#and then life came and kicked me in the face like five times over

[sometimescharlolette]

JOEL MILLER X F!READER (BRAT TAMING)

Synopsis: You disobey Joel, putting your life at risk once again, his patience runs out, and he teaches you a lesson.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18, age gap, p in v, rough sex, punish sex, dirty talk, possessive behavior, degradate, orgasm denial, age gap not explicit

A/N: Hello pretty people, valentine's day is coming, and I thought I'd write a few things to celebrate this special day. There will be five in total, starting today and ending on the 14th. I hope you enjoy this idea as much as I do. In any case, comments and feedback always motivate me to keep writing and trying to improve. Kisses 💜💜

How many times would Joel have to repeat himself until your stubborn little head got it through your thick skull? Keeping you within the perimeter wasn’t some arbitrary punishment—it was survival. He wasn’t the bad guy for trying to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. Or worse, turned. The thought alone made his stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in the back of his throat. He had already lost too many people. He wasn’t about to lose you, even if it meant keeping you under lock and key.

And yet, there you were. Again.

He found you near the HQ containment zone, cigarette dangling from your lips, laughing at something some idiot had whispered in your ear. Smoke curled from your mouth, slipping between soft, pink lips as though the world wasn’t on fire around you. As if you had no care at all.

Joel never wanted this job. Never wanted to be responsible for you. But Tess, of course, had volunteered to keep an eye on you, which meant he’d been dragged into this mess, forced to play babysitter to a reckless brat who didn’t seem to give a damn about how dangerous things were outside those gates.

“Let’s go.”

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, the crunch of his heavy boots against the gravel matching the unwavering determination in his eyes. He didn’t slow as he approached, didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, yanking you away from the wall you were leaning against.

“Wait—” you whined, twisting in his grip, but he didn’t stop. The cigarette slipped from your lips, embers snuffing out against the cold ground. You cast a glance at the others, as if hoping one of them might step in. But no one did. No one ever did. Not when it came to Joel.

With a frustrated growl, he had enough. In one swift motion, he hauled you over his shoulder, one arm locking around your thighs as you yelped in protest. You kicked, fists thudding against his back, hair falling over your face as the blood rushed to your head.

“Joel, put me down! You caveman—”

He ignored you, jaw clenched tight, stride unwavering as he carried you back to the apartment. Your struggles were useless against his iron grip, every squirm and protest met with nothing more than a gruff sigh. Only once he crossed the threshold, locking the door behind him, did he finally let you go—unceremoniously dropping you onto the worn couch.

You landed with a huff, limbs sprawled in a graceless heap. “What the hell was that?” you snapped, glaring up at him. “I’m not a damn child.”

Joel exhaled sharply, running a rough hand down his face. His patience was gone, his body taut with frustration. His dark eyes locked onto yours, voice low and edged with exhaustion.

“No. But you sure as hell act like one.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as his gaze pinned you in place. He was tired—tired of chasing after you, tired of dragging you back from the edge when you so eagerly danced on it.

Joel stepped closer, looming over your sprawled form on the couch. He could see the defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. It was infuriating, but it also stirred something primal in him. He had to put an end to this reckless behavior, one way or another.

"Listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," he growled, voice rough and low. "You can't keep pullin' this shit, darlin'. It ain't safe out there."

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a rough caress that felt a jolt through you. "You're playin' with fire, and you're gonna get yourself burned. I won't let that happen."

Joel leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Maybe it's time I taught you a lesson about listening in' to your elders." His other hand slid down your side, coming to rest on your hip. He squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you stammered, a flush creeping up your neck. You tried to pull away, but he held you firm.

"Shh, just relax," he murmured, voice a low rumble. "I'm gonna make you understand, one way or another." His hand slid higher, brushing over the curve of your breast. He could feel your nipple stiffen beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.

Joel captured your mouth in a demanding kiss, swallowing any protests. His tongue delved past your lips, claiming your mouth with a hunger that stole your breath. He kissed you until you were dizzy, until you could only cling to him for support.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were red and swollen, his chest heaving. "You're not leaving this house until I say so," he declared, voice rough with desire. "And if you try, I'll just have to punish you again."

His hand slid under your skirt, finding the heat between your thighs. He groaned at the dampness he found there, a finger tracing your slit through the fabric of your panties. "Fuck, you're already so wet," he muttered. "Guess you like bein' manhandled like this, don't you?"

He ripped your panties away, tossing them carelessly to the side. Then his fingers were on your bare flesh, stroking through your slick folds. He circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck up against his hand.

"Joel..." you whimpered, head thrown back in ecstasy. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" he taunted, fingers delving deeper. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?" He pumped two fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside.

You could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. He worked you closer and closer to the edge, until your thighs were trembling and your walls were clenching around his fingers.

"Please, Joel, keep it up, I'm, I'm gonna cum," you moaned breathlessly, your head thrown back on the arm of the couch, your chest rising and falling with the scorching heat building in your pelvis, but before you could get caught up in the sensation of pleasure, he pulled his fingers out.

Joel smirked at the confused, frustrated look on your face as he abruptly pulled his fingers from your aching, desperate cunt. He could see the need written all over you, the way your body trembled and your chest heaved with each ragged breath. It was a delicious sight, seeing you so wound up and wanting. He planned to take his time with you, to make you beg for release like the needy little thing you were.

"Please, Joel, I can't-- ah!" Your protests turned into a yelp as his palm cracked against your sensitive pussy, the sharp sting only adding to the fire burning under your skin. He could feel your slick coating his hand, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"Listen up, you brat," he growled, voice low and dominant. "You don't get to cum until I say so. This is your punishment for being such a reckless little fool."

Joel grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your shoulders. He held you in a tight hold, folding you nearly in half as he loomed over your exposed, dripping cunt. His cock strained against his jeans, rock hard and aching to be buried inside you. But he had other plans first.

Leaning down, he ran his tongue along your slit, tasting your essence. "Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your flesh. "Sweet as honey." He delved deeper, tongue plunging into your entrance as he ate you out with eager.

Your moans filled the room, back arching as much as his grip would allow. He could feel your walls fluttering around his invading tongue, desperate for more. But he pulled back, leaving you wanting once again.

"No, please Joel, I need-- I need to cum," you whined, voice high and needy. Your hips bucked, trying to grind against his face, but he held you still.

"Not yet, you don't," he chided, giving your clit a sharp nip. "You don't get to cum until I say so. Until I've had my fill of you."

Joel released your legs, letting them fall to the couch. He undid his belt and jeans with quick, rough movements, freeing his hard cock. It sprang up, long and thick, the swollen head already leaking with need.

Joel fisted a hand in your hair, gripping it tight as he rubbed the leaking head of his cock along your cheek. The scent of his arousal filled your nose, making your mouth water with anticipation. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, the weight of it as he painted your lips with his pre-cum.

"Open up, baby," he ordered, voice rough with lust. "If you do a good job sucking my cock, maybe I'll let you cum. Would you like that?"

He pressed the tip against your lips, demanding entrance. Your gaze flicked up to meet his, seeing the dark hunger in his eyes. He wanted to use your mouth, to fuck your face until he spilled his load down your throat. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through you.

Reaching up, you wrapped your small hand around the base of his thick cock, feeling it throb against your palm. Slowly, you parted your lips, letting the head slip past them. Your tongue darted out, lapping at the slit, tasting the salty essence leaking from the tip.

"Fuck," Joel groaned, hips jerking forward slightly as your tongue caressed his sensitive flesh. "That's it, baby. Take it deeper."

He pushed more of his length into your mouth, the thick head hitting the back of your throat. You had to relax your jaw, letting him slide in further. He was so big, stretching your lips wide around his girth. You could only take about half of him before you started to gag, throat convulsing around his shaft.

"That's enough," Joel growled, pulling out abruptly. Strings of saliva connected your mouth to his cock, dripping down your chin. He wiped the head of his cock across your cheek, smearing your spit mixed with his pre-cum across your skin.

"On your knees," he commanded, voice rough and demanding. "I want to fuck your face properly."

You quickly complied, slipping off the couch to kneel before him. The hardwood floor was cold against your knees, but the heat of his body was warm against your face. You looked up at him, waiting for his next instruction, ready and eager to please him.

Joel gripped your hair tighter, fisting it like a handle as he began to thrust into your mouth. His cock pushed past your stretched lips, hitting the back of your throat with each pump of his hips. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving chest as he used your face.

"Take it, you cock-hungry slut," he grunted, eyes dark with lust as he watched your lips stretch obscenely around his shaft. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."

He set a brutal pace, fucking your face with long, deep strokes. The head of his cock slammed against your throat again and again, making you gag and choke around him. But he didn't let up, too lost in his own pleasure to care about your discomfort.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, voice strained. "Play with that needy cunt while I use your mouth."

You quickly slid a hand between your thighs, fingers delving into your soaked folds. You circled your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles as Joel continued to pound into your throat. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure and pain blurring together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Joel could feel his release approaching, balls drawing up tight against his body. He thrust harder, chasing his end with single-minded focus. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep in your throat and held himself there, spurting jet after jet of hot, thick cum directly down your gullet.

You swallowed convulsively around him, trying to gulp down every drop of his release. Some of it leaked out, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving tits. When he finally pulled out, you gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, face flushed and eyes watering.

"Good girl," Joel praised, tucking himself back into his jeans. He hauled you up by your hair, crashing his mouth against yours in a filthy kiss. He could taste himself on your tongue, the salty flavor of his cum mingling with the sweet taste of your own saliva.

"Now, beg for it," he demanded, hand drifting down to rub your clit hard and fast. "Beg me to let you cum, you dirty little brat. Beg me to give you the release you so desperately need."

Joel smirked down at your lascivious state, taking in the way your face was flushed and smeared with the evidence of your debauchery. He could feel your hips writhing against his fingers, desperate for more friction, more stimulation, more of anything that would bring you the release you so desperately craved.

"Please, Joel, please let me cum," you whimpered, voice high and thready with need. "I'll do anything, I'll be so good, just please let me cum!"

He could feel your pussy clenching around his fingers, greedy and hungry for more. He rubbed your clit harder, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with rough, calloused fingers. His other hand slid up your body to grope at your tits, squeezing the soft mounds roughly.

"Beg harder," he demanded, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. "Convince me of how badly you need it. Tell me how much you want to cum all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are."

He pumped his fingers faster, plunging them in and out of your soaked cunt. The obscene sound of your arousal filled the room as he fingered you hard and fast, the wet squelch of your pussy echoing off the walls.

"Please, oh god please!" you cried out, head thrown back in ecstasy. "I need it so fucking bad, Joel. I'm so close, I can't-- ah! I can't take it anymore!"

He could feel your body tensing, your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. He knew you were on the verge of cumming, teetering on the razor's edge of the most intense orgasm of your young life.

"Cum for me, you filthy girl," he growled, rubbing your clit with quick, rough circles. "Cum all over my fingers like the vicious brat you are. Show me how badly you craved it."

With a scream of pure pleasure, your body convulsed, back arching as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, rippling and squeezing as you gushed all over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down onto the couch.

Joel worked you through it, fingers pumping and rubbing, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible. He could feel your juices flooding out of you, your body shaking and trembling as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Finally, as your orgasm started to subsid, he pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt. He brought them up to his mouth, sucking your delicious essence from the digits and groaning at the taste.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured, eyes dark with renewed lust. "I think I'm going to keep you, baby. Keep you here, so you won't put your pretty ass in danger"

He pulled you close, crashing his mouth against yours in a esurient kiss. He could taste himself on your lips, the flavor of your shared pleasure mingling together. His cock was already hardening again, straining against his jeans and pressing insistently against your hip.

"You will take seriously what I say," he declared, voice rough and low. "If I tell you not to leave the perimeter, you don't, if I forbid you from going out alone, you obey. Understand?"

You could only nod, still dazed and pliant in his arms, your body humming with satisfaction. You knew that no one would ever make you feel as good as he did. And god help you, but you couldn't wait.

"Good," Joel mused softly, pulling your limp body closer to him, holding you affectionately, "cause I don't want to chase you around to save your ass anymore."

[midnightshindig]

could we get hc’s/a drabble for a reader who’s cecil’s daughter x rex? keep up the great work 🙏

Rex Splode X Cecil’s Daughter! Reader

(Omggg I love this request, thank you sm!!!)

You worked closely with your father, partly because you were the best supervillain profiler in the world and partly because he loved you dearly

After the life he’s lived, Cecil knew the safest place was with him and Donald at HQ.

But you couldn’t just stand around and look pretty, no no, he insisted you learned a trade

and I mean hey, you get good at what comes easy, right?

so you ended up being the top profiler for the GPA, figuring out a villains motive and analyzing the best course of action from hundreds of thousands of miles away, with only information gleaned from surveillance drones and the Guardian of the Globes’ radio comms descriptions

This is how you met Rex

Like your father, you were efficient to a fault

like your father, you made few mistakes and took pride in your work

Unlike your father, you sounded cute as hell

and Rex noticed.

it started off innocent enough, with him being the most descriptive of the Guardians when it came to villain descriptions:

”OH MY GOD FUCKING SHIT HES GOT A GUN OEJABTBNWNT-“

”Uhhhh temperament? Well shit Y/n he’s got a temper he’s TRYING TO MURDER ME AGRHAHR-“

“No I have no idea what her agenda is- but she kicks like a fu-cking mule and I can’t get her to back off of me!”

mostly just whining. Actually, almost exclusively whining.

You built up a rapport over time, like audio pen pals, or a really shitty podcast for the other to listen to.

eventually, you started chatting over comms even outside of missions.

”heyyyy y/n, are you online?”

”Yes Rex, you know I stay on during the day. Is there a threat?”

”Naw I just thought you’d want to hear me drink sixteen beers in five minutes”

”why would I want to-“

the sound of chugging and metal being crushed, followed by the horrific noises of a newly emptied stomach followed suite.

Your father didn’t approve, not because of intermingling work and pleasure, he knew the best source for companionship is within the industry

bit Rex?

*glances over at Rex trying to drink a beer immediately after throwing up sixteen beers*

are you trying to send him into an early retirement?

but he’s your dad and ultimately he figures you could do Rex some good

so at the Guardians Christmas party, he introduces you:

”Uhm, I’d like you all to meet Y/n, she’s the chief profiler you’ve been communicating with for the last few months. She is also my daughter, but I trust you will respect her as the professional she is.”

Rex is on you immediately

Cecil is regretting all his life choices

he should’ve gotten you a puppy and Rex a tomagatchi. Or actually nothing because he doesn’t care about Rex.

buuuuut he cares about you, and what kind of father would he be if he didn’t try and facilitate you being happy?

so you and Rex meet in person for the first time, and he’s a mess.

”Heyyyyy hot stuff, we gotta get you a video camera or something because god damn!”

you raise an eyebrow with a smile, and take a long, agonizingly quiet sip from your drink.

before spitting it into the cup

he can’t help but laugh when he realizes what’s happen

”Oh yeah! I spiked the punch, it’s so highschool Cecil didn’t think I’d actually do it!”

”Jesus Christ- what the fuck did you spike it *with*?” You ask indignantly, your mouth burning

His Face is smug as ever “Everclear”

After everyone (including you and Rex) get belligerently drunk, Cecil cancels workplace parties.

It brings good things, however, breaking the ice for future in-person hangouts

he may not be able to fly you around the world like Mark, but he can treat you to a pretty impressive firework show whenever you want

the first time he does this is the time he asks you out.

You’re on the mountain outside the base, and he says he’s got “something special to show you”

Please don’t throw up sixteen beers again please please please-

A mirage of colors and shapes flash across the sky

He looks back at you after finishing, the last firework delayed enough to erupt into a burst of pinks and reds when he asks you

”Uhm- I know it’s super unprofessional and your dad will totally kick my ass if I mess this up, but would you wanna go on a date sometime?”

Your profiling skills didn’t pick THAT up

You blink. Hard.

”like. With you?”

he furrows his brow in embarrassed anger and takes a few huffy breaths, folding his arms

”Uh. Yeah. With me!” He frowns even more, his anger breaking to reveal a glimmer of anxiety

this boy is so nervous please just answer him

and do you do, standing up from your perch on the snowy mountainside and putting your gloved hands in his

”Yeah- I mean- that’s agreeable to me if it’s agreeable to you.”

somewhere like hundreds of miles away, Cecil sighs in relief for the first time in decades.

so you and Rex start dating!

he’s a bit of a gym rat, and most of your interaction is still over comms, since he’s so busy saving the world and stuff

wow your boyfriend is so cool!

but you also carve out time to show Rex the cool stuff your dad has taken you to see over the years.

its a little weird for Rex

”Yeah- this is my dads favorite painting- and this is where we go to get ice cream- and-“

Rex isn’t sure he knows how to interact with Cecil after learning his favorite broadway musical. Or that he has one at all.

Cecil isn’t sure how to react when your bedroom cork board is no longer sparse, but filled with Polaroids and photo strips of you and his employee slash superhero lackey. Kissing. Eugh.

Rex values your skills, and often makes a game out of people watching with you

”The guy with the huge dick energy, in the green hoodie.”

”Mmmm…. Kelptomaniac with a fent problem, looks like he has early onset arthritis and an iron deficiency. Most likely to rob a combination grocery store and pharmacy.”

”that’s brutal! Okay what about the girl with the huge… um… tank top. Striped, by that statue!”

”Developed quickly, has crow feet and probably did ballet as a child, but stopped around middle school. Her hair looks natural but is dyed, likely from ginger to brown based on the undertones. She has a twitch in her arm and a shakiness in her eyes, probably low blood sugar. Hence-“ you gestured to the ice cream cart next to her “Why she’s in line. Like we should be, cmon!”

you pull him over and get ice cream, he gets rocky road every time, and always insists on getting a bite of whatever you got

Bonus:

Rex and Cecil are both relatively bad at the traditional family dynamic

but Rex wants to”meet the parents” like he never could with Eve for obvious reasons

so you bring him to hq for the Superbowl

Every year you, Cecil, and Donald stream the Super Bowl on a side screen while carrying out your regular duties, along with a cheap plastic football shaped bowl of potato chips, Donald’s favorite, and a smaller bowl of peanut m&ms, Cecil’s favorite.

Rex studies really hard on the Eagles and the Chiefs

only to realize nobody except Donald actually gives a shit how the game plays out

rex scores MAJOR brownie points with Donald though

and since he’s like basically an uncle to you, he counts it as a win

cecil thinks he’s lame

”if you put this much effort into training as you do trying to impress me via an archaic bid to my masculinity, the world might actually be a safe place.”

ouch.

Rex eats all the peanut m&Ms in revenge

[sieglinde-freud]

sorry im late but 4, 12, 14 for the female character ask game

im sorry im late holy shit anyways hi zorua! 💜

4. A heroine you love?

EIRIKA FIRE EMBLEM MY BELOVED 🩷🩷🩷 im gonna be honest my memory of sacred stones is hazy, but it was my first dip into gba fire emblem and eirika (and ephraim i suppose but he doesnt make an appearance until a bit into the earlygame) was my introduction to that era of fe and for that she’ll always have a special place in my heart. also spoilers for ss but idk. i dont think she was stupid for handing it over to lyon bc hello? are we forgetting he’s her childhood best friend???? of course she trusts him! “oh but i wouldnt have done that” YOU CAN SEE THE VILLAINS PERSPECTIVE YOU FUCK. SHE CANNOT!!! worst discourse ever. eirika get behind me

12. An interesting female friendship?

i dont know if this counts as friendship or romance (its been a while since i read it and i dont remember if the queerness was real or if i was imagining it) but have you guys ever read the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson. i actually dont want to say too much bc i think everyone should read it. been thinking about rereading it myself! dont tell me anything about the netflix version though. i dont care. itll never be the book and i cried when i googled the title and the first thing that came up was the show. my life is over. yes im an annoying book > tv/movies person sorry

14. An interesting familial relationship with female characters?

iris and dahlia hawthorne from ace attorney. spoilers for aa3 but i think the idea that you can be so loyal and loving to someone the way that iris was to dahlia that you’d go so far as to impersonate her to let her get away with murder is soooo. urrgghhhhhjkjffkeiahdh. and i dont remember they specified but i think the fact that they left it up in the air as to whether or not dahlia actually loved her back is really fun! did dahlia know iris loved phoenix? was it a mercy that she let their relationship go on as long as it did? or just a misguided error that came to bite her in the ass later? i dont know and i love that! theyre so much fun and theyre so interesting and god i need to replay trials and tribulations.

[deathbyday]

˚ 𖥔˚Anya x implied f!Reader - sticking up for her˚ 𖥔˚

Written By: DeathByDay

+++

You sat around the lounge room’s table with the rest of the crew. Anya sat to your left, her hands intertwined with yours on her thigh. Swansea was just right across from you, Daisuke beside him. Curly and Jimmy sat on the ends of the table, staring at each other.

You all had just gotten word from Curly that Pony Express has finally shut down and this would be the last time the crew was together. Everyone became upset at the news, rightfully so, but Jimmy was angry.

He ranted about how Curly was selfish and heading for “bigger and better” than the five of you. You raised a brow, realizing how idiotic this fight between the two became.

You weren’t going to say anything about it, but that backfired when Jimmy began going around the table stating everyone’s struggles. And of course, he just had to start with your girlfriend.

“Anya never got into medical school because she’s, well, let’s be real..” He trailed off, glancing at the poor girl. He turned to you and opened his mouth to speak, but you immediately cut him off.

“Oh, fuck you, Jim!” You shouted, slamming your hands on the table and standing up. You pointed a finger towards him, continuing on. “You don’t have any right to go around the table saying that shit. What about you? Why don’t you share with all of us what Curly meant by a ‘struggle of a life’?”

You glared at the man, your eyes full of hatred. His brows furrowed even more as he stood up, his voice rising to match your energy.

“Who the fuck do you think you are to shout at me like that?” He yelled, his body acting like it was ready to pounce on you. “Don’t ignore my question!” You replied, voice raising. Everyone else stayed silent, watching the two of you argue.

That was until you eventually ran around Anya’s chair and slapped the brunette across the face, causing him to push you. You gripped his hair and slammed him into the ground with all your force, not thinking about how much more strength he had than you.

You two continued fighting, punches and kicks being thrown around. Daisuke had his hand clasped around his mouth in shock, looking like he was about to burst into tears and giggle like a kid.

Curly got up from his seat and shouted at the both of you in attempt to stop the fight, but failed miserably. As his attempted failed, Swansea stood up and grabbed you from underneath your arms and dragged you back, stopping the chaos.

“C’mon, kid!” He muttered a bit loudly, struggling as you fought back. Anya stood by the older man, a few tears in her eyes. As Swansea let you go, you were about to pounce on the brunette once again, but your girlfriend held you down by placing her hands on your shoulders.

“Y/N, stop!” She scolded, her grip tightening. You glanced up at the woman, obeying her order. You turned back towards Jimmy, seeing his face bruised up. You lightly chuckled, knowing that you fucked his face up.

Anya helped you up before dragging you away from everyone, walking to the medical room.

“Baby, I’m fine..” You muttered, dragging out your words as if you were pouting. She shook her head, concern written all over her face. “No, you aren’t. Your face is all bruised, not to mention the blood coming out of your nose.” She replied. She seemed mad, but her features told a different story.

After a few seconds of walking, you finally got to the medical room. You sat down in the red chair beside her desk, waiting for her to get the supplies to help you. She quickly grabbed them and set them down on the table.

She brung a few tissues that were wrapped around each other and pressed them against your nose, stopping the bleeding. You groan, feeling the red liquid drop onto your lip. “You shouldn���t have done that.” She mumbled, shaking her head in disappointment.

“But he came at you for no reason! I can’t just not step in.” You defend yourself, slightly giggling as you recall his bruised face. She sighed, taking the tissue away from your nose.

She then grabbed an ice pack, placing it against your cheek. You grumble, squirming in your seat at the new temperature. “Do you really think this is necessary? I swear, I’m fine.” You pout, feeling uncomfortable as she held you in place.

“This is necessary. If we don’t get this treated, the bruising can get worse.” She explained, gently tapping the ice around your face. You nod, taking a glance around the room as she did so.

After a few minutes, she pulled away, causing you to turn to her. “Did I do good?” You murmur, hoping for her praise. She fights back a smile and gives you a light chuckle. She places her hands on her hips before exhaling, the worry in her face gone.

“You did great, honey. Just please promise me you won’t pick a fight with anyone else? We really don’t need you getting fired.” She smiles down at you, bending over and giving you a light kiss on your forehead before leaving the room, taking the ice pack and extra tissue with her to deal with Jimmy.

+++

authors note

I’m so sorry if this isn’t as good as you were expecting, my eyes are literally fighting to stay open💔

But thank you for the request!! I appreciate it very much<3

[raven-cincaide]

Boyfriend! Megumi’s worst enemy wasn’t cute boys trying to whisk you away or party girls who urged a naive little you into (fun) trouble - even if there was plenty of that for him to worry about as well. No, his worst enemy was gifting you a gift.

Boyfriend! Megumi has pried himself on being a smart gift giver. Bragged how easy giving gifts came to him: he always gave his friends what they needed to make their lives easier, better, and more practical. A gimmicky pair of slippers to Yuji after Goto stole his favourite ones; a handheld portable sewing machine for Nobera after she (again!) threw a fit over the tiniest of holes in her newly bought trademark sweater, a posh grinding stone for Maki and a half-joking visit to a fancy Sushi restaurant for Inumaki-senpai after which he expanded his vocabulary with half a dozen new sushi-related words! Yet when it came to you, he was stooped.

Boyfriend! Megumi hated that he was so uncertain about what to get You. Something practical felt too cheap, like he reduced your place in his life to ‘just friends’; jewellery felt thoughtless and impersonal. All those pretty skincare and make-up sets bore the same thoughtless touch while also posing the risk of you taking his gift as a critique. On the other hand, clothes felt too personal and posed the risk of making the entire interaction awkward if he guessed your size, style, and design wrong. Damnit. 

Boyfriend! Megumi pushed aside several neatly wrapped boxes, making them tumble off his bed to be forgotten on his for-once-messy floor. His attention turned to the remaining similar boxes of different shapes and sizes, all individually wrapped in various papers, with only bows and rosettes to tell them apart. What about a spa weekend? Everyone liked those things, right? Or a date night? Or maybe... 

Boyfriend! Megumi barely noticed his dorm room door creek open and your soft padding of plush socks against his wooden floors. He barely hid a smile as you snuck up in front of him and waved your hand in his face. As if he wouldn’t notice you. Then, in the middle of your wave, you noticed all the gifts that littered his bed, 

"Ohh! Are we wrapping gifts? Is that why you called me? But it looks like you’re already done-" 

"-Pick a number", Megumi cut you off, not looking at you. 

Boyfriend! Megumi tried not to jump out of his skin from the nerves or too obviously chew the inside of his cheek as you stared at him with those huge owl-like eyes, as you processed his words. 

“ehhhh? Okay.. 3, I guess?” you sounded uncertain, almost afraid, as if trying to guess what kind of psychological game or scare tactic he was playing. Or what were you supposed to do with the neatly wrapped flat box he placed in your hands? Your tense shoulders and half-bent knees conveyed that you expected the box to turn into a jump scare at any second. 

Boyfriend! Megumi made a mental note to kick Yuji’s ass for showing you Human EarthWorm three. He better not think about showing you the fifth one, lest you become too scared of your own damned shadow. 

Boyfriend! Megumi makes a motion for you to open the gift.

“Is it.. for me?” you asked, and he has to bite back a sarcastic reply. Instead, he merely nodded. He waited with batted breath as you slowly unravelled a signed copy of the newly released book in your favourite series, silently praying that you haven’t bought it yet. When you squealed in delight and jumped on his neck, Megumi knew you hadn't and breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and held you close. He felt like he had aged five years trying to pick a gift for you. 

Boyfriend! Megumi felt proud of himself as you thanked him for the millionth time. “You’re welcome,” he said, kissing your forehead. “You can have another one later,” he added before he could stop himself. 

You pause mid-cheer as the penny drops: “ Wait? If this is gift 3, then are there more gifts? How many more?” 

“Later” Boyfriend! Megumi responded with a hint of a playful smile on his lips. The kind that said that you might just have to work a little bit for those other gifts… 

[sauvhffp]

★ | glass box

drabble w/@sooniebby 's original character!

sypnosis: you come home drunk from a team celebration with your co-workers. your boyfriend doesn't like it, he doesn't like that others has seen you like this; a mess. to ease his worries, he makes an even bigger mess of you.

𝅄 ༊࿐⠀ִ⠀this is my first time writing for a character that doesn't belong to me, haha. this drabble is all over the place, goes from point a to point b really quickly. still, i hope you enjoy this self-indulgence as much as i did 𖦹 ´ ᵕ ` 𖦹

ily soonie for lending me moon jae! i'm looking forward to even more fics of him and for more of your work! i love u n ur writing sm <33 !!

cw: mdni. reader is mentioned to have a dick. spanking (mentioned once), overstimulation, dick squirting, dumbification, inserting plot in porn is not my best suit.

"...ngh." you choke on your moans. saliva coated the necktie that's stuffed in your mouth. you think you're going to throw up. you sure drank a lot tonight together with your co-workers and your team manager. you were drunk enough to forget you had a boyfriend at home, waiting for your return. "jae—hnghh... m' gohnna—"

slap!

you whimpered at the harsh slap of his thick, veiny palm on your round ass cheek. you cried, sobbing in humiliation as your dick squirts cum.

your boyfriend’s resounding chuckle made your hips twitch, and your thighs quiver. he rested his palm on your redden ass cheek, caressing it softly with a pinch. his other hand's three digits deep inside your tight hole, pressing against the bundle of nerves as you twitch in overstimulation. "that quick?"

you pant, the pillow under your dick was soaked in your cum. your dress shirt's drenched in sweat, and your underwear's hanging on your ankle. you were a perfect mess; a mess only meant for moon jae. his alone.

seeing you walk inside the house, face flushed, hair messy, and your collar button undone made him feel irritated. you let others see this side of you—the side that was only meant for him, not anyone else.

"i came..." you let your tie fall down as you swallow your saliva, gulping oxygen. "for... five times—"

"let's make it six?" the condescending tone in his voice paired with the sudden thrust of his fingers inside you made your stomach tingle, your insides tighten around his fingers. your soften dick twitched to life as you cried on his lap. god, you loved his fingers. so thick, so big, and soft. he took great care of his hands despite his nonchalance for important things.

"... can't anym'..." you sobbed, bound hands tied together by the cuffs jae bought a while back for you, a congratulatory present for your promotion. you thought back then, if he had the money to buy such an expensive, mundane item, then why is he relying on you for expenses?

he shushed you, hissing through his teeth as he pats your head, slowly picking up the pace of his fingers. "you can, doll. you will." he promises you with his fingers entangled in your hair. "lift your hips for me."

his whispered promise did wonders to your almost stupefied brain. it's times like these that you forget all rationale thought and give in to his whims, bending your joins and going along to his rhythm like a doll. you forget that this man has not only been freeloading off of you, but he has constantly wronged you in the past. still, instead of kicking him our of your house and your life for good, you suddenly are on your hands and knees, taking his length like a good whore. he'll whisper apologies, whisper unfulfilled promises into your ear as he cums in you, filling up every crevice he can and will reach.

he imprints himself in you, making sure that the claws of his talons will put you in your place. make you stay in the nest you built, never letting you go.

"ffuuuckkk—" your tounge lols out of your mouth, the tip of it peeking out as your eyes gradually lose focus. you grip the cushion of the couch beneath your fingertips, trying to find purchase in the unbearable waves of pleasure that came crashing down on you, pulling you in with utter ecstasy. "shoo ghoood... ah—sho fucking good—"

"yeah? you like it?" he leans down, towering over your quivering upper half on his lap. there was a satisfied smile on his face, a grin stretched wide enough for it to look unsettling. he pistons his fingers inside you, lube and the cum he shoved in you from your previous orgasms sloshed and squirts out from your hole. you can't think of anything else but the fingers inside you, messing you up no other people could ever do. he makes sure of that.

"'ove it s'much..." you whimpered, fucked out dumb. your mutters were almost incoherent, the slapping of his fingers in you and your juices squelching were louder than your hoarse voice. "don'wan you ... hng—'t stop..."

"you don't want to?" you shake your head as he tuts, gripping your jaw and shoving two of his fingers inside, playing with your lax tounge. "use your words, doll. you know i like it when you're vocal."

"dohn'wann ... shtap–" you suck on his fingers, toes curling as both of his fingers fuck you in unison. your eyes roll back, your insides spasms in pure bliss. your body goes lax, too tired to fight off the pleasure that's being instilled in your bones.

you barely register the laugh moon jae released. for him, this was the best version of you. you were uptight, organized, prim, and proper. he remembered the day he met you. it was at a highschool reunion get-together party. you were like any other corporate slave, you were dull in every way possible. you were bland and boring, you didn't catch his eye.

he went out of the party to smoke, and he saw you squatting down on the smoking area, puffing a cigarette. he didn't pay you any mind. you were no one to him. but that night, if he hadn't forgotten his lighter; if he hadn't teased you back then; if you hadn't reacted that way to a light-hearted question back then...

"you kept staring at me." he remembers the slightest widening of your eyes, your mouth parting a little big bigger than it was supposed to. "do you like me?"

oh. jae thought as the tips of your ears flush, your lips in a weird wobbly shape as you stare at him wide-eyed, like a deer caught in the headlights. like a doll you caught suddenly moving to life. oh.

"—ae! hnngg!" your little squeal snapped him out of his reverie. he had four fingers up in you now, fingers pressing against your sweet spot as you tremble on his lap. your hips moving on their own as you beg him to keep moving, to give you another deliciously painful release.

he blinked, drinking the sight of you in. he was right. you looked best when you're like this. you looked absolutely ethereal, being ruined by him.

"nghh—jaeeee..." you whined his name, lifting your head up, using your arms to support you as your flushed face greets him. the tear streaks on your chin with the shine of your unshed tears made his heart skip a beat, his dick already angry and hardened on his pants. god, he wants to ruin you over, and over, and over again. "hurry up... 'm sorry for getting drunk ... please let me cum ..."

how can he deny you when you're this gorgeous?

moon jae stares at you a little longer, grinning at your confused, fucked out, expression before resuming his assault on your body. you squeal in shock, your moans could rival church choirs with how angelic they sound. he sighs in content, feeling you squirt again. but instead of halting, he kept going. he kept caressing your walls, kept drilling into you even as you wet the couch with your lust.

"that's right. that's a good boy." he says it in such a gentle tone, your body quivers. he smiles, satisfied. "i'm the only one who gets to see you like this. okay?"

and just like that, you find yourself stuck inside a glass box of obsession made by your dollkeeper. only showing what he wants others to show and keeping you for himself when people leave. you will always be stuck in this glass box, lest he gets tired of you.

you let the pleasure take off your thoughts, tears falling down your cheeks like water droplets from leaf dews. you will never be free from your glass box.

[dancingdonatello]

2012 Leo X Fem Reader Leo just being the gentleman he is to his queen. Like literally the biggest gentleman. Like holds the door open when their walking, helps them get down from something, like everything he could possibly do he does

2012 leo x reader

Your turtle boyfriend had more manners than most human men you’d met in your life time.

You smiled at him as he opened a door for you, even if it was the door of an abandoned Kraang lab. A normal date location for sure. To be fair, it was the only place you two could really go together that wasn’t the lair.

He led you to an empty room that was filled with a bunch of candles. You weren’t sure if their purpose were to be romantic or just a way to light up the room since there was no other light source available.

He had dragged in a table, it was obvious with the deep scratch marks in the floor that lined up with the table’s legs, and had two chairs facing each other.

He waited for you to walk over and pulled out the chair you had chosen for you. “Thanks!”

You both jumped as a piece of the ceiling came crashing down onto the floor next to the table. He laughed nervously and kicked it the debris into a pile under the table. You used it as a dirty foot test. Good thing you had worn your old sneakers.

He set a half broken picnic on the table and rooted through it, having to almost stick his head inside to be able to see with how dark it was.

After you two ate, he seemed pretty bummed out and ready to go. He helped you back through the broken glass you two had to pass to get to the chosen room, holding your arm to help balance you as you tried to step on the empty spots.

“Something wrong?” You asked as he lead you the way back to your home through a bunch of secluded alleyways where it was almost certain no one would see you too. You never had to even think about the twists and turns, he never minded that you never knew the way he had shown you hundreds of times. He’d show it to you over and over, as long as it gave him more time with you.

“No,” he sighed, frowning at all the trash thrown everywhere. He shoved some aside with his foot to clear your path. “I just wish… This could be different.”

“How come?” You frowned up at him, grabbing onto his arm to stop him from walking. He turned to face you, head angled downwards to look at you.

“You deserve to be at a restaurant or something.” He grabbed the hand that was on his arm and held it in his three fingered one. “Not in an empty Kraang base.”

“But I can’t go to a restaurant with you… only the one with Murakami.”

“Exactly.” He gave you a pointed look. You frowned at him and forced your fingers to interlock with his. Yes, it felt weird and awkward but who cares?

“Even if some jerk head took me to a five star restaurant, I probably wouldn’t have had the same experience as going to some weird, jank, abandoned building with you. I haven’t met anyone as thoughtful as you yet, Leonardo.”

You pressed an angry kiss to his cheek and he stared at you, confused at the mixed signals coming off of you.

“Seriously, Leo, I don’t think you realize how good I got it!” You started to walk and swung your hands back and forth between the two of you, giggling as he gave you an odd look. “I mean it!”

“If you say so…” He tugged you closer to his side to avoid you stepping in a puddle you hadn’t noticed.

He had not a clue in the world, did he?

[cheriden]

「 my "i love you" 」 | pt. 1 。。。

"You're so pretty, I love you. Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as Beomgyu chants the phrase louder like a prayer. "

── synopsis 。Your best friend with benefits (whom you have a crush on) is too sweet in bed

pairing 。switch!top choi beomgyu x f! reader

.ᐟ genre 。angst, smut, mdni!

.ᐟ tags 。friends with benefits, unrequited love, praise kink, missionary so they can argue, a lot of teasing, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it and get tested!), creampie (on pill!), miscommunication, beomgyu's an idiot

.ᐟ status & word count 。two-parts | 3.04k

part 1 | part 2

.ᐟ warnings/notes 。reuploaded because i'm fucking stupid. i do think ppl can be fwb without feelings but mc is a lovergirl for today ☝☝, not really proofread, semi-rushed, beomgyu is kinda dumb, no happy end (yet?)

At some point this arrangement has to end. You know that. He knows it; moreover everyone who knows that you’ve been sleeping with Beomgyu says it. You’re also aware that you should be the one to end it; A friends of benefits situation hinted at by Beomgyu, leading to a proposition started by you. 

He comes over more frequently, showers you in more affection, in addition to subconsciously doing little habits lovers would do. As the patterns start to weave with your everyday life, you start to wonder who gains the most out of this agreement. Of course, such matters shouldn’t be weighed, especially between friends. He gets his release out of a glorified, whiny, pussy mitten, and you get to take a sneak peak of what it would be like to be his. 

It’s not like you’re gonna get more than that.

Naturally, this thought process circulates your mind a lot, its conclusion always left as a draft or with a conflicting thought. Listening to the pitter-patter against the glass pane, you reason with yourself while you send him a text and sink into the bed, thinking, “The aftercare is nice, plus things have gotten stressful lately.” 

All the inward bickering with yourself never lasts, because in the end, a full five minutes pass before three’s knocking on the door. With a heavy mind and body, you drag yourself to the anterior of the studio to unlock it. 

On the other end is a panting brunette, glasses skewed and hair disheveled. Beomgyu brings his hood down, leaves his keys on the shabby table up front, kicking his shoes off beside it. You step away from the door, with him trailing behind you meekly. No words are exchanged, contrast to the obnoxiously loud string of filth when the two of you hook up. Once you enter the bedroom, you immediately fall onto the bed, propping yourself up to the headboard. You study him expectantly, moving to your right and replacing your weight with his own. He scans the room, playing with the hem of your shirt. “You got new sheets.” He starts, voice soft and low while he rests into the junction between your neck and shoulder. “They’re really soft.” With a hum, you move to get on top of him, your legs entrapping him. Simultaneously, you set your weight down on him slowly, and he seals his eyes with a small jerk from his hips. “You really came over to talk about my sheets?” The brunette gives you a small smile, cocking his head to the side. “You seriously texted me just to do nothing?” The other returns, sitting up to meet your form. 

He latches his lips onto your neck, trailing it upwards to kiss the sharp of your jaw. “You’re assuming.” you comment, biting down on the inners of your bottom lip to fend off sound. “We used to hang out all the time before we started fucking.” He stops his kisses to peer at you, his mouth covered in sheen. “You texted me saying, ‘Wanna do it?’ I don’t think I was that far off from what you were planning.” You nod your head, lifting the ends of his shirt, bringing his face back into your neck. In turn, he brings his arms up the small of your back, caressing it before detaching himself once again. “You don’t have a bra on.” He says, like it’s some sort of otherworldly fact. Raising an eyebrow, you respond, “Well yeah, it’s my apartment. Nobody’s home and my top’s frilly enough to hide everything.” He nods, planting a swift peck on your lips, he gives you a bright-eyed smile. “It suits you.”

You don’t know if he’s teasing, or if this is part of the foreplay. You recall wearing the exact same top half a decade ago to see a movie with Beomgyu alone, loose and brand new with a skirt that sat right above the upper quartile of your thigh. You told yourself that it would be the day you confessed to him, or tried to get him to do something in the theater. Instead, he giggled at you, smoothening the sides of your frayed braids, telling you that you dressed silly and clean. You weren’t sure what he was implying about you, but the red hue that had painted on your cheeks that stayed throughout the whole run-time of the movie was enough to get you to quit wearing that top outdoors out of embarrassment. 

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, pushing the bunched up shirt around you, pulling it above your head. “Nothing” you mumble, yelping when he flips you, hovering above you as he begins to tug at the garter of your shorts. Lifting your ass, the other pulls at the fabric in one swoop. “Don’t get distracted and ignore me.” He pouts, hooking your underwear while the knuckle of his middle finger grazes over your core. “Couldn’t possibly forget,” you huff out, subtly lowering yourself onto his digit, “you’re too annoying—” Cutting yourself off with a gasp, his tongue replaces his finger, giving kitty licks over the cloth. “I’m so annoying I’ll have you screaming my name by the end of this.” He gloats in between breaths, left hand intertwined with yours as the right has its hold on the skin atop your pelvic bone, thumb rubbing circles and drawing patterns. You keep quiet, concentrating on suppressing your noises and grabbing the brunette’s hair. Pulling his face into you, he retracts, kissing the sides of your underwear. “Beomgyu,” you hiss, yanking his head up to study him. “Don’t be a prick.” The brunette gives you another pout, slowly bringing the garment to level with your knees. “But you’re cute when you’re squirming,” he pauses, trailing kisses up to your belly button. “You're also hot when you’re mean.” With a scoff, you shove his head away, and he returns to face your heat. His tongue prods at your entrance; you curse, grinding yourself onto it. “You’re impatient today,” he remarks, rubbing the apple of his cheek against your lower abdomen. “Stop playing around,” You bite back, grasping onto his hair to keep him in place, “you’re not usually this taunting.” Beomgyu sneers, pressing his nose on your clit. “Taunting you? Can’t I just want my baby to feel good?”

The term of endearment causes you to jolt against him. He chuckles, vibrations shooting up your body, draping an arm over your eyes. “Does my baby like it when I call her that?” He asks, to which you nod unconsciously, body writhing as your whines get pitchier. 

Beomgyu gets off on your praise, gets off on seeing just how much you need him. So it's obvious that his next course of action is to stop contact with you altogether, pulling himself back, smirk plastered on his face. “Say it.” He coos, frotting the fabric of his jeans over your bare cunt; the texture makes you writhe. “Say you like being called baby, and that you love it when I go down on you.” A sense of protecting your dignity washes over you. You turn away with your mouth shut as he moans over you. “Never.” 

The other picks up speed, and you clamp the back of your hand against your lips to prevent a whimper. Beomgyu shrugs, paying no mind to your stubbornness. “Guess I'll have to force it out of you.” 

He’s cocky now, but the more he rubs against you, the louder and sloppier he gets. “Don’t cum in your pants over dry humping me, Beomie.” You mock. In return he ends with one last slow grind. “Shut up.”

He relents, mouthing the opening of your core again and lapping it in circles—prying it open with his fingers, tongue moving to suck on the tip. Toes curling, you grip at the headboard as he eats you out. His hips buck at the sheets beneath him, ruining the cloth he was praising a few minutes ago. “I’m close,” you sputter, grip on his strands tightening with little regard for his breathing. 

Beomgyu—the brat that he is, halts the process once more, and you shoot him an annoyed look. “Are you serious right now? Do you not want me to cum?”

He purses his lips as if in thought, leaning to spread kisses over your clavicle. “Tell me that—” “You groan, throwing one of the smaller pillows at him. “Be for real. I’m not doing that shit.” The other pretends to sulk, hands working his way through your body and massaging your breasts. “Fine. Tell me what you want then, since my princess is so impatient and temperamental. You moan at the new nickname, and he doesn’t fail to notice. “I’ll call you all the names you want if you just tell me what you want.”

He’s back to teasing your entrance. Defeated, you tell him as fast as you can, “Need to cum, need you in me.”

Beomgyu tuts, shaking his head. “What’s the magic word?” 

“Now.” You hiss, glare sharp. All he does is smile, kissing you one last time. “Okay, only because you’re so cute and you need me.” You’re not given the time to act all snobbish about his words, thoughts cut off by the sudden moaning at your cunt, Beomgyu trying and succeeding at pushing all your buttons as he sends you to the edge. A long moan exits you as you ride your orgasm out on his face, seeing spots of white as your mind tingles in pleasure. 

The brunette kneels to undo his bottoms with your help, with you kissing the bands of the underwear and carved bone. “Like I said,” he sighs, hands on your shoulders to push you back into the mattress, “Impatient..”

He curses as the tip of his dick runs through the lips of your pussy, rutting it slowly. “You’re so hard,” you coo, cupping a cheek and working his dick to press on you, “You look like you haven’t fucked in—ever.” He whines at your ridicule—but it spurs him more, bucking his hips faster against you. 

Beomgyu’s lids are heavy and his jaw is slack, grunting. “Look at me,” You start, his eyes finding yours as he whimpers, “I thought you were proving just how much I needed you?”

He says nothing, staring at you intently. You ask, “What do you want?” He moans, grinds deeper and paces wider. “Need to fuck you so bad," you tilt your head, encouraging him to say more. 

“Please.” 

You give him the go ahead, and he wastes no time in sliding himself in, his desperation making him seem too excited and clingy. You let out a small laugh, though it’s not long before your prideful smirk is displaced by the other’s mouth. By your command, he thrusts swifter with more depth, moaning into your mouth. 

Your lips leave his, watching the line so spit snap, falling over his own, pink and swollen. “You look so pretty, my baby.”

It’s so confusing to you, intense in a way that it gets you going, yet also in a sense that it’s heartbreaking. You savor the moments he calls you his, even if it's only for a moment. 

“You’re so pretty,” he pants against your temples, short for breath. He clenches his eyes  closed, rolling his hips into you at a painfully slow pace. Your heels dig at the lower portion of his back, urging him to focus on fucking you fast and hard. Beomgyu on the other hand has a different idea in mind. He pulls back, detaching your arms from his, observing the shaft of his cock work its way into your sopping wet cunt. This whole scenario is obscene, dick outlining your stomach when he buries himself into you, pussy clamping on his member, the wet sounds paired with your cries get him off further. “Fuck, I’m close.” He groans, elbows back down near your sides while you cling yourself onto him once more. Thrusts hastier and needier than the last, he mutters something mindlessly—loud enough for you to hear.

“I love you.” 

Brows furrowing, you tuck your mouth behind your teeth. Desperately trying to ignore his whimpers and profanities, you find it difficult as he chants the phrase louder like a prayer. You feel the sting of tears building in your eye sockets. Chalking it up to overstimulation, you direct all your energy to hinder it, but you can’t multitask, the bruise forming on your lips finding a break as you squeeze your eyes shut. Soon enough you’re vocal, something in the middle of wailing and moaning. “Beomgyu,” you sob, yanking his tugging his head back to meet your gaze, “I’m—” Drool trickles down your chin; he swipes it away with his thumb, trailing it with quick open-mouthed kisses. “You’re so pretty.” He repeats, smudging your tears on the sides of your face. “Always pretty when you go dumb on my cock.” He moans, rhythm quivering and sights set on getting you to come one last time before chasing his own release. “I’m close, gonna fill you up.” His thrusts fasten in urgency, hissing when you scratch his back and scream his name, your back arching off the mattress. Your hips set its pace to his, and soon enough you come to the feeling of his own, hot and thick as lava against your walls while the both of you ride out your orgasm.

Regulating your breathing, you wipe your tears before he pulls his head up to gaze at you directly. He looks properly fucked out, but pulls out slowly with kisses across your face to distract you from the feeling, settling beside you instead of keeping on top of you. 

A slurry of emotions plague your mind all at once, an aftershock that feels like it hit the ground too fast, too soon. 

It’s overwhelming—not the good kind of overwhelming you should be feeling when someone tells you they love you, because you know Beomgyu didn't mean it like that. It’s overwhelming in a way that makes you want to gut and lobotomize yourself, cursing about the fact that  you’re feeling such mental and emotional torment over something so trivial.

Mind clearing up a little, you slide the thin duvet up your form; you sit up and clear your throat. “I think we should stop doing this.” You say slowly. The room is still, save for the heavy rain and whirs of the flimsy standing fan. His gaze frantically runs up your body, focusing alternating between your eyes and nothing in particular. His Adam's apple bobs vertically, yet all that comes out of his mouth is one word that teeters on a whisper. “What?” Locking your gaze with his own, you take a shaky breath, “People think we’re dating, Beomgyu. I don’t want this,” you gesture between the two of you, “whatever this is, to get in the way of me finding a potential relationship.” He sinks deeper into the mattress, Gaping at the ceiling. He asks, “Is this so bad?” View following his—you stare at the barren overhead, replying monotonously. “It is if I want to find a loving partner.” “I mean for people to think that we’re dating. Would that be the worst?” He interjects, the air from your lungs thinning out when you stutter. “Piss off.” 

He scoffs, sitting up to match your posture. “It’s not that big of a deal. You get horny, we have sex. That’s it.” You lower your head to shake it. “It is to me. You may not have a problem sticking your dick in anything that moves, but I want to feel wanted.” The bed creaks as he inches his body closer to yours. “Fuck you. I—” You lean back, widening the distance between the two of you. “Don’t start. This is different. I want a loving, meaningful relationship.” “That’s bullshit.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Fuck you.” You spit, beyond aggravated. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it these past months.” He retorts; you start clenching the plush blanket at your sides, knuckles turning white. After a few beats, you speak up again. “I think we should just be friends.” You watch him gnaw at the lower half of his lips, nodding his head. “Wait, Is it because I said that I love you?” He starts, “because, I don’t ‘love you’ love you. That was a heat-of-the moment, middle-of-sex ‘love you’.” 

You render yourself taciturn, silence thickening as time passes. You hold yourself back from saying words you know you wouldn’t be able to take back, Fixating on counting the droplets resting on the window. His hands sneak up and move your face to look at him, coaxing his forehead against yours after planting a delicate peck on the wrinkles.

“I don’t love you. Promise.” 

Beomgyu brushes his lips on the corners of your own, thumbing circles gently across your cheeks. “You have nothing to worry about.” 

His grasp on you has gone icy and numbing, matching the cool of the downpour as your mind tunes into its melancholic static. 

since this is a reup, i've decided to take the results from the deleted post, which was a landslide vote anyway. thank you to those who helped me reach 200+ notes and who reblogged, i would have lost this fic otherwise:)

thank you for reading! feedback, reblogs and tags appreciated♡

[gloomwitchwrites]

hi!!! i literally started reading your blog and FR YOU HAVE TALENT. Got me giggling and kicking my feet cus of that girl dad!tf141 fics.

I was reading one of the links you put in for prompt ideas and I read that one six words sentence from link five: "I can't risk losing you again." hello?? potential angst to fluff?? I couldn't get it off my head and i was wondering if you could write something from it :>

Thank you so much! That's so sweet of you! I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the Just Like Dad stories. I had a lot of fun writing them.

"I can't risk losing you again" is such an open-ended prompt. There is a lot you can do with that. I hope my humble offering is enough. I certainly went more angst than fluff on this one, but I really do love sad things with twinges of hope thrown in.

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): canon-typical swearing, mild blood, non-graphic mentions of violence, angst, fluff, pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy complications

Simon "Ghost" Riley: An enemy of Simon's harms you, forcing Simon to make a tough decision. (wc: 315) Kyle "Gaz" Garrick: Kyle decides there is only one way to keep you close. (wc: 323) John Price: Price worries after you tell him you're pregnant when the first pregnancy had complications. (wc: 329) John "Soap" MacTavish: Johnny learns that falling in love with a teammate can only lead to sorrow. (wc: 542)

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if series masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Busted door. Shattered glass. Overturned table.

The lights aren’t working and rain enters through the open patio door. You are safe and whole and far from this. But is it enough? Will Simon be able to keep you safe?

What was once doubt is now cold truth.

It’s not your trashed home but the state Simon found you in. It was your heavy-lidded eyes and bruised face. It was the pools of red that Simon didn’t know belonged to you, the dead man facedown in the carpet, or both. It was your smile of relief when you realized it was Simon drawing you into his arms.

Simon knows the man who did this—no. He knows who fucking ordered it.

And when he finds Makarov, he’ll show that fucker just how trigger-hungry he can be. The lead will burst and fuse to his lungs, and Simon will bathe in the aftermath.

All that’s left is your safety. If Simon knew that his career would lead to this, he would have taken steps to protect you years ago. You are always his one bright spot, that candle in the dark that is his life.

With you, he became more than his trauma. More than his guilt. More than his past. With you, he found peace. He found happiness. You are the sugary candy that sticks in the teeth but is too addictive to give up.

Departing is agony. The return is his reward and his longing.

You are everything.

And that is why he let you go.

Why he said, “I can’t risk losing you again.”

He put his head in your lap, his fingers digging into the sides of your thighs and failed to push down the tears.

Laswell will take you far away. She will keep you somewhere safe.

Makarov won’t find you.

And maybe—perhaps in the future—Simon can return to you.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle is a nervous wreck.

The tiny box sits heavy in his pocket, burning an invisible hole. His plan is not the most romantic, but the two of you aren’t the type to go big. It’s all subtle, and Kyle only wants this moment to include the two of you.

This is his last chance.

Kyle’s final opportunity.

In this relationship, Kyle has kept you second. Not on purpose but out of habit. Work is his lifeblood. It drives him, and every successful mission is a point of pride. But in keeping up with that, Kyle left you behind.

His absences lengthened, and over time, he noticed you were pulling away, closing off. But that isn’t your fault. Kyle created the perfect brew for you to drink. These are the consequences of his actions, and he needs to make it right.

There was a time when Kyle nearly did lose you. When he came home and thought you had packed up and left without saying a word. That broke him. Made him realize just how distant he’d become.

Change is difficult.

But Kyle did it. Slowly.

Your smile returned, and when he comes home, your greetings are full of passion.

I can’t risk losing you again.

Kyle takes a deep breath as the deadbolt on the front door disengages. There is a slight tremble in his hands. Kyle is never nervous. Never. But fuck—taking this next step is driving him up the goddamn wall.

He pushes off from the couch, turning just as the front door swings open.

You step inside, face turned away as you go to shut the door. When you finally glance into the room, all the nervousness inside Kyle’s chest evaporates.

Your smile is so sweet, and you don’t hesitate. Dropping your bag, you rush toward him, and Kyle cannot help but meet you halfway.

He’s making the right choice in asking you to stay with him forever.

John Price

“You’re not happy.”

John is happy. He is. But old worries bubble up, seeping into the joy. It’s tainting everything, and that is clear by how your smile starts to fade.

“I am happy,” he says, but his mouth is a hard line. John knows he’s frowning.

You shake your head, one hand resting over your stomach. “Don’t lie, John.”

This is supposed to be a happy moment. He should sweep you up in his arms. He should kiss you until you’re begging for air. But all John can think about are all the doctor appointments he attended with you, and the grimness of what might not happen.

From that came a daughter. John loves her. Adores her. But bringing her into the world nearly killed you. He grappled with that stress while being as present as possible with you. Growing your family has always been a dream, and John doesn’t fault you for a second. There is no family without you.

John grasps the sides of your face and moves into your space. Your own hands close over his, keeping him from retreat.

“I am happy,” he reiterates. “But we both know what it took to bring our daughter into the world.” John shakes his head absently and breathes deep. “Don’t do this for me.”

“John—”

“I can’t risk losing you again.”

This time, your smile returns. There is a hint of sadness lingering behind it, as if you too are reflecting on all that happened.

“Everything will be fine.” You release his hand and gently cup his cheek.

John kisses your forehead, his thumb absently tracing your jaw. “Are you sure?”

The decision is ultimately yours, and John will respect whatever you decide.

“I’m sure.”

“Okay,” he nods.

John pulls you in, lips finding yours. When you melt into him, accepting all that he’s giving, a wave of peace settles over him.

This is right.

And whatever happens, the two of you will face it together.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny drips water all over the floor. He is soaked through. Shivering. But he could give a fuck.

“Where is she?”

“Soap—”

“Where the fuck is she, Price?”

Captain Price sighs heavily and crosses his arms. “She needs rest.”

Johnny swallows down his retort. He’s not upset with Price, and shit like this happens all the time, but he needs to know if you’re okay.

You took a fucking bad fall, and Johnny couldn’t stop to run after you. The mission comes first, and it wasn’t his job. Other people stepped in and whisked you away. But from the height you plummeted from, Johnny feared the worst.

Still does to an extent.

If you were dead, Price wouldn’t hide that from him. But he might hide how bad you’re injured as a way to protect him. Price has always been fatherly in that regard. Right now, it’s driving Johnny fucking nuts.

“Captain. Please,” Johnny clenches his fists and then releases them. “Let me see her.”

Price’s frown smooths a bit and the middle of his brow wrinkles with concern. “For a few minutes. All I can spare.”

Johnny has to keep from rushing to the hospital room doorway when the words leave Price’s mouth. He has Johnny walk with him to your door. Thunder rumbles in the distance and rain steadily hits the large window at the far end of the hospital room.

Just as Johnny takes a step inside, Price’s hand is on his shoulder.

“She’ll make it,” is all he says before he shuts the door.

Johnny lingers right inside. All the lights are off except a small lamp in the corner. Your eyes are closed, and your face is peaceful. There is bruising. A few bandages. The machines next to the bed beep softly.

He was so eager—so determined to get to you. Now, Johnny deflates.

On quiet feet, he grabs a chair and brings it over to your bedside. You don’t stir. Simply sleep. Johnny eases down into the chair and leans forward, his forearms crossed as he rests them on the side of the hospital bed.

Still, you don’t move. And Johnny doesn’t dare wake you.

Rest is important, and all he wants is for you to recover.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “That I didn’t come sooner.” The rain picks up and Johnny smooths back his wet hair. “But I can’t keep doing this. Every time you’re hurt I—” He sighs heavily and rests his forehead on his crossed arms.

“I can’t risk losing you again,” he murmurs into the bedding.

It’s become too much. You’re not supposed to fuck your coworkers and you shouldn’t fall in love with them either. But Johnny did both. With you. And he cannot take that back.

He’d give anything if you’d set this all aside.

Your fingers brushing against his scalp startle him. Johnny lifts his head, only to find you watching him. There is a soft smile on your lips, and his instinct is to grasp your hand and bring it to his lips, kissing each knuckle and then your palm.

The moment your mouth opens to speak, there is knock at the door. Johnny frowns and looks up, finding Price in the doorway.

“Time’s up.”

taglist:

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@coffeecaketornado @aykxz98 @kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife

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@lovely-ateez @gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic

@suhmie @tulipsun-flower @ghosts-hoe @jaggersinclair @nomercyforthewarrior

[allthingsfangirl101]

A Little Over Protective – Gary Johnson

The second I got into my car, tears erupted from my throat. I covered my face and sobbed into my hands. After letting it out, I slowly pulled my hands away from my face. That's when I saw the bruises. As I remembered how I got them, the tears came back.

I jumped, letting out an involuntary shriek when my phone started ringing. I forced myself to calm down before answering my best friend's call.

"Hey."

"Hey, you," Gary said sweetly into the phone. "I wrapped up a case and need to celebrate. Dinner?"

"You want to celebrate with your best friend?" I asked, trying to sound normal.

"What's wrong?"

Damn it.

"Nothing," I lied.

"Y/N," he elongated my name. "I know you. I know your voice. So, I know when something is wrong."

"It's nothing," I tried to lie again. "Just a rough day. That's all."

"Did something happen?" Gary instantly panicked. "Y/N, what happened at work?"

"It's nothing, really," I said, trying to sound like I was okay. "It was just a long day. I was stuck in meetings all day and my boss yelled at us photographers for like forty-five minutes."

After a slight pause, he asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, G," I tried to reassure him. "What time did you want to go to dinner?"

"I don't know," he said, sounding like he didn't believe me. "What time works for you?"

"Give me an hour?" I shrugged. "I'm still at work. I want to go home and change into something nicer than my leggings."

"Okay," he said, sounding strange. "See you then."

It took me a few more minutes to calm down enough that it was safe to drive. When I got home, I unlocked my front door and closed it behind me. I leaned against it and took a shaky breath. I kicked off my shoes and hung my keys by the door.

I walked into my living room and leaned against the back of the couch. I took a shaky breath and ran my fingers through my hair as I struggled to stop the tears again. 

"Are you going to tell me what's really going on with you?"

I gasped at the sudden voice. I jumped up and turned around to see Gary sitting in the armchair.

"What are you. . . I thought we were meeting in an hour," I stuttered.

"I was already outside your place when I called you. In fact, I called you when I realized you weren't home," he explained as he walked over to me. "Y/N, I've been here for forty-five minutes. Your work is only ten minutes from here. Where have you been?"

"I had to run a few errands," I instantly lied.

"Come on, Y/N," Gary sighed. "I have known you since we were kids. I can tell by the sound of your voice that something is wrong."

He grabbed my wrists but I gasped in pain. I quickly tore my hands out of his, hoping he didn't catch on.

He did.

Gary closed the gap between us and gently grabbed my hands. When I tried to pull them back, he tightened his grip.

"Y/N," he whispered. "Show me."

"I'm fine," I said a little too quickly.

"You gasped in pain when I grabbed your wrists," he said, slowly getting more frustrated. "What happened, Y/N?"

"It's. . ."

"Don't tell me it's nothing," he snapped, letting go of my hands and starting to pace. "Y/N, my job is to protect people and you're telling me I didn't protect the most important person in my life?!"

"Gary, please," I stuttered.

"You sounded weird on the phone," he noted as he continued to pace. "You've done nothing but lie to me about it. Did someone try to grab you? I swear, if someone grabbed my best friend, I am going to go down to your office and beat them so badly they won't be able. . ."

"Gary, stop," I said stepping in front of him, making him stop pacing. His eyes softened when he looked at me, shaking in front of him.

"I'm only going to ask this one more time, Y/N," he said, his voice soft but firm. "What happened to your wrists?"

"Peter, our new temp, won't leave me alone," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"What?!" Gary yelled through gritted teeth. His eyes softened when he saw me flinch. He gently grabbed my arms, rubbing them up and down. "I'm sorry," he said, his tone softening. "Who is he?"

"He started working in my office about a month ago," I stuttered. "Today, he found me in the break room and asked me out. I said no and tried to walk away but. . ."

"He grabbed you," Gary seethed, struggling to remain calm. "I am going to kill him."

"Gary," I gasped when he tried to leave. "Please don't do anything."

"Fine," he nodded. "I will completely forget all about this if you tell me it was a one-time thing."

I opened and closed my mouth, unable to tell him the truth.

"Y/N," he said slowly. "How many times has he bugged you?"

"I don't know," I stuttered. "I mean. . . He asks me if I need help like every day. I always tell him no, G. I swear! But he won't. . . He never. . ."

"He's a stalker," Gary said, moments away from bursting.

"Gary," I whispered. "Please don't. . ."

"How could you not tell me?!" He yelled. "Y/N, you have a stalker. You know what I do for a living! I interfere in these kinds of cases. How could you not tell your best friend that some creep won't leave you alone?!"

"You don't actually kill anyone, Gary."

The look in his eyes changed as soon as that sentence left my lips. "But for you?" He asked, his voice dropping to a whisper as he stepped forward and closed the gap between us. "I'd do anything for you."

"You don't mean that, G," I whispered. "You'd never kill anyone for me."

"I would if he hurt you."

Before I could respond to that, Gary leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. My thoughts went everywhere as my best friend kissed me. I threw my arms around him and started kissing him back. The minute I kissed him back, he pulled me closer.

I gasped when he laid us down on the couch, instantly hovering over me. He broke the kiss and looked deeply into my eyes.

"No one touches my girl," he said, his voice dark. "If they do, I'll end them."

Part 2

[leeluvsyoongi]

DIE 4 ME —  | Studyholic! Reader x Underground rapper! Yoongi | 

Synopsis: You’re invited to an underground party, and the invite is sent from an unknown number, you accept the invite, and spend the wildest night of your life with a notorious rapper who goes by the name of  Gloss.

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 | author's note — It's been a minute babes!! I took a long ass hiatus, and now I'm chillin' after finals fucked the shit out of me. I hope ya'll are taking care of yourselves xx (this was kind of a last-minute thing so pls ignore the shitty writing)

⋆.˚ | Mentions of body portions (curvy fem! reader), this is for everyone, I ain mentioning no skin color, hair texture, and none of that “she blushed like a tomato” ahh shit. (I’m an actual whore for yoongi guys)

✧˖° Word count: 3.3k

| Warnings: (sixty-9ing, fingering, blowjob, marijuana, brief mentions of cocaine.)

It's filthy, it's descriptive. For entertainment purposes only.

𓂃⋆.˚

The week after finals often came with an akward rockiness. Getting back to the usual lazy beat of not being shit deep in PowerPoints, and notes, running on four to five hours a night. Nobody to blame but yourself of course; you decided to take six courses this semester, a dumbass move. Not that your studies affected other aspects of your life that much, you didn’t exactly party, and had a small circle of acquaintances, who much like yourself, prioritized their GPA over social life. It wasn’t how you envisioned your college life to be. You’d hoped to attend at least a few parties on occasion or go out drinking with friends. Shit went down, hopes got crushed, and stress piled up. 

You were one of the last people to leave the testing center, your legs hardly holding you up as you dragged yourself along the concrete. You mentally cussed out your decision, your head throbbing with the after-effects of the seventy-five questions. Fumbling for the keys to your apartment, you shove yourself through the door, kicking off your sneakers, and flopping over the couch. A low groan escapes your lips at the sweet relief that engulfs every inch of your body, nestling your face against the fabric pillows. “Fuck.” You palm at your left pocket, fishing out your phone, before scanning through your texts. Sitting up straighter, your brows furrow at the unknown number, your thumb glides over the texts. 

Crashout Party, 4567 Judas Ave.  Saturday, Dec 13th  11pm - 6am Code: 78V9ZX

“The fuck?” You mutter, glaring at the tacky black flyer, clearly rushed on Canva or something. The rational part of you takes it as a dumb joke. Why the fuck did they have a code?  You scoff at the thought of it being some cult shit. Some of you urge yourself to take a nap and recharge, then get up, get dressed, and have a little fun. You tried to shrug off the stupid idea,  maybe at least text one of your friends and see if they got the invite too. 

Jen, did you get this? Image sent Yeah, you goin’? Prolly, you? Yeah, idk tbh.  Alr, I’ll pick you up then. Alr.

“We goin' I guess.” You sigh, dragging your limbs off of the couch, and making your way to the restroom. A couple of hours later, you off of your ass again scrubbing your skin clean and washing the sleep off of your face. You pick and pluck at every bit of hair, making sure you’re all prepped up, just in case you decide to catch some proper dick. It’s funny honestly, the thought of you going out to get drunk, and party, considering you spent your evenings watching sad Thai BLs or munching on mozzarella sticks. The life of a borderline crippled introvert. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to go out there and have a blast, you did. You just weren’t sure if you were cut out for fun. Every inch of you was mundane, hell, you screamed plain. You weren’t built like Adriana Lima or Anok Yai. Sure, you had a small pooch you often poked at, chubby thighs, and a pretty nice ass. You didn’t hate your body.

Gazing at your reflection made you feel good about yourself, after a long time. Your eyebags concealed, your makeup and lashes on fleek. Your hair is styled so it enhances your features, decorating the strands with a lacey white bow. You tentatively ran your hands down your figure, admiring how the black satin dress hugged your curves in all the right places. Lacing up your boots, and grabbing your keys, you made your way out the door. 

“Damn, Okay cute,” Jen remarked, flipping her fingers airily as she gestured to your outfit. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you spun. 

“Preesh.” You chuckled, admiring her black wife-beater, baggy jeans, and grey sweater hooked over her arm. Your eyes flickered down to her silver cross-chain and rings. 

“You bouta drown in pussy tonight huh?” You playfully tounged at your cheek, as she got into the passenger seat. 

“Damn, you make it sound like I have a social life?” She scoffed, clicking her seatbelt in, before running a hand through her cropped brown hair. “Homegirl plans on eating out her GPA, remember?” She chuckled, shaking her head. “But tonight, ion mind getting a little messy.” She lazily grinned, making a display of her blunt nails. “I locked in heavy for finals, between you and me, I deserve to drown in sweet cunt.” 

You raise a brow at her brazen remarks, before staring at the engine. “Whatever you say.” You hum, “Pop in the address for me.” You plop your phone onto her lap, steering onto the main street. Jen adjusts your phone in the cupholder before kicking her feet up the dashboard.

 “Any hookups for you?” She yawns, gazing out the window. “I don’t know, whatever happens, I guess.” You sigh, stopping at a red light. “I mean I shaved and shit, just in case,” You click your tongue, softly chuckling. “I just wanna feel good, you know?” You turn to face her, before bursting out in laughter at her expression. “Dude, what?” “I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that, y’know?” Her fingers roll over a steel ring, “Like, yeah, I know we all don’t party much and shit, but damn, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were a virgin.” She snorts, a grin tugging at her lips when you roll your eyes. “Okay, Jen. I’m not a virgin.” You scoff, pressing down on the gas before making a sharp turn and parking your car in a dark lot. 

“You got your gun on you?” Your eyes drift around the sketchy alleyway, eyeing the graffiti littered on every wall, and the flipped dumpsters. 

“If they fuck up my car, I swear to god-” You grumble, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself as you step out into the chill air. 

“Of course, I got my gun on me.” She mutters, shrugging on the grey sweater. “Do you not see this place? We’re prolly in the hood.” 

She grabs your hand, before catching a sign over a flight of stairs, leading down. “This is lowkey sketchy huh?” She chuckles, keeping her hand over the holster. “If we die, I pray I get some good dick up there.” You point to the sky, as she bursts out in laughter. “You’re fucking sick.”

“We've been known.” The two of you make your way down the stairs, before standing in front of a heavy door, loud music thrums through the barrier, making you expel a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. A slot opens up, revealing a pair of shades.

 “Code.” A gruff voice sounds, hardly audible through the thrashing boom of the speakers. Jen tugs out her phone from the back pocket. 

“78V9ZX.” She smirks, and the door glides open, revealing a tan-skinned bulky man, dressed in a thick black hoodie. 

“Get the fuck in.” He laughs, reaching out his hand to dap the two of you up. He leans in close before muttering, “

We got coke in the back, a line for 15.” 

Jen grins. “Damn, I see why this place is fucking underground, did everybody get invites?” “Just a few randoms.” He grumbles, before taking his stance at the door. 

Your eyes scan the dim setting, a myriad of blue and red dancing over sweat-slicked bodies. Drunken laughter sounds over the ear-bursting beats. You turn to Jen, but before you can open your mouth, she’s gone. Disappearing with a girl with bright green box braids into the crowd. “Damn, she’s fast.” You mutter, squeezing yourself through the throngs of people, nearly gagging at the sharp smell of whiskey and sweat, finally, you find an empty seat at a bar. The barista, a bubbly woman with the brightest blue eyes asks something you can only assume is what you’d like to drink. You blink, a little dazed. “Water’s fine, thank you.” You respond, with a nod before turning your head to the crowd who explodes with cheers. “FUCK YEAHHHHH AGUST D!!” Some dude roars, pumping his fist. You look confused turning your attention to the high DJ stand. On the screen is the most gorgeous fucking man you’ve ever seen in your life. You take a sip of water, watching a buzzed-blonde guy appear next to the hyped-up figure. 

“TONIGHT, WE GOT GLOSS FLYIN’ FROM SK TO NYC!!” The crowd tears in an ear-piercing surge. You could only assume he was some god figure in the whole underground ordeal. 

“Fucking hell.” You mutter. 

Gloss smirks, nodding modestly. “Ready?” He speaks into the microphone, Only resulting in more shrill cries. “You gotta be louder than that New York.” 

He chuckles, and Lord above does the sound hit you right between your legs. It’s insane how transfixed you are on him. From the way his wavey-ish charocol hair was parted right down the middle, to the heavy silver chains hanging off of his neck. To every fucking syllable that rolled off of his tongue, thick and rich. You swallowed a lump lodged in your throat. The blonde man from earlier took over Mixboard, and suddenly the fastest bars you’ve ever heard in your life sputter out of his lips. People were jumping up and down, vibing with a renewed fervor, and this Gloss motherfucker didn’t even stop for a single breath. His voice was deep and steady molding around words you were pretty damn sure weren’t English. 

The crowd burst into another tempest of cheers, you exhaled, loosening your grip on the glass that threatened to shatter. 

“Holy shit…” You whispered, watching as he made his way down the steps, only to be bombarded by people. He complied, taking a few selfies and sighing at some girl’s arm. You watched him make his way to the bar. Your head turned away as you grabbed your phone, opting to focus on anything else. 

Until he took the seat right next to you. 

You turned to nod at him, a small tight smile on your lips before you got back to scrolling through your apps. The barista smiled at him, before taking note of his order. Four shot glasses of Hennessey. You could feel the heavy weight of his gaze on you, so you finally decided to turn around and face him. “Sorry, just wondering why you’re scrolling back and forth through the apps.” He smiled, it was small, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “What’re you lookin' at my phone for?” You had no idea where that response clawed out of, but goddamn you sounded like a serious asshole.

He softly chuckled and raised a brow before lifting his hands in defense. “Slow it down.” He thanked the barista, before downing a shot like it was straight water. “Just curious.” You set down your phone. “Just cuz.” You take a sip of your water. He noticed. “Don’t drink?” His eyes flickered back up to your own. You crossed your legs tighter. 

“Not when I’m driving.” You shook your head, setting down the empty glass of water. “Smart.” He muttered, looping his fingers into his pocket for a fat roll. “Mind if I smoke?” “Nah.” You shook your head and carefully slipped your fingers into his pocket for another. Who knew what possesed you, to act so boldly in all honesty? 

“Mind if I smoke?” You slowly pushed the stick past your lips. His eyes flickered down to the soft flesh before hooking his fingers under your chin.

 “Think we should smoke somewhere quiet huh?” A smile small crept along his features, and for the first time, you noticed he had a very cat-like nature about him. Your brows slightly quirked, as you held his gaze.

 “So is it Agust D, or Gloss?” You muttered, the blunt hanging loosely between your fingertips. 

“Gloss, Agust D, Suga, but for you…” He leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Yoongi. Just Yoongi.”

 You released a shuddered breath, your fingers tightening on the cigarette like your goddamn lifeline. “[your name], and somewhere quiet, I’m down.” You nod, and you watch as he runs a hand through his hair, downing another glass, before stepping up and taking your hand. 

The two of you weave through the throngs of people before making your way up the steps of the DJ stance and behind a hidden door. The room was dimly lit, with a black leather couch, against the wall, with a coffee table centered in front of it. A large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, and a poor table to the right.  “Damn, who the hell invested in all that.” You mutter, looking around the small furnished space. “The Owner, of course.” Yoongi chuckles, plopping himself over the couch, before pulling over his lap. “This okay?” He glances up at you, his hands planted firmly on your hips. “Yeah.” You mutter, taking the space in. “I mean, it’s a fucking sketchy place, you get me?” You wave a hand at the entire setting. “I mean, it is underground.” He raises a brow, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, his hands running over the satin fabric of your dress. “No shit.” You grumble, eyeing him sternly. “I mean, I’m surprised the cops haven’t caught up, you get me?” “People don’t make a show of knowing, you get invited, and you keep your mouth shut.” He hums, a slender finger training down the column of your throat. “If you don’t keep your mouth shut, you get your brains blown off.” A heavy chill runs down your spine at the thought. “And how would they know?” You whisper, snatching the lighter out of his pocket. You spark a flame, inhaling deeply. “Eyes and ears everywhere, yeppuda.” Yoongi tosses his head back, exhaling thick plumes of smoke. “You’re not from here though.” You lean your body back against his chest, getting comfortable. “How the hell would you know?” A rough chuckle escapes deep from his chest. “Who said we don’t have shit like this in Korea?” His cold hand slowly creeps up the soft material, resting on your bare thigh. A chill rolls down your spine. “So you’re an outlaw huh?” You tease, slowly rotating your hips over his growing bulge. A satisfied smile tugging at your lips when a low moan vibrates against the back of your neck. “Underground rappers are outlaws.” His other hand tightens on your hip, rocking himself against the curve of your ass. “We just don’t get caught up in drifts.” You take another gulp of smoke before burning out the blunt. “And how would you feel if I told you I’m studying law?” You turned to face him, angling his jaw upwards. “I like a game of cat and mouse.” He mutters breathlessly, “But you wouldn’t open that pretty mouth, would you?” “Depends how wide.” You whisper, your other hand slowly trailing up his t-shirt, smoothing your palm over the firm lines and dips of his torso. “Show me.” He lazily smiles, running a thumb over your bottom lip. You slowly grin, before leaning into his ear. “How about we both show each other, I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not curious about that tongue technology.” Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, to kiss you. His lips molded firmly into your own, restless on the soft plush of your mouth, as his hands squeeze at your sides, before lading a sharp firm slap to your ass. Your gasp is silenced by the warm feeling of his tongue, running over your bottom lip before ravaging your mouth. Your eyes fall shut until he tears his mouth away, his dark eyes pinning you in place. 

“Take off your dress, and sit on my face, since you wanna see it so bad.” He instructs, watching you undress, down to your undergarments. He softly chuckles, before slipping off his jacket, followed by his baggy shirt, and everything under his thick black belt. Your eyes drink in every inch of him, from his sculpted upper body, to his toned stomach and legs. Your eyes flicker back to his own, and he’s taking in every inch of you. “Fucking gorgeous.” He whispers, getting comfortable on the couch before positioning you exactly where he wants you. 

“Fuck…” you whimper, feeling his thumbs slowly spread you apart. Your hand hangs over his length, before slowly wrapping your fingers around the warm flesh, carefully jerking him, grasping onto his thigh to still yourself. Breathy moans spill past your lips as your stomach quivers with every harsh suck against your puffy button. “Fuck, just like that.” He groans, pressing open-mouthed kisses before running his tongue along your slit. A sharp gasp claws past your throat, your voice muffled around his cock, as his hands slowly kneed at the doughy flesh of your ass, sucking obscenely at your cunt. “Yoongi…” You sigh, lowering your head and pressing reverent kisses over his leaking tip, sucking at the head. A deep groan buzzes against your clit, causing you to jerk forward, your legs trembling at the effect. Yoongi lowly chuckles, running his thumb over the tight ring ass, before prodding his tongue into your hole, curling the muscle to stretch you out further. 

You take him in deeper, your eyes stinging at the burn in your throat. He’s quick to add a finger, twisting the digit before fully pushing it through. You can hardly moan, your throat lodged up with his cock as you desperately rock your hips against his mouth. “Taking it so good, pretty.” He mutters, slipping a second finger into your dripping cunt. “My fingers and cock. Were you made for me or what?” He nibbles lightly on your clit, as you double over his legs, gripping him fiercely, your stomach contracting at the sensation. Your head spins as you take him in deeper, gagging around him.

“Fuck…Fuck!” Yoongi groans, curling his fingers deeper, prodding until you spill over his mouth. You whine, feeling him twitch deep inside your throat as he falls apart. You pull away, swallowing thickly as you gasp for air. “Fuck…” You shudder, feeling his lips around your clit, his fingers slowly pumping, bringing you down from your high. The fog in your head slowly clears up, and you become aware of your surroundings. The thrashing music beats outside the walls, the heavy vibrations that fill the small space from the speakers. 

Yoongi groans, slowly sitting up and gathering you in his arms, before laying back down. Your eyes feel heavy and dry, the weed already settled in. 

“Need some water?” He murmurs against your hair, tracing soft lines over the smooth span of your back, before pressing a few brisk kisses to your mouth.

“Nah, I’m okay.” You whisper, your voice a little hoarse, resting your hair against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I’m flying back to Daegu tomorrow.” He says, brushing back a few strands of hair off of your face.  “You want a pre-flight fuck or something?” You mutter, smiling. You’re sated, basking in both your after-glow and high.

“As great as that sounds, I was wondering if you’re free. I leave at 8:30 pm, you could show me around, just chill, get to know each other.” He chuckles. You notice how red his eyes look, fuck he’s baked as hell.

“Sound like a plan Gloss.”

[pick-me-up-im-scared]

Call Me When You Need Me (Ellie Williams x Reader) (Fluff)

Short Summary: When your best friend Ellie has problem sleeping you come over to help her. Like you always do!

Author´s Note: Another random idea I got that I thought would be waaay shorter. It´s not that long, but it's longER than I planned to. Istg, the universe wants me to write +5k fanfics. Everythime I come up with an idea for a blur (cause they're way quicker to write) I end up adding so much to it you can't even call it that. Anyway, hope you'll enjoy just a super cute little story! (I'm the person who tries to fill the "ellie x reader"-tag with stuff that isn't smut. Like I didn't just post two smuts right after each other a week ago.................)

Also! Ellie lives in the same house as Joel in this. Even though I'm well aware she has her own "hut" in the game

Words: 1473

(Pictures aren´t mine! I found them on Pinterest)

The empty streets felt oddly peaceful as you wandered down the oh, so familiar road. Only the streetlights lighting up your path as your sleepy feet stumbled on the sidewalk. It wasn’t unusual to find you walking down these streets at 3 am. You found yourself in this situation a little too often. Not that you complain! When your best friend needs you, she needs you. The crispy night air forced you to cross your arms in order to keep some warmth. Despite being near fall you decided to skip out on a jacket and just go with your outwashed hoodie. Big mistake. But it’s not that bad. Though you’d lie if you´d say you didn’t miss your warm, cozy bed. Just the thought was enough to put a drowsy smile on your face. You continued to kick rocks you stumbled upon on the sidewalk as you, trying to not hit any of the parked cars beside you, cause you know.......karma. Soon you noticed the familiar fence you helped painting white one summer. By the looks of it, it could use a little touch-up. Getting onto the lawn you quickly made your way to the back. The house was completely pitch black apart from one single window on the right corner.

You walked over to the corner of the porch, making sure to sneak a few glances through the dark windows, just to make sure Joel wasn’t up to grab a glass of water or something. But you’re just met with your own reflection in the surprisingly clean windows. You jumped up on the fence that tastefully decorated the porch to reach the edge of the roof. You took a sturdy grip around the aged wood before pushing yourself up the brick plated surface. This was nothing new to you. It was more of a routine. Getting called over to your friends house at least five times a week you kinda start to come up with a few tricks to make your arrival more smooth. Why are you climbing the house like you're a fucking monkey? you may as. The first time Ellie called me over you both thought Joel would be pissed if he knew. So you came up with the brilliant idea, with your life at risk, to climb up from the back. Yes, Ellie tired to prevent you from doing it, but you're too stubborn. She knows that damn well. And yes, you're pretty sure you've got a six-pack from all the times you've pushed your whole body onto the porch roof. But by the morning neither of you considered Joel's daily visit. So when he came to tell Ellie it's breakfast he was sure surprised to see you laying there, holding her. But he wasn't mad.....not at all. And when it was time for you to leave he made sure to throw out "You can take the door next time!". Despite that you continued to take your not-so-convenient way into Ellie's room. You saw it more as a fun thing, and you like to believe Ellie enjoys to too. Even thought she mumbled a "You're so dumb" before giving you a welcome hug.

You carfully got up from your crunched up position, being careful not to strainght out your back too much or you'll probably fall down and break your neck. At this height you could outline more details in the only lit up room, as if you didn’t know it by memory. You noticed the small crack Ellie always made sure to leave every night incase she got the urge that’s currently the reason you’re here. She didn’t want to have to get up and open it when you got there. Also, she’s been very clear that you can come over whenever you feel like it. Day as night. You used your finger to loop around the thick glass and push it up enough to give you the opportunity to get a better grip. You slid the glass into the slit, just enough to squeeze yourself through. The noice made Ellie quickly turn her head from her position on her bed. Just the look of you made her smile. "You came!" she happily exclaimed. You giggled "Of course! You said you had problem sleeping”.

Your beaten up sneakers barely got to touch the floor before Ellie threw herself at you, slamming you into the nearby wall. She continued to hug you, tighten up her grip. You chuckled, "Hey, hey! You shouldn't try to mush me like ground beef. Who´s gonna keep you company then?". Ellie let go off you and took a step back, giving you the chance to get away from the wall. "I'm sure you can take it" she snarky remarked "Weren't you the one who's got a six-pack" she sarcastically asked while slapping her hand against your clothed stomach. "Ow!" you screaked while backing way from her hand. Ellie just chucked before making her way back to her bed, signaling you to take place beside her. You let the strap of your backpack slide down your arms before leaving it by the end of Ellie's bed, to then quickly kick off your lazy tied shoes before crawling up the comfy bed.

You let out a deep sigh as your back hit the mattress, "I´ve told you to just call me whenever you need me". "I know" Ellie mumbled before looking to the side, "But you deserve to sleep too". "I never sleep as good as I do in your bed" you reassured her as. She smiled a little, but she wasn't convinced. She's tried to fall asleep by herself when she has one of these...nights, but it's impossible! There's been times where she hasn't called you even thought she should have. Just cause she feels bad for forcing you out of bed. She never told you this or you'd kill her. She's lost count of all the times you've told her to just call you when she feels down or can't sleep.

You place your hands behind your head, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers Ellie swore she'd get rid off, but hasn't "had the time to". But you swore she was lying. She's always been such a bad liar. But you think it's adorable, so you don´t mind. "I swear I'm getting us a house someday. That way you wouldn't have to call me whenever you have problem sleeping", Ellie smirked at you. "Yeah?" she asked while shooting herself closer to your laying from. "Yep! Then you could just come over to my room" you frowned a little "Or we might share the same bedroom...". You shrug "Or I mean, we're sleeping in the same bed now, so we could save a lot of money if we just get one". Ellie smiled at the thought but soon her face fell a little "How would that work when you bring a girl over?". You shot your head to give her a confused face "What the fuck, Ellie?" you grabbed a pillow from behind you to hit her playfully "I don´t even bring that many girls over!". "Suuure" Ellie playfully rolled her eyes while wearing that shit-eating grin.

You huffed before pushing her back against the bed so you could straddle her. Ellie had to stop herself from blushing at the sudden contact, but she's pretty sure you'd still notice if you weren't busy continuing hitting her with the pillow. You giggle "You play me out to be some type of slut!". She just shrugged "Maybe you are". You huffed once more, louder this time, before getting off Ellie's lap with a defeated look. "Fuck you, Ellie" you mumbled before throwing the pillow at her. She just laughs as she catches it and put it back to its original place. "Should we get to bed now? You know, the reason I'm here?". "Oh!" Ellie quickly adjusted herself "Yeah, that'd be nice". You grabbed the cover that was messily tossed to the side and placed it over you to. "You want me to read you a bed time story?". Ellie laughed "Fuck you, (y/n)". You smirked as you reached over her to turn off the lamp on her beside table. The feeling of your body being pressed against her made it hard for Ellie to focus, but thank god you soon got back to your previous position behind her.

You wrapped your arms around her frame before pulling her into your embrace. Transferring your warmth onto her. “You don’t have to come here every time, you know?” Ellie clarified. “No, I know” you answered “But I want to” you added before burring your face in the nape of her neck, automatically squeeze her torso a little tighter. Ellie couldn’t help but release a relaxed sigh, finally at peace.

[shushmal]

merman steve pt 2

a continuation of this for @spectrum-spectre, now with some pre-steddie~!

Henderson is skulking around in the cereal aisle when Eddie spots him.

The kid has been a bit of enigma to Eddie since he met him at the beginning of last fall semester. Dustin had a tight group of friends, but often times, he caught the gang of them sans Henderson and the fact seemed to annoy the hell out of them.

"He just goes off on on his own sometimes," Baby Beyers would say.

"He won't tell anyone where or why or with who," Mini Wheeler would snarl.

"And it's definitely not to talk to his girlfriend, because we hear ALL about that," Big Sinclair would sigh, rolling his eyes.

So catching kid creeping around the grocery store minus the rest of his party, after hearing many complains of his mysterious disappearances? Color Eddie intrigued.

"Hendersooon," Eddie sang, wrapping an arm around Dustin's neck to keep him from escaping. "Whatcha doing?"

"Eddie!" he said brightly, grinning at him. "Just buying some snacks. Hey, which cereal do you think a fish can eat?"

Eddie stares at him for a moment, blinking. "Uh..."

Henderson's face scrunches up. "I guess he's not really a fish though, so I'll try whatever." He grabs a box of Honey Combs from the shelf.

"Dude, are you keeping a sea turtle at your house again? You know that's illegal."

"No!" Henderson snaps, flushing. "And I was going to take Dart back after show and tell, I had already promised Steve!"

"Steve?" That was a new name. Eddie hadn't heard Henderson talk about a Steve before, and the guy was kind of a motormouth and a terrible liar. The only time Eddie had seen him actually avoid a topic was when his little disappearing acts were brought up. "Who's Steve?"

Henderson's eyes go comically wide. "No-one! I don't know any Steves!"

Eddie knew at least three Steves, and two were in Henderson's grade. "Uh-huh."

"Anyways," Dustin says, clutching the box of Honey Combs to his chest as he backs down the aisle. "I gotta go man, nice seeing you, bye!"

Bemused, Eddie watches him go. He's planning to give Henderson a five minute head start before he goes to tail him, but apparently, he needn't to have planned a stake out after all. Henderson finds him again, two aisles over, panting and red-faced.

"Actually, can you give me a ride?"

🧜‍♂️

"Eddie," Henderson says, voice even more serious and deadly than the time the party took on Vecna last month during their campaign. "I need you to swear that you will never, ever tell anyone about what I'm going to show you."

Eddie cocks a brow at him. "Is this a drugs thing? Dude, you—"

"No!" Henderson snaps. "This is not a drug thing! This is a very serious life and death thing, and I need you to swear on you life you won't tell anyone about it."

"Dude," Eddie says, a little in awe. He stares out his windshield for a moment where they're still parked just outside of town. He can hear sounds of the ocean just past the ridge, waves crashing on the cliffs. It's a remote little area, opposite of the tourist favored beaches. Eddie, in fact, deals just a few miles down the shoreline from here. "Did you bring me out here to kill me? Are you the world's dorkiest serial killer?"

"Eddie." Eddie turns to look at him. His face is grave, brows furrowed with real worry. "I'm serious."

"Okay... Okay, then."

"You have to swear."

"I swear."

And just like that, Henderson's face breaks into a bright smile. "I knew I could trust you!" he crows, grabbing up his bag from the store and kicking open his door.

Eddie stumbles out of his van after him, listening intently as they pick their way over the rocks.

"He's so cool, Eddie, you're going to love him. He totally saved my life when I was like ten and I got pulled out on a rip tide. Like, I really almost died dude and then he just swims up out of no where and helps me catch my breath. Helps me float there while I'm freaking out too until the life guard finally came out to get me. It was crazy! I come out here all the time to visit him, I think he gets a little lonely. So it's good you're here, I've been trying to think of someone else to introduce him to, but it's hard to figure out who's going to freak out and try to sell him to Sea World, or something."

They crest over the hill to a tiny little cove bitten out of the rocky shore, and carefully begin to make their way back down to the water's edge. Eddie's still not entirely sure Henderson hasn't brought him here to die. Maybe Steve is the serial killer and he uses Henderson as bait.

"Okay, okay," Dustin says, once they reach the water. It's calmer here, the cliffs cutting this spot off from the larger waves. "Are you ready to see the coolest thing EVER?"

"Uh, sure, kid—"

Eddie doesn't get the chance to finish his sentence when he starts yelling.

"STEVE THIS IS EDDIE I BROUGHT HIM TO MEET YOU I PROMISE IT'S SAFE!"

"Jesus Christ," Eddie hisses, covering his ears. The lungs on this kid! "What the fuck dude— WHAT THE FUCK!!"

Because when he looks down, there is a face in the water. Eddie falls back on his ass, uncaring of the water soaking his jeans, and screams when the face in the water rises up out the ocean.

It looks pissed.

"Dustin," it says, glaring at Eddie. Eddie screams again, because it—the guy—the mermaid lifts himself fully onto the rocks, and he doesn't have any legs. Because he has a fucking tail.

A fucking fish tail.

"Steve!" Dustin cheers. "You came out."

"You sure?" the goddamn mermaid asks, finally taking his piercing, alien eyes off of Eddie to look at him. "Sure it safe?"

"Absolutely," Dustin says hastily, crouching beside Eddie to put his hands on his shoulders. "Eddie just screams a lot, I promise you, he's totally safe."

"R-Right," Eddie says, because he does not want to be eaten. Maybe Dustin's been dragging unsuspecting victims here to feed his pet goddamn mermaid instead of a serial killer. "Totally safe, that's me."

Steve, the goddamn fucking mermaid, looks him up and down doubtfully, and it's terrifying having those eyes on him, unnaturally yellow surrounded by black. His face is distressingly human, nose and mouth and ears with a mop of dark hair on his head. He has these bright shimmering scales across his cheekbones that dot down his jaw and neck, iridescent and glimmering in the afternoon sun. Eddie can't bring himself to look down further, scared and enraptured all at once.

Steve is terrifying and beautiful to look at.

"Fine," says Steve and pushes himself gracefully back into the water, disappearing into the dark depths.

"What the fuck," Eddie breathes. He looks up at Dustin with wide eyes. "Dude, what the fuck."

Dustin just grins down at him. "Isn't he the coolest?!"

[irisintheafterglow]

he's the death you chose (you're in terrible danger)

summary: married life with husband!gojo means cleaning up bodies at 2am.

wc: 1k

cw/tags: mentions of violence, blood, and deaths (nothing graphic), mild angst/comfort with happy ending, some swearing, yes this is the albatross coded

note: honestly not sure where this came from! was just listening to ttpd and thought about what being married to gojo realistically would be like (aka always being targeted as his weakness that it becomes routine). hope you like it :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

Wise men once said, “Don’t sleep with your windows open,” and you should have listened to them. If you had, there wouldn’t be three dead mercenaries in your living room, and another somewhere in your kitchen. There were five, originally, but you figured the last one was being hunted down a hallway as he tried to escape your building. The blood-spotted microwave’s clock reads 2:08 when you glance at it to grab cleaning supplies from the cupboard. 2:10 is when Satoru re-enters the apartment and kicks off his shoes. 

“I called Ijichi; he’s sending over cleaners right now,” he says, carefully stepping around the blood and curse guts splattered on the floorboards. Stray drops of who knows what speckle the photos on the bookshelf and he wipes them with his sleeve, scowling. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” 

“Yeah, there’d probably be less of a mess,” you admit, wiping down the kitchen island and guiding the crumbs and dust into the trash. “But they’d still be dead, so I guess it doesn’t really matter in the end.” 

“You handled yourself pretty well for being out of the country for a few months,” he adds appreciatively, retrieving the carpet cleaner from under the sink and sprinkling it onto the living room floor. “I still think it’d be better if you lived on-campus, though.” He squints in the pale moonlight at the pile of abrasive powder and decides to dump a little bit more for good measure. 

“I know–Hey, what’d I tell you about wasting the carpet cleaner? A little goes a long way, remember?” Satoru sets the tube down and puts his hands up in surrender, reaching back and tightening his blindfold before he approaches you in the kitchen. “I can hear your thoughts as they make their way to your mouth, dear.” 

“Look, I know what you’re gonna say–”

“Don’t ask what you’re about to ask, then, if you already know the answer,” you interject with that lightning-quick wit he adored so much. You move to grab the broom from next to the fridge, but he gently catches your wrist and turns you to face him. 

“You’d be safer there,” he continues and you pull your lips into a tight line. 

“Only place I’m safe is wherever I'm with you, realistically.” You had a point. In any other circumstance, the sentiment would be sweet if it wasn’t horribly true. You’d heard time and time again from Satoru how he stared restlessly at the ceiling, anxious about what danger might be coming wherever you were. He theorizes that the higher-ups promoted you to spite him, to have you travel even more often than he was and visit more places across the globe than any seasoned sorcerer would be comfortable with. Phone calls weren’t enough to verify that you were safe; he had to see you, feel you, know you were alive. “This is, what, the second time this month? The first time was when I came back from Paris, right?”

“I don’t think that was this month. It might’ve been the last week of the month prior. Monaco, maybe?”

“Eh, same thing. They always come after me when I get back from Europe. You think they’re trying to catch me off guard or something?”

“I don’t know if we can predict a schedule with these guys, babe,” he grimaces. As much as he liked that you were making light of the situation, the churning in his gut about what could have happened if he didn’t come was too painful to ignore. “Your dad would kill me if he saw how much danger I put you in.” 

“It’s a step up than sneaking me out of the third story of the house, I’ll admit,” you tease. How you could still find humor in times like these, he could never fathom. It’d taken months to convince your father to let Satoru court you, let alone marry you. To your family, he was an impediment, an obstacle, and, unfortunately, the love of your life. “Maybe even as bad as the food poisoning you got from that one place in Sendai.”

“I don’t think ‘in sickness and in health’ is supposed to apply to attempted assassinations. Food poisoning and sprained ankles, sure, but that other one toes the line a little too much.” The frequency of your life in danger was why he wanted you to live full-time on one of the Jujutsu Tech campuses and become a teacher, like him. Sure, a selfish part of him wanted you closer all the time, but he’d pick your safety over your proximity any day. 

“How far are the cleaners?” You yawn, washing your hands at the sink and scanning for everything in your home that needs to be wiped or scrubbed. 

“Ten minutes, tops. I can wait for them if you wanna go back to bed.” He knew you weren’t going to take him up on his offer. You were never able to sleep properly after attempts like this unless he was in the same room. “Though I know you won’t.”

“Isn’t it a little fucked up that we know how the rest of these nights usually go?” You chuckle, a soft, airy sound that takes some of the weight off of Satoru’s chest. You were truly sunlight incarnate and he was the darkest, unseen side of the moon. 

“I’d say this is all my fault, honestly.” You look at him curiously and he shrugs. “I’m the one who made you fall in love with me, after all.” 

“By that logic, I’m also partially to blame,” you point out, flashing him the ring on your left hand. The glow of cursed energy Satoru had embedded into the gemstones glows like Christmas lights in the darkness. The energy was more concentrated than your own body’s natural reserves, allowing him to pinpoint you immediately as long as you were wearing it. Danger and plans A through Z, and everything in between that came with marrying the strongest sorcerer in existence. “I can’t count the number of people who warned me about you.”  

“Why didn’t you listen to them?” 

“Because they’re not you,” you smile. “If you say that you’ll keep me safe, then I trust you to keep your word.” Sunlight incarnate, he thinks again, and God help anyone who tries to block you from him.

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[eringobragh420]

🖤 Pairing — Damian Priest ♥︎ f!Reader 🖤 Summary — Damian’s girlfriend and Rhea have a deep hatred for one another, leaving Damian in the middle to referee. 🖤 Word Count — 1.5k 🛑 Warnings — NSFW. Overstimulation, unprotected p in v, cum 18+ 🖤 Notes — Spanish translations are at the end of the story provided by Google Translate. Thank you so much to @miss-kuki-nz for being my muse. 🖤 Taglist — In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here! 🖤 Requested By — @twistedprincess-92. Hope you enjoy! 🖤 MASTERLIST, KINK LIST

“I am so tired of this bullshit,” Damian complained, unlocking the front door to his and his girlfriend’s home. He shoved it open, and no matter how angry he was, the man never forgot his manners, so he motioned for the tiny woman beside him to enter ahead of him.

Had she not been absolutely livid at the moment, she’d have swooned, as she was prone to doing, but as the situation stood, there would definitely be no swooning this time. “You and me both, babe,” she hissed as she passed him.

Damian slammed the door and locked it before stomping after her into the living room. He watched as she kicked her heels off and doffed her leather jacket, tossing it carelessly to the couch. She crossed her arms, and he knew it was going to be a long night. “You’re acting like you’re the one that should be mad right now,” he said, motioning in her direction.

“Are you saying I’m not?” she asked evenly, brows in her hairline, and it was that perfectly held-together tone that gave Damian an ominous chill down his spine.

“Yeah, I’m saying you’re not. I’m the one that has to referee his girlfriend and his best friend every damn time we go out somewhere.”

“Oh, poor you,” his girlfriend spat. “At least you’re not the one getting called a golddigger!”

“She did not call you a golddigger.”

“Wait, no, you’re right. What she said was you’re just like all the rest. Like the girl you dated before me who spent all your money.”

“She’s just looking out for me.”

“Well, Damian, which is it? Did she not say it or is she protecting a six-foot-five grown ass man who can take care of himself?”

Damian’s hands came to his head but they dropped quickly. “You both literally want the same thing. I don’t understand any of this.”

“Maybe we do want the same thing, but she’s the one being a bitch about it.”

“Oh, great. Next you’re gonna tell me she’s the one that started it.”

“Actually, she did.”

Damian’s eyes went to the ceiling. He couldn’t believe they were having this argument again. It had been almost a year since he’d introduced the love of his life to his best friend, and ever since that day, he hadn’t had a moment’s peace. Maybe the two women were simply too alike and would consequently never get along. So where did that leave him? He refused to choose between them, and he refused to allow them to bully him into choosing between them. Had they reached an impasse? Was this just supposed to be his life now? And when the couple inevitably got married, was Rhea not going to be invited?

“And what if I just say I’m done with it?” he suddenly asked, turning his head to look at his girlfriend.

She stared at him. “What does that mean?”

Damian sighed. “Never mind.”

“You wanna be done with me?”

“I didn’t say—“

“The hell you didn’t. I’m not in Rhea’s cool book, so you’re just gonna toss me aside?”

“You’re not lis—”

“Fuck you, Damian.”

His brows rose and he nodded. “Fuck me?”

“Fuck you.”

She stomped past him, glaring the whole way, and it was clear she didn’t want to be followed, nor did he particularly want to follow her. He knew the door slam was coming, but he still jumped just the same as he removed his jacket, dropping it over the back of the couch before he fell onto the cushions with a heavy sigh. He scrubbed his hands over his face, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television knowing full well he wasn’t interested in watching anything.

He was all threats, and she knew it. He wasn’t going to break up with her, and he wasn’t going to sever ties with Rhea, either. He would live with it, he supposed, like he had been, spending the rest of his life hoping things would change. In the meantime, he’d have to keep them separated. Like children.

“Damian?”

Damian stirred, clearing his throat, and his eyes slowly blinked open. He must have fallen asleep at some point as he was now prone on the couch, one boot on the cushion, the other on the floor. Had he heard his name in a dream? He sat up, yawning, and arched his back to work out the kinks.

“Papí?” his girlfriend called again from upstairs.

“Yeah, babe?” he replied, looking over his shoulder toward the staircase.

“Will you please come to bed?”

He smirked. Yeah, he was gonna live with it. He loved her too damn much. “I’m on my way.” He pulled his phone from his pocket to check the time, discovering a message from Rhea.

I love you, twin. I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better.

Damian’s smile only grew and his heart swelled, but then realized his girlfriend hadn’t been the first one to apologize. Did that bother him? Did it really matter? He could build on this. Light at the end of the tunnel. He turned the TV off before climbing the stairs and made his way down the corridor toward their bedroom. The door was open and the lights were off save for the nightlight near the bed on her side—she’d never admitted to it, but she had at least a slight fear of the dark. She was in bed, under the blankets, facing him, the azure hue from the nightlight painting her face in blues and shadows. Damian took his clothes off and crawled under the blankets behind her, pulling her naked body to his. That distended heart of his promised to pop, as his girlfriend cuddled back into him, rubbing her ass against his cock, moaning when his arms wrapped around her.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she mumbled. “You’re right. I’ve been a jerk. Rhea and I can figure this out.”

Damian’s grin could have lit up the entire room. They are just alike. He kissed her neck softly, attacking her spots as his hand drifted along her body. She squirmed when he cupped her breast, rocking her hips against his. “I know you will,” he growled, omitting the text from Rhea. “Because you’re wonderful.” He pinched an already hard nipple, ripping a groan from deep in her throat. “And you’re perfect.” His stiffening cock thrust against the crack of her ass, and she reached back to clutch his hip over the blankets. “And you’re so fucking sexy.”

She giggled. “You sweet-talker.”

“Mhmmm,” Damian mumbled, nibbling on her earlobe. His warm hand slid from her breast, the pads of his fingers skating along her abdomen, and she lifted her leg so those fingers could slip into her dampening pussy.

“Fuck,” she whined, tightening her thighs around his hand as she rode his digits. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?” she breathed. “I’m the one that screwed up.”

“That makes me right,” Damian boasted, “which means I get what I want. And this is what I want.” His middle finger slid inside her, her hips bucking to accept and bring him deeper. “I’m gonna make you cum at least three times before I even fuck that pussy.”

And he made good on his word, working her over with his fingers until she was trembling beside him not once, not twice, but three times, and by the third time, his girlfriend was a sobbing, quivering, begging-for-mercy mess. She almost protested when Damian began to slide his stiff manhood inside her, and maybe she did a little, but her objection was weak and unconvincing. His hand on her thigh lifted her leg in the air, she pivoted her hips, and her pussy sucked him deeper within her, Damian groaning.

“God, I can’t,” she all but wept, “I can’t, I can’t.” She repeated the words in time with Damian’s pumps, and he nuzzled her neck with tender kisses.

“Yes, you can,” Damian panted. “You’re doing so good. You can take just a little bit more.” He placed her leg gently on top of its twin, tightening her already impossibly tight cunt, and he squeezed her hip before thrusting into her. “That’s it,” he whispered, watching with wild eyes as his girlfriend fisted the sheets and bit down on the pillowcase, “take it for Papí.”

His girlfriend lurched, strangled sounds escaping her lips as her pussy pulsed around him. And that was enough to send Damian over the edge. He pressed his face to her hair and emptied himself inside her, his hips stuttering, pounding, pausing, thrusting again. After several moments, he tried to pull out, but she grabbed hold of him anyway she could, and that’s where he stayed.

“Don’t even think about moving for at least the next five to seven hours.”

Damian chuckled. “Little sensitive?”

His girlfriend scoffed. “You would be too if you just came three times in a row.”

“Oh, you didn’t cum while we were fucking? Let me fix that.”

Her grip on him tightened. “Don’t even think about it. I swear, I don’t even know what Rhea and I are fighting about. I’m the one that needs protection from you.”

Damian laughed again. “I love you, mi vida.”

“I love you … jerk.”

જ⁀➴°⋆ Papí — Daddy જ⁀➴°⋆ Mi vida — My life

[satorusugurugurl]

Models

Pairing: Nude Model!Geto Suguru x Model!FAB!Reader

Word Count: 1,977

Warnings: Nudity, flirting, suggestiveness, fluffy goodness

A/N: This fluffy Friday idea had me giggling and kicking my legs. So intimate and sweet!! Nemsmkekdkdk!!

Nude life modeling.

It was easy, paid pretty well, and it helped you get money for essentials when your shitty part-time job didn't schedule you. All you were required to do was strip down to your birthday suit and pose for a bunch of art students to draw you. The sessions lasted between two to five hours, with breaks. Sitting around naked while posing was an easy way to make twenty dollars an hour.

After a rough week of hardly any tips at the coffee shop, you desperately needed to pick up a modeling gig for the weekend. You needed groceries, and you had been dying to buy the newest book of your favorite series that just came out. Luckily, an evening art class needed a female model. You jumped at the opportunity, not wanting to eat instant Ramen for the third time this week.

Trotting into the art studio, you found it empty, allowing you to change into a plain white robe before the students arrived. Just as you tied the sash around your waist, the door to the classroom opened. You turned around expecting to find the teacher, only to find the sexiest man you’ve ever seen in your life.

He had dark eyes and raven hair tied up into a bun. You could hear the music blaring through his headphones as he tossed his backpack onto the ground before pulling his shirt over his head. With a squeak, you covered your eyes as if you weren’t already in the nude yourself.

“E-excuse me!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, “Excuse me!! I-I’m in here!!” when you heard the familiar sound of a belt unbuckling, you grabbed a sketchbook off one of the desks, chucking it to the ground in front of his feet.

The man before you jolted, quickly pulling his headphones out. His dark eyes met you for the first time since he entered. “Oh shit!” He hid behind one of the canvases in the classroom. “Fuck! Sorry! Sorry!” You felt like your whole face was on fire.

“N-No, it’s okay! Maybe I have the wrong classroom!”

“Are you here to model for Yaga’s class?” the stranger asked tentatively.

“Uhm, yeah.”

“You're in the right place.”

Slowly blinking, you watched as the stranger peeked his head out from behind the canvas. “I am?” Your eyes wander toward the shirt and belt on the ground before him. “Then why are you—?”

The stranger stepped out in all his shirtless glory. Fuck he was hot, he had muscles for days. While you undressed the rest of him with your eyes, he stepped towards you. His fingers nervously played with his gauges as he stood in front of you, giving you a better view of his body. His muscles and the curves of his body would be perfect for any art student to sketch. If you were good with a pencil, you would have sketched a picture of him because it would be rude to pull your phone out and snap a photo of the insanely hot man in front of you.

“Yaga is going over body movement between two individuals. Like couples and stuff.” He gestured between the two of you. “That’s why I'm here. I guess Yaga failed to mention that in his ad today.” The strange brushed strands of his black hair out of his face. “The other model who was supposed to be doing this with me got food poisoning, so he was on a bit of a time crunch trying to find somebody to take her place.”

“Oh—” your fingers scratch your cheek, “right, okay, so I've always done solo work.”

The dark-haired man hummed in understanding. “Right, sorry he didn’t specify that in the ad. If you’re uncomfortable with it, I can let him know. If we have to cancel the class, that’s fine..” that was probably the best thing to do. But your stomach growled, hungry for something other than instant noodles.

“Ugh, no, it's fine, I’ll do it.” Why you agreed to do it was beyond you. Posing with a stranger, a hot one at that, was one of the craziest things you'd done. “Is it like back-to-back poses? Or are we talking cringe-worthy 90s family picture poses?”

The man before you chuckled as he shook his head, a dusty shade of rose spread over his cheeks. “That has to be one of the funniest things I've ever heard while modeling.” he glanced at the small wooden stage in the vented room. “It shouldn't be too crazy. Probably just us laying down or something.”

“Ah, very cool mystery man.”

“Oh right, sorry.” He held his hand out to you. “I’m Geto Suguru.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you.” You introduced yourself before leaving the room to allow him to change. “Just come get me when you’re done.”

Once standing in the hall, you run your finger through your hair, tugging it gently. How did your simple modeling evening turn into an evening of modeling with the super hot guy? The more important question was how you were going to get through this entire evening being next to said hot stranger in the nude?!

Keep it together. You got this! You told yourself and attempted to ease your nerves. The following 3 to 4 hours would fly by fast, and then you would never see each other again. If you were lying on the floor next to each other? Naked. It wasn’t a super big deal. Just you and a stranger lying on the ground!

Two hours into the session, you stared directly into Geto’s eyes. “Geto,” you spoke softly, attempting not to distract the students around you.

“What’s up? Do you need a break?”

“No, I was just going to say I wish we were doing a 90s family photo pose. You know those kinds where you would sit on a stool, and I would awkwardly place my hands on one of your shoulders while we stare off into the distance?” Geto’s shoulders shook as he tried to contain his laughter.

You had to make fun of a situation like this. Where you were naked, straddling the hips of a nude man you didn't know, only having a thin cloth separating you from each other. It wasn't as awkward as you thought it would be. Thanks to Geto; he made it extremely comfortable for you. Asking for your consent before touching you, he often checked in to see how you were feeling. He was the perfect gentleman.

Geto also happens to be just your type. He was handsome, sweet, and had a killer body; you felt drunk off of his smell and touch. But would it be wrong to ask him out after doing a job together? You wanted to keep things strictly professional. Your stomach, unfortunately, didn’t get the same memo.

It grumbled helplessly, begging you to feed it something with value instead of instant noodles, protein bars, or candy. God, it was so loud you prayed Geto didn't hear it, that he was too focused on posing to notice your stomach’s begging pleas. You thought you might have been in the clear until Geto gently squeezed your hips, drawing your eyes towards him.

“Hungry?” he asked with a slight smirk.

“N-No.”

“Huh, because it sounds to me like you are.” You shift slightly as if moving would cause your stomach to growl at a softer volume. “W-Wait don—nngh.” Something thick and hard pressed firmly against your ass, making you squeak.

Geto groans, his fingers digging deeper into your hips, stopping you from moving any further. All you can do is stare at him. His eyes remain shut tight. Was he hard? Was he, this god-built man, popping a boner with you on top?

“Geto.” You whisper, a smile tugging at your mouth.

“Please don’t.”

“Oh, so you can bring up my stomach growling, but I can’t bring up you hard co-“

Eyes snap open as he shushes you. “I’m sorry, I just think you’re cute and funny. I tried thinking about my grandma naked, but my brain would rather think of how good you feel in my lap.” He breathes out a minty sigh.

His candor had you blushing as you gripped his shoulder. You remain still like that until your stomach grows louder this time. Geto sputters out a laugh as you push yourself back an inch, rolling against his cock, causing a moan to break in through his laughter.

“Fuck, please stop doing that, or I’m gonna cum.”

“Already? Didn’t see you as a pre-mature ejaculator.”

“I’m not—-normally.”

“Says the guy who just said he was gonna cum.”

Geto cocks a pierced brow at you. “I’m like the energizer bunny; I can go all night.” The room feels hot, and it’s not from the lights on you, and it’s not from constricting clothing. The classroom is unbearably hot because of the building tension between you two.

“I doubt that.” You confess in a whisper, rolling your eyes. “How long do you last? Two minutes tops?”

He scoffed gently, kneading your hips. “Is that a challenge?” The urge to kiss and take him up on his challenge eats at you like acid. You inch closer, lips nearly touching, when someone clears their throat behind you.

The sound of them clearing their throat reminds you that you are not alone. The both of you are in the middle of a classroom modeling for a bunch of students. Students that can clearly see and possibly hear the conversation you two are having.

“Later.”

That single word puts a pin in your whole conversation. Geto’s erection goes down while your stomach continues to growl, winning the softest of chuckles from the man you're still straddling. Somehow, by the grace of the gods, you manage to make it through the entire class without your stomach eating itself or grinding down on Geto, much to your amazement.

With the class over, Geto lets you change in the main room while he uses the supply closet. You finish before him, grabbing your things, eyes darting towards the closet. How does one ask out a fellow nude model? Was it just the heat of the moment that had you hungry for his touch? Or was there something truly there between you?

The never-ending questions stopped as Geto stepped out, pushing his hair back, eyes scanning the room. The instant they find you, he’s crossing the floor faster, his backpack slung over his shoulder. There was something in his smile that made you weak in the knees.

“Do you like soba noodles?”

“Yeah, I do.” Your stomach growls in agreement.

A smile so smooth it gives the butter a run for its money graces Suguru’s face. “Let me take you out for dinner and a drink,” he starts heading for the door, “before that stomach gremlin decides to eat me instead of food.” Heart racing, you grab your things, joining his side, hands clasped behind your back.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, Geto, but the chances of me eating you after dinner are high.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh yes, I'd say there is a ninety-five percent chance you’re on the menu for dessert if you want to come back to my apartment.”

“Funny, I was going to say there’s a ninety-eight percent chance I was going to eat you for dessert~”

Glancing up, you nearly stumble as Geto sticks his pierced tongue out. “Then maybe I’ll accept your challenge and prove I can last longer than two minutes.”

You smirk, licking your lips with a starved expression. “Show me what you got from the energizer bunny.”

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