't get enough of this cock. "Maybe that's what this filthy cunt needs. Two cocks." Your walls twitch around him. "Ooohhh, like the sound'a that, don't ya?"  You feel an orgasm building in your gut. "Hell yeah, dirty girl."  

The train leaves the station again. “Maybe next time I’ll bring a friend.” he brings the gun to your face. He prods your cheek with the muzzle. Then nudges your lips open and you groan in protest. 

"Give it a kiss, pumpkin'"  You pull your head back and turn your cheek. Your heart is beating out of your chest. Your vision is blurry. Your body is dizzy with pleasure and adrenaline. Ghostface gives up on putting the gun in your mouth. He drags the cool metal down your face, around your neck, to your back, then keeps dragging it down. Then he slouches down in the seat and adjusts your angle on top of him, pulling you tighter against his chest. 

His massive, ungloved hand lifts your ass cheeks out of the way and spreads you wide. He brings you upward, letting most of his cock out, then you feel the cool metal at your dripping entrance. He wedges the cold muzzle of the gun into your pussy right alongside his cock. "Yeah, take it, kitty." 

You groan as he pulls you down on his cock and the gun. What has he done to you? Why is this so hot? "Yeah, knew ya could take two cocks." To your horror, you find your hips rocking. "Fuck yeah," he growls. The barrel of the gun is cool against the back wall of your cunt, and your hole is squeezing his cock tighter now. He wriggles the gun around in a circular motion against his cock. "Ohh yeah."  The train speeds up. "Hold on tight," he warns. He begins to manhandle you on his cock and the gun. You're on the edge. Your asshole tightens and tension swells in your core. 

"Fuck," you whisper. 

He feels it. "Yeah, that's right." You hold your breath. "Cum for me, pumpkin, or I'll make you into pie." Your climax overtakes you and you wince as you clench around the gun and his cock. 

"Goooood giirl," he says with your body jerking around his. "There's daddy's little slut." Wave after wave hits you and your cunt squeezes him and the gun.  He holds you tighter against him and lifts you enough to slide the gun out, leaving your exhausted cunt looser around him. “Yeah, plenty’a room for two.”  You're still having aftershocks. They're not fading, like another one could build. You reach for your clit. "Needy, needy cunt." You rub yourself and he rocks you on his cock until you cum again. 

"Hell yeah," he moans when you clench around him.  Then he erupts inside you with a groan. His cock pulses against your walls as his warm spend mixes with the other man's. "Yeahhh." His cum goes on and on. "Fuck, yeahh." 

As soon as he's finished coming, he pulls you off his lap. He tucks his cock back in his PJs. The train rolls to a stop. 

He pats your lower belly.  “Won’t know who's the father," he chides, "but at least ya know who's daddy."

—

-

Next: EVERY INCH 4

May 2024 update - I have 3 more parts outlined.

-------------------

THANK YOU FOR READING. If you want more parts, reblogs and comments make all the difference.

Now that you know what happens, it's a solid re-read. Especially when reader is degrading him 😭 lmk your thoughts when you come back to reread lol.

if you liked this smut, you could check out raider Joel meanwhile.

Also BTW gasolinerainbowpuddles is responsible for giving me the kink of degradation about unknown paternity starting with the fic liquid gold which is amazing.

[barleyo]

678-999-8212.

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: part two for my last fic!! ermmmm once again ily if you know the title's reference :3 this is a short addition too but idk i don't think part one required a super long part two! please read the tags, leon is mean in this one :c

Part One: here

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), age gap (21-50s), degradation, choking, hate-sex, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, non-con, striking/smacking of the face, alcohol mention

Wordcount: 1k

Leon had never driven this fast before. To hell with every red light in his way, he needed to get home. Foot sat firmly on the gas pedal, inching further and faster the more he thought about the series of events that led him here. 

His daughter was an absolute slut. How many men had you 'entertained' like that before? How many filthy calls had you made to men who were possibly even older than himself? More than that— how had he fallen into your trap? 

He made a silent promise to himself to put the bottle down, seeing as it left him in that situation. A promise that was an empty one, but it offered him solace in the moment as he pulled into his driveway. 

Leon's feet struggled against the pavement. He was still unbearably drunk and dizzy, now with added anger and unfounded horniness. He felt gross, disgusted by the erection popping in his slacks, but he couldn't help it. He was fathering a damn siren, and god did you know what you were doing. Your sickening voice, overly sweet moans, and your slick and noisy cunt that cried for him over the phone. It was all too much.

"You fucking slut!"

Leon had never been a rough dad. He wasn't a yeller, not one for heavy discipline. After his unfortunate discovery about you, though? He was quick to slam the front door shut and run up the stairs, feet clashing against each step with a violent speed. 

Whatever you had been watching on your television was quickly shut off when you heard his tone. You scampered under your blankets and feigned sleep. You had zero clue what he was on about, but you knew it would turn ugly just by the sheer anger in his voice. He couldn't yell at a sleeping beauty like you, could he? 

Yes, obviously he could and would. Stubborn old man.

"I know you aren't asleep," Leon spat, ripping the covers off of you. You stayed still, breath pausing in your chest. "Don't act innocent, brat."

Fine, so there was no escaping this. Damn it, what was this all about?

You begrudgingly relented and opened your eyes. Arms crossed defensively over your chest, an equal mix of fear and discomfort on your face as you scanned over your dad. 

You took in everything about him. His eyebrows were drawn together. His jaw was clenched tight enough that you thought it could pop at any minute. Fists balled up at his sides. Eyes dark. Dick hard— oh. Oh?

"You wanna tell me what you were doing earlier? Any specific calls y'made?" 

"Say it."

You had never heard your father speak so roughly, and anything close to the tone he used was never directed towards you. You were his sweet girl, daddy's baby forever. Now, though, each slam of his hips into yours made you feel like a cheap whore. 

"It's not true," you said. "I'm not a slut! I'm not, I promise."

You felt his large hand's grip over your neck tighten. Tears were threatening to spill, to run down your red, stinging cheek where the mark of his hand was freshly placed. You held it in. Daddy told you not to cry, that you had no right to. 

"Was just a mistake. I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, real convincing." Leon sneered down at you. It stung more than the unrelenting thrusts, more than the way his palm met your cheek. He never looked at you like that, like you were nothing. You wanted it to stop. "I didn't raise you to be a whore. You think you're fuckin' grown, huh? Showing off for whoever rings you up like some call-center bitch?"

You wanted to kick and cry, but the words stopped in your chest. Shameful wails sprouted from you. It was all true, every word he said.

"I just wanted attention," you were finally able to make out, despite the ever firmness of his hand around your throat. "I'm sorry, I'll never do it again. Promise."

Deep down, Leon felt awful for treating you like this. He tried to reason with himself. You needed to learn. How could you learn from a 'mistake,' as you called it, without a proper punishment? He was doing the right thing. He was sure of it. He couldn't have a whore-daughter, at least not such a shameless one. 

"Yeah? How's it feel now? You're getting all the attention you want now. Not enough for you, greedy bitch?"

Thankfully for you, he released you from the chokehold he had you in. He internally winced at the already forming bruise he left. His hands found your lower stomach and he pushed down. Hard. 

"There you go. Feel every bit of my cock."

God, he was so mean. His head knocked into your cervix roughly, no regard for your pleasure. It hurt, but the friction of his girthy cock dragging against your abused walls helped a little. 

Small flutters of pleasure peaked through the rough treatment, making it semi-worth it. Maybe if you came, if you focused real hard on getting over the edge, then maybe you could forget his awful words.

He wasn't nearly that nice, though. He kept grumbling under his breath, spitting out vile insults about you. Even as his voice cracked, he couldn't help but let his hips stutter forwards into you, whispering the harshest things. 

With a final, especially rough thrust, he came. He didn't bother to pull out, he didn't even try. Rather, he burrowed further into your sore walls and marked you with his seed, claiming you like the territory you were. 

As you tried to pull away, feeling utterly used and unsatisfied, you felt his strong arms yank you back. 

"Where do you think you're going?" 

His face softened a little. Good, at least he wasn't scowling at you any more. 

"We aren't done...?"

"Not even close." He pushed your legs back, resting them over his shoulders. "Whores don't get breaks. We aren't done until I'm good and fucking satisfied."

He leaned down, dipping his head so he could spit. He watched the dribble of saliva coat your hole. 

"If you aren't gonna be my good girl anymore, the least you could do is put out."

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

A Step Towards Him

Part Two of Betrayal. Or how meeting Gothams Vigilantes leads you to look for your ex. Does it count as a Fix-it fic if it's my own work? I do not follow the canon timeline in this. ~2.8k words

The world changes for you after that night, after finding out your boyfriend is a crime lord. And not just any crime lord. Gotham's biggest. It shatters you. You take some time off of work, request to be transferred off the case. Gordan gives you strange, worried looks over it, but doesn't ask. It makes you want to hide in your office and sob.

The world changes around you too. You try to ignore the reports about Red Hood, but you can't. Not when helicopters catch footage of him confronting Batman. Not when he's sighted entering an abandoned building before it explodes. (No, you don't throw up when you hear the news. Or let out uncontrollable sobs in the bed that he used to share.) Not when he comes back as some sort of vigilante, a protector of crime alley. (No, you don't drop to your knees in relief in front of the television.)

Your life finds some rhythm of normal. You go to work. You cook dinner alone. You curl under your comforter. You convince yourself the bed doesn't feel empty. That life is normal. Except some things aren't. 

It starts with Nightwing. He drops down next to you when you're picking through an active crime scene. It doesn't set off any warning bells at first, the Bats always seem to be where they're needed. Then he speaks.

"So, you and Red Hood?" He asks, voice light and teasing.

You nearly jump out of your skin to look at him wide eyed, before your head whips around to see if anyone's heard. They haven't, the crime scene is empty save for the two of you. You turn back to him, hackles raised and eyes narrowed. "How do you–"

He shrugs, smiling easily like he's not dragging the shattered pieces of your heart across the coals. "Found out by accident."

"Well, we aren't together anymore." You huff, averting your gaze from him and back to the crime scene. You know he's analyzing you, even under his relaxed demeanor. You're just not sure what he's looking for. 

"That's a shame." Nightwing chirps, spinning the sticks in his hands you know are equipped with enough electricity to bring down a rhino. 

You can't help the wince you make at that. "Why?"

"It seems like he really liked you." 

You tap your fingers against your thigh anxiously, a mannerism he definitely sees. You know Jason– Red Hood liked you. He used to say all that and more against your skin when he thought you were sleeping. (You don't relive that memory when everything's heavy and your stomach twists and you need something good.) "It's in the past." You answer instead. 

He opens his mouth to answer, but you never hear what he wanted to say. The sound of lab techs arriving at the crime scene draws your attention. By the time you turn back to him, he's already gone. You shake your head, trying not to read into the vigilantes' words. Damn Bats.

There's a kid in your office. Not just any kid. Red Robin. Ok, sure, he's not exactly a child, but he's definitely a teenager and definitely should not be sitting at your desk, in your office, and typing on your computer.

"Um, hello, Red Robin. Is there something I can do for you...?" You ask, lingering in the middle of the room. 

He looks up, turning your computer slightly towards you. You step closer to look. "Have you thought about using this cipher here?"

You glance over the screen. Huh. He's right. That code had been troubling you for a week. Leave it to a Bat to get it done in a day. "Oh. Thanks, that's pretty impressive work."

He grins at you and sits back in your seat. "That means you have some free time to talk to me?"

You eye him wearily, remembering your encounter with Nightwing. "I– yeah. Sure. Of course I do."

"Great!" He practically lights up and starts rambling. "Did you know Red Hood has a direct comlink to the batcave? And he saved that family from the Park Row explosion last week. Did you know he likes to read? He's kind of a nerd but–"

"Woah, woah, hey." You cut him off. "Look, I heard about the rescue and I know about the– uh, reading stuff, okay? What's this about?" He studies you, he can probably read your emotions better than you know them yourself. He probably knows exactly what you're feeling about Red Hood.

He smiles wider at you, like he's found what he was looking for, and stands up, almost bouncing to the window. "No reason. Just wanted you to know." He's launched his grappling hook and is out of sight before you can get another word in.

You groan, burying your face in your hands. Bats.

You're almost expecting it when you find yourself in the presence of the next vigilante. Sitting alone in an unmarked car, the most boring stakeout of your life isn't so boring anymore when Batgirl drops herself onto the hood of your car. You only embarrass yourself a little bit by yelping, spilling what's left of your coffee on the dashboard. She's at the door and tugging the handle by the time you've frantically wiped down the lukewarm liquid off the car. 

You unlock the door. If you didn't know better you would have said the stitches in her mask turned upward. 

She slides into the passenger seat.

It's quiet for a long time. So long you actually start to get comfortable with her being in the car with you. 

"Brother."

Your gaze snaps to her. "What?"

"Tries." 

You blink at her. She's already leaving the car as gracefully as she entered it. Okay. Okay. Definitely nothing to read into there. There's no way she was talking about him. Jason– 'no' you correct yourself– Red Hood is definitely not related to Batgirl and he's definitely not anything else she says he is. 

Work was particularly long today, your shoulders ache, your head is pounding. It's a relief when you finally open the door to your apartment.

"I understand why Todd likes you so much."

"Motherfu–" You half shout, reaching for the baseball bat by the door before you stop short, gaze settling on Robin, who seemed to have made himself comfortable in your home. 

He waves a picture at you, one with you and Jason together, the one you took during a date to Gothams botanical garden. The one you know you had tucked away under your bed. 

You exhale heavily, far too tired to find the energy to scold the kid and lecture him about boundaries. "What are you doing here, Robin?"

"I am here to join the others in their endeavors to reconnect you and Todd."

You tense, jaw dropping a little before you can gather yourself. "No one's doing that."

He places the picture carefully down on the counter. "Of course they are. You're good for Todd. And he asked for you when he was coming out of the fear toxin hallucinations. That shows trust."

"He what?" You ask, voice pitched and startled.

"He asked for you." Robin responds, voice steady and factual. "You didn't know?"

You shake your head, thoughts racing. 

"Oh." He looks unsure, you've never seen any of the Bats look unsure, it snaps you out of your spiraling. "Perhaps, don't mention I told you?"

"Course, Robin. I won't." You answer, and you're relieved when your voice doesn't shake.

He nods, like he expected that answer, but you're not sure if he did. 

"Can I get you anything?" You ask and he actually looks surprised. 

"No. I need to return to patrol. Technically my route doesn't cover this area."

"Oh?" You prompt, unable to keep yourself from prying. "Whose does?"

He scoffs like it's obvious on his way out your window. 

Despite your exhaustion, sleep doesn't come easily that night.

Your final straw is Batman, because of course it is. 

Gordan had handed you a stack of files. "Detective, I need you to take this to the roof, I have the mayor waiting in my office to hear more about the Freeze situation." He rolls his eyes, dark circles and lack of sleep evident on his eyes. "Though he should know by now hounding my officers won't change anything."

"Sir," You start, "can Montoya do it?"

He gives you a pitying look. "Sorry, Detective. Montoya's in archives. You're the only one I can trust with this."

That's how you ended up on the roof of the GCPD precinct. 

"Detective." A low, distinct voice behind you nearly makes you jump out of your skin, even if you knew he was coming. 

You whip around, only relaxing when your gaze settles on Gothams Dark Knight. You silently offer him the files. He takes them, but doesn't look at them, watching you instead. Analyzing you. Studying. It's starting to get nerve wracking being judged by every vigilante Gotham has to offer.

"I know you and Red Hood–"

"Please don't." You cut him off with more bravery than you knew you had.

He doesn't. You look away. But the time you've found the courage to turn back, he's gone. 

You're walking through crime alley, alone, at night, just a few days later. You're not completely sure what your plan is, what you want out of this. But settling whatever is lingering between you and Jason is worth the danger. 

But, danger never finds you. You don't make it two minutes into crime alley before the sound of boots hitting the ground behind you reaches your ears. You know it's him. You know he could have done that soundlessly, but he let you hear him. It steadies some of the unease in your chest.

"What are you doing here?" His voice sounds robotic through the voice modulator, but his shoulders are stiff, body tense, when you turn to face him. You notice his fingers twitch towards you, that soothes another ache in your chest. 

"I wanted to talk to you." You say slowly, carefully. It feels more daunting now that you're here, in his element. 

He looks around. "It's too open."

You follow his gaze, the streets seem empty, but you know Gotham well enough that the shadows have ears. "Then where?"

He considers you for a moment. "The roof. Can I– can I carry you? Just to get us to the roof faster. Or I could drop a fire escape for you?"

"Oh. Um, sure, I don't mind you carrying me. How do you plan on getting us up there, exactly?" You ask, voice pitching slightly at the thought of being close to him again.

He holds up something you recognize as a grappling gun as he steps to your side, hooking an arm around you and firmly tugging you against him. "Hold on."

You wrap your arms around his neck and air is flying past your ears before you've even realized your feet have left the ground. 

He lets go of you slowly once you're both settled on the roof, hand lingering at your waist to make sure you don't fall over. "Good?"

"Good." You echo, and he reluctantly moves to give you space. 

"So, why are you putting yourself in danger just to talk to me? You know these streets aren't safe." He crosses his arms over his chest, it would seem defensive if you didn't recognize the stiffness in his shoulders, like he's bracing for the worst. You wish you could see behind his mask.

"I– could you talk to your family? They keep coming to see me and I think they have the wrong idea." You tell him, voice careful and even.

"Wait, wait. My family?" His arms drop to his side, confusion apparent even through the modulator his helmet.

"Yes? Some of the other vigilantes came to see me a few times–" 

He curses softly, shifting and clenching his fists. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. They shouldn't have done that."

You falter, "I didn't mean it in a bad way."

He sighs heavily, like he's carrying all of life's burdens as he unclenches his fists. "I know. It's not you I'm mad at." He shifts his weight, unsure. "It's just– you should have meant it. I'm not good."

You straighten out, upset he would even consider himself that after how much he's changed, tried to be good, succeeded at being good. You'll never admit it, but you can't help but follow every story about him, every tiny detail about what he does. "That's not true. I'm the one that's not good."

He levels you with look. "Don't act like I don't know you. You are good. You wouldn't have given up running my case if you weren't. You could have run me out of Gotham."

"You know about that?" You ask softly.

"No shit, I know about it. I know you." He says it like it's a fact, a universal truth. 

"But I– I broke up with you. Without really listening. I didn't try to understand." You protest, because with all the bad he's ever done, the good he's done– the fact that he's trying– outweighs it all.

He tilts his helmet towards you. "Because Iied to you. I was using you."

"You said you stopped that."

"I did." He answers, firm and resolute, then sighs out your name. "But I still did that to you, I still hurt you." He pauses, "Look, I'll talk to the others. They won't bother you again, okay? Just– Let me take you home."

"I don't want to go home." You step closer to him. You've decided what you want.

He seems to freeze at the movement. "You don't want to go home?" He repeats slowly, carefully like the words don't make sense to him.

"Red Hood– Jason. I'd like– I miss you, okay? I miss waking up next to you, I miss making dumb jokes with you when we cook, I miss cuddling with you while we make fun of movies together. I want to– I want to try again. If you'd let me."

"If I'd let you?" He echoes your words again. It makes your face fall, how stoic he seems. Then, his mask is clattering against the roof, his gloves tugged off and dropped haphazardly so he can cup your face with his hands. He leans his forehead against yours, and breathes out your name. "I'd let you take anything you wanted from me."

You grab his wrists, intent on keeping him close after so long apart, as your heart races, your breath catches and everything centers on him. Your eyes dart over his face, trying to see the truth in his eyes. 

"I mean it. If all you ever wanted from me was friendship, just someone to keep your bed warm at night, or something more. I'd give that to you." His eyes dart over your face in return, wanting to make sure you understand his words, his feelings for you. 

"I want more. I want you." You say quickly, because he needs to know he's important to you. That he matters to you and what he does as Red Hood didn't and can't change that. 

He lets out a breathless laugh and kisses you. It sets your nerves on end and for the first time since you told him you didn't want to see him, you feel grounded. You kiss him back, hands leaving his wrists to grab the leather of his jacket and draw him closer. 

He only pulls away when you're both gasping for air. "I know I have a lot to make up for–."

"So do I." You cut off.

"Then maybe we're even, yeah? A fresh start." He says softly, tracing the curve of your jaw with his thumb.

You smile and tilt your head up to kiss him again, sweet and lazy before leaning back. "I'd like that."

He's smiling when he kisses you again, and neither of you move to untangle yourselves until you hear whooping and cheering coming from the rooftop across the street.

It's been a few weeks since then. And your relationship is good, better than before, if that's even possible. You're picking over snacks in the grocery store with Jason when an elderly, but alert looking man walks up to the two of you. 

"Ah, I see this is your partner you've been trying to hide from us?" 

Jason straightens out, "Alfred? What are you– uh, yes. Yes. This is them." 

You grin, pulling your fingers from Jason's to reach out and shake Alfred's hand, offering him your name as you do. 

Alfred's eyes seem to twinkle and he nods approvingly as he introduces himself. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you. You're welcome to dinner any night, I know the others are eager to officially meet you."

Jason groans a little, and he rests his hand against the small of your back. "We'll think about it, Alfred."

Alfred smiles knowingly at you, "Of course. Take your time."

And as you lean into Jason's side, you have a feeling you'll be making it to that dinner sooner rather than later. 

A Side Story

[lunatic-pudge]

Mercs Being Jealous

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(Requested by menenthusiast900069)

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Aight, so let's make a quick list of most to least jealous, just so you get an idea of my very bias beliefs, I am semi willing to debate this.

1.) Sniper

2.) Demo

3.) Scout

4.) Medic

5.) Pyro

6.) Soldier

7.) Engie

8.) Spy

9.) Heavy

Now, onto the headcanons!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scout:

-Such a jealous baby, he can't help it

-A lot of it comes from his insecurities and also being the youngest of eight. He's used to being "the runt" of the group, even with the mercs. So he feels like he has to compete with them for your affection, even if you two are dating

-Like, someone could stand just a little too close to you and he's already starting the side eyes

-Scout, chill, for real for real

-He will attach himself to you once the jealousy kicks in. Arms wrapped around you, nuzzling up against you, it's that inner dog in him

-He will get mouthy with whoever is causing the jealousy. Talks a lot of smack for someone who is built like a damn twig. So it goes from him loving on you, to you having to prevent a fight from happening. Yes, depending on who it is, he can win the fight, he's a mercenary afterall. But when it comes to guys who have a big build like Heavy, then you'll really need to stop him

Soldier:

-Isn't really the jealous type, surprisingly. I think it comes from an oblivious stand point. Like, you need to point it out that someone's flirting with you for him to get even an increment of jealousy

-He really feels like he has nothing to worry about (which he's right). He's more than confident that you're loyal to him cause he is with you

-I feel like when you do say someone is flirting with you, he isn't gonna be violent, moreso he will make a big name and shame thing out of it (he basically did that to Miss Pauling in the comics)

-Like, "Who do you think you are flirting with MY GIRL, maggot! You are a disgrace to this country! Now drop and give me 100!"

-But that don't mean he isn't ready to throw hands. Cause he will. Homie's down to break a few necks. But if you don't want him doing that then you're gonna have to remove him from the situation

Pyro:

-I feel like they're kinda like Solider is the more oblivious aspect, but not as much. Like, they can tell when someone's flirting with you, but whether they truly care or not is up for debate

-I don't really see Pyro as a violent type when jealous. Why waste their energy on someone so insignificant to them?

-If anything, Pyro will just resort to loving all over you, more than usual. All the while giving the offending person a death stare

-It's a very effective form of intimidation

-Cause think about it, are you gonna want to fight a person wearing a flame proof suit, that isn't speaking, and is just giving you the thousand yard stare? No, you wouldn't

Demoman:

-Poor baby can be quite insecure. I feel so bad for him

-Constantly worries about not being good enough. He's so used to being beat down by the people around him that he doesn't have good self-esteem

-He will stand nearby you, waiting for you to notice him, looking like a sad and lost puppy

-Once you finally notice him, you'll have to pry him open to find out what's wrong. He doesn't like burdening you with his problems so he tends to sit and stew about everything til he bursts

-He will need to to reassure him that you aren't going anywhere and that you love him. He needs a lot of verbal reassuring cause he's a worrying lad

Heavy:

-Heavy? Jealous? Where?

-While Scout, Demo, and Sniper might be the top three most jealous, Heavy, Engie, and Spy are the least jealous

-Heavy is this big, strong bear, why would you ever wanna settle for less? Like, frfr, you'd have to have an IQ less than an orange to stoop to such lengths

-But let's play along and say that he did get jealous. One of those very rare times it happens. He knows he doesn't have to do much to make the offender leave, all he has to do is stand there

-And stare.

-And stare..

-And stare...

-He's got that resting angry face so he just has to stand behind you and exist to make people leave you alone. It's kinda funny to think about it. He'll gently take your hand and leave after that

-Why be around people when you two can be locked away in a quite room with a good book?

Engineer:

-Again, not a jealous person. But he does have his moments sometimes

-He's a confident boy and knows you wouldn't do anything. Plus have you seen him? He's an intelligent man, got such a nice voice and accent, and can build a machine to keep you safe

-When he jealous, he's passive aggressive. He doesn't like to be hostile, especially so up front, so he'll do little things to help get his point across

(Would give examples but I'm not passive agressive, I'm just aggressive, oops)

-He'd come up to you, slide an arm around you, give you a kiss on the cheek, and say how he was looking for ya while side eyeing the offender

-THAT MAN COULD USE HIS VOICE TO SEDUCE YOU ALL OVER AGAIN, FIGHT ME

-Weirdly enough, I can see him as someone who will look into the offender, find all the person's info and hand it over to Medic, basically saying "Here's someone you can harvest organs from. Have fun, Pookie."

-Then Medic and Engie proceed to make out and get married. The end

Medic:

-Medic's an interesting fellow. I feel like he's like Pyro where it all depends on his mood. Somdays, he doesn't give a shit, and other days, HE'S FUMING

-He will NOT tolerate the disrespect  >:(

-Cue sassy Medic. This man will verbally murder a bitch and I'm here for it

-Will get "handsy" with you (he'll just throw himself on top of you, maybe even make you hold him bridal style if you're strong enough)

-Will be loving all over you while verbally berating the offender. Everything is getting called out. EVERYTHING. He wants to ensure his point is made

-Buuuut, this can also be a chance to score some fresh, new organs. He's always in the market for that stuff so he can easily kidnap the offender and harvest the goods. And no, you can't talk him out of it. Once his mind is made up, nothing can stop him

Sniper:

-Oh my poor baby boy. Where do I even begin with you?

-Sniper can't help but get so jealous so easily. He's never been one to have relationships with people so when he is in one, he gets so insecure at times

-Worries he's not good enough at times. He know he's a "quirky" individual, so he worries you'll want to be with someone who's more "normal"

-Will stand nearby, giving the offender dirty looks. They can feel the daggers that Sniper is giving them, it's enough to make them leave

-Afterwards, he'll pull you away from everyone and be all over you

-While Demo needs verbal reassurance, Sniper needs physical reassurance. So please love on him and tell him it's gonna be okay and that you love him and only him

-But I can also see him needing to prove that he's better than any guy through "fun" means (Medic would too but I forgot to add it. They both horny jealous people)

Spy:

-Again, not a jealous person, and rightfully so

-We all know how suave this man is. He can pull anyone and everyone without even trying

-But I'm sure even Spy has his own moments when he feels a slight bit of jealousy

- He'd be so pissy with the offender. Like, fuck you, pal. That's MY partner

-Welp, time to go over there and seduce you all over again, which isn't hard for him to do. He's got that magic in him, ya know? He;s a man who knows what words to say and what moves to make. He'd make the offender jealous that they couldn't be with Spy

[r0-boat]

Love your work I just read your poly wrio neuvi a/b/o with reader and it was so good! Could we get a part two of more information? Like what is it like when readers in heat or when wrio has his rut. Your writing is ❤���❤️

Yes I can totally do a part two!

Alpha Wriothesley x omega reader x alpha Neuvillette headcannons part 2

Nsfw

Author's notes:

I usually try not to give reader too much headcanons because I want to leave just enough wiggle room for you guys to imagine your own scenarios but in this one ill add more

Wriothesley does behave(ish)during his ruts. That doesn't mean he wants to, though... If anything he just gets more possessive and touchy. However when you are the overseer and warden of an entire prison you have to at least keep yourself sane till the end of your shift.

Wriothesley The first thing he does when he gets home is rip off your clothes. His hunger for sex is unlimited always down to fuck Even when he's buried in paperwork.(maybe that's the reason why his ruts aren't that bad? Or maybe he's just good at hiding it ;) )

Wriothesley is an alpha and seems dominant, but he likes being a pillow princess. He likes laying down and having you play with him till he's had enough, then he flips you over and takes control.

While Neuvillette smells like rainwater in a forest, Wriothesley smells like the sea with a hint of a floral sense of whatever tea he had that day mixed with his cologne. And he is shameful about presenting his scent as powerful and prideful; he does not use scent blockers at all. He's a prideful Alpha and likes presenting even more so now that he knows that even Neuvillette turns his head to it.

Wriothesley's scent blends so well with the sea water and the fortress that the only ones who can successfully pick it out are the inmates and his partners, while he lays undetected by outsiders as long as he's in the fortress that is. He does not mind his powerful scent in fact he prefers it. Keeps people obedient, not wanting to do stupid shit. As soon as they smell him coming around, They immediately straighten out their backs and cower.

They will never know how much of a sweetheart your partner actually is.

And then there's you. During your heat You are the only one that can sedate Wriothesley's large sexual appetite and still come your other partner for more. Bratty yet obedient just the way Wriothesley likes it.

Though he cannot help but joke about how good and obedient you are with Neuvillette and not him. Which Neuvillette is quick too crack a smile and say "You just need to train them better."

And when your heat strikes, you're even more unsatiable. But that's probably because your heat's hurt so damn much that you could hardly even think. Well, it's good thing You're two partners like it a little rougher. Your heat's hit you like a train. Once you can feel your pre-heat, you only have a matter of time before it hits you. The next day, He will be feeling whimpering and pulling while trying to give one of your partners a surprise awakening.

Your body is super hot yet cold screaming at you too seek the warmth of your partners. And how busy they can be the only thing that can sedate you or toys until one of them gets home. And when they do... You will rejoice in the dicking you will receive.

Neuvillette has tried to urge you to take suppressants because he hates seeing you hot and writhing, almost in pain. But he understands when you say no because after suppressants, it will just get worse.

Your scent is a calming lavender. You're like catnip to your overworked partners rubbing against you and bearing their face in your neck, holding you close. You can practically hear them purring like kittens. It's cute until you are being crushed by two big men who haven't slept in days.

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Silver Tongues, like Bullets

Chapter 4

Werewolf!141 x Female Reader

Safe to say you aren't adjusting well to being kidnapped. With your anger at a all time high, names are being called and things are being thrown. Patience is running thin with the men, what lengths would they go to to set you straight?

Warnings: MDNI, violation of privacy, gay sex, cock stroking, masturbation, unconsentual nude viewing, dark themes, manipulation, forced proximity, reader comes from a religious household, childhood trauma, abusive parents, talks of self harm, description of self harm, violent behaviour from you, shouting, crying, name calling, mental breakdown, non-con touching, threats of punishment, You get spanked once in this chapter, sorry if I missed any.

Silver Tongues Like Bullets Masterlist

Words: 7k

-28/11/2023

There were vile people in the world. Simon knew that. His pack knew that. You probably knew that. It was an obvious fact many people tended to ignore for their own convenience.

He witnessed that violence first hand as a boy and then again as a soldier. There were people in this world who'd exploit anyone for their own selfish gain. God awful people who'd do it to their own children. People who didn't deserve to have children in the first place. People like your parents.

He's heard you mumbling in your sleep at the cabin and a couple times here when you managed to fall asleep. It was often the same sentences repeated over and over again. ‘Need to get them out’ ‘are they safe?’ ‘my poor babies’. Your ‘babies’ here probably refer to your siblings if Ghost isn't mistaken. He couldn't find any evidence of you having children of your own. But seeing as it was you managing the majority of the childcare at home spoke volumes as to how you're treated by your parents. You had a lot of responsibilities starting from grocery shopping and food management down to school meetings and pickups. God knows what your parents did while you did their job for them. Unfortunately for Ghost he did know.

Ghost didn't consider himself a good person not by a long shot but looking at the information he pulled on your parents had his sanity slipping. He'd have strangled them both if he was given the chance.

But a digital trail of incriminating evidence would have to do. The worst punishment for a narcissist is exposing their lies and damaging their reputation. Digital trails can be quite damning if put in the wrong hands. Good thing they found their way to him. This would scratch his inch for blood. All he had to do was press send and their lives would come crumbling down. And that's exactly what he did. This would definitely help move the investigation about you along. The town already thought you committed suicide because of your parents. This story was a scandal within itself. Especially since your parents were aid workers employed by the church.

He did feel bad about your younger siblings though. Poor souls were sent to live with a relative for the time being. God knows what they're feeling right now being put in this difficult situation.

Your aunt seemed like a decent woman though, strangely enough you resemble her more than you do your mother and father. Gaz using his connections in the police force made sure she was someone that would keep the kids safe. She'd treat your brothers and sister better than your parents ever did. At least something good came out of this whole incident.

Ghost glances at his watch, it was late. He should be in bed with the rest of his pack and the newest addition to this family of his. It was a shame Gaz and Soap had already called dibs on the floor beside you. Not that you wanted them there.

You're much feistier than any of them anticipated. They couldn't really tell at the cabin because of how often they had to drug you. But Ghost quite enjoyed teasing you. Especially when you bit back at his remarks. It stirred a playful attitude in him that he hadn't experienced in a while. Not to say Johnny and Gaz weren't playful, but it was a boyish kind of playfulness with them.

This was different. He knew you were harmless which made it all the more fun when you tried fighting. It was a losing battle from the start yet you continued your struggle. It was endearing in the sort of way when a bunny runs amuck. He’ll enjoy making you all sweet and pliant in his hands. But that was a problem for another day. For now he'd enjoy the little moments he has with you. If you'd let him that is.

-30/11/2023

The situation was escalating. You absolutely wouldn't let anyone near you. Even when they were very sweet and understanding towards your drastic changes in moods. This wasn't what they had envisioned when they took you. That was weighing hard on the boys, especially when you wouldn't eat or drink. They were growing concerned about your wellbeing. Today was no different. Each meal time they tried making something you'd enjoy based on the pictures you posted on your Instagram. But you were adamant with your choice to ignore them.

Food was running low and they needed to go shopping before they left for their deployment. While they were at it they also wanted to buy you winter clothes and essentials for your room. You were probably sick of wearing their sweatpants and t-shirts anyways. They hoped this would warm you up to them even if it was only a little bit. It was decided Gaz and Soap would keep an eye on you until Price and Ghost got back.

Price gave strict instructions to Gaz and Soap before leaving. They were told to keep you calm above anything else and no funny business, that comment was aimed at Soap specifically. Ghost and Price didn't want to leave when you were so unstable but things needed to get done.

It wasn't too hard finding what you needed considering they got their hands on your online purchase history. Excluding all the stuff you regularly bought for your siblings you didn't have much in terms of essential items that you used daily. It was all cheap stuff so the two men decided it would be nice to get you better quality clothing, skincare, shampoo and anything else they thought you'd like. Price had to text Gaz for that though. Gaz knew best out of all of them of what products to buy especially for hair.

The most indulgent thing you bought for yourself was your camera. And even that was bought secondhand. They felt guilty that it was partially their fault that it got ruined in the lake. But they swore to make it up to you. For now they focused on making your living space more comfortable. Maybe that would get you to eat. With all the groceries packed and a pretty bouquet of flowers in Ghost's hand they decided to go home to make a nice dinner for you.

Unfortunately for them in the short time they were gone, Soap had managed to upset you again. Upset you quite badly at that too. When they had gotten back with their hands full of blankets, bedsheets and clothing they were greeted with a messy living room with things thrown everywhere.

And to make it worse you were crying huddled in a corner. They didn't even have time to get the groceries in before Price let out an audible sigh. They were barely gone for two hours this time. What could possibly have happened in such a short amount of time to make you cry like that? Gaz was trying to soothe you but you cried harder when he tried coming closer.

Soap was looking both upset and guilty sitting on the sofa quite a distance away from you. He was covered in new scratch marks, which in itself gave enough of an indication as to what might have happened. That man really couldn't keep his hands to himself even if he tried. But Price couldn't really blame him. Physical touch was his love language. It's the way he showed his affection for everyone. Which could often be mistaken for him being horny. When in reality he just liked the closeness physical touch brought. Though Soap is horny a lot of the time too.

He wanted to fuck Ghost the first week of meeting him and meeting Gaz wasn't much different. He's an insatiable wolf. They all knew that before forming this pack. But you were fairly new to all this so it wasn't fair for him to pounce on you so quickly. You needed time to adjust to the situation. He'll have to have a talk with Soap tonight after dinner.

“What happened?” Price hands over his bags to Simon.

“I was just trying to relax with her,” Soap muttered. Simon, taking the hint, takes a grumbling Soap with him after he's done sulking. They both leave to go get the groceries out and start on dinner.

“Soap wanted to take a bath with her,” Price approached carefully while listening to Gaz explain the situation.

“Want some privacy luv?” you sniffled to yourself as you looked at them extremely annoyed but nodded your head eventually. Seems like you were still holding a grudge. But you'll come around he knows it. Maybe they should let you get your anger out of your system so they can move past this.

“You can take a bath alone luv, just leave the door unlocked ok? We got you new pajamas, cute ones with strawberries on them.” You stare at them for a while before a soft ‘thank you’ leaves your mouth when Price hands you a bag with all your bathroom necessities.

The rest of the day was spent with you sitting in a corner mumbling to yourself and refusing to eat for yet another day even after they gave you the flowers and made you your favourite dinner. Though your lack of appetite was concerning. He knew you snuck sealed packaged food at night. You just wouldn't eat anything cooked by them. He supposes that it's their fault for drugging you. They'll have to build the trust back up slowly.

Price was growing concerned about when they'll have to leave you alone in the house. He was growing afraid you'd do something to hurt yourself. They were due to leave the coming Monday. But it wasn't like he could push back the deployment any further. They had finally got information on the shadow company and Graves. They weren't going to let that rat slip away again.

But they also had a responsibility to keep you safe. Maybe it would be better to take you with them for the time being. You could stay on base while they figure things out. It would also give you a chance to bond with them. Not that you showed any interest to do so.

Price wishes you'd take more of an interest in them. You just accepted their confession on being werewolves, not a single question was asked in that regard. There aren't many people they would share that information with so they were expecting more of a reaction from you. But they didn't get much of one. Apart from you promising to keep their secret if they let you go.

But then again Simon found your old Whittpad? Wattpad? (Was that how you say it?) history. Apparently it was some app to read stories on and you read your fair share of supernatural romances from what Simon had told him. He did reprimand Simon for digging into personal information about you. Price knows you wouldn't be happy if you knew they knew of your reading habits. Not that they'd judge you for it. Everyone has needs. If that was your preferred method of meeting them, it was none of their business. He did wonder if you learned any silly myths about them through those novels.

Overall the day wasn't the worst they experienced with you. You were clean, dressed nicely and got to use some of the stuff they bought you. Things only escalated when Soap tried apologising to you before bed but you didn't want to let him near you. Some not so nice things were said on your part. And you did end up throwing a few cushions at him to get him to leave.

But at least you looked refreshed dressed in your new pajamas and he knew you'd probably try to find something to eat when they'd ‘fall’ asleep. They'd have to enjoy the small victories for now. This was going to be a difficult journey but Price was a patient man. He knows you'll come around eventually. They just needed to give you time to adjust.

-nearing midnight

The laptop screen finally loaded up. It wasn't for the reason Ghost usually used it for. He needed to see those images of you again. You were strung up today especially after that incident with Soap in the afternoon. More things were thrown and some mean things were said. So Price thought it'd be best to let you sleep alone in the living room since all the doors were securely locked anyway, you weren't going to escape even if you tried.

But Ghost thought Price was being too lax with your increasingly violent behavior. They should nip this in the bud before you seriously injure yourself or someone else. But for now he'll follow the orders he's given. Which means no excessive snooping or going near you for any reason other than necessity.

Despite the violent outburst they were all looking forward to showing you your room tomorrow, just the bars on your window needed to be installed. You'd also get your own ensuite which would give you the added privacy you probably needed. Soap was getting a little impatient but so was he. He just wanted you curled up in arms already but that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

There was something bothering Ghost though. His suspicion started at the cabin when he had to undress you. Obviously there was so much going on that it was hard to focus solely on his suspicions but he was sure of what he saw. Your calves were littered with faded scars, he's sure the boys must have got at least a small glimpse of them already. No one has brought it up though. They could very much be old self harm scars. It was a very common occurrence with children in abusive households. He has plenty of his own. Thank god yours looked a couple years old. There weren't any new marks on you apart from a couple bruises you sustained in the forest.

As Ghost goes through your pictures again he realises why you wear stockings in all your pictures. You're never smiling either. There's not a single picture of you smiling. Not on your SD card or on your Instagram. He doesn't think he's seen you smile properly at the cabin either but that was a difficult situation and you were also sick. So that was understandable. He does want to make your life easier here, he wants to make you smile, make you feel loved but you were making things much more difficult than they needed to be.

As he goes through the picture lands on his favourite one. It wasn't one of the exposed pictures of you. You were just holding some wild flowers close to your face. You aren't smiling in it per se but there is a serene expression on your face. You looked the happiest he's ever seen you. Though he's only known you a little over a week but he wanted to make you feel safe. He did have a lapse in judgment at the cabin. His lust and anger spoke for him then. But he wanted to be better for you. He wanted to do better by you. He checks the date of when the picture was taken. And goes to check its correlation to your calendar.

(20/11/23 - 9:00-10:00pm waiting for callback from the London agency)

It was the date you received your job offer in London. His heart felt a little heavy, he felt guilty they took that from you but he had ampled doubt that you'd be able to escape your parents hold even if you did move to London. They'd still expect you to send money back home even if it meant you had to live in extreme conditions to survive in London. That was no life, you deserved better than that. They'll figure out a way for you to keep doing photography. But you needed to learn to trust them first and be a little less violent.

Ghost's door opens just as he's about to close his laptop.

“Ah’ve had enough! Ah made her ah sandwich but she didn't even touch it. Just stared at meh angrily until ah left! How am ah supposed tae be swee-” Johnny stops mid rant, his eyes zeroing in on the image on the laptop. Johnny stares at the screen until the realisation hits him that the pictures were of you.

“Ye greedy bastard! Ye could have told us that ye had them! Ah wouldn't have wasted meh time trying to imagine her naked.” Johnny in a huff just deposits himself in Ghost's lap clearly annoyed at the man for keeping your images to himself. Without asking for permission he quickly finds the picture he's looking for. Ghost wasn't surprised the picture he landed on. Soap was a simple minded man most days. He supposes it's time he makes it up to him, for keeping the pictures to himself.

“It's nae fair if yer the only one having fun! I'm telling Price about this in the morning.” Soap huffs pushing down his grey sweatpants and fishing out his hardening cock.

“Let me make it up to you pup. But you shouldn't treat her so roughly, she isn't like us. She needs time to warm up. Be patient with her.” Ghost lets out an apologetic purr as he nuzzles his nose into Johnny's neck, making sure to leave wet kisses behind as his hands take over Soap's movements on his cock.

“Ah'm nae forgiving ye that easily” Soap throws his head back feeling Ghost fist his cock with more vigor while his eyes stay glued to images of your naked flesh. This is the least he could do for him.

The rest of the night it spent with Johnny on his back begging (quite loudly) for more. He was insatiable with his rut probably approaching. Which was dangerous in this situation. You certainly weren't ready to have sex with all of them. When one of them goes into a rut they all follow pretty quickly. Ghost doesn't falter in his movements as he plows into Soap's stretched hole. Waiting for his knot to catch on Soap's spasming muscles. He thought about covering his hand over Soaps mouth but he desperately wanted you to hear what you were missing out on, on what could be yours if you allowed them to take care of you.

If the spanking was anything to go by it seemed you liked a little rough treatment. But you were still inexperienced so they needed to go slow with you. Kinks and safe words could always be figured out later. It's not long after Ghost's keen ears pick up on the moans of Gaz followed by grunts from Price and the slapping of skin. Seemed like everyone was pent up today. You probably wouldn't get any sleep with the noise they were making.

-01/11/2023

It's been four days, four days of you trapped in this hell, four days of you escaping their wandering hands, four days for you refusing to drink or eat in their presence. Last night being the worst of it all. They had finally let you sleep by yourself in the living room. But the whole night was filled with the noise of slapping skin and lewd grunts and wanton moans.

You bet they did it on purpose too. Your face felt hot remembering how slick and uncomfortable your aching pussy felt the whole night, especially when you had no outlet to relieve yourself. With their stupidly keen sense of smell and heightened hearing they'd know for a fact if you had touched yourself to the sounds of them fucking. It felt like you were trapped in a nightmare with no way out. You just wanted to be rescued already. Please God someone must be looking for you…please anyone…you needed to get home…for them if not yourself…

Your head was pounding, on the verse of bursting from the lack of nutrition and sleep. Your nerves are vibrating with fear, keeping you on your toes. You knew a chase was coming. They had just finished whatever they were doing in that spare room of theirs. The insistent clatter of tools and nails had finally ceased but now you were faced with an entirely new dilemma. A dilemma that involved four men cornering you.

‘Come look at your room’ they said, as if you didn't know that was code for ‘get in your cage’. You weren't stupid despite having ended up in this horrible situation. You knew you wouldn't see the light of day if they managed to get you in there.

Your forever prison. If and only if they get you in there. You didn't plan on entering another type of hell just after trying to escape the last.

“Darling! Please listen! Ow! Sto- Darling!” armed with another padded cushion you don't stop to listen to their stupid excuses as you yet again hurl the non lethal object at the person closest to you. That being Gaz.

We aren't trying to hurt you!”, safe to say you don't listen again as you circle the sofa for the umpt time in the last two minutes.

“Don't come near me! I don't want to look at the room!”

You've been tightroping on a knife's edge for the last four days, making sure they don't get their hands on you for any reason! You weren't going to let all your hard work go to waste! If you were honest it felt so much longer than four days. Hours felt like days when you're trapped in a cage, even if it was a golden one. Time goes so slowly when you have nothing to but wait to be rescued. You watch them circle around you like prey while you try to find any sliver of an opening to escape.

“Look, we know this situation isn't ideal but we promise it isn't forever. You can decorate it however you like later,” Were they purposely acting obtuse? You watch Price put his hands up in surrender. Trying his best to look non threatening while Ghost moves to watch everything unfold from the comfort of the far wall. Stupid prick… You hated the bastard. He's the reason you had to endure such a humiliating punishment.

You don't trust their pretty words, you've already made that mistake once. Well more than once but you get the idea. You weren't going to fall for it again. That you promised yourself.

Price stays back while the younger two of the four men decide to close in on you. They look at you with apprehension and pity. A sentiment you didn't appreciate. You wouldn't even be in the situation if it weren't for them. This entire situation was of their own making. They had no right to be angry with you. Not one bit, but it wasn't like that would stop them from trying to ‘punish’ you. Thankfully they've been busy sorting things out to do anything even with you getting increasingly more violent.

Gaz gives Soap a look and you know what's about to happen, you can tell they were about to pounce. You feel your nerves fraying with anxiety so with your weight pressed against your heels you ready yourself to run. They try creeping closer but the second they decide to take a definitive step you bolt.

“Darling that's enough! You need to stop fighting us!”, Price shouts as you swerve at the last second narrowly escaping the two men when they crowd you. You make a break for the kitchen not listening to their shouts as you evade their calloused hands. Thankfully you manage to get to the other side of the breakfast counter before either Gaz or Soap could reach you. Out of reflex you grab the nearest makeshift weapon at your disposal. That being a very expensive looking vase with the flowers they gifted you yesterday. The very first you ever received and you couldn't even appreciate them because they were given to you by your kidnappers. They both stand on the other side looking less than impressed by your choice of weapon.

“Sweetheart we just want to show you your room, that's all,” you hiss and bare your teeth at Gaz earning you an aspirated sigh from him.

“Don't come near! I-I'll hit you!”, your voice breaks which in turn pisses you off more. Strength! Embody Strength! You shout at yourself internally to steel your nerves. You needed more conviction in your tone to inspire fear. Even if it was only a little bit.

It's a stalemate. They looked annoyed, but more exhausted than anything else. Of course they'd be tired. They were getting fucked the whole night while you suffered….

You know you were making things worse for yourself but you didn't want to be locked in that room. Your chances of escaping would plummet. You just needed to hold out a little longer, just a little longer. Someone must be searching for you. Your friends, your family, at least one person would have reported you missing by now. They must have…you needed to get home…

You watch them with laboured breaths, waiting for them to spring at you again. Waiting for an excuse to get violent and get your built up frustrations out. Price pinches his nose in annoyance before giving up and going to sit on the sofa with Ghost following closely behind. It's only Gaz and Soap cornering you now.

“We promise ye’ll like yer room hen, we even got ye ah fluffy blanket and some plushies. Please stop being difficult. We just want tae take care ye.”

“Fuck off, I don't care! You? y-you?” You have to think for a second for an insult that would hurt them, that would make them dislike you. Maybe then they'd let you go.

“ Y-you?… you Dogs!” You instantly regret the words leaving your mouth kinda grateful you didn't end up calling them mutts. Gaz flinches at your raised voice, or more so at the word ‘Dogs’. Guilt floods your heart the second you see their hurt expression, an apology spills out of your mouth before your anger could block out your guilt.

“I'm sorry that was rude of me…but don't come near.” You look at them wearily, you didn't mean to be derogatory towards their biology. Not that you understood it but you didn't need to be rude about it. Their eyes soften at your apology but you still see the flash of hurt cross their eyes.

“I just want to go home, I promise I won't tell anyone about your secret. Please…please won't you let me go? I have people I need to take care of.” You brandish the vase with shaky hands because they were still on the offensive so you keep your guard up.

“We took you for your own good love. You weren't being treated well at home. We'll give you a better life here. You just need to allow us to.” You’re filled with disappointment at Gaz's words. You feel the ever familiar sting of tears tightening your waterline but you stay strong. No, don't cry! Don't show weakness!

“Hah? A better life? A better life? You must fucking kidding if you think I'd believe that!” You scoff at his ridiculous suggestion. You watch Soap try to approach again only for you to step back vase still in hand.

With your tears pushed down your building anger was rearing its ugly head again. It was boiling your blood to the point where you wanted to scald everything surface near you, you wanted to make everyone feel your pain. After years of working hard to appease your parents, trying to get them to see reason, saving money to escape the cage they put you in. You found yourself in yet another cage. The worst part was you only had two weeks until you left. Just two weeks…

Yet you found yourself locked in again, bound to a fixed location at the mercy of four strangers. This time the bars enclosing your freedom were tinted gold, but they were bars nonetheless. You were slowly losing any form of identity you built for yourself. Any form of escape you manifested was crumbling to the ground, much like an like your sanity. Fear was settling in, you felt it in your bones. The rattling was unsettling, this whole situation was. Why you? Why did it have to be you?

And to top it all off they were supernatural beings. You're more shocked how easily you accepted that fact than you are about them actually being werewolves. You attribute that to all the werewolf wattpad stories you read as a teen…. You had so many questions you wanted answered but you didn't want to ask them just in case they take it as your acceptance to being theirs.

“We'll give ye such ah great life here. Ye’ll want for nothing. We'll buy ye whatever ye want, whatever clothes, whatever makeup, whatever food. We'll even buy ye ah new camera. Ye can take as many naughty pictures as ye like.” You freeze at his words, blood running colder than rivers in the arctic. Shock marred your features as you tried to understand what you were hearing. Gaz clocked it first that Soap had just made a huge mistake. And Soap looked at you with guilt the second he saw your distraught face. They fumble with their apologies but you can't seem to hear. Cold blood rushing to your ears blocks out any sound from reaching you.

They saw…They looked through your camera….they saw you naked. They violated your privacy….

Before you were willing to forgive them for what they did at the cabin, namely because you thought they were helping you when you were sick. But they just needed a convenient excuse to get you naked didn't they? Fucking Perverts!

Feeling anger was an understatement, you were feeling down right ravenous for blood, for destruction. How fucking dare they!

“I WANT TO GO HOME! NOW! RIGHT NOW! I DON'T LIKE YOU! I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE! LET ME GO YOU FUCKING PRICKS!” You scream your built up aggravation out at them. You flinch at your own anger. You've never had the guts to voice your anger out like this. The most you've ever done is slightly raise your voice which often ended up with you being backhanded by your dad. You've learnt to either stay silent or placate him with money. Money always seemed to work to calm him down. Money wasn't going to help you here.

It was different here. The one punishment they inflicted made you feel buzzed and tingling in all the sting places. And they haven't gotten maliciously violent with you yet. No matter how angry you'd get with them, they wouldn't threaten to harm you. Any aggression they faced at your hands was often met with patience and coos to soothe you as if you were a skittish bunny. That didn't excuse them of being perverts though. Especially Soap for that matter. That man had a problem keeping his hands to himself.

If the cooing didn't work they'd just let you tire yourself out. It often felt like you were talking to a brick wall when they'd get like this. If your screaming bothered them they didn't let it show, only looks of pity crossed either of their faces. Which only served to aggravate you even more. Gaz tries to take a step closer but you just take another set back continuing to let your frustrations out as tears prickle your already bloodshot eyes.

“DON'T COME NEAR ME! I'll hit you! D-don’t...*sob*..come near..*cries*,” a wave of fatigue washes over you while you raise the vase as a warning. Everything you knew was crumbling around you. You felt sick to your stomach despite not having eaten properly in days.

“Can ye pick ah different vase? Me nan gave meh that…”

You're stunned into silence for a second, your tears also drying up. You’re discombobulated at his words, your mind racing to understand what he just said. Guilt sits heavy on your chest as the words unjumble in your head. Your arms immediately lower as an apology leaves your mouth far too easily for your liking.

“Oh..*sniffle* I'm so sor- wait…why the fuck should I care!?"

Right!? Why should you care? You should be angry, you should be breaking things.

But despite you trying to school yourself on maintaining a front, your grip becomes shaky and you're forced to return the vase to its original place. You glare at the two men angrily having put the vase down despite wanting to smash. No matter how bad you wanted to hurt them, this just seemed excessively cruel.

“Thanks for putting down the vase hen. Come on now mah sweet girl, promise ye’ll love yer room.” You stare at him incredulously, more accurately at his audacity.

Tears blur your vision again as you curse your frustrations out at them for the hundredth time today.

“This is your fault! I'm like this because of you! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you…” You close your eyes for a split second to clear the falling tears, unfortunately for you that's when both of them take the opportunity to block your escape from either side. You can't do much other than struggle with your limited energy. You haven't been eating out of spite for the last few days. And running around definitely didn't help your situation. Everyone was on edge and your tantrums weren't helping.

Soap wraps his bulky arms around you as gently as he could while whispering his insincere apologies to you. You shout at him not to touch you, to get his ‘filthy hands’ off you. All you were doing was wasting your breath though. Which just serves to aggravate you more. You're upset, you're angry and down right exhausted. You just wanted to go home. The cage at home was better than here. At least you were close to escaping that one.

Soap hoists you up in his arms carrying you towards the living room while Gaz trails behind looking upset and guilty. It seems everyone was at their wits end today. And the boys were due to be deployed this coming Monday, you heard them say as much. Why couldn't they just leave already. You didn't want to be near these perverts.

Once you come into Price's view he ushers Soap to deposit you in his lap while Ghost fiddles with the TV channels. The fight has left you now, you're just limp in Soap's arms while you silently cry out your muddled emotions. Soap gently deposits you on Price's lap and immediately your face is pushed to his neck where you cry harder.

“Our pretty Bunny, it's ok, just cry it out.” Nothing was ok, you weren't ok! You weren't safe from their touches.

“I know. I know. It's ok baby, let us take care of you.” You huff out in anger trying to escape his hold but you just don't have the energy to fight them anymore. So your face remains pushed to the crook of his neck while you're forced to inhale the smell of his aftershave. The worst part was that the scent was soothing your frayed nerves. You inhale the smell of the forest and something slightly fruity and sweet. Strawberry….When did he eat strawberries? You wanted some… You weren't going to tell him that though. Your stomach grumbling does that for you. Traitor…

“Everything we've done we've done for your betterment. I know you're hurt now but you'll understand eventually. Just let us love you darlin. Promise we'll take such good care of you.” You stay silent not knowing how to respond to their bullshit. You'll just have to figure out a way to escape once they leave.

“What is it luvvie? Why are you so pent up today? Do y’need some help making yourself cum? We can smell y’slick cunt since last night.” Ghost coos at you while trying to find a channel to watch on the TV. Your blood boils at his words, your anger that's been simmering erupted like a volcano.

“As if I'd let you monsters touch me! Delete my pictures you fucking perverts!” The simmering violence in you burst out unexpectedly as you grab the spare remote near you to hurl it at his head, hitting him pretty hard.

“Fuc- Ow!” Ghost clutches his covered head. You feel bad immediately after you realise what you've done. You don't even get a chance to apologise before Price is restraining your arms while everyone tuts at your actions. You watch as Gaz goes to check-in on Ghost, they remove his mask away from your sight. Probably checking for any serious injuries.

You hear Price sigh heavily beside you when everything seems fine with Ghost. So you're assuming he wasn't too badly hurt, probably just a little stunned you actually tried hurting him. Before you can try to escape and run you feel an iron grip on your arms halting you. It was just shy of bruising so when you tried to push away from him you weren't expecting him to growl so inhumanly at you, or with so much anger. He seemed pissed, very pissed. Maybe you should apologise but you were too scared to do anything other than try to escape.

“Ghost was right. We can't have you getting violent like this. I think it's about time we teach you a lesson luv. This behaviour has gone on too long.” His voice was deceptively calm, while you only heard grunts of approval from the other men. Your emotions were all over the place on one hand you felt bad for hitting Ghost on the other you wanted to escape by any means, even if that meant you hurting them. You still can't believe they’ve seen your pictures. The humiliation just doesn't stop, does it?

Price had you bent over his knee before you could realise what was happening. You're made aware of the power imbalance from the get go. There was no way you'd escape his hold. If you weren't going to be able to hurt them physically while you struggle, you think perhaps you could use your words instead. The first flurry of curses leaves your mouth as wrists are captured and pinned to the small of your back.

“I hate you! You stupid assholes! Perverts! You don't care about me! Let me go!” You repeat the same sentences over and over and over again. Until your own ears felt like they were bleeding.

“Don't make things harder for yourself sweetheart. I think we've been too soft on you if you're acting like this.” This whole time you felt Price's large hand caressing your back down to your ass cheeks. Giving the plush of your bottom a mean pinch before landing a hard slap over your pajama bottoms. You bite down a groan as the sting travels down to your already drenched cunt. No doubt they know you've been soaked since last night.

“What do you think Simon? How do you want to punish her?

Ghost comes into view, mask still on. Only his obsidian eyes were on display. They looked eerily devoid of emotions. You expected him to be more angry than he looked but then again looks are often deceiving. Soap moves out of his way as he crouches to be level with your face. His glove covered hands come up to wipe away the tears staining your face. He was surprisingly gentle when caressing you.

“That throw was personal wasn't it luv? I'll be nice and forgive you if you apologise.” You shake your head to the best of your ability only to be rewarded with a chuckle. You just glare at him seeing that he found the situation funny.

“How about this? You have a nice big dinner with us and you don't have to get a spanking. But you have to finish your food. Doesn't that sound nice?” You glare not wanting to give the satisfaction of doing what they say. Or getting potentially drugged again. Even though you were extremely hungry. Your stomach being the treacherous bitch she is decides this is the moment she wants attention on her and growls for everyone to hear. Gaz and Soap just watched you with sympathy and you hated that even more. You didn't need their pity. You didn't want their care or affection. You just wanted to go home.

“Oh you poor thing, you shouldn't be so cruel to yourself. Come on… all you have to do is have some dinner. It's either that or Price here spanks you so hard you'd be unable to walk without wincing in pain.” You hate that he was making a reasonable offer. It just pissed you off more that they got to pick and choose when they wanted to be cooperative with you.

“So what do you say? Y'want to be good for us?” You glare but don't answer straight away knowing you'd probably get yourself into more trouble. You weigh the options out. Your fear and anger waging a war in your head as you do so. In the end your anger wins. You weren't going to submit to their whims; it was the only thing you could control right now. And you needed the sense of control more than you needed food.

“Fuck you! I want my pictures deleted, you asshole!” That sentence sealed your faith for the night.

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2024. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or to use with AI technologies.

[hypewinter]

Bruce sighed. He was in over his head. Wayyyy over his head. Honestly he only had himself to blame. Really what was he thinking? He'd taken in one child and suddenly thought he was an expert in traumatized youths? He'd been overconfident and rash and now Danny was suffering for it and would probably hate him forever now and-

"I can hear you fidgeting through the door!" Came a voice that broke Bruce out of his spiral. There was a shuffle before the heavy wooden door swung open. A boy with floppy black hair and ice blue eyes stared up at him.

"You could've just knocked ya know?" Danny said.

Bruce fidgeted a little more, embarrassed that he'd been caught. "Bu- I thought you were-"

"Still mad at you?" Danny interrupted. "Yeah, I can tell by your face. You didn't even bother to wipe off your eyeshadow."

It was true. Bruce had rushed through patrol and gotten back home as quickly as possible. He'd barely shed his armor as he practically tripped over himself trying to get up to Danny's room. He had come up with and memorized the perfect apology to smooth things over between the two of them and had been dying to get it out before he messed anything else up. But now all the words he'd rehearsed left him.

"Wait. You're not angry?"

Danny leveled him with a blank stare as he leaned on the door frame. "Oh I'm always angry. Just not at you. At least not right now."

Upon seeing Bruce struggle to form words, Danny continued. "You were right," he said. "I shouldn't have beat up Dylan and his little minions. I knew they were intentionally trying to goad me into hitting them and I did it anyway. I-I'm sorry."

For the first time since their conversation began, Danny looked away. His look of mild annoyance was now replaced with one of shame.

"I just- they were making fun of my family. Saying stuff like 'they were small town trash and no one would miss them'. And that comment just set me off." Tears were now springing to Danny's eyes as anger took over his features.

Danny's hands balled into fists as he continued. "I couldn't just let that go. Especially not when they're the ones that are trash. They're so bothered by a 'commoner' wearing the same uniform as them that they feel the need to persistently bully me even when I have nothing to do with them. We don't share any classes, I eat lunch alone, I'm not in any clubs or extracurriculars and if I had a choice I wouldn't even be going to that damn school to begin with!"

Tears were freely streaming down Danny's cheeks as he stopped to catch his breath. His whole body was shuddering with fury. Bruce carefully put a hand on the boy's shoulder, ready to back off if Danny pulled away but he leaned in instead. Given the go ahead, Bruce carefully pulled Danny into a hug, slowly patting his back.

It took a while before either of them spoke. "I know what they said was out of line," Bruce started. "And trust me, they'll definitely receive punishment. But-"

"I know, I know," Danny murmured, turning his face to the side while still clutching onto Bruce's shirt. "Sending 5 boys to the hospital with my training is still bad."

After staying like that for a while, Danny finally looked up at Bruce. "Am I gonna be expelled?" he asked.

Bruce gave a soft smile. "Don't worry. You'll be fine. I promise."

Danny finally pulled away, rubbing at his face with his sleeve and returned Bruce's smile with a toothy one of his own. "You're gonna bribe them or something aren't you? There's gonna be a conveniently placed donation or something. You're just like those rich pricks," he teased.

"Heyyyy! How come Danny gets to cuss?" came a small voice from beyond the shadows of Danny's room. Soon enough, Dick made himself seen, Zitka cradled in his arms as he sleepily stolled forth.

"He's not," Bruce answered quickly. They had just convinced Dick to use more "colorful" insults as opposed to outright cursing and Bruce for one was not willing to face Alfred's wrath if he reverted back. A side glance at Danny told him the exact same thought was running through the boy's mind too. Leave it to Alfred to put the fear of God into two vigilantes who beat up criminals every night.

Dick yawned as he reached out for Bruce. "Then why'd he just say-"

"Don't tell Alfred and you'll have my dessert for a week," Danny interrupted in a panic.

Dick grinned. "Deal," he said as Bruce picked him up. The little boy blinked his eyes a few times before falling back asleep in Bruce's embrace.

Danny halfheartedly glared at the sleeping child. "I swear that kid is gonna grow up to be a politician the way he manipulates like that."

All Bruce could do was sigh. After all Danny was probably onto something. Dick knew very well the influence he had on others and never shied away from using it. It was very likely that he would be holding this particular little incident over their heads for at least the next two weeks.

Bruce looked at Danny, a thought suddenly dawning on him. "Why was Dick sleeping in your room? Did he have a nightmare again?" he asked, shifting the conversation.

Danny shook his head. "Nah. He just insisted that we both make up. He wouldn't leave until I agreed. That kid really doesn't know the meaning of 'no'."

Bruce felt his heart melt as he looked down at the boy in his arms. Why was Dick such a sweet child?

Danny grinned as he started heading downstairs. "Don't get all sappy yet. He was also walking me through his plan of how he got back at Dylan and his gang for my suspension."

The smile dropped from Bruce's face. "Wh... what do you mean revenge? Danny? Danny!?"

I told y'all I'd do it myself if I had to.

[readychilledwine]

Lollipop pt 2

Summary - Azriel and Seraphina Vanserra will take what happened between them after the High Lords Meeting to their grave. Well, at least her father's grave.

Warnings - NSFW, oral (f rev), fingering, degradation, Dom sub dynamics, power play, shadow play/bondage, praise kink, corruption kink, use of pet names, 😻 slapping, spanking, overstimulation, Azriel being a fuck rabbit, dumbification, cock warming, virginity loss, orgasm denile, implied anal and throat fucking, a very rough first time.

An - so.... this was supposed to post at 1pm my time 😒 evidently I drafted it instead of hitting schedule post. Low key thought you all hated it and I failed. Anyways! Forgive me 💜 and don't worry, you'll still get two smut corruption pieces today, though. Ps if you see mistakes, you don't.

Read Part One Here

Seraphina rocked back in her heels as he circled her like a hawk, a small smirk playing on his face as shadows broke her skin out in chills. “How lucky am I,” he moved closer to her back, “to have such an eager, pretty mate.”

She was beautiful. Smaller than he normally liked, but he knew from Eris that Beron kept her food very controlled to prevent her from gaining weight.

Which was a damn shame in Azriel's mind. The more curve, the better, and he would change that once she was his and his alone.

His scarred hand ran up her dress before gently wrapping around her throat, testing the waters instead of diving in head first. Seraphina, in return, whimpered loudly, the scent of her honeyed arousal coming into the air. Her hands found his thighs, gripping for purchase as she tilted her head back, allowing him, and his hand, more access. “Good girl,” he praised her softly, kissing below her pointed ear. “You know how to tug the bond, right?”

“Yes.”

Azriel kissed her bare shoulder before correcting her, “Yes sir.” Serphina nodded, watching him from the mirror. Her eyes widened at the feel of something cold and sharp on the base of her spine. “Breathe,” he kissed down her neck, and in one swift movement cut her dress enough to be able to rip it off.

She was calm throughout his testing of the waters. He rose a brow at her deep breaths. “You aren't afraid?”

She shook her head, her heart racing as hazel eyes met hers in the mirror. “What exactly do you plan to do to me?”

His shadows seemed to thicken and his eyes darkened as he stared at her in the mirror, placing that sharp dagger back into it's holster. “Everything,” he growled before gripping the back of her neck and turning her into a heavy kiss.

It was electric. It was passionate. It was fire meeting shadows. Dancing together as her hands found stability and purchase on his chest after her dress fell.

He backed her to the bed instantly. Growling as he shoved her back and was instantly on her body again.

He had waited years for this. Years for a mate, an equal. The fact that he would be her first. That he would be the one to ruin her and corrupt her was just a bonus.

Bites and kisses started going lower down Seraphina's body, making her shiver. Azriel bit down on her neck, causing her back to arch and a soft whine to leave her mouth. Her hand tried shooting to her lips, hoping to trap the noises in just for shadows to rip her arms away from her, locking them above her head in a vise like grip.

Azriel tutted her softly. “Do you want to be my good girl?” She nodded eagerly, arching into his shadows and hands as they roamed her body. “Words or we stop.”

“Yes sir,” his own heart fluttered at her submission, at how quickly she was taking her role.

“Then let me hear everything. Let me hear how good I'm making you feel.”

“Yes sir.”

“And stop looking away. I want you to watch what I'm doing to you.”

She nodded again, lip pulled between her teeth as his kisses reached her breasts and his warm tongue began to play with her nipple. The soft moan that left her lips was music.

Her body was a harp, a fine tuned instrument just waiting to be played, and for once, Azriel truly felt he was a musician. He wanted to cherish her, to show her how she as his mate would spend her life treated and worshipped.

But then his mind flashed back to her pretty mouth wrapped around that candy, to her visual fantasy Rhys had happily put into his mind the second it started, and all that hope went out that window.

His sole mission was to ruin her. To ensure no other male would bring her to the brink of pleasure over and over and over the way he could. And Azriel never failed a mission.

Kisses became soft bites, making gasps and moans fall from pretty parted lips and Seraphina's amber eyes to roll back. She thought he was going to kill her. He had hardly touched her and she knew she was soaked. She knew that coil would snap within moments of him doing anything to her. A pained whine came as his teeth sank into the inner side of her right breast, bruising and marking the soft untouched skin there before turning and marking the left the same way. “Mine,” he growled causing more heat to shoot through her body. “All mine.”

His kisses began to trail lower again. Mouth coming to a halt above her center as he looked at her. “Also. Fucking. Mine.”

Azriel did not give her a chance to respond, a chance to understand what was about to happen, and that first lick had her jaw fall open, head going back to the pillow and an almost scream like whine leaving her mouth. He wasted no time, instantly feeling that noise shoot to his cock and began eating her out like it was his last meal. Every nudge of his tongue in her center, on cilt, in her folds had her moaning, arching, pulling at his shadows as they restrained her tighter, holding her wide open and completely under Azriel's control.

His hands dug into her hips, leaving bruises there instantly as well as he groaned into the taste of her before wrapping his lips around that swollen bundle of nerves and focusing a ruthless attack there. He watched her under hooded lashes as she arched, as she cried, as the foreign feeling brought tears to her eyes and began to ruin her mascara.

She'd cum just from this. Just from his tongue rolling her pretty clit, circling it, pushing down on it. She'd cum for the lightest touches. And that got him off. It made him feel like a God.

Sera felt her eyes roll back again, an unfamiliar feeling in her stomach as her breathing and moaning picked up. She needed something, needed more. “Please,” she began to beg, her voice breathy and desperate as he began fucking her core, stretching her slightly with his tongue. “Sir, please. I-”

He pulled away, a hand quickly striking her pussy before rubbing gently to soothe her. “Good girls do not beg, pet. Are you a good girl or a whore?” He glared at her slightly as she whined before smacking her again. “if you want to be treated like a fucking whore, then I will treat you like a whore.”

He turned her, allowing his shadows to restrain her on her stomach with a limb towards each corner of the bed. He placed a pillow under her hips, positioning her ass and pussy in the perfect spot for him before waiting to see if she tugged the bond, if this was too much. Her hips wiggled instead, trying to sneak attention from that trapped pillow.

He sent a silent prayer and thank you to the Mother, to the Cauldron, to any deity listening, and then he spanked her.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Watching as her milky pale skin turned bright red for him, watching as she began dripping for him. “You are a fucking whore, aren't you? Getting off on me spanking you.” He spanked her again, watching as her legs began to shake. “Are you going to cum from me spanking you?”

Shame should have filled her then and there, but it didn't. She should be ashamed of herself. She had always been taught sex was not for her. It was for the male. Her sole job was to please him and him alone. Yet here she was, seconds from finding absolute bliss as her mate did nothing more than treated her like a babe in need of punishment.

Azriel brought both hands down on her ass, and watched as she screamed, body jolting and her tight hole clenched around nothing. She came screaming his name, tears streaming down her face. He ran his hand up and down her back, slowing her breathing through the High before running his hands back to her pussy and feeling those soaked folds.

“You have to relax,” he warned gently as she stiffened. “If you don't relax, I will end up hurting you, and I don't want to hurt my perfect pet, do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Sera tried relaxing. Focusing on the humming bond. On his amusement, his pleasure in seeing her like this. She whimpered as two fingers ran from her clit to her whole, lubricating those thick scarred digits in her nectar.

Azriel pushed his middle finger in. He felt his own eyes roll back, imagining the feeling of her soft tight walls on his cock as she let out a breathy moan. He began pumping immediately, not giving her time to adjust and then inserted a second finger before leaning over her to put his hand in her hair and pull, forcing her to arch her back more as she began to cry again. “Gonna feel so good on my cock, pet. So fucking tight and warm.” The praise warmed her immediately. Another wave of heat and wetness flowing through her. “This pussy is mine, you hear me? You are mine. You belong to me.”

Seraphina felt her heart flutter at that. At the idea of being his and his alone. At the idea of no one else stretching her like this. Her walls began to twitch as he found a spot he had been searching for and began to ruthlessly curl and thrust his fingers in to it.

She was soaking the pillow, her thighs, his hand. Azriel's shadows began to remove his clothing, freeing his aching cock and allowing him to stroke it in time with his fingers. Sera was panting again, her hips trying to meet his hand only to be held in place as he felt her approaching the edge again.

Before she could, he pulled away, landing a harsh spank on her bruising ass before standing and removing his leathers completely.

“All in one or gently. Pick now.” His desperate voice sent a wave of power through Sera. The idea of him being this worked up for her while she did nothing but submit to his will make her glow with feminine pride.

“Just fuck me.”

He was surprised by the answer, hand coming to use her juices as lubricant on his cock before he got behind her with a dangerous grin. “I'd tell you to hold on to something, but it appears your hands are a little preoccupied.”

It was pleasure, pain, completion, everything. Sera felt herself fall into shock before a loud wailing moan filled the room along with the scent of her Maidenhood breaking.

Azriel's hand gripped the sheet next to her head as he too let out a pitched moan. She felt exactly as he had imagined. Warm, velvety walls pulsed around him. He gave a gentle teasing thrust, watching as her mouth fell back open. Her make up always ruined, her hair a mess, body littered in bites and bruises.

He had not been gentle with her once tonight, and he was about to start now unless she asked. He placed a foot solid on the bed and grabbed her waist. Then he began.

Seraphina saw the heavens when he moved. His thick cock dragging in and out of her, lighting every inch and nerve on fire as she could do nothing more than lay there moaning and crying out for him.

Her walls were twitching, begging for release instantly as they pulled him in deeper and deeper. He was going to fuck her into two pieces. She hadn't even had the chance to look at his cock, but Gods she felt it. She felt it brushing her cervix with each thrust. She felt it hitting places healers didn't even have names for yet. She felt it pulling her apart inch by inch until she was the perfect sleeve for him.

Azriel watched as her eyes fluttered shut, a small smile forming on her face, and she began to drool slightly.

He had fucked her dumb this easily. Fucked every brain cell from her and rendered her completely to his will.

Seraphina would be easy to train. Easy to make his personal whore. His perfect little mate, his perfect little wife, his perfect cock sleeve, always ready, dripping, and eager for him.

He fucked her until dawn broke through the window. Taking her cunt, her throat, her ass. He came on her face, inside of her, on her tits. She was soaked in his seed, her essences, his and her sweat.

He held her tight in the tub. Bouncing her on his cock as she sat in his lap crying from overstimulation. He released into her again, triggering another orgasm from her that left her in a silent scream and whimpers. He didn't allow her off, forcing her to sit chest to chest with him and warm his cock.

No words passed between them.

No words needed to.

When she tried to speak, he pushed two fingers into her mouth. “We will talk when master is ready. Am I understood, whore?”

She nodded, gagging as the digits pushed in further and maintaining eye contact like he had taught her. He hardened inside of her tender abused cunt again. And he lifted her off and turned her.

The slow realization hit her. 12 orgasms wasn't enough.. 8 hours wasn't enough. Her mate was insatiable.

And she was all too happy to just be used.

[multi-kpop-fanfics]

Can you do rivals to lovers. Idol!wonwoo x idol!y/n (she's a leader) both are dom and rivals from trainee period in same company... Sounds so kinky amd steamy to me👀btw love your blog ❤️ - xoxo

tw: idol!wonwoo, idol!reader (fem), rivals to lovers!au, sexual tension, implied kissing, reader is implied to be shorter than wonwoo, cursing, wonwoo is being a little shit tbh - minors dni.

"Good work today, everyone! Let's rest well for the next performance, okay?"

"Okay!" You hear an enthusiastic reply from your fellow members, beaming with excitement for the upcoming group activities.

You're still buzzing with adrenaline from the comeback stage, a bit worried about whether you'll be able to sleep properly, but it's not enough to stop you from smiling.

You walk in the corridors of the building, gently greeting any passerby staff or idol, be it senior or junior to you. As soon as you turn around the corner to search for the restrooms, you bump into a taller and quite muscular figure.

"O-Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to-" You bow profusely, feeling embarrased for not looking.

"Aw, what a great junior, aren't you? Behaving so well towards your senior."

The familiar deep timbre has you on high alert and you instantly straighten your back, your earlier smile completely wiped off your face.

"You."

"Yeah, it's me. Long time no see, huh, Y/N?"

"Why are you here?" You cross your arms defensively.

"Haven't you heard? We just had a comeback and it's already a hit." The man boasts with a smug smirk.

"Sorry, I was busy preparing for my group's comeback. I don't exactly have time to pay attention to other groups."

"That's a shame. You'd love Maestro - I dare say my MV shots would be to your liking."

"What do you want, Wonwoo?" You sigh.

"Hmm, I think that's not how you should address me." Wonwoo places his hand under his chin, pretending to be thinking.

"Cut the crap, we're the same age."

"Ever the clawy one. But it was always part of your charm." He leans closer to you, but you don't waver.

"Nice, you actually have a good memory. Now step aside, I wanna go to the restrooms." You try to push him aside, but he catches you by your wrist.

"But we're having such a nice conversation, don't you think?" He grins.

"No, I actually don't." You spit back.

"Oh, but what have I ever done to you, Y/N? Is it because I got to debut before you?"

"Just because I appreciate your group for the standards you've created doesn't mean I have to appreciate you specifically." You pull your hand back.

"Maybe if you let me kiss you, you'd appreciate me a bit more." Wonwoo chuckles, "Because I'd love to kiss your pretty damn face right now - just to shut you up, though."

"In your goddamn dreams, Jeon."

He leans closer and gently cages you between the wall and his body.

"What a great dream would that be, right?"

"Back off, someone will see us any moment now!" You plant your palms on his chest, using your full strength to push him away. But he doesn't budge an inch.

"No need to be so damn scared, Y/N." He pulls away immediately, "Besides, I'd never want to get caught up in dating rumors with you."

"So much for wanting to kiss me, I guess." You scoff, "Still the same loser when you were a kid."

You walk away from Wonwoo with quick steps, trying your best to calm yourself down.

You can't help but think how infuriatingly handsome and talented he has grown over the years - but also annoying as fuck. Towards you, at least.

Little did you know, the exact same thoughts run laps inside Wonwoo's head as he watches you walk down the corridor.

Kissing you won't be the only thing he'll dream of tonight.

[t9fi]

allure. — roymen sukuna☆

pairing. True form, lord!Sukuna. Fem!reader.

Warnings. Misogyny. sexism. spanking. m!masturbation. sukuna being sukuna. he is still a big meanie. slut shaming. lil lord/king kink. sukuna is strong and manly and yummy

word count. 1.5k

notes.  so sorry bbgs on the late chapter!!! hope this makes up for it !!

ch. three.  

Sukuna muttered angrily, his frustration boiling over as he trailed behind you after your dramatic exit. The humiliation in front of his friends had ignited a fire within him. He couldn't understand why you were making such a fuss.

As he reached his bedroom, he realised the door was locked. He knocked impatiently.

"open the door, little girl."

You failed to respond, prompting him to knock once more. This time, he pressed his ear against the door, catching the sound of your soft cries.

How adorable.

"Y/N, open this fucking door or I'll break it down," he declared firmly, exerting his dominance over you. And it worked. The door clicked as it unlocked, slowly swinging open.

Sukuna stood tall, his imposing figure towering over you, his intense red eyes piercing into your very soul. You could sense his anger, his disappointment.

He pushed you inside and locked the door behind him.

"You're utterly pathetic, aren't you?" Sukuna sneered, his voice deep and husky. He advanced towards you, causing you to stumble back.

In an instant, he seized your wrist, forcefully raising it up. "Typical women, always complaining when they don't get what they want," he spat, shoving you against the nearest wall.

His knee slid between your trembling thighs, eliciting a gasp from you. "Shut your mouth," Sukuna snapped, gripping both of your wrists and pinning them against the wall.

As he noticed tears streaming down your cheeks, his other hand reached out to wipe them away. "Is it just because you couldn’t touch me?" he chuckled, mocking your vulnerable state.

You shook your head, attempting to speak but failing. Sukuna grabbed your face, his grip firm. "Tell me," he demanded.

With a gulp, you managed to stammer, "Y-you made me feel used."

He pushed you away, only chuckling in response. He rubbed the temples of his forehead and sighing before sitting on your now shared bed. Sukuna looked into your eyes, you were only new to this, you didn’t know how this worked. 

“And what do you believe your duties as a wife are? Merely to sit there and look pretty?" Sukuna spoke, making you feel stupid. 

Your heart raced, a part of you yearned for him to treat you like a real wife, to care for you. But you knew deep down that it was just a fantasy, something you could only dream about when you closed your eyes at night.

"You exist to be used, to be touched. I am the King, and I can do whatever I damn well please with my wife," he growled, his words dripping with dominance.

His intense gaze bore into your soul. Sukuna's hand tapped his knee, urging you to come closer. Without hesitation, you followed his command. "Tch, crawl, you slut," he commanded.

You were taken aback, your eyes widening in surprise. "I said crawl, don't make me repeat myself," Sukuna snarled, his impatience evident.

Feeling foolish, you dropped to your hands and knees, crawling towards your husband. He smirked, clearly amused by the sight of you. Eventually, you stopped and sat on your knees in front of him, locking eyes with him.

"Because you insist on acting like a brat, I have no choice but to treat you as one," Sukuna sneered.

"But you know, I don't want to, little one. You're still so new to all of this, I can tell. But as your husband, it's my duty to show you what's right," you nodded, determined to be his good girl once again.

"I'll teach you how to pleasure me properly, and then you'll receive your punishment. Understood?" he questioned.

"Yes, my Lord," you replied obediently.

Sukuna slowly began to remove his kimono, revealing his naked form. Your eyes drank in the sight of his chiselled abs, strong arms, and thick thighs. It was enough to make you weak at the knees.

Your gaze eventually landed on his cock. It was a sight to behold, with a flushed red tip and delicate veins tracing its length.

He took hold of his member, his voice dripping with authority. "This is how you please your King."

Sukuna's tip glistened with wetness, oozing with anticipation. The temptation to touch him, to bring him pleasure and make him release, was almost unbearable. 

Slowly, he began to stroke himself, his low moans filled the air, his grip on his cock firm and unyielding. Unable to contain yourself, you whimpered, your lips forming a pout.

"Did I give you permission to speak, slut?" His gaze bore into you, his hand never ceasing its movements. You shook your head, your eyes cast downward. "Fuck, look at me, need to see your eyes, princess" he commanded.

Princess? 

The pet name sends a surge of desire straight to your core, leaving you dripping with need. Meeting his gaze, you saw the hunger and lust burning within his eyes. His hand quickened its pace, more pre-cum spilling onto his fingers. Sukuna's moans grew louder, more desperate. "Ah, fuck," he gasped.

His crimson eyes locked onto yours, his hips thrusting into his own hand. "You like watching me stroke my cock slut, Yeah? I know you fucking do" he growled.

The sight before you was mesmerising. Your King pleasuring himself, causing your mind to blur with desire. You craved him, yearned for him.

“Bet that pussy is so wet f’me” Sukuna moaned, “fuck, lemme see”

Leaning back, you slowly revealed your body, pulling your kimono up to your hips. His eyes were fixated on your cute little panties, but you knew he wanted more. "Oh, look at that, I can see a wet spot right there," he exclaimed, pointing to your clothed clit. 

"Take them off for me," he demanded, and without hesitation, you slide your panties down, exposing your bare pussy to Sukuna's hungry gaze.

"Such a pretty fucking pussy" Sukuna moaned, his hand moving faster along his cock. You could sense his climax approaching, his movements becoming erratic. "gonna cum, s-shit, gonna cum, spread that pussy, princess."

Eager to please him, your fingers delicately spread your labia open. Sukuna let out a primal groan as he released his load, calling out your name in ecstasy. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming.

"That's how you please your King," Sukuna smirked, his satisfaction evident. "Now, strip."

Without hesitation, you shed every piece of clothing, revealing your naked body inch by inch. “Lay down on my lap," he commanded, his dominance palpable.

Your body rested against his knees, your chest pressed firmly against them while your hand clenched the sheets, trembling with fear of the impending punishment. Suddenly, a light slap landed on your ass.

"Gonna have to smack the fuck outta this ass to make you act right, dont i?" he playfully taunted, his hands gently kneading your cheeks.

"I miss my good girl, you know? You're gonna be my good girl again after this right?" he said with a slight pout. You nodded in agreement, eager to gauge his reaction to your actions. 

In response, he let out a low hum and said, "Count for me."

Without warning, he raised his hand and delivered a sharp slap to your backside, causing you to cry out and your hips to involuntarily jerk. 

Again and again, he continued to strike your ass relentlessly. "That's five, fuck," you gasped, feeling the sting intensify with each hit. 

His voice dripped with venom as he spat, "This is what you get for embarrassing me, disobeying me, belittling me." The room filled with his cursed energy, reminding you of the wicked and vile King he truly was. "I'm sorry, my Lord," you pleaded through tears. 

Sukuna laughed sadistically at your state. "Be a good slut and take your punishment."

Suddenly, he ceased his assault, his hands now gently caressing your reddened cheeks. "Stand up," he commanded. 

You complied, tears streaming down your face, standing naked before him. "There she is, my good girl," he remarked, a twisted sense of satisfaction in his voice. 

He rose to his feet, his touch tender as he cupped your face, his thumb softly stroking your cheeks. "Go clean yourself up for me and get ready for bed," he instructed. 

To your surprise, he smiled at you, actually smiled, before lightly kissing your cheek. He chuckled darkly and left the room.

Resting your head against the soft silk pillow, you curled up into a comfortable ball, yearning for sleep. However, slumber eluded you as you eagerly awaited your husband's arrival to join you.

The maids had adorned you in a delicate pink ensemble - the top barely concealing your boobs and the bottoms teasingly revealing your curves. With closed eyes, your thoughts wandered to Sukuna - reminiscing about the way he delighted in his own pleasure and how he would punish you. The mere memory sent shivers down your spine.

Suddenly, the door creaked open - Sukuna had arrived.

Pretending to be asleep, you felt a sense of anticipation as he approached. The back of his hand gently caressed your cheek, his voice barely audible as he whispered, "my sweet girl," assuming you were in slumber's embrace.

The bed dipped as Sukuna settled beside you, his strong arms encircling your waist while his other hand played with your hair. A rare sense of peace washed over you, a feeling so unfamiliar yet comforting.

Sukuna's chest pressed against your back, his warm breath tickling your neck. He placed a tender kiss upon it, whispering, "goodnight princess."

[magniloquent-raven]

I am once again plagued with thoughts that aren't 100% coherent so imma just ramble for a bit, pls gather 'round for some stuff about Billy and body image issues cuz I'm in my feels rn.

Billy spends a lot of time staring at Nancy.

Enough that Tommy's noticed and he starts ribbing him about it. "That's one thing of Steve's you might want to stay away from," bitter and pointed. Enough that Jonathan Byers gives him the stink eye whenever he's within glaring distance. Enough that a handful of the more desperate chicks still high off the fumes of his New Kid smell have started dressing like fucking librarians in hopes of catching his eye.

He doesn't give a shit about any of it, if anything the rumour mill is helping him out for once. Less work involved in keeping up appearances if everyone just assumes he isn't sleeping around because he's too busy sniffing Wheeler's granny panties.

As long as no one guesses the real reason, it's fine. It's fucking peachy. It's one silver lining in this shitstorm of a situation.

He's so tired of his eyes inevitably being drawn to her barely-there tits and tiny waist. Every time he's bored at lunch, his gaze wanders. When he's in the library pretending to study, there she fucking is, even smaller when she's hunched over a pile of cue cards.

The longer he looks at her the more sure he is that Steve will never really want him.

Steve's slept with plenty of girls. A variety of girls. He probably couldn't afford to be too picky in this shitty little town. But he's only fallen in love once. One time. The only time it mattered what he was sticking his dick in was when it was in Nancy Wheeler.

And Billy...will never be her. Not even close.

He'll only ever be a warm mouth and a convenient hand, he'll never matter.

She's flat, and thin. Willowy, narrow-shouldered. Petite. Inches shorter than him and nearly half as broad. Thin fingers and delicate wrists. She fit comfortably under Steve's arm, she could nestle safely into his side.

And it was all so fucking easy for her. She never had to try.

She never had to piss off her dad so she'd be forced to skip meals. She never did laps around her neighbourhood until she was lightheaded and doubled over, dry-heaving in someone's hedge. She was never forced to sign up for baseball as a child, poked and prodded and guilted into it because a couple shirts were starting to get tight across the stomach, and being a momma's boy was bad enough, being a fat, lazy piece of shit too was unacceptable.

He used to think he'd done well, maintaining the physique he has. He's worked hard for it. Scraping together his savings for a weight set and keeping careful track of his calorie intake and never skipping a single fucking day of exercise, hangovers and broken bones be damned. And it's fucking useful, truth be told. More than keeping away the echo of old insults bouncing around in his head, it's made flirting that much easier.

But the more he looks at Nancy Wheeler, the more he hates the things he can't change. It gets into his head. Digs in deep, leaving scars on its way down.

He thinks Steve might've noticed.

He knows Steve has heard the stupid rumours about Wheeler, and probably chalked it up to Billy being an asshole, as usual. But it's harder to explain away his sudden tendency to go extremely still whenever Steve puts his hands anywhere on his torso. A palm pressed to his chest, slipped under his shirt, or fingertips digging into his back, or a casual fucking pat on the shoulder—whatever it is, he can't help freezing up, if only for a second, a sick feeling twisting his stomach, cold and shameful and clawing at his lungs.

And then, eventually, they argue.

It's over nothing. And everything. Billy can't explain what his fucking damage is, and Steve can't stop needling in the wrong places. They scream at each other until their throats are raw and Billy leaves when his knuckles start to itch.

He cries all the way home and doesn't eat for four days. Not on purpose. Not consciously. He's just. Fucking. Busy. He's busy. He's always gotta drive Max somewhere or dodge Neil's thinly veiled threats or lock himself in his room when bile starts to bubble up in the back of his throat and his head pounds and he doesn't think about why he's snapping at everyone constantly, he just pounds back a couple beers and goes to sleep. And then it's four days later, and he's flying off the handle at Neil, too sluggish and lightheaded to see the hit coming, and...

Steve comes to see him at the hospital. He hasn't told anyone anything but they've got him hooked up to a banana bag and the nurses keep making sad eyes at him when they come to check his stitches.

He hates it, sitting around doing nothing, being closely monitored every fucking second, it make his skin crawl, and he hates it even more when Steve's standing in the doorway looking at him.

Not for the first time, he's overwhelmed wondering what exactly Steve sees.

He's a fucking mess right now. Greasy hair tangled at the back, bruises peeking out from under the collar of his gross papery hospital gown, one eye swollen shut and a dark tangle of thread holding his eyebrow together. It feels stupid to get stressed about all the shit that usually bothers him when there's so many other things to worry about, but he still finds himself shifting in place, hunching his shoulders, hiding his hands in the crooks of his elbows.

It's sort of a disaster. Worse than last time they saw each other. Billy's not in the mood for Steve's apologies and Steve's at a loss for what else to say.

They don't see each other again for months. Steve graduates. Billy avoids anywhere he thinks Steve might be, and lies awake at night haunted by stolen touches.

He catches a glimpse of Steve through the red haze of storm clouds and cold lightning, tears blurring his vision, the Mind Flayer wearing him like a suit. Their cars collide, and everything whites out for a second.

He's in the hospital again when they finally talk. Billy rolls his eyes at "We've gotta stop meeting like this," and tries not to think about last time he was here. Steve seems more than willing to ignore it. Move forward. Guess demonic possession puts some things into a different perspective.

When Billy's released from the hospital he's seventeen pounds heavier than he was a few months ago. Every time the nurses did their check-ups and put him on the scale they'd pat his elbow, smiling encouragingly, telling him how good he was doing while he watched his stomach get softer, his biceps get less defined, watched himself disappear beneath a layer of fat.

The first thing he does when he gets home is throw up.

He doesn't make it happen. It just happens. And he blames it on the meds they have him on. It's a plausible enough reason, and it means he doesn't have to interrogate the tiny spark of satisfaction he got from losing his lunch.

His second day back home Neil asks him when he's going to start exercising again. His expression is pinched. Cold. His eyes are ice chips freezing Billy's skin wherever they touch, lingering on the softness under his chin, and where the hem of his sleeve pinches his skin.

He pushes his dinner away and grits out an answer from between clenched teeth.

He doesn't need the reminder that he's gotten weak while he was trapped in a hospital bed, but Neil gives it to him anyways. Tells him all about everything he should do to get things back to normal. Push past the pain. Work harder. He tunes it out after a while, and watches grease congeal on his meatloaf.

Eddie Munson is the first person to bring up the things Billy's never known how to talk about.

They started hanging out after Billy's most recent brush with death. Billy's not sure exactly how the got here, from buying the occasional painkiller and letting the guy wax poetic about his dumb band, to spending weekends getting high together at the trailer park. But as weird things in his life go, it's barely worth questioning.

This particular conversation starts with Chrissy Cunningham.

Specifically, Eddie's massive boner for her.

Billy's been noticing it for a while. He hasn't been letting it bother him.

He hasn't.

Maybe he likes the way Eddie smiles at him when they pass a joint back and forth, lazily stretched out and wearing three less layers than usual, and maybe he thinks about closing the distance between them when Eddie offers to shotgun, but it doesn't fucking matter. Just like it doesn't matter that Steve hasn't touched him since before the Mind Flayer and things are fucking weird now that they're on speaking terms again. None of it matters, he's just a fucking idiot.

Because Steve and his new best friend Robin are attached at the hip lately and everyone can see where that's going, and Eddie won't stop talking about tiny, pretty, perfect fucking Chrissy and her stupid ponytail.

And Billy...Billy gets winded walking up the porch steps at his house now. And he pulled a muscle in his back trying to lift half the weight he used to press. And last week he burned three pairs of jeans in the backyard because he kept grabbing them out of his laundry pile, not realizing they don't fit anymore until he was struggling to pull them up past his knees.

He's lost the one thing people used to actually like about him. Never the people he wanted, he was never enough for that, but it was something. Now he's just...

Now he's just listening to a guy he likes talk about some goddamn cheerleader like she personally hung the moon just for him.

And he's drunk. They're both drunk. Eddie in a soppy, embarrassing way, with a sparkle in his eye and a flush on his cheeks, an arm across the back of the couch, outstretched far enough that the tips of his fingers almost brush Billy's shoulder.

He wants to move closer. Thinks about shuffling into Eddie's space, curling into the warmth at his side. But it twists in his guts, sours, sickens—he couldn't, he can't. And he hates himself for wanting to.

"What do you see in her?" spills out of his mouth, bitter on his tongue and sharpened by anger he has no right to feel.

She's pretty. He expects it. She's pretty, she's perfect. She's a fucking angel even though her and Eddie only know each other because she buys drugs off of him. But she can do no wrong because she looks like a little china doll with sad eyes and everyone would be devastated if a single hair on her tiny delicate head was harmed.

Eddie only looks thrown off for a second. A moment. But he shrugs it off, leans his head back against the couch cushions and grins at the ceiling. "She likes my music."

Since fucking when.

"So, what, it's just an ego stroking thing then."

"Nah, man. I mean. Like. She's got this whole good-girl thing going on, but you should see her when I pull out my guitar, it's fuckin'...magic. When she lets herself just. Live." He wiggles his fingers in the air, arms spread, then drops them back down.

Billy's heart clenches, squeezes. It hurts and he doesn't know why. "Bullshit."

"Nah, nah. Seriously. The guy she's dating is a fucking asshole. And her mom..." he trails off, and rubs his eye. "She's just got all this pressure to be perfect, act a certain way, look a certain way, be a certain way, and I hate seeing what it does to her, man. I hate it. No one should have to deal with all that. So. I dunno. I like helping her cut loose. Sorta, find herself, I guess." He cracks a crooked smile, casting a glance in Billy's direction.

And his smile drops.

"Billy?" He sits up, cautious, eyebrows up and his eyes wide.

Billy turns away, shocked into motion, wiping at his face with his sleeve. "I'm fine. Fuck off."

He didn't notice he was crying until Eddie looked at him like he'd seen a ghost.

"Yeah, obviously."

"Fuck you."

Eddie doesn't get much more out of him that night. But he starts watching Billy like a hawk after that. Checking in on him at random. Calling if they haven't seen each other in a few days. It should be irritating as fuck, and he acts like it is, but he still basks in the attention.

Doesn't hurt that it seems to annoy Steve to no end.

Especially doesn't hurt when, in a fit of apparent jealousy, Steve shoves Billy into a wall and kisses him like his life depends on it.

The hurt comes when Steve starts to unbutton Billy's shirt and Billy reflexively shoves him away, when he wants to keep going but wants it to stop and can't tell Steve either of those things because he doesn't have the words.

So he gets angry. At Steve, for pushing it, crossing lines he can't even see. But mostly at himself, because it might be easier than standing there heartbroken but he knows it's the worst thing he could do.

And at Steve, again, when the he doesn't respond the way he should. Doesn't punish Billy for doing the wrong thing, reacting wrong, being wrong. He doesn't withdraw and save himself, he tries to understand, tries to talk it out, like this is something Billy can just say out loud and it'll all be fixed.

He doesn't explain. Not that day. But he lets Steve hold him while he cries, ugly gasping sobs into the front of Steve's shirt, curled up in his lap, collapsed on the floor and tangled together. Because despite everything he's told himself, he does fit comfortably in Steve's arms.

💜tag list ppl💜 @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove

[maple-the-awesome]

When Another Finds Out About His Crush Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Four, Hyrule, Legend x GN Reader

Overview: What happens when someone else in the Chain finds out about his feelings towards you?

 Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

How is it that today has been so peaceful? Seriously, when was the last time the group got a chance to breathe for a second, let alone actually take a moment to enjoy themselves like normal Hylians who don't have to constantly deal with the weight of the world upon their shoulders?

Maybe it's because of the last battle which left most of them pretty battered - too battered to dive head first back into another hoard of monsters right away. Perhaps the Old Man finally got tired of their constant whining and bickering which had grown in volume over the course of the last few days, leading him to pacify them with a quick break. It's probably a combination of those two things, but whatever the true reasoning for this blessing, Four plans to enjoy it - at least he's trying his best to.

He won't complain. It's nice getting to sit here in the sun, enjoying its warm beams that pair sweetly with the cool breeze that carries itself up from the spring where the majority of his traveling partners currently splash around, their joyful cheers making all sound right with the world. Of course, this scene of an early summer would be so much better if not broken every few seconds by Four's sneezing.

His nose is probably red and eyes possibly a bit puffy, but he tries not to care. He's too focused - too distracted with the many thoughts running through his head to begin fussing over some mild allergies.

'Loop over that...Now tie here...' 

'Maybe we should've chosen different flowers -'

'- No. We can't admit defeat to a stupid flower. We're seeing this through, damn it!'

'I wasn't suggesting that we give up. Only that we reevaluate our clearly flawed plan. This field is filled with flowers. We can take our pick.'

'Ooo, I like the poppies over there! Let's use those!'

'No! Poppies aren't good enough. Must I remind you why we're using daisies in the first place?!'

Four sighs heavily, his hands collapsing to his lap. The tangled flowers resting in his touch are a pathetic excuse for a 'craft'. If anything, they look no different from flowers that have been tugged from the ground then tossed around in a bag for a few shakes. It's rather shameful considering how long the minish took to teach him the careful art of weaving flower stems together. Are some watching him now, shaking their heads in confusion as to how someone can be struggling to this extent? Of course, it would be easier if he switched to practically any flower other than daisies, but he's committed to seeing this through as is, no changes. 

Four's harsh thoughts only break away temporarily when noticing the wolf that saunters through the meadow towards him, likely chased away from the cold shadows that have begun casting over his former resting place closer to the spring. Over here in the sun it’s much warmer, so there’s no surprise when the wolf invites himself to sit next to Four, giving a curious look to the flowers on his lap that asks the question without words being needed.

"I'm trying to make a crown," Four answers, lifting the string of stems up with one finger to let the wolf get a closer look which he does by leaning forward and taking a sniff. To him, the craft is impressive, looking far more detailed and put together compared to the flower crowns he's personally made with the children of his village, although it's clear that the Smith is having trouble accepting his own talent by the way he leans his cheek against the palm of his hand with a huff.

"Normally I can make them pretty quickly with fewer mistakes or tears in the stems and petals, but today I just can't get it right. No matter how many times I attempt one, it never looks good enough," Four explains further, his words drawing Wolfie's eyes to the several drafted flower crowns abandoned off to the hero's side. Then suddenly, the wolf's attention is drawn back to Four with a start when he sneezes loudly. 

Sniffing, he gives the slightly startled animal a pitiful look, "...Oh, and it doesn't help that I'm allergic to daisies..."

Wolfie tilts his head to the patch of poppies growing no more than two feet away from them.

"No, I can't...Daisies are easiest to make flower crowns with. They, um, have longer stems."

Woflie tilts his head further, showing doubt over Four's claim, yet in this form, it's not like he can truly call him out. All he can do is make himself comfortable, lying down among the tall grass where he can bare witness to the poor smith's torture as he goes back to weaving flowers into a circle, the only interruption to the silence between them being his repetitive sneezes and eventually a pair of footsteps approaching from the spring.

"Hey, we're missing you down at the water! Whatcha doing all the way up here by your lonesome?" It's no surprise that you're wearing a smile - Alright, it might've been a surprise a few hours ago when all you did was scowl or pout about your aching feet, but ever since Time allowed the group a break, you've been nothing but smiles and rainbows, a look Four prefers on you due to how contagious your enjoy never fails to be.

Immediately upon looking up, a smile pulls at his own lips and all of his muddled thoughts wash away into one. Even his voice is light as a feather without giving you any hint to his prior irritation; a complete contrast to how he had been seconds ago when Wolfie first joined him, "I'm not the biggest swimmer and even if I were, that scream Sky gave when jumping in was enough to convince me of my decision to stay up here."

"Yeah, it's ice water, but hey, anything beats sore feet at this point," You place your hands on your hips with a chuckle, sparing a quick glance back at the rest of the boys before your attention returns to Four, "Making flower crowns, I see?"

He nods, fiddling with the one in his hand which he seems to stare at for some time (truly it was only a few seconds for anyone except himself) before he holds the craft up towards you, "...I thought you'd like one."

"Really? For me?" The bashful smile he wears is easily missed as you awe over the flowers, delicately running your fingers over each petal. Like Wolfie, you see none of the flaws Four concerns himself with. Instead, you see a beautiful collection of near perfect daisies (only a few petals missing here and there) all weaved together in a strong pattern that keeps them from falling apart, "Oh, this is incredible…Wow, you truly are a talent to behold, aren’t you Smithy?"

He officially blushes, rubbing the back of his head with a wide smile he tries to maintain, "I can't take all the credit. I learned from the minish."

"You're too modest," You shake your head in mock annoyance, although the delight in your eyes never fades as you look over the flowers some more, "You know, daisies are actually my favorite, too."

"You don't say," Four picks at the petals on his lap, trying to act as casual as possible, "What a coincidence..."

You open your mouth to say something else, however you don't get the chance when a shout is suddenly heard from the spring followed by a loud splash. Four would've been curious to see what the commotion was, but he's currently in too much of a daze to follow where Wolfie and you look. Surely it's not that important judging on your calm sigh anyways. 

"Aaand I'm pretty sure that's the sound of Vet drowning the Captain. Seeing as I would like Time to keep giving us breaks in the future, I should probably go handle everything before he comes back," As disappointed as Four is to hear you’ll be leaving him so soon, he forgets all about that feeling when you place your flower crown on top of his head, your hands hovering there as you give him a gentle smile. He could’ve sworn he even felt your breath blow against his face given your close proximity, but maybe that was just the optimistic side of him, "Keep this safe for me, please? I’d hate for your hard work to get ruined."

"Uhhh...Y-Yeah. Yeah, I'll protect it with my life."

"Thanks. Now if you two will excuse me…" After patting Wolfie’s head goodbye and winking to them both, you race back down to the spring, shouting something to the other boys with a fierce tone that is the exact opposite to how sweetly you always speak to Four. He might've had a little nerve to either fear you or admire your anger (which can be kinda hot), although he merely sighs lovingly in distracted thought he only leaves when happening to catch that knowing stare Wolfie is giving him in the corner of his eyes. Now, wolf or not, Four can once again understand exactly what that type of smug look means without words.

Pushing Wolfie away halfheartedly, he huffs, "Don't say anything and we'll be even."

"Do you think you could teach me how to cook this dish?"

Pour Four nearly chokes on his own spit when the question meets his ears. Teach Hyrule to cook? Now he knows all of his fellow heroes come equipped with many talents, but surely there's a line to be drawn! 

Of course, Wild has a much milder reaction to this 'challenge', in fact, he's actually happy to be granted something to do seeing as he's been grounded to camp after his latest 'stunt', as Twilight referred to it. So, raising his attention up from the supplies he’s been taking inventory of, he glances over the wobbly handwriting on the paper that Hyrule holds out towards him, the Traveler trying not to look either too hopeful or too nervous.

"...I mean, I'm willing to teach you to cook, but are you sure you want this recipe? It’s not intended for beginners...Not to mention we might not have all the ingredients..." Taking the paper into his own hands and whispering to himself in thought distracts him from Hyrule's gulp, "We might be better off trying something else -"

"- No!" Hyrule bites his lip when Four and Wild's gazes jump to him, clearly surprised by his tone. Shifting on his feet, Hyrule tries to clear his throat as a poor attempt at acting 'natural', "I, uh, would really like to try this recipe. It sounded pretty good when the baker explained it, plus we've been traveling for so long and it's not everyday that we get to try something like it - Oh! And I already have all the ingredients. 'bought them in the last town we went to."

Hyrule hopes he isn’t coming off as too pushy or, in the worst case scenario, desperate. This plan is nerve wracking as it is, thus the last thing he needs is anyone asking questions, after all, he already had a close call when you caught him leaving that bakery during your stay in town.

When you saw him leave without buying anything, you assumed he was being rupee-cautious and offered to buy him something sweet if that was what his heart desired. You’re kind like that, always keeping an eye on him and doing your best to hype him up as being just as worthy of the hero’s title as everyone else. That’s why he couldn’t possibly have told you then that you’re what his heart desires most. No, that would’ve been too weird and cliche, even he knows that. You deserve a better confession (whenever he finds the courage for that), but in the meantime, he can at least show you his gratitude through gifts which is why he currently stands here mentally praying for Wild’s help; he’s his only hope at this point!

The Champion looks inside the pouch Hyrule had quite literally tossed at him, the Smith also sneaking a peek from over his shoulder. Comparing the written ingredients to those in the pouch, they confirm that everything is there (surprisingly no weird foods that Hyrule somehow manages to find).

"...Well, the Traveler's right about one thing: we don't usually get a chance to eat sweets on the road, not to mention everyone's been a bit stressed since our last battle. Maybe a treat would be a good way to lift spirits," Four suggests, although the words feel as if they must be pushed through his teeth. Already, his stomach tosses and turns in memory of the last 'dish' Hyrule made which resulted in seven of the ten heroes getting food poisoning and Hyrule receiving a permanent ban from the kitchen ever since.

Wild hums in thought then, to Hyrule's joy, nods and hands him back the recipe, "Alright. Let's get started."

Thinking back to it now, the request seemed so easy to him. Unlike the others who usually see their lives flash before their eyes at the thought of Hyrule's cooking, Wild has actually enjoyed most of his meals including the one that made nearly everyone sick, his only complaint being the need for less salt (a critique that was drowned by out Wind's over the top gagging). With that said, he saw no issue with helping the Traveler complete the desired recipe, however it's always possible for someone to come around to reason, it just took a lot of smoke and heaving, but come around nevertheless.

One minute everything was cooking as it should with a wonderful aroma filling the camp. All Wild did was turn his back. It was only seconds - that's it, seconds - before the cooking pot exploded into a puff of smoke and sparks. Since then, it's been utter havoc which is normally the word everyone else uses whenever Wild and Hyrule get paired, but today, Wild's admitting it himself. Is this usually how stressed Twilight feels?! If so, then he's sorry! He doesn't have time to actually apologize and will most likely forget by the time he sees his mentor again, but dear Hylia, he's sorry!

It's by the grace of the goddesses that no one comes running back to camp to find the scene that would await them if they did: Wild and Hyrule working together to frantically stomp out the flames before they reach any supplies or burn down the entire forest. Even then, evidence of their crimes remains in the form of charred grass and the coat of soot that covers Hyrule's face, stretching his bangs to the sky as his eyes carry a certain daze to them. Maybe now that he's literally had his work blow in his face, he can finally admit that his cooking might not be the best in the group's.

"What did you do?!" 

"I didn't do anything!" Hyrule meets Wild's shout, however he soon falters and pokes his fingers together innocently with a mumble, "...I thought you said that monster parts can give dishes effects..."

“Yeah, some…” Wild's face drops, his eyes wide with realization yet he still finds himself asking with a hint of fear to his voice, "What did you add?"

"..."

"Please don't tell me..."

"...Red chuchu jelly..."

"Dear Hylia!"

"I was curious to see what effect it would have!"

“It blows up! That’s the effect it has!”

"Do I even want to know what's going on here?"

Oh Goddesses, please kill him now...Hyrule had hoped if anyone, it would be the Old Man or maybe even the Captain who came running back to scold them, but you? Oh, you’re the last person he wanted to see this!

To be fair, you still aren't as bad as one of the stricter adults who would’ve immediately accessed the situation and started handing out punishments.  Instead, you plan to let them plead their case. Actually, you don't even look that angry, mainly confused and tired as you stand at the edge of camp, arms crossed with an expression that's anything except amused (probably because you had the unfortunate fate of being one of the seven who got food poisoning from Hyrule's last ‘cooking’ attempt).

Before either boy can begin explaining themselves, you sniff the air and immediately scrunch your nose as a reaction to the awful smell that burns it. Hyrule swears you even gag, although it's hard to tell because of how fast you shoot a hand up to cover the whole lower part of your face.

"What in Hylia's name were you trying to make? It smells like bokoblin guts!"

Hyrule shrinks even further into his embarrassment, "...It was supposed to be a fruit cake..."

"A fruit cake?"

"Hyrule wanted to learn how to cook and had the recipe for one. It just...didn't go as planned," Wild rubs the back of his neck, sparing a pitiful glance at the smoldering gunk that sticks to the cooking pot. It'll be a pain to clean later, that's for sure.

"Obviously,” You roll your eyes followed by a frown as you look to the cooking pot yourself with more sympathy than pity, "...But it’s a shame. I love fruit cake."

Wild blinks, his eyes shifting from you to Hyrule as the gears inside his head begin to turn. Meanwhile Hyrule tries to clear away the soot from his face with a quick drag of his sleeve, however he only makes matters worse by smearing it, "I'm sorry. I really wanted it to turn out right for you, but…I guess I should’ve just bought a cake at that bakery, huh? …I’m not cut out for cooking myself…”

Your frown remains as does that look of sympathy. Stepping forward, you take your canteen from your hip and dump a little water over the very edge of your cloak. By the time it's properly soaked, you're standing in front of Hyrule and using the cloth to wipe away the scoot from his face. Your attempts are far more successful than his, getting most of the gray off at the cost of your clock taking on the shade itself, not that you show any care.

"I'm sure you'll get the hang of it some day, 'rule. It's something that requires practice and patience. After all, I'm sure Wild wasn't as good of a cook from the start as he is now.”

"Umm -"

"- Shush." 

And with that, Wild immediately puts his hand down with a pout.

"Start out with some simple dishes first, then whenever you get the basic skills of cooking down, I'll teach you how to properly make fruit cake. How about that?" 

Hyrule's eyes nearly sparkle at the offer. Sure, Wild is his partner in crime when it comes to getting into unnecessary trouble, however he'd much rather have you as his cooking partner (and maybe his partner in everything else, too, if he can one day get that far). That's likely why he nods too quickly, his bangs still being stuck upright which prevents them from bobbing with the movement for once. 

You chuckle at his excitement and go to leave camp to return to whatever you had been doing before, although you do stop to ruffle his hair, reminding him to wash it when he gets a chance (words he doesn't hear because he’s too busy obsessing over the feeling of your hand running through his hair).

"You know -" Hyrule jolts out of his trance, cheeks red at the realization that he had forgotten all about Wild who stands with most his wait shifted to the side, arms crossed and a smirk pulling at his lips, "- Usually when you like someone, the best thing to do is to try not poisoning them."

"I-I wasn't - That's not what I -"

"- We still have some ingredients left over. Let's start from the top," Wild merely shakes off Hyrule’s rambling, something the Traveler is thankful for as he begins to trail after his friend back to the cooking pot, however he stops dead in his tracks when Wild suddenly spins around to point a wooden spoon at him, "BUT, no more adding anything that isn't in the recipe when I turn my back or else I'm warning (Y/n) that they'll have to be doing all the cooking in your relationship…Hylia knows I can’t afford getting in trouble again with Twilight...”

Hyrule gulps and nods more timidly than he had with you, "W-Will do."

This was a mistake and the worst part is that Legend knew it before he even committed to the decision. He knew it would be a bad idea to 'invite' nine others into his home, even if it was to be a temporary trip, yet he opened the doors to mayhem anyway. 

He blames his own tiredness, if anything. He didn't really feel like presenting a good argument as to why everyone should remain outside, which would've been especially difficult to pull off given the blazing sun above. No one wanted to just ‘wait outside’, not when their curiosity was overflowing at the thought of all the cool things the Vet must be hiding inside his home. So ever so foolishly, he let them in, underestimating the exact extent of annoyance he'd be instantly cursing himself with.

"Don't touch that!"

"Get away from there!"

"Hey, those are delicate! Put them down!"

"No, I am not playing any music! I'm just here to switch out my weapons. Just - STOP SHIFTING THROUGH MY STUFF! HAVEN’T YOU EVER HEARD OF SOMETHING CALLED ‘PRIVACY’?!"

"...You can borrow that if you want."

Surely some of the heroes snapped their necks by how quickly they turned towards Legend, surprised to hear him speak in a tone not laced with vexation nor raised in a shout. Actually, his words are rather soft - soft for him, at least. 

Even you're surprised, although it's not for the same reason as the others. Hearing the Vet's voice behind you, you practically leaped out of your skin and prepared yourself for the same harsh scolding as everyone else has received, so it takes you a second to process what he had really said instead. 

You blink once then twice (the rest of the group does, too) before glancing down at the ring you have pinched between your fingers. There's a small chest filled with them in front of you, each somehow different from the other whether that's because of the color of the band or the types of gems decorating them. Of course, you only planned on looking over them with your eyes, not wanting to disrespect Legend's privacy (and not wanting to be shouted at either), but that was before one ring in particular caught your eye. Your interest couldn't be tamed at that point, leading you to pick up the piece of jewelry for closer inspection which lands you in your current situation.

Turning to face Legend, who only boredly glances at the ring in your hand before going back to his own business, you open your mouth to say something - perhaps ask if he's serious because you most definitely misheard, right? He's going to let you borrow something of his? After getting so peeved about everyone else simply touching his stuff? You aim to be safe and confirm permission, yet the question doesn't have a chance to leave your lips before someone else beats you to it:

"What?! How come they get to take something? I wanna ring!" It's Wind and his objection makes sense seeing as he had just been looking over the same jewelry box moments ago only for Legend to swat his hands away. He isn't the only one to see the hypocrisy either.

"Can I borrow this?" Wild asks, holding up a boomerang with a hopeful smile that nearly distracts from the glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

"No, you can't!" Legend hisses, quick to rip his tornado rod out of Warrior's hands while he's at it much to the Captain's offense.

"Oh come on! What makes (Y/n) so special, eh?!"

"They're responsible," Legend dismisses stubbornly with a wave of his hand as he turns his back to them again. The others merely roll their eyes in annoyance, Warrior mumbling something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'simp' much to Legend's frustration, but before he can bite back, he mostly forgets all about them when you finally get a chance to speak up for yourself.

"You're sure it's no trouble?"

Legends fears he might have stared at you a bit too long - not that you would've noticed seeing as you keep your eyes focused on the ring you fiddle with. Despite how much you try to act neutral as to not get your hopes up, there's a giddy joy to your eyes at the thought of getting to keep this ring even if just for a little while, after all, it's so beautifully crafted and the red rubies attached to the golden band remind you of Legend in a way you'd prefer not to explain in front of everyone else, let alone with him present.

"...Yeah, it's no problem," He looks away quickly, blowing some air which fixes his bangs out of his view. If anyone were to spend more time studying his behavior (Hylia forbid it), they might notice how awfully red his face has suddenly gotten, "...Just don't lose it."

Truthfully, he doesn't care. If it were just the two of you, he'd actually tell you to keep it since he has plenty of rings anyways, not to mention it would give him some peace of mind for you to always have a protection ring handy, but he can't risk saying that here. The others are already questioning him too much and the last thing he needs is either Wild or Warrior picking up on the hint. Maybe he’ll just wait for when you try to return the ring so that he can play it off better by simply pushing it back towards you and giving some excuse like ‘I didn’t even miss it’ or ‘I actually don’t need any more junk now that I think about it’. You wouldn’t suspect a thing then nor would anyone who overhears. 

"Thank you! I promise to take really good care of it!" At last, you take no shame in letting your delight show and waste no more time sliding the ring over your finger. 

Legend just nods, burning through all of his willpower to not keep stealing glances your way. Fortunately, it doesn't take him much longer to locate the weapons of his desire, allowing him to finally herd everyone out of his house while continuing to deny their requests to borrow some items for themselves. Hyrule is the last straggler, something Legend originally wouldn't have thought much of since the Traveler isn't one to usually cause him trouble, although there's a first time for everything as it would seem.

"Congrats on the engagement," It's such a smug comment to come from someone who looks nothing but innocent as he saunters by, in fact it takes Legend's brain several seconds of spinning before he understands the implication and with it, his confusion instantly melts into a mix of fury and embarrassment (which one is at the head could be anyone's guess).

"T-They asked and I have plenty of rings, so there was no point in me turning them down! It's not an 'engagement'!"

Hyrule merely chuckles in the face of Legend's anger, "Don't worry. I won't say anything."

Legend huffs, taking it upon himself to push Hyrule towards the exit so that he can sooner leave this mess behind, however before he can begin to feel too comfortable, the Traveler speaks up again while casually picking up a gauntlet off the nearby table Legend leads them by, "This is cool.”

Legend glares; a deadly look Hyrule once again meets with too much innocence - mocked innocence, the Vet is now convinced - nothing but an act!

"You know, it would be a shame if someone like Warrior or Wild realized why you only do nice things for (Y/n). If they connect the dots for themselves -"

"- You can borrow it," Legend cuts Hyrule off in a hurry, pushing the gauntlet into his hands while shoving him out the door, "But I want it back in one week, you hear? That's all the time you've bought yourself with, you rat!"

[wilderness-of-thoughts]

".... Y/n?" You heard a voice on the other end of the phone. A familiar voice. It's three in the morning and instead of sleeping you're sitting and watching a movie. You grab the TV remote to turn down the background noise, because the voice is surprisingly quiet. "... I need your help."

∆∆∆

The fact is, the only reason you have a job supporting the jujutsu sorcerers is because your uncle is a Yaga. Your cursed energy is so small it's practically nonexistent. Sometimes you see curses, sometimes you don't. However, in situations where there aren't enough people in the field, you're sprinkled in in a support role... More like support for support. It never bothered you though. Your talent for being a person with curse energy is that you are almost normal. Almost sometimes makes a big difference.

But hey! Work is work and as long as they pay there's nothing to complain about. So when you were running through the streets of Tokyo in the middle of the night to the apartment of none other than Gojo Satoru, it didn't even cross your mind what was going on.

He's probably craving something sweet again, or come up with some stupid idea like - "So if you put more capsules into the washing machine, won't the wash be done faster? Damn. Okay, clean up this mess y/n." Or "I'm out of hair gel, I'm not leaving the house like this! Go y/n and buy me some." - being an errand dog defines your position more. Especially since one of the weakest of the weak in the world of the strong, you are a subordinate of none other than the strongest sorcerer. The Chosen One.

Meh... Could be worse. Right?

Right?

∆∆∆

You punched in the code to Gojo's apartment, breathing heavily. Fuck, why is Ijichi always the driver? Oh yeah, you failed your driving test.

"Gojo? What is it this time?" You asked with a slight note of irritation in your voice. You turned on the light in the living room, looking around the room for any sign of Satoru. With his height you usually had no problem finding him. But this time, all you were greeted with was a dark room. As if no one was here. "Gojo? If this is some kind of stupid joke..."

"Believe me, I would like to..." You heard his voice, strangely quiet but not weak. However, when you turned in the direction it came from, no one was there. "Listen... First, promise me that what you see will stay between us." Gojo continued talking, or rather his voice came from the side of the table in the living room.

"Um... Ok?"

"Secondly... swear you won't laugh."

"Did your students play some stupid prank on you? Did they shave you bald?"

"Promise me, fuck."

"ok ok I promise..." You slowly approaches the table, his voice getting clearer, but you still can't see him.

"Third... Fuck... Help me." His voice was a mix of anger, shame, and humiliation. You never thought you'd ever get to hear it. Ever.

"Okay Gojo... I'll help you, but where are you?"

After he told you to turn on the light and go to the table, you still didn't see him. Finally you heard some rustling and Gojo climbed onto the table top. Yes, he climbed it.

"you won't believe what happened to me..." He said, trying his best to protect his dignity by masking it with an amused tone of voice.

And so, before you on the night table stood the strongest sorcerer of modern times. The Chosen One. Except... He's the size of a doll now, with cat ears and a tail.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

Next:

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Dear Diary. . .

18+ for some smut. . .

Steve thought a lot about people's sexuality since Robin came out to him on the floor of the bathroom at Starcourt. Well, he thought about it a lot more. Before, it was only a casual thought. How could two members of the same sex do that? Not in like a hateful way but more in a curious way. How could two men have sex? He usually spent time on it, thinking about it. . .too much time thinking about it, really. That should have been his first clue, but at the time, he shook those thoughts away by telling himself that he was just being overly judgemental like his dad. Now, he was thinking about it a lot more, and he couldn't quite figure it out until Eddie Munson walked into Family Video one afternoon.

"It's fucking freezing! I can't believe Keith made us come in. I swear that I'm going to do it this time," Robin said. "I'm gonna kill him."

"You keep saying it, but then it never happens," Steve chuckled.

"There's no one even here!" Robin complained.

It was the middle of December and pretty damn cold. No one would be crazy enough to escape the warmth of their homes just to get a movie. He was quickly proven wrong, though, when the door opened and Eddie Munson walked in.

"Jesus H Christ! It's freezing in here. Do you guys have the air conditioner on in the middle of winter?" Eddie asked.

"It's broken. We couldn't fix it, and we couldn't get anyone to come out," Steve said.

"And you guys didn't just say 'fuck it' and go home?" Eddie asked.

"We can't really afford to do that," Steve said.

"Really? King Steve can't afford to take one day off? The man with his own castle or so I've heard," Eddie said, and Robin scoffed at him, scowling.

"You mean, my parents' house? Yeah, no. It's their house and like they've told me since I was six: It's their house and they just allow me to live there. They made me start paying them rent the minute I didn't get into any college, and they threatened to kick me out without all my stuff if I didn't pay up on time, so no I can't really afford to say fuck it," Steve said. "And the thing about being called King Steve are the assumptions that come with it. They assume that because I was born into money that everything that comes with it is mine. That I have it easy. You know, you can have all the money in the world but you can't pay your parents to love you. I mean, I don't know. Does it make you feel good when people call you freak?"

"Jesus. . . No," Eddie said, looking properly shamed. "Look, sorry, man. I can fix your problem for free."

"Which problem? People calling me King Steve or my parents not loving me?" Steve asked.

"Well, I can't fix those problems, but I can fix your heat," Eddie smirked. "Let me go get my tools."

He left the store, leaving Steve alone with Robin.

"He's lucky he apologized and offered to fix the heat, or otherwise I would have kicked his ass," Robin muttered, and then she paused. "Your parents are home, aren't they?"

"Yeah," Steve muttered.

"You know, my dad put bunk beds in my room like I'm a kid or something. Want to have a sleepover?" Robin asked.

"Only if I get the the top. A top for a top," Steve said with a smirk.

"Ugh. You'll get bottom and like it," Robin said. "You know, my parents love you. I think you should take up their offer and -"

She didn't get to finish her sentence because Eddie made his way into the store. He shook his toolbox at Steve.

"Lead the way, Harrington," Eddie grinned.

"I'll mind the store, although I think it's pointless. I don't think anyone else is crazy enough to come out in this weather," Robin said to Steve. "You mind him."

"Thanks," Eddie grinned cheerfully as he followed Steve into the back.

Wordlessly, Steve watched as he took off his jacket and got to work. The other man was wearing a tight red sweater. It was so tight that Steve could practically see his. . .wait, are those. . .are those nipple piercings? Steve swallowed. Why couldn't he look away? The movement of Eddie rolling up his sleeves tore his attention away from the man's nipples. There was a tattoo of a creature controlling a puppet on his forearm. He stared at it while he worked and wondered if there were any more tattoos on Eddie's body. Steve tilted his head to the side as he pictured taking off Eddie's sweater to look for more, his mind picturing Eddie's piercings. He could imagine them so clearly, and Steve could see his own hand reaching out to brush his thumb over the piercing. Suddenly, Eddie's underneath him, and Steve is reaching down to take it -

"All done!" Eddie's voice called out.

"What?!" Steve exclaimed.

He realized what he was feeling now. The familiar pull of arousal in his stomach is something that he immediately recognized. Mews being eaten by a demodog! Mews being eaten by a demodog! Yeah, that did it. Eddie was staring at him now with his big brown beautiful eyes, his plump lips looking ever so kissable. Shit.

"You okay, man?" Eddie asked. "Where did you go?"

"Oh, nothing, sometimes I just space out," Steve said, trying not to blush.

"Yeah. I do that, too. I fixed it!" Eddie exclaimed proudly. "Am I forgiven now?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Steve said. "Thanks."

Eddie shrugged on his jacket and shook his toolbox at him.

"I'm going to go put Bert up now," Eddie said. "And then look for a movie."

"Bert?" Steve asked.

"My toolbox. Problem?" He asked.

"No, it's cute," Steve laughed.

Eddie looked at him for a moment as if he was trying to figure him out.

"Hm. Dustin was right. You are an interesting dude," Eddie said.

They walked out of the back together, and Steve continued to watch him as he walked out.

"It's definitely warming up," Robin said. "Thank God!"

Eddie walked back in and started browsing the aisles, Steve’s eyes never leaving him. Robin unscrewed her bottle of water and started drinking.

"Yeah, I can definitely picture myself having sex with that guy," Steve said, and Robin started choking on her water. "Jesus, Robin. Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?! Are you okay? What the hell, Steve?!"

"What?"

Later that evening, after they got off of work, Steve and Robin immediately got settled up in her room. A random radio station was playing in the background. They were laying on the floor, their feet pressed against the wall, as they stared at the stars on Robin's ceiling.

"So, let me get this straight - something which we apparently both aren't - you kept trying to picture how it worked between two men, and apparently, that made you think that you were homophobic?" Robin asked.

"Pretty much," Steve said.

"Okay, you're going to have to start telling me all of your thoughts outloud so I can tell you if you're wrong or right," Robin said. "I'll do the same thing with you."

"Like we're diaries?" Steve asked.

"Exactly like we're diaries, Steven," Robin said. ". . . Diaries who give feedback."

"What if they're dirty thoughts?" Steve asked.

"I'm a fully grown lesbian. I can handle it," Robin said. "I want every single slutty detail."

"Okay," Steve said.

"For example: Dear Diary, my platonic soulmate realized he wasn't straight today. He also came out to me. I want him to know how proud I am of him and how much I love him," Robin said. "Even if he is attracted to boys."

"Dear Diary, I came out to my platonic soulmate today after finally accepting that I can be queer. . .that I could be bisexual like Bowie. I don't think I ever could have gotten to this point without learning from her. If she hadn't trusted me, then I wouldn't have been able to put so much trust and courage into accepting myself. I'm so proud of her, and I love her so goddamn much," Steve said. "Even if she is a pain in the ass."

"Aw, Steve," Robin said tearfully and took his hand, interlacing their fingers together. "You know what my favorite thing about our friendship is?"

"What?"

"We're both bitches," Robin said and they both burst into fits of giggles.

After that, Steve wished for more interactions with Eddie, but whenever he went to pick up Dustin from Hellfire, Eddie would scowl and look away whenever Steve tried to wiggle his fingers at him. Eventually, it just became awkward, so Steve stopped trying. He didn't even look at him anymore. Steve even tried approaching him in the grocery store just to ask what his problem was, but Eddie took off and ran out of the store without buying anything. Eventually, Steve realized that Eddie clearly still saw him as King Steve and wanted nothing to do with him. So Steve stopped trying, disappointed, and rejected. Instead, he tried moving on by going on dates, and eventually, Steve pushed Eddie to the back of his mind. . .then spring break rolled around. It all went to hell, and suddenly, he was fighting to save Eddie from being convicted of murders he didn't commit while also trying to stop the earth from splitting open.

Luckily, it was all a success with some injuries. Unfortunately, Eddie still needed to be hidden from the town, and Steve's house was the best place for him. He was currently resting in Steve's guest room, bandaged heavily as he was worse off than Steve but not so bad that he needed a hospital. Steve was pacing downstairs. Now was the perfect time to talk to him. He couldn't run away this time. Steve sighed and walked up the stairs. He entered the room without thinking and without knocking. Eddie froze, his unbandaged hand down his pants. He quickly pulled it out.

"I had an itch!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Uh. I can come back," Steve said.

"No, seriously! It was an itch!" Eddie exclaimed. "I was just thinking about you."

Steve’s mood changed pretty quickly. His cheeks turned pink, and he grinned. He slid carefully onto the empty space beside Eddie. He used an elbow to avoid laying on his stomach.

"Really?" Steve asked.

"How could I not? You pulled me out of hell, man," Eddie said. "I wish I could thank you properly, but I can't even get out of bed."

"You can thank me by letting me do all the work," Steve said.

"Uh, yeah, okay," Eddie said, looking at him, confusion as he started to disappear under the covers. "What are you - Oh! Oh! I think there was a misunde - OH, fuck it! It's such a good one. JESUS H CHRIST!"

There was a popping sound from under the covers as Steve peeked out from under the blankets.

"Do you want me to stop?" Steve asked.

"No! Get back down there," Eddie said and pushed his head down. "I can't believe - I, uh, thought that I hated you and I, uh, I uh, I didn't understand why I did. Oh, fuck! It's why I ran - I shouldn't have - Steve, Steve, I think I'm going to - God!"

Steve plopped down on the empty spot beside Eddie, smirking as he licked his lips.

"I didn't think I would be so good that I'd get a name change," Steve said. "God. God Harrington."

"Cocky asshole," Eddie replied. "So, what does this mean? Is that all I'm good for, or do you want more from me?"

"I think I would like to try more with you," Steve said softly.

"Me too, and once I get better, I am so returning the favor," Eddie smirked.

"There's a lot of things we're going to do when we get better," Steve said as he leaned in close to Eddie's face.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Steve placed a soft kiss to Eddie's lips, smiling when Eddie started kissing him back. Steve pulled back.

"The first thing, though. . .I'm so making you sleep on the couch," Steve said.

"What?!" Eddie yelped. "Why?"

"Well, one, you forced the kids to choose between Lucas and Hellfire. Second, you didn't stick to the plan, and you nearly died in Dustin's arms," Steve huffed.

"But I - yeah, no, that's fair," Eddie mumbled. "I do feel bad about making them go through that. I'm going to work my ass off to make it up to them."

"I know you are," Steve said softly. "Luckily, you've got the rest of your long life to make it up to them."

"Thanks to you," Eddie said, and Steve bit his lip. "You want to tell Robin, don't you? Go ahead."

Steve went downstairs and into the kitchen. He picked up the phone, twirled the phone cord around his finger, and dialed Robin's number.

"Hello?"

"Dear Diary. . . I totally went down on this really cute guy. . .bit of an asshole. . . but he's working on it. . ."