#but the mood is just SLIGHTLY off to the right

[sigh-tofm]

when they’re sick…

… price

- banishes himself to the couch and refuses care (to begin with). huffs and gruffs about not needing any special treatment, “‘s only a cold, hon”. his high fever begs to differ, though, so you pull out wool socks and thick knit jacket for him, not willing to let this cold develop into pneumonia. he goes on and on about how it’s not necessary, but you gently ignore him and cook up broth and toast for him in the kitchen, all the while overhearing his violent coughing fits. when you go back out to the living room he’s already asleep, not even snoring, and so pale in the face that he looks much older than he is. you pull a blanket over him and patiently sit next to him in an armchair, reading your book. when he wakes up he lets you dote on him without much complaining (though he doesn’t let you spoon feed him) and begrudgingly agrees to let you call his doctor in the morning if the coughing gets worse. he won’t say it but he secretly likes being taken care of for once.

… kyle

- loves being doted on by you. knows how to play it up a little, has observed his sisters get exactly what they want once they start coughing. bats his lashes at you and for lunch he sweetly asks for that chicken soup you know he likes so much. you let him get away with it because he is the most attentive boyfriend ever every time you’re even slightly under the weather - and you like getting to take care of the man who normally is so attuned to your needs. he will forgo the couch in favour of the bed and smile the way only he can when you come by with a tray of food for him. when the evening comes he’s long since fallen asleep when you come to bed. he’s grown more and more feverish throughout the day, despite your careful ministering of hydration and nourishment, and his face is ashen. you get a cool washcloth to put over his eyes and lie down next to him, gently spooning your wonderful boyfriend who could use some extra loving right now.

… johnny

- kinda wants you to get sick too. not in a malicious way, but in a ‘let’s rot on the couch together’-way. will beg you to stay home with him, says he needs you to keep him company while he watches footie reruns and that you’ll probably get sick either way when you already live in the same house and sleep in the same bed, so you might as well just take the week off. is in a cheery mood, especially considering the number showing on the thermometer and the way he slowly stumbles across the floor. you almost start thinking he’s making it all up, maybe heating the thermometer on a light bulb like a schoolboy, until you come home one day and find him bent over the toilet bowl, groaning. you take a little pity on him then and cook him plain rice and slice up a banana for him, easily digestible foods. he has no complaints nor requests and is unusually silent as you bundle him up and serve him the food (but still make him sit on the bathroom floor, he’s still looking a little green). he gets a sad little smile when you tell him you’ll take the day off tomorrow, because he shouldn’t be alone if he can’t keep food down. and as he said, you’ll probably get sick anyway, so you might as well.

… simon

- is lost. it happens so rarely to him that he doesn’t know how to respond to it. gunshot wounds, stab wounds and broken bones are fine; those he knows how to handle. rattling coughs, nausea and fevers are so rare for him that he doesn’t quite know what to do. one thing he does know is that it makes him vulnerable. a man who can’t stand up without leaning on a wall or can’t breathe silently is no use, he knows, so he does his best to hide it. denies it when you ask about his cough and shakes his head every now and then to fight off the nausea (it doesn’t work). you catch on when you lie a hand on his neck and retract it quickly when you feel the heat on his skin. you make him take a lukewarm shower and sit him down on the sofa with a blanket over his shoulders, while you go make soup. when you come back he’s laid down, as if he’s finally let the sickness catch up with him. he looks like the child he never got to be, all glassy eyed and skin blushing from the fever. you sit with him the rest of the night, spoon feeding him soup and gently petting his hair. if that’s a tear running down his cheek, none of you say anything about it.

[william-t-sickofyourshit]

Despite being tired, William’s full attention was on Sebastian. He didn’t mind staying up late to talk to him, if that was what Sebastian needed. His poor darling complained about pain and discomfort, and William was reassuring him, and cheering him up, and promising him all sorts of things to lift his mood once he’s back home. “I will bake you an apple pie, darling. And we will watch movies together every night. Don’t worry, hospital stay is only for a moment. Soon you will be back home here with me.” William smiled at the phone.

They stayed on facetime for quite a long time, until William started actively yawning. Then even clueless Sebastian had to notice that William was just exhausted by now. “Mm… you know, I should probably get home…” William hummed eventually. “I need a shower, and tomorrow morning it’s work again…” he yawned once more.

So, William then made another round over Sebastian’s cottage, showing each of the six cats to the phone’s camera, so Sebastian could say his goodnights. They stayed on the phone while William walked home to his house, and then Sebastian got to also greet Dexter via facetime as well. But eventually, whether they wanted it or not, they had to hang up. William could hear the nurse in the background, in Sebastian’s hospital room, telling him that she will put him on light sedatives for the night, because he really needs some sleep. And Sebastian could see how sleepy William’s eyes looked by now, he was barely keeping them open. 

So after a few more minutes of ‘I love yous’ and ‘goodnights’ they finally ended the call. William’s house got so quiet all of a sudden. He missed Sebastian terribly already. Before showering, William decided to go to his church for a moment still. 

The inside of the church was chilly. William lit up two big candles on the altar, and knelt down for a prayer. He begged God for good health for Sebastian, and for forgiveness for his sins. He did that a lot, lately, praying and asking God to forgive him for whatever it was that caused such punishment. As if it was his fault.

“Please God…” William whispered under his breath. “Surely you see inside my heart, and you know how happy Sebastian makes me. He is good for me, and I know that you put him in my life for a reason. I know I didn’t handle it the best, I broke my vows, I’m lying to the people of this town… but I will make it right. I promise. And Sebastian doesn’t deserve to be punished for my cowardly mistakes…”

The prayer lifted some guilt from William’s heart at least. He hoped that God would listen. 

He dragged himself into the shower, hot water washing away the exhaustion slightly, and soreness from his muscles that was caused by anxious tension all day long. William crawled into bed heavily, Dexter curling right at his side. He put the phone next to him on the pillow, just in case Sebastian needed him. He didn’t even notice when his eyelids fell heavily, and he dozed off, sleeping like a rock. 

For I have sinned...

The principal cleared his throat, eyes scanning the notes that he had wrote down before this meeting. It already lasted an hour, and the teachers gathered in the faculty room were becoming restless and bored. But indeed there were some things to discuss, with the concert that the senior class was supposed to perform at the end of the semester, and with recent staff changes. 

William glanced down at his watch, sighing softly. His class was starting in 15 minutes, so at least, whether the meeting will be done soon or not, he will get to excuse himself. He looked out of the window, his mind wandering. Principal’s voice turned into white noise in the background. It was a pleasant day, late summer. But William was looking forward to a slightly cooler weather. Wearing all black could really be bothersome at times. 

“And lastly, I am pleased to announce that we have finally found replacement for the violin teacher. Dear Mr Tanaka, may he rest in peace, was with us for so many years that I’ve been concerned we won’t be able to find someone as good as to fill this position.” the principal spoke. “But Mr… Michaelis, was highly recommended to me, and he indeed has impressive references. He will be starting this week, so please welcome him warmly once he will arrive. Ah yes… about that. He will arrive today at noon, I need someone to pick him up from the train station and bring over for the tour around the school. Any volunteers?” 

William was barely listening, and definitely not paying much attention. He glanced at his watch again, and saw that it was time to leave, as his class was about to start. He raised his hand to excuse himself, and little did he know, he just volunteered.

“Father William! Excellent!” the principal exclaimed. “Just don’t be late, the train arrives at noon.”

“Train…?” William questioned, raising his brow. He had a feeling he was missing something…

***

Right after the meeting, William had to run for the class, so he had little time to clarify what exactly he had volunteered for. He was a piano teacher in this Music Academy, but also he served as a priest in local church. Well respected, and rather liked. So when he later found out it was about the new violin teacher, he didn’t refuse. Who, other than himself, would be a better choice to introduce a newcome to their community?

So even though he raised his hand by accident, he accepted this fate.

After classes, at noon, William took a taxi and drove to the train station, to pick up their new teacher. Wearing black trousers, and a black shirt with a thin tie, was absolutely dreadful in this weather, so William quickly found shelter under the roof of the station platform, that provided some shade.

The train had just arrived. William had no idea how Mr Michaelis looked like, but he figured he will just look for someone carrying a violin case with them. 

He was in for a bit surprise.

@crazyvik97

[pearlymel]

✩ CW: SUGARDADDY!NANAMI, fem!reader, fluff, MDNI unprotected soft sēx, lowkey breeding kink. basically he pays you to spend time with him. overall felt soft writing this.

Nanami watches you tilt your head up, your smile full of childlike wonder as you observe the snowfall. The snowflakes that are as white as your coat.

"You wanted to see me because of the snow?" You ask, your eyes meeting his.

A rare smile graces his lips, and the sight makes his heart feel inexplicably lighter. "Mhmm," he replies, his voice deep yet somewhat soft. "You like the snow, don't you?" He brings the wine glass to his lips and takes a small sip, his gaze flickering over you, from head to toe. The way the snowflakes dance in your hair, your bright eyes, the way you were smiling as if enjoying this time with him… All of it adding to your beauty.

He looks unbothered by the chill in the air, and the snow that gently falls on his shoulders melts on contact. He sets down his glass, his eyes still fixed on you.

His gaze drops to the cup in your hands, his eyes lingering on the steam rising from the hot liquid. "Hot cocoa?"

Wine and hot cocoa, what a match.

“Better than wine in this weather, don't you think?”

Nanami's lips curve into a half-smile at your response, finding your practicality endearing, "I suppose you're right," he nods slightly, the sound of the falling snow blending with the soft hum of the city. "Sometimes it's not about alcohol—it's about what feels nice." He watches you with a slightly fond look, continuing to enjoy the way the snow dances around you like tiny, frozen stars.

The quiet settles between you two like the snow falling around you. He’s not one to fill silences—he’s much more comfortable listening. But still, he can’t ignore the nagging feeling that this time should be different.

“Kento,” the call of his name immediately grabs his attention, “why.. do you always have to buy something expensive for me whenever we meet? I'm perfectly content with you paying me in exchange of my time.” your question is something he didn't expect you to bring up, but he can understand anyway, you're always grateful for the little things, even when you always deny his gifts because they're too ‘expensive’.

His fingers tighten around the stem of his wine glass, and you notice. He’s silent for a beat before he responds in a murmur, "Because I want to."

He doesn’t elaborate right away, his eyes flickering over you, and away, as if he’s considering his words. He seems lost in thought, though he’s struggling to articulate something.

Your fingers glide along the cup holder of your hot cocoa, relishing in the warm in provides for your palms, “you should find a wife for yourself,” you tell him, honestly. “It's better than wasting your money on this…”

But Nanami nearly scoffs at your suggestion. As if it's that simple.

"And who'd want to marry a sorcerer?" He retorts dryly. "One day, you will wake up in the middle of the night to find me gone. Off hunting a cursed spirit, or fighting. Maybe not coming back." His jaw tightens "It’s not that simple." He continues, taking a larger sip of his drink to buy himself some time.

"I..."

He doesn't finish his thought, his tongue suddenly feeling like lead in his mouth.

And you understand, so you don't press on further.

"Maybe I'm just not the type." He finally speaks before he looks away from you, staring at how the snow has taken over the city.

You want to almost apologize for killing the mood but another question pops in your head that you just can't resist but ask.

“Kento,” your sweet voice that calls his name, again.

“Why did you decide—I mean, why are you doing this with me?”

The arrangement between you.

The answer was simple, "You’re the only good thing in my life... right now.”

You chuckle, "I find that hard to believe. Are there not any good people where you work at?”

"Most of them are idiots or brats. Or both."

“Mm,” you take another sip of your hot drink that started to cool down, “does anyone know…”

“No.” Quick to answer, again. “Embarrassed?” You ask jokingly.

And Nanami's brow furrows at the question, "Embarrassed?” he repeats, "More like protective." he mutters under his breath.

His lips purse in thought, before he continues, "I don’t like sharing.”

“… protective?”

“Of course I’m protective," he mutters, his voice low. "What we have..." He trails off, his words suddenly failing to find the right way to describe this thing between you two. Instead, he lets out a frustrated sigh. "You’re special. I don’t like the idea of sharing that.”

You feel like you should close this topic for now, and you push your sleeve up to take the time from your wrist watch.

He doesn't have to ask, it cue to leave. And Nanami always walks you home whenever you meet somewhere close to your place.

You both walk along the snow trail on the side walk, leaving your footprints behind, Nanami follows beside you, his hands also shoved in the pockets of his coat as well as yours.

His gaze flicks from the children playing in the snow, the old friends chattering and laughing as they catch up on life, to the couples walking by hand-in-hand.

“You like kids?” Nanami blinks at your question, his focus shifting back to you. For a moment, he almost looks embarrassed to be caught staring too long at a few children singing and laughing as they drown in the snow.

“Yeah,” he replies gruffly, his eyes flickering to the group of kids before looking back at you. He’s silent for a few moments before speaking again. “I like kids...” he says slowly, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue. “Not a lot, but I like them.”

You giggle, the sound warm and light, and his expression softens. He can’t help but be taken in by your carefree attitude. It's a side of you that makes him even more drawn.

He keeps walking as he glances at you, watching as you rub your chin against the scarf wrapped around your neck. He almost wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he clears his throat before asking, "are you warm enough?”

You stop walking, “wanna hold my hand?”

“�� do you want me to?” he asks slowly.

………..

It doesn't take long until your hand is interlock tightly with yours, his hand enveloping your own in his pocket.

He really doesn't want to let go.

The journey passes in relative silence, the only sound is the crunching of snow under your feet. Nanami doesn’t say anything, his mind seemingly preoccupied.

Finally, he speaks, “Are you really gonna go home, once we get there?”

You raise your eyebrows, “what does that mean, Ken?”

He gives your hand a squeeze like he doesn’t want to acknowledge this moment is going to end.

“You know exactly what I mean,” he says in a low tone, “Are you just going into your apartment and go to sleep, like usual? Or are you... gonna let me invite myself in?”

It always leads back to this after the cute meet ups.

Nanami's hands are all over you as soon as you’re inside. He backs you up against the wall without a word, his body pinning you against it as his lips find yours.

His kisses are slow but hungry, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands roam around your curves while slowly letting your coat drop on to the ground, and you huff out.

“You're getting my white coat dirty—”

"I'll buy you a new one,” he instantly responds his breath hot against your skin. “But right now, all I care about is you, and getting you out of these clothes.”

He groans as your fingers run through his hair, his body pressing against you further, desperate to close the tiny distance that’s between you.

“Stressed?” You pant softly, and his only response is a low growl, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and making your head spin.

“You know I am,” he mutters gruffly in-between kisses.

It doesn't take long until your beneath him on your bed, taking his time worshipping your body—this time he notices how your arms cover your face just when his hands were sliding up and down your sides down to your stomach.

“I know what you're thinking,” he whispers, and the gentle tug at your arm makes you want to peek at him, “don't. Let me see you.” He gives your forehead a peck and you frown, he's being too loving.

“You don't have to take your time doing this, i can take it.”

“but i want to take my time with you.” He says bluntly, “do you not want me to?”

You shake your head, and a half smirk curls up his lips, “good.”

He noses right between your tits, giving them soft kisses which makes your teeth catch at your lower lip.

The minute the tip of his flushed cock nudges right into your cunt, pushing in, you both groan in relief.

Fuck was it a stretch even when you were just taking in his tip.

“Tell me if you don't want it anymore,” he reminds you, every single time.

Only when you nodded and wrapped your legs around his waist did he start to move, pulling out slowly before pushing back in while rolling one of your nipples to distract your fluttering walls from tightening too much around him.

He sets a gentle rhythm, each thrust deep and deliberate, taking his time, groaning as he watches his cock disappears into you before leaving you again and again.

Meanwhile you—you looked drunk on him, your worries pushed away as your head is rolling back and your ruined glossy lips part when he thrusts deeper into you.

“Nanam—” he squeezes your hip before kissing a mole from your body, “did you forget my name already?”

You pout, your fingers reaching to stroke his blond strands, “Kento,” you sigh breathlessly and his lips envelope yours—you’re even more breathless now.

“Ken—” you try speaking, only to be muffled by his passionate soft kisses that honestly just makes you feel a little bit loved.

He lifts your body a bit, his hands sliding down to take a feeling of your ass, giving them a squeeze before sliding up to the back of your thighs as he increases the pace of his rolling hips.

Was he fucking you or making love to you? There was definitely a difference between the two.

“Sweetheart,” the petname he only ever calls you in bed, it rings in your head, and it makes you clench tighter around him which makes him huff.

The rare raw feeling of his girth inside you makes you even warmer, you can almost feel every nerve throbbing and twitching. “i will pull out, don't worry—”

“No,” you stop him, and he seems confused.

“Cum inside.”

Bold.

“Oh, fuck me—” he pants before pressing your thighs down until your knees reach to your ears and you gasp when starts pounding into you like there was no tomorrow, you would stop him anyway if you felt uncomfortable, he trusted you on that.

But with you moaning and whining for release, he can only almost roll his eyes back as he holds it in for a minute just to get a more feeling of you.

“Kento, I'm not going to run—”

You don't know that, he doesn't know that. This is temporary, what if this was the last time you both get intimate together?

Oh, Kento would rather work overtime than end this.

“B-be my wife—” He almost whines when he comes right on the spot, the prettiest moans elicits from your throat as you cum with him, quite literally milking and squeezing every drop of his seed right inside you, making sure not to waste any.

And he's panting heavily into your neck, he's done for.

You stare down at his buried face onto your skin, noticing how his ears have gotten redder, “Ken, did i hear you right?”

He doesn't respond, and only rubs at your stomach slowly. Maybe… it's only a matter of time until it sticks, then this ’arrangement’ doesn't have to end.

[eddiemunchem]

corroded | [corrode • \kuh-ROHD\ • verb. 1 : to eat away by degrees as if by gnawing] | eddie has made it a personal goal to hook up with at least one fan after every concert. and when his band winds up in the podunk known as hawkins, indiana, he decides his target for the night is the pretty little doll in the front row with the hottest ‘fuck me’ eyes he’s ever seen.

⚠️ 2.4k words, fem!reader, rockstar!eddie, groupie!reader, eddie has a relationship fetish, cheating/adultery (again, fantasy, pls don’t do this fr), oral (m!receiving), dirty talk, language, jerk!eddie (srsly…), sex with a stranger, semi public sex, one night stand, possessive!eddie, hints of a corruption kink, riding/cowgirl to doggystyle, squirting, themes of slight coercion (but later enthusiastic consent), porn with literally no plot

💋 i had a brain bug.

eddie almost missed the solo on the final song, fingers nearly scrambling to maintain the tune.

gareth had side-eyed him, but eddie couldn’t be blamed, could he? after all, he had the most delicious eye candy feet away from him, standing pretty in the front row and peering up at him as if he were god himself.

any man would be distracted.

that’s why eddie simply shrugged off gareth’s seethed “what the fuck, man?” as they trudged off the stage together, a multitude of hands reaching out to touch their arms, shoulders; any piece of body they could. the crowd split like a sea to let them through, something that never failed to give eddie a head rush.

he was so wanted it was dizzying.

the yells and cheers were still lively even as eddie shut himself inside the v.i.p room, the clamor only slightly muffled by the thin walls and rickety door. eddie never really stayed behind to mingle with the fans like gareth did. the only exception to that was when he was trying to charm his way into a pretty girl’s skirt.

that was usually every concert, though tonight he couldn’t say he was much in the mood for perusing the gaggle of women in the crowd; not when your pretty face was plastered to the back of his eyelids, those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes begging him to notice you.

eddie wondered if the man gripping your waist even noticed the way you fucked him with your eyes. the thought of it made his chest swell with something.

god, how amazing it would be to take you to the tour bus for a “private tour”, only to fuck you senseless while your boyfriend waits with the crowd.

it wouldn’t be the first time eddie had done that, and he was itching to do it again. maybe after he finished with the highly-advertised backstage passes he could seek you out — with the way you’d been looking at him, he had a good feeling he’d be able to find you pretty easily.

eddie blew out a huff of air and scrutinized the v.i.p room, where the backstage meetings were meant to be held — yellowing walls, stained ceiling, a foggy, cracked mirror on the wall above a rickety-esque vanity and two couches that looked as if they’d been passed down through at least three generations.

damn, the hideout was truly a shit-hole. if eddie were being frank, hawkins itself was a shit-hole; a place he’d never even heard of until a week ago when the manager of this stiffydink begged him to play at his concert hall.

the owner was probably bursting into tears right now ; eddie was fairly certain that tonight’s overstuffed crowd was the biggest this place had ever seen.

a knock at the door pulled eddie from his criticism — it creaked open just as eddie whipped around to see who was entering, and what he saw made him grin.

gareth holding open the door with none other than you standing there, looking nervous and so, so fuckable.

“first backstage of the night,” gareth explained, “the lucky number one winner of the raffle.”

ah, eddie had forgotten about the raffle. an ingenious idea cooked up by owner — ‘for a mere ten dollars, enter your name for a chance to win the lucky pass!’

the quote on quote ‘lucky pass’ wasn’t much different from a regular pass, except for the fact that it allotted fans to spend forty-five minutes backstage with their idols rather than the customary twenty.

eddie had actually been dreading that, imagining how boring it would be to be stuck with some punky wanna-be metalhead for almost an hour — but the lucky pass was somehow given to you, as if the stars had all aligned just for eddie.

so eddie had forty-five minutes to get between your cute legs? oh, yeah. he could definitely manage that.

🎸⚡️🦇🎸⚡️🦇🎸⚡️🦇🎸⚡️🦇🎸⚡️🦇🎸⚡️🦇🎸⚡️🦇

it took twelve minutes.

twelve whole minutes of working his silver tongue and buttering you up — had you been any other girl, eddie would have written you off as a failed mission after five minutes, but fuck, he wanted you.

with your perfect body, angelic voice, and brilliant ‘fuck me’ eyes. eddie wanted it all. and his uncle always told him that if he pushed through and persevered, he’d always get what he wanted.

and, shit, he’s so glad he persevered — because now those doe eyes were looking up at him, hazy and fucked out, and those plump lips were wrapped so prettily around his cock.

and he was fucking into the hottest, tightest fuckin’ throat he’d ever felt, and you were taking it as if it was god’s gift to man.

“fuck, pretty girl. look at you.” eddie cooed, entranced by the tears dancing in your eyes as you gagged over the girth of his thrusting cock. “taking it like such a good girl.”

your throat vibrated with muted moans, plump thighs clenching and unclenching beneath you — fuck, you were desperate, probably fantasizing about him blowing a load inside your aching pussy.

eddie couldn’t help the way his cock kicked up at that — he’d cum in all your pretty little holes if he had chance to do so. but it was going on fifteen minutes, and eddie needed to speed this whole thing up and get to the good part already if he wanted make good time.

eddie gripped a fistful of your hair and pulled you off of his cock, nearly groaning when a whine slipped from your wet, swollen lips. like him taking his cock from you was equivalent to chopping off a limb.

such a desperate, perfect fuck toy.

“get the fuck up here and sit on it,” eddie growled, hoisting you up when you staggered to get up yourself. the couch groaned beneath your weight when you sat yourself on his thighs, soft hand gripping his dick and guiding it underneath your tight skirt.

“so fuckin’ wet.” eddie hissed as you sunk your hips down slowly, sweet moans falling from your mouth and kickstarting his lust.

it didn’t take you long to seat yourself fully on him, cunt twitching and fluttering around his cock and pulling a deep groan from his throat.

you felt fuckin’ amazing. quite possibly the best pussy he’s ever been in.

“shit, yeah. ride it. c’mon, fuckin’ ride it.” eddie demanded huskily, gripping your ass harshly with both hands and grinding your body over his.

the whimpers, moans and whines that fell from you were a ballad to him, a staccato of pleasure that told him exactly how good his cock made you feel — how fuckin’ dumb you were going on it, hips bouncing in an uneven yet desperate rhythm.

eddie was more than happy to help you out; his ringed hands gripped your ass and pushed you up and down, leaning his head back at the pure heaven that was your sloppy pussy.

god, you were perfect in every way. so malleable in his hands, obeying his every order, gazing at him with those fucked out eyes just begging for more.

fucking groupies would always be the best sex, especially those who were already claimed by another man.

“does your boyfriend fuck you like this, baby?” eddie pressed, cock stiffening even more inside you at his own reminder of your taken status. “does he mess you up like this with his cock?”

you shook your head and whined, pussy squelching with every thrust of his cock, juices soaking straight into the worn couch. eddie growled and (somewhat reluctantly) pulled a hand from your ass and brought it up to grip your throat.

oh, how sweet it felt against his fingers — he could so easily crush it, rob you of your air supply until you passed out right on his cock.

“answer me properly.” eddie demanded, “tell me how much better i am.” he needed to hear it straight from that pretty little mouth.

“you’re - you’re so mu-much better!” you cried out, thighs squeezing around his and moans picking up in frequency.

eddie’s made enough girls cream on his cock to know what that meant.

“mmm, fuck yeah. like the way this cock fucks you, huh?” you nodded feverishly, eyes barely held open and leaking with tears. your expression made something swell inside him, and eddie did something he hadn’t done in a really, really long time.

he pulled you down to lock his lips with yours.

nothing about it was sweet, or sensual — all eddie wanted to do was dominate you completely, fuck you up in so many ways that you’d never be able to recover from it.

eddie wanted to brand himself to you with such permanence that you’d never be able to fuck another person without comparing them to him.

just as he had with every girl before you.

that’s why he shoved his tongue into your mouth and practically fucked it in, licking at your cheeks, teeth, tongue — every fuckin’ inch he could. eddie would taste and own it all.

and god, eddie nearly lost it when you reciprocated, when you suckled on his tongue and prodded it with your own, spit dripping down both of your chins. so messy and hot.

just as he loved it.

“fuck,” he pulled away and growled, the need to simply fuck you into oblivion and fuck up your pretty little head searing through him and prompting him to halt your movements. “on your hands and knees, angel. i wanna fuck that little cunt from behind.”

the moan you let out was simply pornographic, long and drawn out and needy, and you scurried to lift yourself off of him and scamper onto your knees.

eddie stood, cock still hard and leaking, glistening with your juices, and manhandled your hands to the back of the couch because you were taking far too long.

“grip it, baby, you’re gon’a need to.” eddie husked as he shoved your skirt down your thighs, one hand bruising your hip and the other guiding his cock to your slit. he didn’t really wait to see if you had followed his guidance or not, and simply thrusted himself in and set a brutal pace.

slaps, moans, groans, squelches, and every other erotic fuckin’ noise he could think of resounded around the room, the smell of sex, faint tobacco, and floral perfume clogging his nose.

god, how eddie fuckin’ loved that shit.

“such a pretty lil’ cunt,” eddie growled, hips faltering as that familiar heat built in his gut. you looked so sexy, back on full display and ass jiggling with every slap of his hips against it; he definitely wouldn’t last much longer in this position. “takes my cock like it was made f’it.”

“hah, please, please!” your voice was absolutely wrecked, croaky and wet but no less angelic, body rocking with every harsh pump of his hips. “‘m so close, eddie!”

“fuck, i fuckin’ know,” eddie groaned, fingernails digging into your skin through your thin shirt. “i feel you fuckin’ fluttering, angel.”

he’d never fucked anyone quite so sensitive and responsive, and it was going straight to his head; the way you rocked your hips back against him, the way your walls clenched around him, those sweet, sweet moans — you were addictive.

and to think you had a man waiting for you. a man who was completely oblivious to the way eddie was rearranging your guts right now.

“shit,” eddie hissed when his balls jerked, signaling his impending bust. it was coming much faster than he expected, but he wasn’t a total jerk — he’d make you cum first.

with rather desperate movements eddie slid a hand between your thighs and located your clit easily — he rubbed it with harsh, accurate movements, with the sole intent of making you absolutely cream on him as soon as possible.

it was a double edged sword, he realized too late — sweet, delectable moans fell from your lips, broken up by delicious pleas.

“oh, oh, yes, i’m g-gonna cum! please, please, make me cum—”

“fuck, yeah, shut up.” eddie hissed, sucking in a sharp breath to halt the build up he felt in his gut; if you kept doing that, he wouldn’t get to finish you first. “‘m gon’a make you cum, just hold on.”

to eddie’s relief (and intense arousal) you followed his command to a tee, even going so far as to bite your lip to further muffle your moans. you were so fuckin’ obedient, taking his cock like you knew it was your place to do so.

pliant and corruptible. eddie’s favorite kind of girl. jesus, you were a dream wrapped in perfect skin.

“fuck, baby, c’mon, cum f’me.” eddie snarled, hips pistoning at a brutal pace that he matched with his fingers.

the fluttering of your walls was becoming much more frequent and there was a foamy ring at the base of his cock — you were right fuckin’ there.

“mmm, hah, fuck, oh my god! coming!” you squealed as your back arched, and eddie lost it when fluid gushed straight from your cunt and soaked his thighs.

“a fuckin’ squirter,” eddie gasped out, eyes nearly rolling back in his head. “fuckin’ hot. so perfect. shit. gon’a fuckin’—”

eddie pumped his hips a few more times, burying himself inside your wet cunt until he was just about to burst, then pulled out and stroked his cock harshly.

eddie released a long, loud groan as his balls tightened and his cock throbbed, ropes of cum shooting from his tip and splattering against the plump flesh of your ass.

eddie watched with lidded eyes as he painted your skin with his seed, a rush of possessiveness circulating through his electrified veins and settling comfortably into his chest. you were an absolute mess, a mixture of his juices and your own dripping down your thighs.

a vision of wrecked, corroded perfection.

eddie let out a satisfied sigh and squeezed the few remaining drops of cum from his tip, wiping it along the material of your skirt. a bit more marking wouldn’t hurt, he mused.

eddie tucked his softening cock back into his pants as you slowly turned around and slipped off the couch — your movements were a bit clipped and sluggish, and eddie couldn’t help but feel a surge of fresh arousal from it.

he must have fucked you damn good.

“get yourself cleaned up, sweets.” eddie murmured, glancing at his watch and smirking. “you’ve got about nine minutes to make it look like you weren’t just fucked senseless. wouldn’t want your boyfriend to find out, yeah?”

god, how eddie faintly wished your boyfriend would.

[weneepie]

mixed feelings w/ bruce wayne rules | m.list

note. hiii i'm back (who knows for how long lmao) but i wanted to write a fake dating au with bruce so here we go! feel free to request, i'll try to do them as soon as possible <3

How difficult it was to be the official girlfriend of no one else than Bruce Wayne himself. It was even more since you weren’t his real girlfriend but only a cover for him to always have someone to bring during those never ending galas. It wasn’t an easy life ; people were always asking questions about your relationship, about an intimacy you didn’t share with him at all. 

Why would you be doing this? Because Bruce was paying you well. More than well actually, it was more than you could ever gain with a classic full-time job. There was no way you would let go of this opportunity just because you were tired of those fake asses everywhere. You were stronger than that, especially for so much money. 

So here you were, talking with some women at one of those parties where he always brought you to. You could sense the jealousy and tension in their tone as they spoke to you. After all, you were supposedly dating the heir of Gotham, the most powerful man in this sick city. You could understand their behavior in a way, you would have probably not be better than them. 

Until you heard a voice you couldn’t recognize. You had come to enough parties to know almost everyone by now, but this one? You couldn’t tell. When you turned around, your eyes laid on a charismatic man, with a charming smile. His blond soft locks were pushed back, giving him a clean look. Behind those blue eyes, you could feel a man that used to have his way with everyone ; you could recognize them so easily. 

“Milady,” he took your hand in his, bringing it closer to his lip so he could leave a gentle kiss on the back of it, against the dark glove that was covering your delicate hand. You were a bit surprised, because no one ever dared touching you like this before. You were here with Bruce Wayne after all, nobody wanted this man against them. 

“It’s an honor to be finally meeting the woman I have heard so much about.” His voice was smooth, too much for it to be without any second thought behind. But all you did was to smile gently at him, your soft gaze laying on his face. You had to be correct, polite ; it was the most important thing, as Bruce always said. 

“And you are?” You asked without a harsh tone, just wanting to know who the man in front of you was. You were curious, you had to admit it. You weren’t used to this kind of behavior at all. And this is how you ended up spending some time with this man, without your supposed boyfriend noticing anything. 

Until he did. And oh God, the man felt something ignite inside his veins. When his eyes laid on your figure, so close to this guy, all smiling and laughing like you rarely did with him, it didn’t feel right, not to him. You should be like this with him, not anyone else. 

You were about to say something when you felt a hand resting against your hip. It didn’t take you long to recognize his touch ; those hands could be to one man alone. You looked at the man with your softest smile, the one you had so much practiced. But he wasn't looking at you. Oh no. All his attention was fixed on the blondie in front of you. 

“Bruce Wayne! What a pleasure.” He offered his hand to Bruce, and you could feel his fingers slightly tensing around your hip. He shook the man’s hand, but it was pure politeness. He had an image to protect, but it was obvious that if it was only him, he would already have hit the guy right in the face for acting so casually with you. 

You didn’t have time to talk much more with the man, because your ‘boyfriend’ decided it was enough for the night, and that you should both be going by now. You were in his expensive car as he drove you back to your apartment. The mood was… awful. Something felt so off, and you couldn’t understand what. 

“What’s wrong with you?” You asked him, glancing at his figure in the driver’s seat. He frowned a little at his words, just enough for you to notice it. You sighed ; it was really feeling like talking to a child who doesn’t have the toy he wanted. “I did as you told me to, I tried to sympathize.” 

A bitter chuckle left his lips at his words, and this time it was your turn to frown. You didn’t like that, when he was acting like it was your fault when you clearly didn’t do anything wrong. “Speak already!” You snapped at him and he suddenly stopped the car, letting a light gasp leaving your lips. You looked back at him, eyes widened. 

“Are you mad?” You almost yelled at him, and this time he was looking right into your eyes. “You had fun with this stupid guy, uh? Was it so great?” Reality finally hit you. He was jealous. Bruce Wayne, the cold and indifferent heir of Gotham, was jealous of some random guy you spent the night with. You couldn’t believe it. 

“Seriously? What are you scared of, that he paid me enough to leave? I won't-” You couldn’t finish your sentence, as Bruce reached your face with his hand to hold your chin between his fingers. He was calm, too calm. “I don’t care about how he could pay you. It’s not about money.”

Not about money? With him? Something was clearly wrong. “It’s about you. You shouldn’t have eyes for anyone else other than me.” He let go of your chin, putting his hand back on the steering wheel, focusing on the road again. 

It was difficult to follow a man who had such mixed feelings, so tortured in his mind. You simply glanced at him, before you looked through the window, waiting for the car to finally arrive at your place. It was not like you could do anything about this anyway. 

Time would tell how things will turn out, but no one other than Bruce could change how it was.

thank you for reading!

[koiiiji]

lets dance

author's note ; heavily inspired by this and “what is love” song

tw ; fluff, a little too vulnerable Jonggun, might be both romantic or platonic!🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

summary ; Jonggun suddenly can't dance, but it's fine

night was warm, almost lazy in its softness, and the four of you lounged comfortably in spacious living room. the dim light from a single lamp in the corner mixed with the faint glow of city lights through the windows, casting everything in a golden haze. an easygoing playlist was looping in the background as you all worked through a couple of drinks, laughter filling the room as the alcohol began to soften edges and loosen moods.

music pulsed in the background, an irresistible, driving beat that filled the room and made it impossible not to move. Jungoo and Crystal were spinning around, laughing freely, their faces flushed from the drinks and the warm glow of the room. you joined them in their infectious, carefree dancing, swaying to the rhythm as the world around you softened, the warmth and laughter blending into something that felt a lot like pure joy.

and there was Jonggun, still rooted to the couch, his usual composed expression unreadable. his arm was draped lazily over the back, his other hand holding a half-finished whiskey, his gaze on all of you like he was observing something foreign, almost surreal. it was impossible to tell what he was thinking; his face was perfectly blank, his mouth barely quirking at the edges as he watched.

moment later you broke away from the other two, heart racing from the dance and the thrill of the moment, and took a step toward him, your eyes bright with a mischievous glint. you knew he would refuse, that he’d stubbornly resist, but that made the challenge all the more tempting.

“Jonggun!” you called out, voice lilting with laughter. “get up! come dance with us!”

he met your eyes, his usual cool, steady look unwavering. “no,” he replied, his voice calm and even. “i don’t dance.”

“oh, come on!” you grinned “don’t be shy.”

you took a few steps closer, still swaying with the beat, until you were standing right in front of him. “not shy,” he murmured. “i just don’t dance.” there was a calm resolve in his eyes, the same steadiness he had when faced with any challenge. but there was something else, too — just a hint of reluctance, like this was territory he’d never dared to tread.

but you didn’t give him a chance to resist. moving quickly, you reached for his hands and caught them both in yours, your grip strong and insistent. he hesitated, caught off guard as you pulled him to his feet, his body stiff and reluctant.

“too late to argue,” you teased, grinning as you backed up, tugging him along with you, your fingers tightening around his. “just follow me.”

with a faint sigh, he finally met your gaze, and for a brief moment, he seemed to let himself relax, to fall into the rhythm of your small, shared dance. your movements were bolder, more rhythmic, and you started to circle around him, pulling his hands with yours, guiding his stiff steps with your own fluidity. you felt him loosen ever so slightly, his focus shifting from his own discomfort to the feel of your hands in his, when you lift them, so you can spin around under his hand, and each time you did it your laughter warming the air between you.

Jonggun fell quiet, and for a moment, his gaze softened. as he let you lead him through the rhythm, he found himself watching the way your face lit up with each laugh, the way you smiled at him as if he wasn’t awkwardly stumbling through each step. there was something magnetic in the way you danced, something so full of life that it almost made him forget his hesitations.

he glanced toward Jungoo and Crystal, watching them sway and laugh alongside you, their faces flushed and open in a way he rarely saw. somehow, in the course of all the late nights and shared drinks, you’d all carved out this strange, unspoken bond — a closeness he’d never expected to have. he’d always prided himself on his distance, his ability to remain detached. but in this small moment, it hit him that you, Jungoo, Crystal… you’d become something he hadn’t even known he wanted. you’d become a little dear to him.

he almost couldn’t believe it — he, Park Jonggun, who had always valued control and restraint above all, was letting himself be led, letting himself be swept into this odd, rhythmic dance with you, feeling your warm hands in his and hearing your laugh right next to him.

you circled him, moving with such effortless joy, guiding his movements until he felt himself fall into a rough, hesitant rhythm with you. his gaze fell on your joined hands, and for a fleeting second, he felt a small, quiet warmth settle over him, a sense of ease he never felt. it was strange and almost dizzying, this fleeting happiness, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away.

your smile was bright and easy as you continued to move, drawing him deeper into the beat, into the energy of the room, and he felt himself soften further, his grip on your hands tightening instinctively. it was as though everything else faded for just a heartbeat, the world narrowing to this small, imperfect dance, the feel of your hand guiding his.

maybe he’d never admit it aloud, but in that moment, with the music filling the air and your smile lighting up this world, he thought… maybe he could be happy here, too.

[hxney-lemcn]

Late Night Chaos — Daisuke x gn! reader

summery: you become the first of many tragic deaths...

tw: murder, graphic descriptions of injuries, suicide, descriptions of a corpse, spoilers for all of the game basically

a/n: LAST PART! gosh I had such an evil smile writing the beginning of this. sorry that the end is literally just the game, I wasn't sure how to make commentary on it that the game doesn't do beautifully already :(

wc: 2.9k

Master List

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine

no

no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

This couldn’t be real.

“They came at me like they went mad.”

You couldn’t be gone, you wouldn’t leave him like that.

“I had no choice!”

Daisuke felt like he was going to puke, your unfocused eyes staring at the ceiling, lips slightly parted and the darkening skin around your neck. 

“It was either me or them.” 

Daisuke felt his hands shake. He couldn’t accept this, there was no way you were dead. You would get up any second and say this was a prank. Please. He doesn’t think he can handle this. You had been the only one keeping him sane, the only one he found comfort in, the only one to stand up for him if he felt uncomfortable doing something. You both were supposed to get off this rock together. You were supposed to meet his parents and have dinner and…and…and

Daisuke felt himself let out a sob, rushing towards your body and falling to his knees. Shaky hands reached out towards your face. You felt cold. You weren’t supposed to be this cold. You needed a blanket, or…or something. His hand went from caressing your cheek to holding your hand, bringing it up to his face. Your knuckles were bloody, but Daisuke didn’t care, he just wished you could cup his cheek again, reassure him that everything would be okay and you would always be there for him. 

Swansea scoffed at Jimmy, glaring daggers at the man, “Right, like they were much of a threat.”

“You think I’d lie about this?” Jimmy seethed. “You think I enjoyed doing that?”

Anya felt like herself plunging even farther down her spiral of madness. Why the hell did she tell you? Every time she tries to speak up, to get comfort, to find help for what’s happened to her she finds another tragedy left in her wake. First it was the crash and Curly, now you’re dead…who else will get hurt because of her? She couldn’t even look at your body or face Daisuke. Your cloudy eyes seemed to be taunting her, blaming her, and Daisuke’s sobs were like a stab to the heart. 

“Maybe you did,” Swansea glowered, bumping harshly into Jimmy’s shoulder as he walked past towards Daisuke. “C’mon kid, you shouldn’t see ‘em like this.”

“N-no!” Daisuke protested, trying to free himself from Swansea’s grip on his shoulder, clinging onto you desperately. “I-I can’t leave them. I just can’t…”

…

Your death made the tension on the ship worse. It caused the crew to be more distrustful of Jimmy, something he hated. Who did they think they were to judge him? You were like a wild animal, your assault had no end in sight? Was he supposed to let you beat him to a pulp? It’s not like there were enough medical supplies for that, and for all he knew you weren’t going to stop. 

Daisuke’s cheerful demeanor had darkened, but he still tried to keep a smile on his face, even if it was wobbly and didn’t reach his eyes. He would try to joke, to say something silly to lighten the atmosphere, but it started to come out forced, and he couldn’t help but imagine how’d you react. Would you laugh? Smile? Roll your eyes and shake your head? And just like that he’d feel his mood drop all over again. 

It had been a month since your death and he still couldn’t move on. He had got to know you over eight months, and for five of them you both were dating. Gosh, you really made the trip go by so quickly (even though it felt like you had been in space forever). And after the crash, you made it just a bit more bearable to be sitting like a waiting duck in the middle of nowhere. But now you’re gone, and the crash happened five months ago, and he could feel the despair start to consume him slowly but surely. 

Anya had kept to herself more than usual as well, tending to Curly as best she could. They ran out of clean bandages ages ago, so she couldn’t tend to his wounds as well. They had no more disinfectant, so the best she could do was try and keep him as comfortable as possible. Just focus on doing her job so she couldn’t think too much, so she wouldn’t think of how Curly's silent stare reminded her of your blank gaze. Try to keep her cries to herself when she was alone in the medical bay with Curly. 

Swansea was vehemently trying to protect the last working cryopod. He thought you and Daisuke were the most worthy of it, but fell under the dilemma of who it would go to between you both. It was clear neither of you would leave the other, and Swansea knew better than most what it was like to be completely infatuated with someone. When you believe you’d do anything for them, that you’d rather die than see them hurt. Seems like Jimmy solved that little problem for him. Swansea couldn’t help but internally seethe when he saw your body. If you were angry enough to throw a punch, then whoever it was you were punching deserved it, ‘cus you were one of the most level headed ones of them here. 

Jimmy? Oh, he was spirling further and further. The judgemental looks Swansea sent his way, or how Daisuke seemed to avoid him like the plague…he felt his control slipping, and he needed a way to feel in power again. To feel like he was in charge. So he took it out on Anya, the first person he’d go to when he needed to be in control. Whispering harsh words without an ounce of guilt, venom seeping past his lips and poisoning those around him.

Anya couldn’t take it anymore, the entire situation was too much. Jimmy terrified her, and the guilt was eating her from the inside out. She couldn’t handle it, rushing to the medical bay and locking the door. Curly’s stare pierced through her as Daisuke called out to her, asking if she was stuck. Anya didn’t have the heart to tell Daisuke how terrified she was, how the medical bay was her only safe place. So she told him she couldn’t leave, hoping everyone would leave her alone.

She was scared. Scared of what Jimmy would do in response to her pregnancy, her refusal to follow what he wanted. He had proven her fears right. That he was willing to kill. She thought hiding the gun or the fact that Swansea kept the axe would be enough protection, but he had killed you with his bare hands…

But sweet, sweet Daisuke was worried for Anya. Asking Jimmy for help, not wanting to see another crew member dead. Especially not Anya, you cared for her so much, he couldn’t imagine the despair you’d go through if she were to pass. 

“Anya!” Daisuke called through the thick metal door. “I brought Jimmy! We’re here to rescue you! Don’t worry! Don’t panic!” It was meant to be reassuring, but it seems like Daisuke was trying to comfort himself as well. 

“Hey,” Jimmy called out nonchalantly. “Heard the lock’s broken.”

Anya felt her heart drop, hands shaky as she refused to respond. 

“Hey. Anya!” Jimmy spoke louder, feeling irritated now. “Can you hear me?”

“...yeah, I can hear you, Jimmy,” Anya replied. Looking at the last of the paracetamol and grabbing it, sitting down beside Curly’s cot. 

“There rest of our medicine stash is in there too. Damn, this could be bad,” Jimmy grumbled, clearly not caring about Anya’s safety. “Did you really put your back into it?” “Any wrenches laying around?” Daisuke asked, the pit in his stomach only growing. “How heavy is the med kit?!”

With no response, Daisuke tried jiggling the handle again, his efforts being fruitless. 

“...Anya,” Jimmy called out coldly. “Is the door really stuck?”

“...” 

The silence caused bile rise in Daisuke’s throat. No, no no no

“No,” Anya replied strongly. 

No no no no. Not again. Daisuke tried more desperately to jiggle the handle. 

“H-huh?” Daisuke called out, trying to see any way that this wasn’t as bad as it looked. “What do you mean?!”

���Look, we’re all stressed,” Jimmy scolded, brushing off her emotions. “But you can’t go breaking down at every little hardship. Open the damn door.”

“...you were right,” Anya spoke out, hands failing to open the cap a few times. “You were right all along. I should have done this from the beginning. I always believed that our worst moments didn’t define us. Didn’t make us beyond repair.”

A strange sense of calm fell over the practicing nurse as the safety lid finally opened. It was going to be over, finally. 

“You think I wanted this either?” She laughed humorlessly, a grim smile on her lips. “Make no mistake, this isn’t my worst moment. Far from it. It’s the best one I’ll ever make.” 

“Open the door,” Jimmy ordered, clenching his fists tightly. Daisuke placed his hand on the door, that dreadful sense of hopelessness tearing his heart apart. This wasn’t happening, no way. 

“I’ll take care of it,” Were her last words before she downed the rest of the pain medication. 

“Anya?!” Daisuke called out, banging on the door. “What does that mean?!”

…

This wasn’t right. Daisuke wearily eyed the vent that held sparking cables. 

“Swansea said it’s not safe,” Daisuke tried to argue against Jimmy’s demands to enter. “I know he forgot to tell us about the pod, but he knows, like, everything about this kind of stuff. Maybe we should just wait for him to wake back up…”

“You said you could handle it,” Jimmy glared. Everything was slipping out of his control, first you, then Anya, then Swansea…he’d be damned if he let Daisuke rebel too. “Swansea taught you well, right? Time to prove it. He’ll be impressed when he wakes up. Proud. He’ll understand why we had to do this, then he can explain himself.”

“You think so?” Daisuke asks, alarm bells ringing. Glancing back at the vent, Daisuke couldn’t help but think about how you’d react. Probably fight against this, yell about how dangerous this was and if Jimmy wanted someone to crawl through that hazard then he should do it himself…but you weren’t here anymore, and Swansea was passed out from a drink he made with Jimmy…and Anya…

“Daisuke,” Jimmy spoke sternly. “Everyone’s counting on you…Captain’s orders.”

And in that moment, it really felt like this all fell onto his shoulders. Jimmy’s arguments made sense…if he could save Anya and Curly, maybe he could make both you and Swansea proud.

“Y-yeah,” Daisuke nodded, trying to hype himself up. “I got this!”

“Okay…” He made his first step towards the vent. “H-here we go…”

Grabbing the ladder, he climbed his way into the vent. A sense of claustrophobia hit him right away, trying to avoid any curling livewire or sharp metal, but it was clear this was the wrong choice. Daisuke let out a sharp gasp, feeling his body get zapped by an unseen electrical current, letting out a groan when he felt something cut his skin. He couldn’t stop now though, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it stung, how he started to feel sluggish. No, he pushed through, he needed to get to Anya, needed to make sure everything was okay. Ignoring the way tears pricked at his eyes, or how it took all his strength and energy to pull himself up into the medical bay, he needed to keep…

“Anya…?” Daisuke gasped out in horror, the pain both physical and emotional becoming too much. “...what d-did you do?”

…

Daisuke couldn’t stop squirming, he could still feel the stings of electricity, like his muscles had become a livewire themselves. The burns and cuts wouldn’t stop bleeding, and Daisuke felt worthless. This was all for nothing, and the two adults were arguing over him. 

“Don’t do anything,” Jimmy huffed, not sure if he was talking to Swansea or Daisuke. “Stop, stop, stop. I can fix this!”

Maybe it won’t all be bad…maybe you’re waiting for him. He just hopes his mom won’t blame herself, that his parents will be able to continue to live a happy life…

“Why do you keep fuckin’ saying that?” Swansea shouted. “Are you hearing yourself?!”

“I-I’m s-sorry…” Daisuke muttered out. This is all his fault, he should’ve never entered that stupid vent. It was too late for Anya anyways, and now Swansea was angry…he doesn’t even wanna think about how you’d react…

“We still have disinfectant, right?” Swansea asked, trying to think of a way to keep Daisuke alive. “The one from the extra medical stash? Get it! Now!”

Jimmy avoided Swansea’s gaze, looking down to a struggling Daisuke, grinding his teeth, “The cocktail, we…you…”

“The cocktail?!” Swansea roared, rightfully pissed. “What are you blabbering about?”

“That was your fault!” Jimmy deflected, pointing at the older man. “You would never have-”

“I-I had no choice.”

“You…” Swansea sneered, banging his fist against the wall. “Useless! You goddamn fucking idiot! There has to be something else!”

Daisuke wasn’t sure how long they left him alone, but he found himself coming to terms with his fate, feeling guilty. He had always been a useless mess up, a last minute intern who didn’t even want to be here. It seems like even his final moments were because he fucked up. 

“I’m so…rry,” Daisuke struggled to speak as Jimmy crouched next to him. “I messed…up…mgh.” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle the way his muscles continued to tense and relax, like he was being continuously electrocuted. He could feel his wounds pulse with every contraction, blood trickling out like a steady stream. 

“Don’t try to talk,” Jimmy ordered, uncapping the bottle of mouthwash, pouring it on his wounds. 

…

“...the bleeding won’t stop,” Jimmy mumbled. “Just try to stay still, Daisuke. I-I need a second to think. We can fix this.”

“Hey, kid?” Swansea called out softly. “You hear me?” Daisuke could only make a strangled groan in response, everything felt like it was on fire and he could feel his body cry out for sleep, but the pain wouldn’t let him rest. Even breathing became a task he had to focus on.

“Daisuke?” Swansea called out again, feeling his heart break further at the sight as Daisuke jolted up in pain. “Hey!” Jimmy shouted, watching in horror as Swansea picked up the axe. “Stop, stop, stop! Don’t move!”

“It’s alright Daisuke,” Swansea comforted his young intern. “Calm down. This line of work…you could have never become like miserable ol’ Swansea. What a tragedy. Decades of hauling ass for Pony Express, big mighty bruiser with all his shiny tools. This is where it got me. The good life, huh?”

“I thought you were dumber than a can of paint, always just chewing my ear off about nothing,” Swansea continued. “Useless ray of goddamn sunshine. Not an ace student, workhorse or force of ambition. Just a damn good kid trying his best. You coulda taught an old fool like me a lot.”

“...”

“Close your eyes, Daisuke.”

…

no.

no no no no no no

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go! Everything was fine! He had it all under control! Swansea had gone crazy, that’s why he killed Daisuke, that’s why Jimmy was forced to tie him up before he was another victim to the crazy madman. This wasn’t his fault. No one was letting him fix a goddamn thing! This was all because everyone stepped out of line. First you attacked him, then Anya decided to be selfish, then Swansea murdered Daisuke, now he is being attacked again. None of this was his fault, not a goddamn thing.

“I have something to say,” Swansea spoke up calmly, not batting an eye as Jimmy stood before him holding the gun. “So shut the fuck up and listen.”

But Jimmy wasn’t having it. No. He couldn’t listen, because if he listened, then he’d have to take responsibility. He’d have to admit that he failed, that they died because of his selfish actions. Clutching the gun just a bit tighter, Jimmy spoke resolutely.

“Swansea…I’m going to fix everything. We’re going to make it.”

“Fuck you.”

…

This would all be over now. It’ll all be fixed. He knew exactly what he needed to do. Curly’s stare burned through him as he carried his former Captain. This was the only way now, the only thing he could do to make this better. Swansea was right, a captain goes down with his ship, so that left only one person to take the cryopod. 

“It’s okay, Curly,” Jimmy consoled through the glass panel. “You’re going to be okay. You always had my back. I ended up hurting you even though I was trying to save us. But now you’ll survive. It’s like you said, together we can fix anything. I’m just proud I got to be your friend and co-pilot, Captain.”

“No one can hurt you now. We fixed it.”

“I…fixed it…”

[abbbbyyy]

Mozart's In The Dark

Reader(wife) X Bruce Wayne/Batman(husband)

Summery: You and Batman get hit with a gas that makes you temporality unable to move. You pass the time in fun little conversation.

Rating: Fluff

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

"I would love to kick you, but I can even feel my legs." You say, your voice strained and dry. A sadistic laugh echoes through the alley, the gas thick and suffocating in the air around you. Bruce's eyes, usually filled with fiery determination, are now glazed over, his body limp beside you.

You glance around, trying to get your bearings. The world around us is a blur of shadows and distorted sounds. The alley is narrow, lined with dumpsters and graffiti-covered walls. Above, the moon casts a feeble glow through the maze of buildings, providing just enough light to make out the outline of your attackers retreating into the distance.

"Let's do something to pass the time. Maybe it'll help keep our spirits up."

Bruce's eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but he doesn't argue. "Alright," he says, his voice a bit more clear than before.

So you start to sing, "Baby shark, doo doo doo doo doo doo…"

Bruce's eyes widen. "Really?"

"What? It's catchy." you laugh.

Bruce groans. "Catchy doesn't mean good."

"Fine," You concede, trying to think of something else. "How about this one?" You begin to sing the Batman theme song.

Bruce's eyes roll back into his head. "Oh, please, no. Not that."

"What?" you ask, feigning innocence. "It's your theme song, after all."

"And that's why it's the last thing I want to hear right now," Bruce says, his tone light despite the gravity of your situation.

"Fine," you say, pouting a little. "Then what do you want to hear?"

Bruce thinks for a moment, his breaths shallow and forced. "How about something from your playlist?"

"Alright," you say, "but only if it's not something too cheesy."

Bruce smiles faintly. "Cheesy? You mean like 'Batdance'?"

"Don't you dare," you threaten.

He chuckles weakly. "I was just testing you."

You lean your head back, the cold pavement providing little comfort. "What's on your playlist then, Bruce?"

He takes a deep, painful breath. "Well, some Mozart, some Led Zeppelin."

"Mozart?" You raise an eyebrow. "I didn't take you for a classical kind of guy."

"And you married me," he says with a smirk, despite the gravity of our situation. "You should have known I had layers."

"But Bruce, my beloved, my soulmate, you listen to Mozart?" you ask, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and amusement.

"What did you think I would listen to?" he asks, his voice a barely-there whisper as the gas starts to wear off.

"I don't know," you admit, "Maybe something more… brooding? Rock? Something emo."

Bruce lets out a small laugh, the sound surprisingly warm in the cold, desolate alley. "Emo, huh?"

"Well, you know, the whole 'Dark Knight' vibe," you tease, trying to keep the mood light.

Bruce shakes his head slightly, his movements still sluggish. "You think I sit in the batcave, brooding to emo music?"

"I didn't say that," you retort, "But it's not like I've ever seen you rocking out to Mozart while fighting crime."

"And you've seen me with emo music?" Bruce says, a small smile on his lips.

"Well, no, I haven't," you admit, "but I can imagine it."

Bruce's head turns slightly towards you, his eyes focusing with a bit more clarity. "Alright, I'll play along. What song would you pick for me?"

you think for a moment, a smirk playing on your lips. "Let's go with something Skillet, I'm thinking "Hero"."

Bruce's eyes widen. "Really?"

"What?" you ask, playing coy. "You don't think it fits?"

"Mozart," Bruce repeats, his voice gaining a bit more strength with each word, "has a certain… elegance to it. Plus, it helps me think."

Youlook at him, surprised by his revelation. "Elegance? In the heat of battle?"

"No," Bruce says firmly, "I'm not looking for a song for the heat of battle. I'm looking for something to keep me sane."

"Sane?" you repeat, the word feeling foreign in the chaos that is your life.

Bruce nods. "Sane."

"I married a complete nutjob," you murmur, the smirk on your face growing wider.

Bruce's chuckle is barely a breath, but it's there. "You say that like it's a surprise," he says.

You feel the tension in your body start to ease as the gas wears off. "Well, you do wear a cape and fight crime at night," you say, a hint of laughter in your voice.

"It's not a cape," he says, his tone mock-serious. "It's a cloak."

"Whatever you say, Mr. Wayne," you tease.

"How much longer do you think we have?" Bruce asks, his voice still strained but with a touch more urgency.

You struggle to sit up, pushing through the lingering heaviness in your limbs. "I'm not sure," you say, gritting your teeth against the pain. "But we need to move before they come back."

Bruce nods, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he tries to push himself up with his arms. "I think…I think I have an idea," he says, his voice still strained.

You watch as he fumbles with his utility belt, the leather straps and gadgets blurring before your eyes. "What are you doing?" you ask, your own voice still thick with the remnants of the gas.

"I have a shot of epinephrine," Bruce says through clenched teeth, his movements slow and deliberate. "It's for emergencies like this. It might help counteract the effects of the gas."

You watch as he fumbles with the cap, his trembling hand finally managing to remove it. The silver needle gleams in the moonlight, a beacon of hope in this otherwise grim situation.

"Here," he says, offering it to you with a forced smile. "You first."

You take the epinephrine from his hand, the cold metal sending a shiver down your spine. You know the drill; we've practiced this before. But never in a real situation. You inject yourself in the thigh, hissing as the liquid shoots into my system. For a moment, everything goes white, and then, as if a switch has been flipped, the world snaps back into focus.

Bruce watches you closely, his eyes searching for any signs of improvement. "How do you feel?" he asks, his voice stronger now.

"Better," you reply, taking a deep breath and sitting up with a grimace. "A lot better." The epinephrine is coursing through your veins, burning away the last remnants of the paralyzing gas. You hand the epinephrine back to him, and he takes it with a nod, injecting himself with the same determination.

You stand up slowly, your legs wobbly but cooperating. Bruce does the same, his cape fluttering slightly in the breeze. He looks at me, a question in his eyes. "Can you run?"

You nod, taking a tentative step. "Yeah, I think so."

Bruce stands with more ease than you expect, the epinephrine working its magic. "Good," he says, "because we need to get out of here before the cops show up. Too many questions we can't answer."

With a smirk, "Hey, start playing your Mozart for dramatic affect," you joke, trying to lighten the mood.

"Hon," he warns, his voice a bit stronger now.

You shrug, smiling. "What?"

Bruce rolls his eyes before turning serious. "We need to get back to the manor."

The sirens are closer now, the red and blue lights dancing through the narrow gaps between buildings. The gas has almost fully dissipated, and we can move more freely. Bruce takes your arm over his shoulder his grip firm but gentle, as you make your way out of the alley. Your movements are swift and calculated, years of experience guiding you through the shadows and away from the approaching authorities.

[salaimoi]

cw: implied suicide, concubine reader, grieving sukuna.

As the final hour approached and the evening shadows crept across the horizon, the air became heavy with an unspoken sense of impending finality. The room was swathed in red, lit by feeble flickering torches that cast erratic shadows on the walls, welcoming an eerie ambience in their path. The atmosphere in the room grew thicker, the scent of incense mingling with the faint but distinct whiff of death in a sickeningly sweet blend.

Ryomen Sukuna’s red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, betraying no emotion; this was not unusual. As the King of Curses, he had no need for emotions. He had never been one to care for anything or anyone, and his cold demeanor was a testament to that. But that belief was shattered the moment he stepped foot into your final resting place, forcing Sukuna to halt in place as he stared down at your body in a mix of perplexity and irritation.

“Had one too many drinks, hmm?” Sukuna rolled his eyes half annoyed, body dipping slightly so his hand could latch onto your wrist tightly. He tugged your arm upwards in an attempt to force you to stand up, still under the naive impression that you were just passed out drunk. His brows furrowed in suspicion the moment he noticed how you hung limp like a rag doll — head falling back on your shoulders while he held onto you. 

"Quit playing dead, woman. I’m not in the mood for your theatrics right now." Sukuna growled, his patience running thin with you.

The only response he received in return was a blood-curdling silence.

"Concubine?" He murmured, his tone low and raspy as panic subtly overtook the stoic man’s features in a matter of seconds. He desperately grabbed at your frame, shaking it once more in a futile attempt to force you to open your eyes — to make you say something, but it was all fruitless effort. The only thing he could do was stare blankly at you, as if his mind refused to process what was going on. “I see.” He mutters under his breath, slowly squatting before you as he continues holding onto your arm. His breath momentarily hitched in his throat as he scooped your static body in his arms, refusing to let go despite the coldness of your skin; there was no warmth whatsoever left in your body. The only thing left was regret and an immense pain as he realized this was the last chance he'd ever have to see you. To talk to you. 

"Is it an apology you’re looking for?” He finally whispered, choking back on the heavy lump of grief and heartache lodged in the back of his throat.  “I'm sorry, okay?" 

The desperation in his voice was clear as he repeated himself over and over. He knew he was grasping at straws, his apology and pleas falling on deaf ears — ears that were no longer attached to a living body. Whatever words he spoke were only met with a soul-killing silence. The body of the concubine he never dared admit to actually needing, was no longer a body; it was a corpse. And even so, he didn't feel like letting go — as if his refusal to do so could somehow force you back to life. 

His panic spread like wildfire the longer he held you, because everything he'd come to know about you, every moment shared together, all of it was no more. Your body remained unresponsive and dull, eyes shut as if you were asleep or in some kind of trance. Even the way the light from the ceiling bounced off your soft and pale skin, to the curve of your lips as he remembered them from days ago, was all surreal. But he refused to accept that this was what it looked like — that his concubine was gone just like that. 

He had never felt this way before — not even with any of his previous concubines. Every other one, he would have left to their own devices, not caring in the slightest about what became of them. But this concubine... this one was different. She made him feel things he'd spent his entire life avoiding. Sukuna didn't want to admit it, but he was afraid; he was afraid of accepting the harsh, cruel reality that you were no longer here. If he held onto you tightly enough, or if he refused to let you go, maybe, just maybe, he thought, this could somehow be a nightmare — just one big cruel, sick joke. And when he wakes up, everything will be back to normal. Back to the way things used to be between the two of you.

But despite his optimistic outlook, even he couldn’t forgo the harsh, bitter reality that laid just outside the boundaries of his dreams. 

"Concubine," he murmured, his voice barely even a whisper. "I don't want to," trembling from the trepidation he felt, his voice dropped to a whimper.

"I can’t do this without you.” 

His words came out weak and pathetic, but they still held true nonetheless. There was so much more he wanted to say to you during your final moments in his arms, but he couldn't bring himself to continue. All throughout his life, Sukuna was afraid of being, well, human. The reality was he was just as weak as you, but it took losing you in order to discover this bitter truth about himself. Emotions equaled weakness to him, so he never demonstrated an ounce of care for your existence. He never married, afraid his enemies would come after the only person he truly treasured in this miserable life. And yet, his beloved fled his side on her own accord.

Was he really that unlovable? Was the afterlife pleasant in all the ways his presence wasn’t? 

He hated himself for ever treating you like he had, for not telling you how much he loved you while your eyes still fluttered at the sight of him, but it was too late now. You were gone. Even if he couldn’t confirm it, the heavens must be delighted to finally have a real angel in their mix. All he could wish for now was that it enveloped you in the ways he never did. 

Maybe in another life he’ll tell you how much he loved your irritating defiance. The way you didn’t fear him the same way others did. The way you let your presence be known when you entered a room. The way you voiced thoughts others didn’t dare voice. 

Maybe in another life he’ll allow himself to be human for a change. 

For you.  

𝓃𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈.ᐟ only adding this because of @luvvsoft ‘s response when beta reading LOL

i’m so sorry that he only addresses reader as concubine even in her final moments, i just really loatheeeee using y/n ૮ ྀི ◞ ◟ ა ⠀

[luvismenu]

Only When It's Us — JJK ,, index ,, about taglist

Chapter 02 — distraction ✎

fic summary: you both say it’s nothing serious, but with every touch and argument, it gets harder to stay away.

nsfw warnings: smut; lots of kissing, lots of touching lol, oral (male recieving, fem too? kinda), sucking fingers, doggy style, unprotected sex (shes using birth control so yep, be safe!) use of ‘good girl’

wc: 6k

📜 permanent taglist: @lovieku @kyuupii @fluttershypoo @deluluisdasolulu @ddanasjk @mar-lo-pap @jungkooks-wife @diamondjeon @nnybtitts08 @lil0u0 @butnotmontana @fr0ggieth1nk @minimoninini @whoa-jo @lola75111 @iswearimover5feetall @rispwr @leemonis-blog

📜 series taglist: @deepikhaprakash @rjooniesdimples @sweetmimosa28

abt series taglist: send me an ask w the series title !!

“i have to go.”

“why don’t you just come back home? you can start over, and this time, maybe you’ll be more like your brother.”

you sigh.

“mom, i don’t want to be him,” you say quietly, trying to keep the frustration out of your voice. on the other end, you hear her let out a soft, disapproving tsk, a sound that always manages to make you feel a little smaller.

“aren’t you clearly struggling with school? if you were here with us, with your brother, we’d help you. you’d be fine,” she insists, as if coming home would magically fix everything.

you roll your eyes.

“i really have to go.”

“___, just listen to—”

but before she can finish, you end the call, staring at the blank screen for a moment.

there’s an unsettling feeling in your chest, one that refuses to fade, no matter how much you try to brush it off. its like a quiet reminder of all the things you’re trying to avoid.

go back home?

after everything you’ve been through to study what you want, to finally live on your own terms. every argument, every latenight fight with your parents, all just to claim a bit of freedom.

you worked so hard to break free from their expectations, to stand on your own.

you even transferred universities just to escape the constant pressure back in your hometown. no matter what you did, it was never enough. every choice was somehow wrong, not ‘their way.’

you can’t go back now.

not until you’ve made it, not until you have something real to prove them wrong. you have to be successful, if only to show them that your way was the right way all along.

“hey, are you done thinking? never seen anyone contemplate cheerios this hard.”

min yoongi’s low voice pulls you out of your thoughts. you look up, finding him behind the cash register, his lips curving into a small smile.

“just wondering if i can actually trust your store’s products. what if you are some sort of cheerio secret agent and you're trying to poison me?” you joke, handing him the money.

“oh no, you figured it out. we’ve been poisoning the cheerios. now how am i gonna explain to my boss that our mission failed?” he dramatically placesb a hand on his forehead as if you revealed his deepest darkest secret. you can’t help but chuckle, the tension in your chest loosening just a bit.

“bad day?” he asks, his gaze softening a bit as he opens the cash register.

min yoongi; your friend.

well, he's more like your senior. he graduated last year and he is working parttime at this convenience store cuz he thinks in this way he could spend some time outside.

you didn't question him about it any further.

you don’t usually come here unless it’s an emergency, and breakfast for tomorrow qualifies as pretty urgent, or so you tell yourself.

“something like that,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

he nods slightly. “well,” he begins, “i’m sorry i can’t give you a discount,” he adds, trying to lighten the mood.

you chuckle, the corners of your mouth lifting. “aw, that’s too bad. i thought i might get these cheerios for free.”

he smiles softly, “maybe some other time,"

you smile back at yoongi and turn to leave. but then you almost bump your head against a man’s chest, stumbling back in surprise.

that was close.

you look up to apologize, but your words get caught in your throat as you take in his appearance.

he’s handsome.

no, that doesn’t even begin to cover it. his face is sculpted to perfection, with sharp cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass. his dark eyes seem to pierce right through you, and his long, dark hair falls effortlessly over his forehead.

but there’s something else,

he looks... mad?

you quickly gather yourself, your cheeks warming slightly. “sorry,” you blurt out, stepping aside to let him pass.

as you walk out of the store, you catch a snippet of conversation behind you.

“are you still upset about her, jungkook?” yoongi’s voice carries just enough for you to hear.

you try to shake it off, not wanting to dwell on whatever is unfolding behind you. it’s not your business, after all.

you step outside, the cool air hitting your face as you leave the store, and try to focus on the tasks ahead of you.

“it doesn’t make any sense, hyung,” jungkook scoffs, the frustration bubbling up inside him.

“when did she ever make sense?” yoongi replies dryly, not backing down as he meets jungkook’s glare. the tension in the air feels thick, but yoongi isn’t afraid to speak his mind.

“from my point of view, you’re now a free man. free from all the bullshit you’ve been through,” yoongi explains, hoping to lift jungkook’s spirits.

“what bullshit? i was happy. we were happy,” jungkook frowns, his confusion evident. he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, struggling to comprehend yoongi’s words.

“that’s what she wanted you to think,” yoongi replies, his tone serious. “and to be honest, that’s what you always did. you did whatever she wanted. you changed for her.”

“i loved her,” jungkook insists, his voice a bit softer but still filled with conviction, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

“did you? really?” yoongi presses, searching jungkook’s eyes for any hint of doubt. he knows this is a tough conversation, but it needs to be talked out.

jungkook looks away and mutters. “you don’t get it,”

yoongi’s expression softens. he presses his lips together as he looks at jungkook, feeling bad for him. “i’m sorry, jungkook. but you really have to let it go now. it’s been two weeks. it’s time to start moving on.”

jungkook stays silent.

instead of responding, he reaches for a lollipop displayed near the cash register, the bright colors contrasting sharply with his gloomy mood. he hands yoongi some money, more than what the lollipop costs, as if he’s paying for more than just candy.

“do you want the change, or can i keep it as a tip for my great service slash friendship?” yoongi tries to lighten the mood, hoping to bring a smile to jungkook’s face.

and it does.

jungkook’s lips curl into a faint smile, a small but genuine response. “keep it,” he says softly.

as jungkook turns to leave, yoongi watches him go, feeling sad for his friend.

“bad day indeed.”

you're sat on a bench in the park near the convenience store, lost in your own thoughts. the quiet sounds of the evening settle around you, the faint rustle of leaves, the distant hum of traffic, and your own sighs mingling with the cool air.

you’re not really thinking about anything in particular, just letting your mind wander in that aimless way it does when everything feels overwhelming.

then, a loud voice cuts through your thoughts.

“no, i know you're hiding something from me!” someone snaps, his voice taut with irritation. “fine! have it your way then.”

curious, you glance over and recognize him immediately; the same man from earlier at the store, the one you’d nearly bumped into.

he’s pacing as he talks on his phone, one hand running through his dark hair in exasperation. his jaw is clenched, his brows furrowed, and you can practically feel the tension radiating off him even from a distance.

after a moment, he ends the call with an aggravated sigh, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he makes his way into the park, still visibly upset. he barely notices his surroundings as he walks closer to where you’re sitting.

he sighs, tilting his head back and closing his eyes, muttering something under his breath as if willing the frustration to melt away. you can’t help but stare a little, like an idiot.

then his eyes snap open and land directly on you.

“got a problem with me?” his voice is sharp, cutting through the silence between you.

you blink, startled, and stand up instinctively. “excuse me?”

he turns fully to face you, his eyes never leaving yours. “i asked, you got a problem with me?”

“no.” you shake your head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“good.”

wow. nice attitude.

just as you’re about to walk away, he calls out again.

“never seen you around here before.”

“pardon?” you turn back, surprised.

“you’re yoongi's friend, right?” he asks,

you cross your arms, giving him a wary look. “why do you care?”

he shrugs, almost nonchalant. “my bad, just curious. never seen yoongi smile at a normal customer before, so i assumed.”

“oh,” you reply, softening just a bit. “well, i guess you could say we're friends.”

he raises an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “you guess?”

you offer a small shrug of your own. “he used to help me when i was still a freshman, and he still tries to whenever he can. i'd say he's like my teacher, in a way. it’s not like we hang out or anything, though.”

he tilts his head, considering your words. “well, consider yourselves friends. trust me, he doesn’t just help anyone.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, still wary. “and who are you, exactly?”

“jeon jungkook,” he says, extending a hand with a surprisingly polite nod. instinctively, you reach out and shake it, his grip firm. “since you're yoongi's friend, i think we go to the same university. though this is the first time i’m seeing you.”

“same, i am ___,” you pull your hand back.

“what are you doing here, in the middle of the night? didn’t your parents ever tell you not to go out alone?” he asks, the way he talks is somewhere between teasing and serious. you can't quiet get what it is but something about it grates on your nerves, like he's playing at being concerned but in a way that feels almost mocking.

“i could ask you the same thing,” you shoot back, meeting his gaze head on.

he doesn’t flinch, only tilts his head slightly. “i always come here,” he says, his voice calm, almost like a matterof fact.

“same,” you respond. “during the day.”

he quirks a brow, “so why are you in my night shift?”

you scoff, a laugh slipping out before you can stop it. “this isn’t your place or ‘shift,’ you know."

“well, you come here during the day; i come here at night. sounds like shifts to me,” he says with a shrug, and you catch the playfulness on his face.

“guess i’m overtiming, then,” you say, glancing away to hide your own smirk. “don’t mind me.”

he stays silent.

“you’ve got your own shit to deal with, huh?” he says, his voice breaking the quiet.

“why are you talking to me?” you blurt out, catching him a little off guard. “i mean, you don’t even know me.”

he raises an eyebrow, unphased. “i could ask you the same thing,” he replies, mimicking your answer from before.

you narrow your eyes, folding your arms. “i don’t think i want to talk about my problems with a random stranger.”

“problems…” he echoes, looking you up and down like he’s trying to figure you out. “let me guess. got into a fight with your boyfriend?”

“no,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes. “i don’t have one.” for a second, you think you catch a flicker of surprise on his face. “what about you? girlfriend mad at you?”

his face shifts, something almost vulnerable passing over his features before he looks away. “guess you could say that,” he mutters. “since she broke things off with me.”

a silence stretches between you two.

“i’m… sorry to hear that,” you finally say, feeling the awkwardness settle around you.

you didn't expect that.

honestly, the idea of someone like him getting dumped hadn’t even crossed your mind. a guy who looks like that—that intense aura—doesn’t exactly seem like the type to get left behind.

you assumed he’d be the one calling the shots, the one walking away. but here he is, single and clearly dealing with the aftermath of something that’s weighing on him. its surprising.

a thought crosses yourmind.

if someone could leave him, someone who had a place in his life and a claim to his heart, maybe he’s not as perfect as he seems on the outside. maybe there’s something beneath the surface, something that’s harder to deal with than his looks would suggest.

it’s like a puzzle you didn’t even mean to start solving, yet here you are, wondering if there’s more to him than just that handsome face.

but then you shake the thought away. he’s a stranger. a random guy you happened to bump into, quite literally, at a park in the middle of the night. it’s not like you’ll see him again after tonight. or, at least, that’s what you’re telling yourself.

because, really, why should you care?

whatever his story is, it’s none of your business.

“anyway, hope you figure your problems out.” he says, his gaze flickering away as if he’s eager to dodge any deeper conversation.

“likewise,” you reply.

without warning, he pulls a lollipop from his pocket, holding it out to you. “here,” he says, waiting for you to take it.

you reach out slowly, raising an eyebrow. “thanks?”

he smirks, “again, did your parents never tell you not to take candy from strangers?”

“maybe i like to be a little rebellious,” you say, smirking back at him and he shakes his head smiling.

“well, go ahead, eat it. i don’t want you tossing it away. i spent a lot on that sucker,” he says, a playful grin spreading across his face. despite the oddness of the moment, a corner of your mouth quirks up.

you unwrap the lollipop, examining it with a critical eye before giving him a look that says it all.

he catches it, tilting his head in curiosity. “what?”

“i don’t think i like raspberry flavor,” you admit, holding the lollipop up like a trophy of sorts.

he squints at you, “you’ve never tasted one before?”

you shrug, trying to sound nonchalant. “i don’t like raspberries, so i’m guessing this is more of the same.”

he shakes his head, lips twitching into a smirk. “that’s pretty bold, making assumptions without even trying it.”

“just give it a taste; maybe you'll like it,” he suggests, a teasing smile forming on his lips, clearly wanting you to try it. deep down, he doesn't even like raspberry flavor; he just picked it out randomly at the store.

“uh, no thanks. i don’t want that nasty taste on my tongue,” you reply, scrunching your nose a little . “but thanks, you could have—”

your words are abruptly cut off as he grabs your hand, the lollipop still held tightly between your fingers. in one swift motion, he leans in, wrapping his mouth around it. his tongue swirls around the candy, and then he pulls it out, his lips glistening with a reddish-pink hue that matches the flavor.

you're completely taken aback, eyes widening in shock.

oh what the fuck.

“yeah, you’re right. it does taste nasty,” he says, licking his lips as he releases your hand. “give it to me, i'll just throw it away or something”

suddenly, the lollipop feels trivial compared to what he just did. you stand there, completely speechless, your mind and heart racing as you try to process what jus happened.

“what?” he stares at you.

“you’re good with your tongue,” you say, the words slipping out before you can really think them through.

he pauses, his eyes widening for a second, and he chokes on nothing, almost like he’s been caught off guard mid-breath. “uh, what?” he finally manages, blinking rapidly.

realizing how that might’ve sounded, “i just meant... the lollipop. you seemed pretty skilled with it,” you clarify, though you’re aware it’s not really helping.

what are you even trying to say?

he looks at you, a smirk playing on his lips now. “uh-huh, sure,” he says, teasing you. “that’s what you meant.”

you roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. “don’t flatter yourself, i was just making an observation.”

but the way he’s looking at you now, dark eyes glittering with amusement and something else you can’t quite place, makes it hard to pretend that slip of the tongue didn’t mean more than you intended.

“so, do you want to suck on it?”

“huh?” you blink.

suck on what now?

“the lollipop” he clarifies, a small smile playing on his lips.

oh.

you clear your throat, fighting to keep a neutral expression. “no, definitely not, especially now that you had your tongue all over it.” you try to scrunch your nose, but any attempt at showing disgust falls flat with the heat rising in your cheeks.

“alright then, just asking if you changed your mind,” he shrugs, still holding your gaze.

“i still don’t want it,” you say quickly, trying to sound convincing.

“okay.” he blinks, unfazed.

“okay,” you repeat, awkwardly.

he gestures to the lollipop still in your hand. “uh, so… are you gonna keep holding it?”

you glance down, pulling your hand back. “i’m gonna throw it away,” you declare, though it feels a bit ridiculous now, given everything that just happened.

“i hope so,” he says, one side of his lips quirking up.

why do you kind of like his smile?

you try to shake your thought off, tossing the lollipop into a nearby trash can, trying to act as casual as possible.

“well, guess that's the end of that,” you say, hoping to sound nonchalant. he nods as he crosses his arms.

you raise an eyebrow, mimicking his stance. “do you usually hand out half-eaten lollipops to strangers?”

he laughs, low and soft, the sound surprisingly warm in the quiet night. “only when they look like they need a little distraction.”

you tilt your head. “oh? and what made you think i needed one?”

his eyes meet yours, his expression softening. “just a hunch,” he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. “we all got stuff we’d rather not think about, right?”

a pause.

there’s something unspoken between you two, a quiet understanding in the way you hold each other’s gaze.

he's right.

you are stressing about things you'd rather not think about, things that seem to cling to your mind no matter how hard you try to push them away.

and then there's him, a stranger but somehow not, going through his own mess. you can see it in his tired eyes, the way he keeps looking off into the distance as if trying to shake off whatever weight he's carrying.

you realize you don’t mind it; you don’t mind his company, or even the strange comfort of this shared silence.

both of you are here, each trying to forget whatever it is that’s eating at you. maybe that’s why this moment feels so easy.

”yeah,” you finally say, “guess we do.”

“i gotta go now,” you announce, hoping to put an end to whatever weird tension is building between the two of you.

he doesn't say anything. no goodbyes, no attempts to stop you. so you turn and start walking away, trying to shake off whatever just happened.

but before you can take more than a few steps, his hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist. you stop, surprised, and turn back to face him. his grip isn’t tight, but it’s firm enough to make you pause.

you meet his gaze, and there's something in his eyes—something intense, something that makes your stomach flip.

“would you like a distraction?” he asks, voice low, almost like a whisper meant just for you.

you blink, not sure if you heard him right. “what?” you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

instead of answering, he tugs you gently closer. your body stumbles forward, and your hands land on his chest to steady yourself. his heartbeat is strong under your palm, and suddenly, everything feels too close, too intense.

he looks down at you, his eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something. “i think i do,” he mutters. “don’t you?”

your mind is racing, trying to make sense of this.

is he asking what you think he’s asking?

he’s a stranger. someone you barely know beyond a couple of conversations and an awkward encounter in a convenience store.

yet there’s something about the way he’s looking at you, something that makes it hard to think straight.

“yes,” you hear yourself say before you can even process it.

his lips curve into a satisfied smile, and without another word, he leans in and kisses you.

the world seems to stop as his mouth meets yours. it’s not hesitant or soft; it’s urgent, as if he’s been wanting this for longer than the short time you’ve known him. his hands slide up to your face, cupping your cheeks as he deepens the kiss.

your fingers clutch his shirt, feeling the heat of his body against yours. it’s messy and impulsive, and he doesn't even care that you’re both in the middle of a park, under the dim glow of the streetlights.

right now, all you can think about is him. the way he tastes, the way he kisses you desperately.

maybe you do need this distraction.

his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer, and you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, letting the kiss deepen. his lips are soft, and you moan as if you're melting into the kiss. there's something about the way his mouth moves against yours; like he's been waiting to do this.

“wait—” you pant as pull back, your heart pounding against your ribs, trying to gather your thoughts. he looks into your eyes, his brows furrowing slightly as he asks in a low voice, “what happened?”

“we're... we're outside,” you point out, glancing around.

he tilts his head, his brows raising slightly as if that’s the least of his concerns. “so?” his voice is low and almost teasing, like he finds your hesitation cute.

you let out a scoffing laugh, “what do you mean so?wee’re literally in a children’s park.” you gesture to the swings and slides nearby, deserted at this hour but still... it’s a public space.

he pauses for a second, “my car’s parked just over there,” he nods towards a sleek vehicle at the edge of the park, his lips curling into a smile. “we could, uh... relocate or—”

before you can even process that, your curiosity gets the better of you. “wait— you have a car?” you cut in, a little surprised.

he chuckles. “yeah, and it’s a pretty one at that.” there’s a glint in his eyes that says he’s enjoying this back-and-forth with you, like it’s some sort of game.

you sigh, still trying to wrap your head around the craziness of this entire situation. “okay,” you murmur, almost to yourself, deciding to just go with it. what’s the worst that could happen?

he releases his grip on you, but only so he can grab your hand and guide you towards the car. the walk feels a little awkward now, a heavy tension hanging in the air. you're not sure what to say.

what’s the protocol for walking towards a car with a guy you’re about to hook up with?

as if sensing your nerves, he gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “come on, my car’s comfy. don’t worry,” he says with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. the way he’s holding your hand... it’s surprisingly tender, making it feel just a little less awkward.

when you reach the car, he opens the back seat door for you. you hesitate for a second, “you won’t, like, kidnap me or something, right?” you half-joke.

he lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “for someone who’s so aware of the things you shouldn’t be doing, you sure do them anyway,” he teases. his words send a shiver down your spine, both a warning and an invitation.

but you ignore that nagging voice in the back of your mind. instead, you climb into the seat and he follows you right away.

“why are you—” your words are cut off as he crashes his lips against yours, the urgency in his kiss making you lose your breath. one of his hands grips your waist, pulling you against him, while the other tangles in your hair, tugging gently to tilt your head for better access.

the way his lips move against yours, hot and hungry, sends sparks shooting down your spine, and before you know it, you're moaning into his mouth, matching his intensity. your hands scramble to find something to hold onto, eventually locking behind his neck as if he's your lifeline.

“are we seriously gonna fuck in your car?” you gasp, your words shaky when he pulls away just enough to start trailing hot kisses down the side of your neck. your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer.

“no,” he breathes and sucks on a sensitive spot just beneath your ear, his teeth grazing the skin before he soothes it with a slow lick. “just couldn’t stop myself,” he admits, voice low and breathy, and then his mouth is back on yours, devouring you with a hunger that makes your head spin.

your hands move restlessly over his broad shoulders, wanting to feel more, wishing his clothes were gone so you could touch him everywhere.

his hands roam your body like he's memorizing it, fingers pressing into the curves of your waist, teasingly brushing against your chest. each touch has you arching into him, wishing he'd just tear your clothes apart already.

it's all too good.

too overwhelming, and before you know it, five minutes have passed with the two of you tangled in each other. when he finally pulls back, panting, his lips are swollen and glistening. your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to catch your breath, both of you staring at each other in the dim light of the car.

he’s leaning back slightly, his hard on pressing against your thigh. it’s impossible not to notice how turned on he is, and it only makes your own arousal spike.

you're so fucking wet right now.

you’re laid back on the seat, eyes locked on him, watching the way he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, pushing it back revealing his forehead.

“hotel? or my place?” he asks, trying to catch his breath “hotel’s just a minute away, but my place… well, it’s a bit further.”

you can practically see the options laid out in your mind like a checklist.

a) go to the hotel, have your fun, and slip away without looking back. no strings, no regrets. just a quick fuck and disappear like it never happened.

b) go to his place, let him fuck the shit out of you, see if he’s worth all this heat between your thighs. maybe wake up in his bed with his arms still wrapped around you... and if he's good enough, maybe get his number so it doesn’t have to be a one time thing.

you bite your lip, your decision already made before you even realize it.

“yours.”

the drive to his apartment is quick, the tension between you both barely held back. you're glad it’s late at night, because the two of you can’t seem to keep your hands off each other and you don't want anyone witnessing it.

the second you step into his apartment, the door slams shut behind you, and it's a scramble to rid each other of clothing. shirts are yanked off, belts undone, pants shoved down until you're both stumbling towards his bedroom in a mess of heated kisses and needy touches.

“o-oh fuck—yes baby, suck it just like that,” jungkook throws his head back, moaning, his breath ragged. he’s sprawled on the bed, legs spread wide, hands gripping the sheets. you're on your knees between his thighs, sucking him hard, your lips stretching around his thick length.

you glance up at him, eyes half lidded, watching the way his abs flex as he tries to keep himself steady. “shit... you look so fucking hot,” he rasps out, voice rough. his gaze darkens, and he pushes himself up, one hand threading through your hair.

“can you take it, baby?” he asks, his voice low, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

you know exactly what he’s asking. you nod, barely managing it with your mouth full, and he smiles, almost wickedly, his eyes gleaming.

“good,” he murmurs, his grip tightening just enough on your hair. “tap me if it’s too much.” and with that, he starts moving his hips, fucking into your mouth with slow, deep thrusts.

you gag slightly as he pushes deeper, but you relax your throat, trying to take him in. the room is filled with the wet, obscene sounds of him moving in and out, his groans echoing off the walls.

“fuck—you’re taking me so well, baby,” he praises, his voice thick and raspy, sending a wave of heat straight to your core. each time his cock hits the back of your throat, it forces a choked gasp from him, his hands instinctively tightening in your hair.

your eyes water, tears pooling at your lashes, but you don’t stop, even as your throat aches. your nails dig into his firm thighs, using them for balance as he fucks your throat. you want to show him just how much you can handle.

“i’m gonna—” he grunts, voice rough and strained. a hot burst of his release fills your mouth, and you swallow it all, not breaking eye contact with him for a second. his chest heaves as he watches you, mesmerized, as your tongue slides slowly along his length, cleaning up every drop. his jaw clenches, the sight clearly driving him wild.

“get up,” he orders, voice still a little breathless, and you obey instantly, letting him pull you to your feet. “on the bed, all fours.”

you get onto the mattress, positioning yourself as he asked. there's a moment of stillness as you feel his gaze roam over your exposed body. your heart races, anticipation building as you wait for his next move.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, leaning in closer until his breath is hot against your soaked core. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe along your folds, and your eyes flutter shut, a soft, breathy moan escaping your lips. his mouth envelops your pussy, sucking and licking with an rhythm that makes your thighs tremble.

he pulls back just enough to catch his breath before moving up, positioning himself between your legs. his right hand trails upward, skimming over your skin until his fingers brush against your lips.

instinctively, you part them, taking his fingers into your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue around them. the low chuckle that escapes him tells you just how much he enjoys it.

“you like that, hm?” he asks. you moan softly around his fingers, your response muffled but desperate.

he withdraws his fingers, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. leaning down, he wraps an arm around your waist, lifting you slightly until your back is against his chest. you can feel his length pressing against your ass, you move your hips a little causing a little friction.

his hands slide over your breasts, kneading them with just enough pressure to send shivers down your spine.

you melt into his touch, your head lolling back against his shoulder as his fingers pinch and roll your hardened nipples, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

“want me to fuck you, baby?” his voice is soft against your shoulder as he places feather light kisses along your skin. he nips gently, his hands never stopping their teasing, and you can’t help the whimper that escapes when his fingers pinch just a bit harder.

“y-yes,” you mewl, voice shaky with need, “fuck me, jungkook.”

he squeezes your breasts harder, a groan rumbling from his chest as he sinks his teeth lightly into the curve of your shoulder.

“yeah? can i fuck you raw?” he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

“yes,” you gasp, your voice barely more than a whimper. “p-please.”

his grip on you loosens slightly, and he leans back to look at you, his eyes dark, like he's stopping himself. “you sure?” he asks, one last time, his tone gentle but urgent.

you nod quickly, breathless. “i’m on the pill,” you assure him, and the tension in his shoulders eases.

“fuck. okay, bend over.”

without hesitation, you resume your previous position, arching your back and presenting yourself to him. he groans softly at the sight, his hand sliding down to rub slow circles over your entrance.

he teases you, slipping a finger inside, making you moan softly as your walls flutter around him. he withdraws his finger, watching the way you clench around nothing, desperate for more.

grabbing his cock, he taps the swollen tip against your slick hole. you whine, impatience leaking into your voice, “just fuck me already.”

a smirk curves his lips, and without another word, he pushes into you.

you grip the sheets tightly as you take him in fully, your walls stretching to accommodate his thick length. a choked gasp escapes your lips, eyes squeezing shut at the delicious burn that quickly morphs into pleasure.

each inch fills you so completely, leaving you breathless, your body trembling at the feeling.

“fuck,” he groans behind you, his voice low and rough, a sound that makes your toes curl. “you’re so tight, baby... taking me so fucking good.” the words are almost a growl, filled with barely restrained control as he fights the urge to pound into you.

his hands move to your hips, gripping them hard enough to leave marks, steadying himself as he sinks even deeper.

your moans spill freely now, raw and needy, muffled slightly by the pillow you bury your face into. he starts to move, slowly at first, pulling out just enough before thrusting back in, his cock brushing against that sweet spot inside you.

the rhythm is torturously slow, each stroke making you whimper, your back arching even further in a silent plea for more.

“please... more,” you manage to gasp out, your voice shaky. “jungkook, i need it.. need you.”

“yeah?” he rasps, picking up the pace, thrusts becoming sharper, each one driving you into the mattress. “want it harder, baby? want me to ruin you?”

“yes.. yes mmph- more!” you cry, your voice breaking as he slams into you harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room. your nails claw at the sheets, the friction of his hips against your ass making stars dance behind your eyelids.

his fingers snake around to your front, finding your swollen clit, and he rubs it in tight, quick circles. your entire body jolts, your hips bucking back against him as you let out a loud, broken moan.

“oh, fuck, that’s it, that's a good fucking girl,” he hisses, feeling you clench around him, your walls fluttering as you near the edge.

“you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?” he growls against your ear, bending over you now, his hot breath fanning against your neck. he bites down on your shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to drive you wild.

“you're gonna cum like the good girl you are?”

“yes n-ngh.. i’m close.. s-so close,” you whimper, your thighs trembling uncontrollably. his fingers press harder against your clit, his thrusts turning frantic.

“cum with me, baby” he demands, his voice thick and commanding. that’s all it takes. your body shatters. your vision going white as you scream his name. your walls squeeze him so tightly, milking his cock, and with a deep, guttural groan, he loses himself too, spilling inside you as his thrusts grow sloppy.

he stays buried inside you, his chest heaving against your back, both of you panting heavily. he leans down to press soft, lazy kisses along your shoulder.

after everything that just happened. you've made up your mind.

you're definitely going to ask for his number.

a/n: erm.. don't get into random strangers cars !! haha

[xoxo-sarah]

Do you think you could do a darylxreader where he takes it upon himself to teach her bushcraft skills bc her fire making skills are absolute trash despite her eagerness to prove they aren't. -❌️⭕️❌️⭕️

Patience

↝a/n: rushed but I hope you still like it! 🩷 Thanks for requesting.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl Dixon, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 11.9.24

You tried ignoring the eye on you, but that didn't do much to help. If anything, it frustrated you more. The whole day was already too much. When you had agreed to go with Daryl, everything was fine. You were in a decent mood.

Then, a buck showed up. It was beautiful. The horns stood strong, the south twitching. It was looking around, glassy eyes shining. After admiring it, you reached back, right into the quiver on your back. Your fingers fumbled, and the arrow fell onto the crunchy leaves below. The buck was quick to run in the opposite direction.

As if on cue, your stomach growled. You threw your head back in frustration.

Daryl watched, brows furrowed. “I saw a squirrel over there.” He pointed to the left of where the buck had been standing. You stomped your way over, not saying anything to him.

Daryl carried the squirrels over his shoulder, thoughts running through his mind, thanks to the silence. You hadn't said a word since you two had left. He could see the gears turning in your own head.

“Stop right here. It's gettin' dark.” He hung the squirrels up on a nearby branch, sliding his bag off his shoulder. Shrugging the thin jacket off, he laid it on the ground, offering a little more comfort than the twigs and leaves of the wood floor.

Sitting down on the edge of the fabric, you shrugged your own bag off.

Scrounging up some leaves and twigs, you put it in a circular shape. Next, your hands were working quick to make a flame. Maybe too quick.

The frustration was growing on your brow. Again, Daryl silently watched.

Grumbling, you threw the sticks a few feet away.

You huffed, the twigs refusing to catch fire despite your best efforts. The frustration was boiling over.

Daryl watched for a moment before kneeling beside you. “Here, you're goin' too fast.”

You scoffed, “No I'm not.” He ignored you.

He took the flint and steel from your hands, demonstrating the proper technique with practiced ease.

You watched closely, trying to ignore the embarrassment creeping in. “I know how to do it,” you muttered, though your tone lacked conviction.

Daryl smirked slightly, “Ain't about knowin'. It's about patience.” He handed the tools back to you. “Now, try again. Slow this time.”

Taking a deep breath, you followed his instructions, striking the flint with more control. This time, a small flame flickered to life, and your eyes widened with triumph.

“See? Told ya,” Daryl said, a hint of pride in his voice.

You smiled for the first time that day, the warmth of the fire matching the warmth spreading in your chest. “Thanks.”

He nodded, settling back against a tree. “No problem. We'll make a survivalist outta you yet.”

Your mood changed for the better. The frustration from before wasn't warranted. Truthfully, you couldn't remember why you were mad to begin with. Usually going into the woods with Daryl was relaxing. Today just wasn't one of those days, at least, not at the beginning. Now, you were willing to talk, even ask questions about survival tips and tricks.

“Do you ever get frustrated out here?”

Daryl looked at you, considering the question. “Yeah, sometimes. But that's part of it. Ain't always easy, but it's worth it.”

You nodded, taking in his words. “I guess I just need to be more patient.”

He chuckled softly. “Patience ain't somethin' you just have. It's somethin' you learn. And you're gettin' there.”

You felt a sense of relief wash over you. “Thanks, Daryl. For everything.”

“Anytime,” he replied, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “Now, let's get these squirrels cookin'.”

You and Daryl made quick work of skinning the squirrels, bellies grumbling with hunger.

You felt something fall in your left hand. Stopping your movements, you looked up.

Another water droplet fell on your face, sliding down the side of your nose. Soon, more droplet fell between the tree leaves, sizzling on the fire. The frustration was quick to come back, “What the fu-”

Daryl glanced up at the sky, then back at you. “Looks like it's gonna pour.”

You sighed, feeling the frustration bubble up again. “Great, just what we need.”

He stood up, grabbing a tarp from his pack. “We gotta move fast. Help me set this up.”

Together, you worked quickly to rig up a makeshift shelter, the rain starting to fall more steadily. The fire sizzled and spat as the droplets hit it, but you managed to cover it just in time.

“Guess we won't be cooking those squirrels tonight,” you muttered, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

Daryl shook his head. “We'll find a way. Always do.”

You couldn't help but admire his calm in the face of yet another challenge. “Doesn't any of this get to you?”

He shrugged, adjusting the tarp. “Been through worse. You learn to roll with it.”

As the rain continued to fall, you settled under the tarp, feeling a strange sense of peace despite the situation. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to understand what Daryl meant about patience and rolling with the punches.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[mrs-pianofandom-98]

Can I be good..?

Agatha has always had a tendency to push people away. To deny herself any good because she knows it never last. Even when her girls make it hard for her to try to push…(Currently going through a breakup so you can all suffer with me)

(..Agatha’s thoughts..)

It was a saturday morning agatha had prompted to sleep alone without any of her lovers that night. She just wanted a moment and they all understood knowing they all had those moments. But she hadn’t slept. She knew it was one of her bad nights. She had tossed and turned,got up to redo her lesson plans or to read her text. She knew if she just went to lilia she would make her some tea or to Rio she would hold Agatha till she fell asleep.

But everytime she found the longing or the want to go and see one of them she pulled herself back. She knew she had been closed off and snippy all day,she didn’t think she could go out there and apologize and ask for something..anything to make her head quiet. Because the Agatha Harkness didn’t apoligize when she was the one being annoyed! Annoyed by billy’s constent updates through his classes (she asked him to do) or Jennifers blubbering about her work (Agatha loved the way her eyes lit up when ranting). She was the one allowed to be annoyed!

She groaned as she set up in her bed feeling her head pounding as it was just as fed up as she was. She tried to wipe away the exhaustion as she went downstairs and smelt breakfast. They all were off today, a rare occurrence (Of course she had to have a bad day and ruin it). Lilia was in the kitchen swaying about with her pulled up still in her soft yellow nightgown humming to herself as she flipped the pancakes. Agatha had caught Alice sitting on the counter next to the stove in her white tank top and black sweats looking at Lilia with the same love struck look the investigator gave them all. (She had grown to love that look)

“Morning ags!” Alice said as she looked up at her girlfriend. Usually Agatha would give her a wink or a “good morning dear” but she just hummed as she poured herself a cup of coffee. (Trying to ignore the saddened look Alice had given her) As she looked up at Jennifer and Rio coming downstairs as they had both slept in Jen’s room last night. Jennifer kissed both Lilia and Alice a goodmorning as Rio went over to Agatha as she leaned in but Agatha blocked her by putting up her mug “Not right now you have morning breath.” Agatha said as she walked past Rio into the living room grabbing the paper.

Rio narrowed her eyes at the action “What’s got you so moody amor.” She asked slightly hurt with a hint of annoyance as they knew how agatha got when she was in a mood. Agatha hated (adored) how they knew her actions so well she was so used to being able to make anyone leave her alone.

“Nothing. And I don’t get moody please, that's for the teenager.” She scoffed at the comparison. “Then care to explain why we’ve gotten the backlash of whatever has gotten you into a bitchy mood.” Jennifer questioned as she took a sip of her tea. At this point Agatha noticed the stove was turned off and they all were looking at her.

“Is having a bad headache such a crime jen.” Agatha snipped harsher than she intended. Jennifeir eyes narrowed as she looked at agatha. “It is when you're taking it out on us again.” The way Jennifer said again made agatha tense as she recalled how many times she had done that before but she wasn’t going to admit it. Agatha quickly put up her walls of indifference as she rolled her eyes.

“Whatever do you mean dear,I’m fine.” Agatha knew how much Jennifer hated the condescending and false kind tone Agatha used. Jennifer had stood up from the table walking straight in front of Agatha. “Agatha Please,” she said,her voice softening recognizing agatha's defense. “Your not fine and you know it. You’ve been distant,snappy,and cold. You barley talk,rarely even look at us anymore. It’s like your avoiding us.”

Agatha felt a pain of guilt at Jennifer’s words. She knew it was true but didn’t want to acknowledge the fact she caused this subconsciously on purpose. Agatha looked away, ignoring the lump in her throat. “I’m so sorry I haven't been able to be the perfect partner like all of you jen.” Agatha said harshly as she stood up. Jennifer looked slightly hurt before her eyes narrowed “I said nothing about that Agatha. I didn’t compare you to us! I’m simply-”

Agatha cut her off with a glare and sarcastic smirk “You're simply comparing me to all of you! Simply telling me every way I'm not doing what all of you are right?” Agatha knew she was being unfair but this was how to get them to leave her alone. (Right..) “Agatha you need to calm down.” Lilia interrupted as she looked at the escalating argument. Agatha scoffed as she looked at them all “I’m so sorry I can’t play house everyday. My bad I can’t be the good woman you all claim me to be! Maybe finally you’ll fucking understand I don’t need your dame help! I just need you to leave me alone!” Agatha had repeated the phrases that had been haunting her head since she allowed herself to open to this relationship.

Agatha's eyes were glossy with unshed tears she hid behind with the scowl she was wearing. As she slammed the mug and the paper down and grabbed her coat and keys. “Where are you goi-”Alice tried to ask worriedly but all Agatha did was walk out slamming the door.

(Pt 2?)

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐀𝐒𝐒

Yandere Hal Jordan x GN Reader

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐗𝐓: Just wanted to expand on my yan Hal thoughts a bit. This is a very short blurb.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒: romantic yandere content, idk how to even describe this, coercive behavior, hints of a physical fight, blood mention, Hal just generally being a dick, there’s also lowkey something wrong with the reader, maybe some Stockholm syndrome, kissing, slightly suggestive ending, this is just a general snapshot.

Keeping up with him took great effort. He was pulling your arm with a firm grip, practically dragging you behind him as he led you down the empty street. You almost tripped on the uneven sidewalk, and god only knows what would happen if you did; he clearly wasn’t in the mood for any more hiccups this afternoon.

The silence between the two of you was thick, almost suffocating. Suffering through it any longer was bound to drive you insane. So, with a sudden surge of bravery, you decided to speak up. “Hal—”

“Just come on,” was all he replied with, his tone riddled with impatience. His grip only tightened around your forearm, eliciting a small wince from you. Not that he seemed to care, of course. He merely continued to pull you along, assumingly back to the apartment, if you had to take a guess.

Though you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander down to bruised and bloodied knuckles.

“Hal,” you tried again. There was an unsure quiver to your voice, but you pushed through it in favor of speaking your mind. “Hal, that wasn’t right… you shouldn’t have—”

You trailed off the moment Hal took a sudden sharp turn into an alleyway. Before you could even process how direly you fucked up, he pushed you into the wall behind you by your shoulder, your head slamming roughly into the gritty bricks. Stars danced behind your eyes from the impact, and when you cracked open your eyelids, you could see his disapproving expression as clear as day.

“Ow, fuck—!! Hal, that hurt—”

“Babe,” he started with a slow, condescending tone, “you know I don’t like it when people talk to you like that. It’s fucked up. Okay?”

Whether it was the implication that you couldn’t stand up for yourself — or the dull throbbing in the back of your skull — you could feel the irritation begin to nestle in your chest. “But don’t you think that was a little overboard? And risky? Someone could’ve seen you—!”

“(Y/N). Everything turned out fine. Quit it with the bratty attitude already.” One of his hands gently rested against your cheek. There was a slight wetness to the pads of his fingers, which you quickly deduced was more blood. His steely eyes bore into yours with pure disappointment. “Look, I’m sorry you had to see all of that, but it’s been taken care of.”

Sick fuck, you mentally sneered. Nonetheless, you did well to keep the disgusted grimace off of your face; Hal is pissed off enough as it is. “Alright. Fine. You took care of it.” Your next words had poorly concealed venom behind them. “Thank you, I guess. Can we just go home now?”

Apparently, that was not the answer Hal wanted to hear. The hand on your cheek — once so gently, so delicate — violently snatched up your jaw, his fingers digging into your skin with enough strength that there were sure to be bruises left behind. A pained noise gritted out from clenched teeth with an unintelligible swear quickly following. You attempted to tug back, but his grip was like iron welded tightly to your face.

Hal’s eyes narrowed at you. “I said quit it with the bratty shit.”

Despite your eyes narrowing back at him, you knew you’ve been pushing your luck. “Okay,” you relented, trying to make your voice sound as apologetic as you could. “Okay, I’m sorry.”

He couldn’t make his doubt more obvious, but at least his grip lightened up a bit. With an unimpressed look, he scanned your face before giving the slightest eye roll and moving his fingers from your jaw to your chin. You pursed your lips together as he leaned in for a kiss, which earned a short puff of air from his nose. It was hard to tell if it was from irritation or amusement; considering who you were dealing with, it could’ve been either.

“Come on, now,” he urged, words dripping with that sickeningly sweet condescending tone. You tried not to shiver from his warm breath ghosting against your lips. “Kiss me back.”

You quickly decided it was in your best interest to comply. Lips now slotted against each other, you could feel him tilt your head towards the side for a better angle, and it wasn’t long until your body was pulled away from the wall to be trapped against his. Fortunately, the kiss didn’t last very long. By the time you pulled apart, you were barely out of breath.

The crooked smirk on Hal’s face, however, told you this was just the beginning. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He then nosed into the crook of your neck, forcing you to fight against a shiver. “Now, are you gonna continue being good for me or what?”

God, what a fucking jackass.

(Not that you’d say that to his face, of course.)

[florawrites-blog]

Can't catch us - enhypen

-when you and them get caught mingling

Lee heeseung - 이희승

Heeseung woke up in an usual flirty mood, his eyes following your every movement as you prepared breakfast. Standing in the kitchen, you could feel his gaze lingering, making you flustered. When you turned around, he was shamelessly checking you out, his eyes tracing every curve, and he gave you a small, playful grin. He stepped closer, one hand brushing through your hair as he leaned in, savoring the scent of your new shampoo. Feeling the tension build, you instinctively leaned toward him, your cheeks almost touching.

Just as things were heating up, Jake shuffled into the kitchen, sleepily rubbing his eyes and muttering a groggy “good morning.” Startled, you quickly pushed Heeseung away, trying to refocus on breakfast. The push caused Heeseung to stumble right into Jake, who looked utterly confused as Heeseung tried to play it cool by pulling Jake into an impromptu hug.

Jake just stood there, dazed and wondering why Heeseung was suddenly so affectionate, while Heeseung acted like it was the most natural thing in the world. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight, a mix of awkwardness and amusement filling the kitchen.

Park jongseong - 박종성

After dinner, you’re tidying up the living room, fixing the pillows on the couch as part of your organizing duty, while Jay tackles the dishes. Technically, it was only supposed to be your job, but Jay had insisted on helping out, knowing you’d lost at rock-paper-scissors. As you fluff up the last pillow, Jay sneaks up from behind, draping his arms around your waist and leaning his chin on your shoulder.

In a low, slightly raspy voice, he whispers, “Can I help you, m’lady?” His words, warm against your ear, send a wave of goosebumps across your skin. You try to brush it off, muttering, “Um… no, they’re just pillows. I’m… good.” But he just leans in even closer, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Before he can say more, Sunoo’s voice rings out, calling for Jay as he continues his endless complaints about his argument with Ni-ki. Hearing Sunoo’s footsteps approaching, you take your chance, grabbing a pillow and pressing it firmly against Jay’s chest, pushing him back. You slip away with a small grin, leaving Jay standing there, slightly frustrated but clearly amused, watching you escape with a glint in his eye that promises he’ll get you back for this later.

Sim jaeyun - 심재윤

You’re sitting with Jungwon, guiding him through his English lessons, as he grows increasingly frustrated with Duolingo correcting him. For the past hour or more, you’ve been helping him, and he’s finally starting to relax, even cracking a smile as you both laugh together.

Just then, Jake calls, sounding adorably dramatic as he tells you he misses you and insists you come back to bed or he’ll "lose his mind." You chuckle, brushing it off, knowing how over-the-top he can be. But moments later, Jake appears, snuggling into you like a koala. Taken by surprise, you try to gently push him away, aware that Jungwon is watching you both with a mildly bewildered expression.

When Jake refuses to let go, Heeseung walks into the room. You take the opportunity to disentangle yourself, nudging Jungwon toward Jake with a mischievous grin. Jake just clings to Jungwon without a second thought, completely unbothered, while you escape the chaos with a smile, leaving Jungwon to handle Jake’s clinginess.

Park sunghoon - 박성훈

You and Sunghoon were in the living room, perched on the edge of the table while he focused intently on his laptop, working on something serious. You couldn’t help but be captivated, admiring his focused expression, and feeling a surge of affection as you watched him. The feeling was so overwhelming that you began covering his face in soft, adoring kisses, each one carefully placed over his moles, his features, and every pore. Sunghoon didn’t even seem to notice, completely engrossed in his work.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and in walked Jay and Ni-ki, returning from outside. Startled, Sunghoon quickly pulled back, sitting up straight and breaking the intimate moment as if nothing had happened. You just sighed and shook your head in mock disappointment, knowing Sunghoon wasn’t one for public displays of affection. You brushed it off with a smile, understanding him all too well.

Kim sunoo - 김순우

You and Sunoo were curled up on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, when he suddenly turned to you with a question. "Would you still love me if I were a color?" he asked, his expression completely serious. Smiling, you cupped his face and brushed your nose against his. "I’d love you even if you were a germ," you replied softly.

Just as he leaned in, about to brush his nose back against yours, Ni-ki walked by, rolling his eyes with a sigh. "Get a room," he muttered, continuing on his way. You and Sunoo jumped, eyes wide and frozen in place, your hearts racing from the scare. Once Ni-ki was gone, you both laughed nervously, trying to shake off the unexpected terror of nearly getting caught in such a cheesy moment.

Yang jungwon - 양중원

You’d been giving Jungwon the cold shoulder all day after he ate the last Subway cookie you’d been saving. No amount of his kisses or cute attempts to make it up to you had worked so far, and you kept brushing him off. But as you sat pouting, focused on the essay you’d been dreading, Jungwon couldn’t hold back any longer. He pulled you into a kiss, surprising you. Despite trying to stay firm, his persistence won you over, and you kissed him back, forgetting all about your cookie grudge.

Just as things started to heat up, hands tangled in his hair, you suddenly heard footsteps approaching. Panicking, you yanked Jungwon back by his hair, making him let out a little hiss of surprise. Sunghoon walked in just in time to witness the scene, raising an eyebrow. "All this over a cookie, Y/N? I’ll buy you more; please don’t kill him." His dry tone only made you roll your eyes and laugh, finally letting Jungwon off the hook.

Ni- ki -남편

The tension in the hallway was so thick that it felt like you could cut it with a knife. Your eyes locked with Ni-ki's, neither of you willing to break the gaze. The longer you stared, the more you felt the invisible force pulling you closer, as if the world had stopped and it was just the two of you in that tiny space. You could practically hear your heartbeat as it drummed in your ears, and Ni-ki’s piercing stare felt almost too intense, but you weren’t backing down.

Then, just as your faces were nearly inches away, Jay’s door swung open with a loud creak, and you immediately snapped out of the tension, your instinct to escape kicking in. Without missing a beat, you bolted away, rushing past Jay’s doorway and into the safety of the room, leaving Ni-ki behind to deal with whatever just happened.

Jay, of course, didn’t miss a beat either. His casual "Sup, bro" echoed in the hallway, his tone as laid-back as ever, trying to play it cool despite the obvious strangeness of the situation. Ni-ki just stood there for a moment, still processing what just occurred, his eyes narrowing at Jay as if to say, You have no idea what just happened here.

[puck-luck]

cole, spades, 22 (see what I did there??)

(Rip to when Cole was 22– I miss that number but I also love that he's 13 so I'm def torn)

Warnings: first time trying bondage, fingering, dirty talk, a split second of fem!receiving oral WC: 921

“C’mon, wider, baby,” Cole encourages, nudging your ankle with his elbow. 

He’s tying your other ankle to the bedpost with your most recent purchase, a relatively soft line of rope that the sales associate said was good for beginners. It had taken you a while to work up the nerve to tell Cole about the secret fascination you’d been harboring for restraints, so it’s not a surprise that the sales associate was able to sense your trepidation right away. 

“Be good, yeah? Make things easier for me?” Cole continues, finishing off the knot and looking up at you. His words are a bit awkward, although they’re not awkward enough to kill the mood. 

You’ve got some anxious butterflies fluttering around your stomach, that’s for sure, but the number of excited, anticipatory butterflies outweighs them. You’d asked for him to tie your hands, but Cole didn’t feel comfortable with that yet. He wants you to be able to push him away if it gets to be too much, if you don’t like it as much as you think you will. He’s considerate. He’s trying.

You and Cole’s sex life has always been pretty vanilla, until now. He’s a sweetheart, a true lover-boy, always wanting to show you affection and receive the same amount of affection from you. He prefers whispered words and pleasureful whines, beaded sweat along your collarbones and the curve of your back, and fluttered eyelashes that prove just how overwhelmed you are. You love all of that stuff too, but sometimes you crave more, and that’s how you ended up here.

Cole moves onto your other ankle. He’s got you on your back, cunt visible and open for him to do with what he wants. 

You admire the furrow between his eyebrows as he focuses, lips pressed together in a way that causes his dimples to appear. “You look handsome,” you say, unable to keep yourself from commenting on his expression. His concentration is the manifestation of how much he cares about making this perfect and, well, he just looks… like the man you love. 

Cole’s eyes flicker up at you and he smiles, the lines on his face disappearing. In lieu of a response, he finishes up his knot and circles his fingers above the rope, giving your joints a little squeeze. He lets go and finds his way onto the bed, hovering above your body and finding your lips with his own. His kiss is still sweet, a remnant of the vanilla sex that you’re not meant to have tonight.

“Don’t hold back,” you remind your boyfriend, bringing a hand to the back of his neck and toying with the clasp of his chain. 

“Won’t stop ‘til you tell me to,” Cole promises, referencing the plan that you both had outlined meticulously earlier in the night. “Now, let me get my fingers in you. I gotta get you begging for me, right?” He quirks his eyebrows, smirking slightly. 

You feel his fingertips swipe between your folds before he applies pressure to your clit. He moves along with that hand, rolling your nipples between his thumb and index finger, then he brings his fingers to your mouth. His middle and ring finger find your tongue, plush lips brushing his knuckles. 

“Make sure my fingers are nice and wet, baby,” Cole tells you. He kisses your jaw, your throat, behind your earlobe. “I want to be able to fill you right away.”

He’s so gentle, but it’s making you antsy, which was his goal. He’s supposed to make you so frustrated and desperate for his cock that you’re trying to grind up into him, but the kick is that your legs are restrained. You can’t move as much as you want, not when you’re driven mad with lust.

You take his fingers eagerly, imploring him to do more by performing your best, and Cole finally moves. 

He inches his fingers down your body, washing away all of your hard work by leaving a trail of cool saliva in his wake. When he finally fills you, he’s not gentle. He finally switches.

You understand, in a split second. He fooled you and took you by surprise, fulfilling your fantasy of a dirty fuck when you least expected it.

His fingers thrust and wiggle inside of you, as if he’s beckoning you forward. 

“Oh my God,” you gasp, fingers clutching at his bicep. 

Cole chuckles, swooping in and nibbling your bottom lip. “Bit early to be saying that, sweetheart. I’ve barely started with you.” His fingers continue to toy with you, bumping against the front wall of your pussy in rapid movements. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you could fuck yourself on my fingers?”

He brings his thumb to your clit, swiping over the bud delicately. He kneels back between your legs, leaving your upper half behind, and uses his other hand to spread your folds. Your clit is unable to hide under its hood and the barest touch has you twitching beneath him.

“But your legs are all tied up,” Cole remarks faux-sympathetically. “So all of your pleasure belongs to me, hm? I’ve got to make sure my girl feels good, since she can’t do it herself.” A smile breaks across his face, eyes taking in your red cheeks and parted lips before he leans forward and swipes his tongue against your sensitive cunt.

You cry out. Maybe Cole had been harboring the same fantasy as you deep, deep down– he’s certainly on the way to mastering his new role.

[dr-silver-is-a-monster]

"if you can fucking catch that brat , I'll let you have some fun with him before I take him got work "

That what kraken said when he and silver got into another argument. Silver just had to mock kraken after a meeting with HQ a daily report on things. Kraken had to admit he still needs time with his project which HQ didn't like it especially medea.

In anger kraken has snapped and told silver who bragged he can do his job faster without problems.

Now

Here silver was in the hadal blacksite just with the things or people he brought.

Currently allo was silently walking about the blacksite having been on some research search for his boyfriend. His orange yellow eyes glowing as he stopped and raised a brow hearing something or someone ...

He carefully he picked up a glass shard to look around the corner without exposing himself to see who had just arrived. His eyes widening seeing who it was.

"shit" he muttered

@fountian-of-youth

[Heard something.] [Stay on alert.] [Host don’t let your guard down.] [We can smell something.] [New scent.]

[He glanced around, still pissed off, and saw the movement of something just moving back behind the corner.]

[He hissed slightly, pupil narrowing to a mere slit. The air did feel different, seawater and something else.]

“You’re right, I can feel it too..”

[His accent, just like Kraken, had a heavy accent- a German one. It was cold and clipped, he began walking to where he had seen the shadow, he was not in the mood to play around.]

“Come out come out wherever you are rat.”

[Catch it.] [Experiment?] [Kill it.] [threat?] [dispose of threat.]

[His footsteps got even louder and louder, a promise.]

[this wasn’t going to end well.]