#female washrooms

[ppcbug]

Glad to see the senate has their priorities straight 🤪

It’s crazy how high schoolers are being emailed about this misdirected garbage initiative!! Instead of worrying about if female hygiene products are available to students the concern is about if everyone has access 🤦‍♂️talking as if girls aren’t literally the only ones who experience menstruation?

Keep such products out of boys washrooms!

[mrdyketator]

crazy how so many of my friends are male now

[wegc]

PERV!BANG CHAN HEADCANONS

PAIRING: BANG CHAN X FEMALE READER

WARNINGS: nsfw (mdni), perversion, corruption kink, breeding kink, possessiveness, masturbation, cum tributing, watching, suggestions of blowjobs, dubcon (?), best friends brother!chan, swearing

PERV!CHAN who’s best friends with your brother and beats himself up at night, cursing at whatever entity for tempting him to think about you—his best friend's sister—who’s explicitly off limits.

PERV!CHAN who’s so endearingly shy and giggly around you, continually protecting you when your brother isn't around, hiding his lewd thoughts behind his kind exterior.

PERV!CHAN who refuses to look you in the eye the first time he jerked off to the thought of you stuffed full of his cock.

PERV!CHAN who tells your brother he’s going to the washroom and takes his sweet time walking there, not before peeking through your slightly open bedroom door—discovering you lying on your stomach innocently—and palming his growing cock at the sight of your tight cotton shorts that annoyingly accentuated the curve of your ass and the shape of your puffy cunt. Were you even wearing underwear?

PERV!CHAN who could never act upon his desires—who forbids himself from getting too close at the risk of hurting or corrupting you. You’re not for him—you’re delicate and the quintessence of purity—and it would be a sin, he would positively go to hell if his hand even grazed you the wrong way. Every touch meant something more to him.

PERV!CHAN who feels his self-control crumbling when you stroll out of the shower towel-clad, the soft white fabric daring to slip from your body, which was glistening enticingly with droplets of water from your previous activities. He’s fucked. If he tugged on the towel right then and there, he’d see everything, wouldn’t he?

PERV!CHAN whose guilt consumes him when he’s incapable of getting off without thinking of you. He’s tried porn—even porn of people that look just like you—but it doesn’t suffice. He needs you. So, begrudgingly, feeling the pit of his stomach swarm with anxiety and cringing in self-disgust, he searches your name on Instagram, knowing that you’re the only one to relieve him of his need.

PERV!CHAN who feels his mind go numb as he strokes his leaking cock to photos of you beaming, looking simply tantalizing in your tiny skirt—his favourite skirt. He wants to take his time masturbating to you, but how can he resist when his mind is corrupted with depraved thoughts of bending you in unthinkable positions, hearing your begs and whines for him to go harder; for him to claim you; for him to breed your tight little cunt until his cum oozes out of your abused hole. You’d have the greediest cunt, wouldn’t you? You’d take him so well, he knows you would. You’d be so good for him. His good little girl.

PERV!CHAN who feels his mind break and his cheeks flush every time you teasingly touch him, your soft hands squeezing and groping his tense forearms and muscles, your alluring voice purring hushed praises in his ears—phrases that sound way more suggestive than you possibly imply, right? You’re so big, Chan. God—you’re so strong. I’m so weak compared to you. You could ruin me, Channie.

PERV!CHAN who curses to himself and looks away, clenching his jaw and inhaling sharply every time you look up at him with puppy-dog eyes. He feels himself grow insane at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows and the pretty little pout fixed on your lips. Would your face scrunch up like this if he stretched you out with his cock? He tries his best to ignore the very possible reality that this is what you’d look like on your knees for him. Would your hands paw his thighs? Would you open your mouth, tongue timidly peeking out for a taste of his cum? What would your face look like stained and tainted with his seed? Would you like it? Would you smile up at him? Would you beg for more? God, he’d give it to you.

PERV!CHAN who lends you his hoodie when you accompany him and your brother on a late-night beach trip, gulping as he takes in the sight of his clothes swallowing you whole, the cute buds of your breasts poking through the thick fabric.

PERV!CHAN whose cock aches at the delicious smell of your body and the sweet, floral scent of your perfume after his hoodie is returned to him the next day. He refuses to wash it, wanting to preserve the scent for as long as he possibly can. Because when he closes his eyes and presses his nose in the soft black fabric, all while jerking off his dripping cock in fast, hastened strokes, it feels like you’re right there; it’s the closest thing he has to real life.

PERV!CHAN who becomes irritable when the scent on his hoodie fades away, and against his better judgement, walks into your family washroom only to immediately open the bottom cabinet in pursuit of your laundry basket, where he steals a pair of your dirty panties. Of course, he jerked one out in the washroom, knowing all too well you were a room away. It makes it better—helps him cum faster. What if you walked in? What if you saw the way he smelled your musk before pushing the fabric in his mouth, letting out muffled groans at the sheer taste of you? God, he’s disgusting. Did you cum in these while touching yourself? Maybe you dry-humped against your pillow. Who were you thinking of? Fuck—he hopes it’s him.

PERV!CHAN who prints a photograph of you one day—a full body shot of you smiling toward the camera, your white sundress short enough to reveal the plush flesh of your thighs—his favourite photo. He’s especially desperate now after tasting you. He’s careful with the panties and only uses them for special occasions—what if he wants a taste again? He’d wrap the panties around his sore, chubby cock, stroking himself furiously to the picture, seizing the opportunity to slap his dick against the photo of you. It’s a laminate photo and laminate for one sole purpose. All too quickly, he cums in thick, white spurts, landing on the photo of your face and thighs—all over you. Snapping a quick photo, he jerks himself off again, and again, and again, until it’s thoroughly covered in his warm seed. He would do it a million times in real life if you’d just asked. Once he’s done, he wipes the photo clean with tissue paper and carefully places it at the bottom of his drawer for later use.

PERV!CHAN who heads to your washroom to jerk off to another pair of your panties at four o'clock in the morning during a sleepover with your brother, where thoughts of you sleeping soundly a room away plague and tempt him beyond belief. Instead of stealing this pair, he puts it back in your laundry basket, soiled and contaminated with his cum. You’ll just wash it, and he’ll have to live forever with the remorse of you wearing underwear that unbeknownst to you, Chan violated. It isn’t until weeks later when your brother hosts a pool party, that Chan chokes on his drink at the sight of you wearing the same panties he came in. It was part of a swimsuit—you’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Feeling his bulge grow in his swim trunks, he gulps down his drink and races to the washroom to relieve himself. He can’t last like this. You have no fucking idea. No fucking idea that your brother's best friend—the second guy you wholeheartedly trusted after your brother, the first guy who swore to protect you if your brother weren’t around—came all over the fabric pressed right against your sweet, untouched cunt.

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ ꩜⋆ hi, my name is iris hehe, can you tell i’m obsessed with channie’s guilt complex. he’s the sanest perv! anyways, if you liked this, check out my other work, i have more coming! i write for stray kids only and am a mostly nsfw blog. if you plan on following me, please note that my blog is 18+. i hope you guys like this ! feel free to give feedback and reveal your thoughts in my inbox <3

[theforesteldritch]

More explicitly anti-intersex bills are coming in the US, this one from Kansas. A revised version of an anti-trans bathroom and sports bill has now decided that intersex people should be excluded from ‘female’ washrooms and should instead be classed as disabled people and should instead be forced to use facilities for disabled people. To be clear, disability is not a bad thing, I’m disabled, but that is a separate thing than being intersex. Most intersex variations aren’t inherently disabling, and trying to class our bodies as disabled is an attempt to try to segregate us from spaces both disabled and intersex people have every right to be in. This is not from genuine commitment to the rights of disabled people, this is them trying to use the laws surrounding disability as a tool to make it okay to exclude us from their bullshit, intersexist and transphobic ‘female only spaces’. Not to mention, if we’re being forced to use (often way to few) accessible spaces such as accessible bathrooms if we don’t need to this impacts the people who actually do.

To make things even more enraging, this is a literal comment a legislator made about people with Turners syndrome: “A person in that state, I don’t think, would want to undress in front of even fellow females”.

This comment makes it clear, I think, their goal. They don’t think that classing intersex people as disabled would help us. They see disabled and intersex bodies as something wrong, something to be hidden away from all the ‘normal’ people. They see our bodies as something shameful and something impossible to be happy in. They don’t see us or our bodies as worthy of existence in society.

Fuck that. Fuck them. I’m so so tired and furious.

[sserafin]

Morning-Work-Evening-Nanami Kento. {F. & M. Reader}

!Minors do not interact!

Twitter links+smau+voice asmr

Morning

«Female reader»

He can't keep his lips away from yours

You are his favourite dessert in the morning

«Male reader»

Asking him if you could help him at 4 in morning was a bad idea because he got you on all fours now

"It's been 3 hours now ken-ah-mhm,harder~"

Video Attachments:

Female reader: Oh god! How much he loves it when you touch yourself like that

Male reader: He can't stop watching this video in the lunch time and washroom breaks

Evening

«Female reader»

Fingering you to get you wetter

Trying your best to make him feel good after such a long day

Him being rough and holding your hair like that 😩

«Male reader»

He missed you a lot so he's being really really rough today

You feel like he's not gonna let you sleep tonight

Night ( voice asmr )

Helping his baby fall asleep because they were so good for him today

It was really tiring making this one so I better get some comments on this one T_T

Him kissing us and counting sheeps killed me 😭 never would've imagined I'd listen to a grown man counting sheeps but yea 💀

[faerievampling]

A Long Night

Summary: After Astarion and Tav have their first fight, Astarion is desperate to make up but can't fight his frustration. Set during Act 3, before the end of Astarion's personal quest.

word count: 1.5K

Link to AO3!

Pairing: Astarion x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+, Explicit. Vaginal Fingering. Biting. Blood drinking. Angst. Astarion is a bit possessive. Soft dom Astarion. Mild dub-con.

A/N: I meant to post something sweet about spawn!astarion but it's not ready yet...but this is :)

You and Astarion had had your first fight. It was about Cazador’s ritual, of course; the topic had been coming to a boiling point between the two of you. You can’t even really remember what all was said, only the outcome of the conversation: Astarion put his foot down and told you that he was going to take the power regardless of what you wanted. He said it was for the best, for both of you. Then, he stormed off, leaving you and the rest of your party standing in the streets of Baldur’s Gate.

Your embarrassment quickly reached your face, and you shooed your companions away, wanting to be alone for a while. But now, after a long walk, you finally arrive at the Elfsong Tavern.

You make your way to you and Astarion’s room and begin to take your armor off: unfortunately for you, you wore heavy armor. Even after so many months of adventuring, getting your armor off was a task you still struggled with, especially after a long day. It was bulky, difficult to take apart, and so heavy. It often leaves you frustrated to deal with alone. 

Astarion helped you take it off every night. He would pretend to be frustrated or annoyed with the task, but was always certainly happy with the result: that armor protected his beloved from the hardest hits.

You have only unclasped the right arm when you hear the opening of a door and feel another pair of hands on you. You already know it’s him. You’re greatly relieved, because part of you was worried he’d run from you. Astarion could be rather avoidant; the armor surrounding his mind might just be as tough as what you wear on the physical battlefield.

Astarion begins to work your armor off, not saying a word as he does. You allow yourself to breathe deeply, taking in his scent as he helps you shed the weight of the day.

Once you’re free, you shiver, feeling a bit exposed. As Astarion begins to take off his own armor, you gather your things and slink away to the washroom. Although Astarion usually joins you in the bath, you figure he won’t follow, because surely he is still angry.

He wants power. He said he wanted it for the both of you. Forever. For good. You wonder what he meant by that. You certainly understood the implication, but Astarion is known to embellish.

But you had already made your decision: you couldn’t allow it. You couldn’t allow your beloved to enter into a contract with Mephistopheles. To sacrifice seven thousand souls - it was unconscionable.

As you ease into the warm water, the smell of lavender wafts from the newly disturbed surface. You and Astarion had been lucky enough to get a private room with a washroom attached; the room resembled a small bathhouse more so than a wooden tub, which you had been grateful for, because it made for a luxurious experience.

You allow yourself to fully relax as you slide yourself to the depths of the tub, bringing your head underwater. You close your eyes and listen to the sound of your own blood pumping through your veins for as long as you can stand it. After an impressive length of time, you think to yourself, you hear the creak of the door. You bring yourself up, gasping for air as you push your hair out of your face. 

Astarion is there, and because you’re a little shocked from his presence, you can’t help but watch, unblinking as he begins to peel away his underclothes. 

Your heart races at the sight of his nakedness; the flicker of the candlelight dances across his muscular form, making your core feel swollen and needy. A blush rises to your cheeks and the tip of your ears, prompting Astarion to give you a little smile. 

His body was perfect—his alabaster skin, his muscled form, even the impressive length of his cock, which was already half hard, you could see. 

Astarion eases himself in the bath, water rippling around his gorgeous form. “I don’t want to fight anymore, love,” his voice is even, his hungry eyes sweeping over your naked body, lingering at the buds of your breasts that peek out from the water's surface. 

Treading water, he comes to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you onto his lap bridal style. He holds your gaze for a long moment before resting his forehead on yours.

You knew this tender moment was both an apology and a declaration of his love; one you appreciated, but were weary to accept. You want Astarion to use his words - to say he is sorry, or to ask for an apology, or something. You just wanted him to communicate, but you are so scared to push him.

He tenderly brushes his full lips onto your own, and you try not to react. You don’t want to give in. As you try to formulate the right words in your head, Astarion moves to the curve of your neck, pressing his lips to your pulse point before he nips at you, breaking your skin with the prick of a fang. A small droplet of blood blossoms from the wound, and you pull away, giving Astarion an incredulous look.

He’s supposed to ask.

He releases one of his arms from you, his hand trailing down the front of your body, brushing a nipple with his thumb before nestling between your legs. Fingertips graze your sensitive folds, making you shiver despite the warmth of the water. 

“Astarion,” You plead before he slips a finger inside you, teasing your lips with his thumb; your walls contract around his knuckles, drawing him in deeper.  

His lips meet yours, his tongue finding entry as he tastes you. 

You can feel the increasing hardness of cock against your ass as his finger stirs inside you. You feel the pressure of a second finger against your entrance for just a moment before he slides it inside you, filling you up a bit sooner than you’re ready.

A desperate whimper escapes your lips as he stretches your walls. Astarion pumps in and out of you, fucking you with his fingers, every thrust going deeper until he’s curling his fingers inside you, pressing on that spot that is so sweet, tender, and so deeply nestled inside you.

You’re feeling your build up, that delicious feeling of the anticipation of ecstasy; you already want to come. But you can’t ignore your need to check in on your lover: you break away from his dedicated kisses, surveying his handsome face.

“Astarion,” Your voice is higher than usual. You try to pull away from him, but his arm has you locked in. What he is doing with his fingers threatens you every second, and you know you are so close, but you continue to edge yourself, holding back the come that threatens to gush from your folds.

“Tav,” His voice is low and full-bodied. “You needn’t pull away from me, you know.”

“You -” You begin to say, but Astarion only digs his fingers in harder, deeper, your impending orgasm becoming almost impossible to ignore, emptying your brain. 

Astarion’s face twists, the frustration apparent on his face. “I’m fine,” he growls against your skin. “Am I not allowed to take my lover when I want? Would you really deny me that, too?” Before you can respond, his lips are on you, tongue crashing into yours as he continues his ministrations on you. 

The nip of his fang on your lip causes you to gasp, but Astarion is lapping and sucking at it, his own murmurs of pleasure causing you to buck your hips into his hand. You spasm and struggle in his grasp, but before long, you can’t take it anymore, and you feel the shockwaves of pleasure emanating from your cunt all the way to your fingertips. You’re creaming around his fingers; your body is hazy, almost numb with pleasure. 

The pulsing sensation of your cunt around Astarion’s fingers drives him nearly mad, and his fervent kisses are all over you. The brush of his lips and tongue could be felt on your cheeks, your neck, your ears.

He begins to nibble at you, leaving shallow bites in the wake of his kisses on your neck and shoulders. He’s marking you where he can, even though you both know it’s only temporary: he would douse you in healing potions and gentle touches after this, caring for your every ache and pain. 

“You’re starting to prune, darling,” Astarion’s voice is low. “Why don’t you get out of here and meet me in our room? And don’t bother to dress yourself, my love. You’re in for a long night,” The sound of his voice makes the hair on your skin stand up, goosebumps covering your body despite the ever warm water. 

You know your cheeks are flushed from the way Astarion is looking at you. His eyes are hooded, seductive, and the smirk on his lips almost meets his eyes. 

“Tonight, I’m going to fuck you however I want, Tav. I’m going to bite you wherever I want, whenever, until I decide I’m satisfied.” Astarion’s voice draws a whimper from your lips, and he lightly chuckles. “Go on now, darling. I’ll be right behind you.”

Masterlist

[sissydiaperloverzoe]

What Diaper Discipline elements do you want?

This list is to help you think about the elements of Diaper Discipline you want and can also be used by a partner to list elements they’re comfortable with.

Reblog with what you’d pick!

Let us know in comments if we’ve missed anything ❤️

Diaper Wearing:

Disposable Medical Diapers

Disposable ABDL Diapers

Pull Ups

Cloth Diapers

Diaper Usage:

Wetting

Messing

Frequency:

24/7

Forced Usage:

Bulk forming / Fibre

Suppositories

Oral Laxatives

Enemas

Castor Oil

Catheters

Locking Clothing / Pant

Hollow Butt Plugs

Anal Stretching

Toilet untraining

Checks & Changes:

Partner checks if you need changed exclusively (you can’t ask for changes)

Partner changes you into dry diapers

Partner changes wet diapers

Partner changes messy diaper

Partner does all changes (Not allowed to change yourself)

Partner changes in public (i.e. back of car / disabled washroom)

Adult Baby Clothing:

T-shirt and exposed Diaper

Plain Onesies

AB Onesies

AB Rompers

AB Footed Sleepers

AB Pyjamas

AB Play Clothes (Shortalls, Dresses, etc)

Spreader pants

Mittens

Booties

Bonnets

Adult Baby Accessories:

Pacifier

Bottle

Sippy Cup

Bib

Baby Blanket

Teddy

Chew Toys

Diaper changing bag

Adult Baby Furniture:

Changing Mat

Diapers on display

Changing Table

Crib

High Chair

Playpen

Bouncer

Public Wearing / Usage:

Wear diapers in public

Wet diapers in public

Mess diapers in public

Wear diapers around friends & family

Wet diapers around friends & family

Mess diapers around friends & family

Wear diapers at work

Wet diapers at work

Mess diapers at work

MDLB / DDLG Behaviours:

Being called Baby

Sweet talk (being talked to as if a small child/baby)

Must hold hand in public at all times

Calling partner Mummy/Daddy

Diaper pats

Helped to get dressed/undressed

Bottle feeding

Pretend breast feeding

Spoonfed adult food

Spoonfed baby food

Baby talk

Crawling

Bondage:

Locking Diaper Covers / Plastic Pants

Locking Mittens

Pacifier Gags

Bed Restraints

Straight Jackets

Full Fixation Restraints

Chastity:

Male chastity cage

Self-imposed chastity

Punishments for masturbating in diapers

Punishments:

Time-Outs

Denied/delayed diaper changes

Forced pacifier use

Chastity

Laxatives

Bottom stuffing with a butt plug

Restrained

Loss of adult privileges

Masturbation & Sex:

Vibrator though diaper

Butt plugs

Diaper humping

Prostrate massage (combined with Chastity device)

Pegging

Cuckolding

Sissy:

Pink AB Diapers

Girly AB Onesies

Female AB clothes (dresses, etc)

Full sissy attire

Fake breasts / bras

Makeup & painted nails

Exposure:

Private photo album

Anonymous social media account (faces hidden & identify keep secret)

Attending ABDL events

Visiting ABDL shopS

Public diaper exposure

[kimabutch]

Things are getting increasingly shitty in Canada for trans people and, not gonna lie, it's really stressful! Within the last month:

The Conservative Party of Canada, which is the official opposition party (AKA the party with the second most votes) and has a solid chance of forming the government in the next election, held a convention where they voted overwhelmingly in favour of creating policies to stop gender-affirming medical care for minors (link)

They also officially voted to define "woman" as "female person" and try to stop trans women from being in women's prisons, shelters, locker rooms, and washrooms

Multiple provincial governments are either enacting policies that would require parents' approval in order for trans kids to change their names or pronouns at school, or have officially said that they support forcibly outing kids (link)

A nonbinary teacher in Quebec received threats of violence for using pronoun "Mx" and other Quebec provincial parties complained about "wokeism" and said they wouldn't use the title (link)

And this doesn't include the homophobic & transphobic protests outside pride events throughout the summer or the "Save Our Children" convoy that's being planned for later this month (link), or the tons of shitty things that have happened all through this year, like tons of Ontario trans people (including me!) losing healthcare.

I'm trying to stay as optimistic as possible, knowing just how many trans people and allies there are, but sometimes! It's hard!

Anyways, if you're Canadian, please consider:

Getting involved in local, municipal politics, especially on school boards, to speak out about the need for gender-affirming policies, especially for youth

Showing up (with an organized, prepared group) to counter-protest anti-trans protesters

Keeping track of any anti- or pro-trans bills going around and contacting your MPs & MPPs to let them know what you think of them

Supporting 2SLGBTQ+ charities

Literally never ever voting conservative

And even if you're not Canadian, if you have friends who are Canadian & trans, maybe check in on them? Most Canadian trans people are pretty freaked out right now I think.

[plentyoffandoms]

In love with an inmate (18+)

Armando Aretas x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ Miscellaneous Movies Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: oral (f receiving) fingering. Oral (m receiving). Unprotected sex.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @tvandfilm

WC : 2376

I have no idea when or how this started with Armando Aretas. When he first came in, he was just another prisoner, a good-looking one at that, but still. I had a job to do, and that was not about to change just because I found him to be attractive and charming. So damn charming.

But that all changed when there was a riot that broke out in his cell block, and I got trapped in the block. As one of the only four female Correctional officers that works in this place, I was seriously fucked.

I felt hands grab at me, trying to pull off my uniform. I fought back, but once I heard the first rip, I began to panic even more.

That was until I heard the sounds of these men being pulled away from me. I saw Armando punching and throwing his fellow prisoners away from me.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me up, and the two of us ran towards his cell.

He slammed his cell door behind him, grabbing my keys that are on my person and locking it. I was shaking by this point, and I was trying to keep the tears at bay.

He wrapped his one bed sheet around me, and them kept his distance as we heard. We listened to the sounds of the riot getting louder as the rest of the prison guards came in full tactical gear.

It slowly started to get quiet as they gained back control over the cell block.

I went to get up to leave. "Just wait. They will come looking for you." Armando said, and not even five minutes later, my co-worker Ben Lopes found me.

As I was leaving his cell, his bed sheet still wrapped around me to cover my skin that could be seen through the rips in my clothes, Armando was facing the wall with his hands against it.

"Okay, Aretas. Get out of your cell and line up with the rest of them." Ben said.

"No, he didn't do anything besides save me. He was in here with me the whole time."

"He got into a fight. We saw it on the camera."

"He was stopping them from doing further harm to me. He does not get punished for this. I'll make sure."

As I was leaving, I stopped next to Armando, asking him to look at me. "Thank you." Was all I said, leaving him standing there.

◆

After that day, even I could admit that I was giving him special treatment, and I know I shouldn't have been, but he saved my life. I could either be in the hospital right now, dealing with lifelong scars or trauma, or I could be dead.

I gave him the best sheets, the best pillows. He got more yard time or got more time in the library. He got the pick of the best books, and once or twice, I allowed him to pick a movie for movie night.

I found out his favourite snacks, and I would bring them in from time to time.

We kept our flirting to a bare minimum because I knew that this would not be going anywhere.

Then, it all seemed to change one night. I was working the night shift, and Armando needed to use the washroom.

The toilet in his cell hasn't been working, and the plumber was coming in the next couple of days.

So as him and I were walking down the dark, silent hallway towards the washroom, we were quiet. I know he was enjoying the almost silence of the prison, and as I stood guard outside the washroom, I basked in quiet myself, already looking forward to my bed for when I get home.

But he opened the door just a crack. "No paper." I sighed and went down to the closet to grab the toilet paper. I knocked on the washroom door, and he opened the door, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me inside of the small room, closing the door behind me,

I struggled until I felt his lips against mine, wrapping his arms around my middle and pulling me flush against his body.

I should have pushed him back. Forced him onto the ground with his hands up for this, but fuck, I have dreamt about this for so long, and his lips are soft.

I moaned into the kiss, not being able to stop myself.

Armando felt like he was everywhere. His hands were all over my body, pulling my shirt from out of my pants, as it was tucked into it.

I didn't stop him when he shoved a hand inside my pants, he looked at me with suprise when he felt that I was not wearing any panties.

I was so wet from just this kiss that he easily slid two fingers into me. I moaned into the kiss as he started to move his fingers in and out of me.

"Shhh, don't wanna get caught, now do we?" I shook my head no, biting my lip. I was so worked up that it didn't take me long for me to finish.

I gripped his arms, as his fingers moved inside of me, his thumb rubbing my clit. My breath got caught in my throat, my mouth fell open to moan out his name as he brought me to orgasm, but Armando covered my mouth once more with his, and kissed me though my orgasm.

He kept fingering me until I had to pull his hand out of my pants. I watched stunned as he brought his fingers to his mouth, placed the two fingers that were inside of me, on his tongue, and closing his mouth.

He groaned at the taste of me, pulling out his fingers. "Next time, I go down on you." My pussy clenched at the thought of there being a next time.

◆

I really didn't think there was going to be a next time, but as I had my back against the maintenance door, my one hand covering my mouth and the other in his hair, absolutely dying at what his mouth and fingers are doing to me.

"Look at me." I looked down, and Armando was staring up at me, and I felt like I couldn't breathe. I had to force myself to keep my eyes open as he went back to eating me out.

He wrapped his lips around my clit, and softly sucked on it, with his fingers still moving in and out of me. I softly cried out his name as I came. No longer being able to hold myself back.

Once he was done, he stood up, pulling my uniform pants up along with him. His beard was just soaked with my juices, and fuck, how did that make him even hotter?

He kissed me, and I groaned at the taste of myself on his lips. His cock was hard, and I could feel it between us. "Please, Armando." I begged him already knowing what I was going to ask.

"Not enough time, querida." Armando was right. He always is.

◆

I am no longer on the night shift, as it changes every week. So, being around Armando during the day and pretending that nothing going on between us is a lot harder than I knew it would be.

He was on bathroom duty, and I knew which one he should be in at this time, and I had to check on him anyways.

He was just heading into the washroom now, and I followed in right behind him, which is nothing out of the ordinary as we randomly check on the inmates anyway.

No one was in the washroom, and Armando looked up as he heard my foot steps.

We didn't say anything as I got on my knees and pulled down his pants, knowing how risky this is, when anyone could walk in on us.

I wrapped my hand around his hardening cock, and kissed the tip. I looked up at him as he looked down at me as I wrapped my lips around the head of his cock.

I heard him mutter something in under his breath, but I didn't catch it. His hands went to the back of my head, the mop falling next to me.

"Fuck, wish I could savour this." Armando groaned.

I pulled my head back, his cock dropping from my mouth. "Fuck my mouth. I can take it, Armando." I took his cock back in my mouth, just as his hands went to the back of my head.

I put my hands on his thighs just as he pulled his hips back and thrust back into my mouth.

Armando fucked my mouth, using my throat for his pleasure, and I wanted nothing more than to reach between my thighs and play with myself at this very moment.

I had tears streaming down my face, but I didn't care. I needed for him to cum, and I could tell by how his pace was faltering, that he was close.

A few more hard thrusts, and then he stilled, grunted my name as he came. I closed my eyes as I quickly swallowed, not wanting to miss a single drop of it.

Armando finally pulled out, and I was trying to catch my breath.

I heard a noise outside, and I quickly stood up, trying to fix myself.

"Better go angel." Was all he said, giving no indication if he liked the blowjob I gave him.

I left the washroom, feeling used.

◆

I called out sick for the week, just to wrap my head around what I was doing. I needed time away from Armando.

I came back as the shifts switched, and I am back on night shift.

I am making my rounds when I walk past his cell. "Guard." He called out, and I stopped.

"Yes, Aretas?"

"Gotta go." Was all he said.

"Has no one been in yet?" He shook his head no, and I sighed as I had him put his hands through the bars to put cuffs on him.

We walked in silence, and I undid his cuffs, knowing he wasn't going to harm me. As he opened the door, he looked to left, then to the right, and grabbed my hand to pull me in behind him.

Once we were alone, I looked everywhere beside him. "Are you going to look at me, querida?"

"Do not call me that."

"What did I do?" I finally looked at him, and I, with how he was looking at me, I wanted to forgive him, but I held my ground.

"What did you do? Really? I blow you, and then you don't even look at me after." His gaze seemed to soften.

"I was nervous about us being caught. I know you heard the noise that day. Me getting caught is no big deal, but you," He sighed but continued. "I was worried about you being caught."

"Oh." That is all I could say.

"Come on now, querida, give me a kiss." I couldn't resist him anymore. He cupped my face, kissing me.

Our kiss started off soft, but then it deepened.

Armando started to pull at my clothes, and I did the same with him, until we were finally naked for the first time in front of one another.

I looked him up and down, and he did the same with me.

"We will have to be quiet." I told him as he wrapped his arms around my middle and pulled me flush against his body.

"I can be quiet. Can you?" That sounded like a challenge.

◆

I was biting Armando's shoulder as he fucked me against the sink. I couldn't think straight as he thrusted in and out of me.

Armando was bigger than any man I have ever been with. My legs were wrapped around his waist, my hands gripping hid back. Grunts fell from his mouth, and I could hardly make out what he was saying, and what I did make out, it was in Spanish.

One of his hands gripped the back of my head, pulling my head from his shoulder. He captured my lips once more with his. One hard thrust, and him grinding against my pussy, making me squeal into the kiss.

"You gonna cum for me? I can feel you. Pussy just squeezing me."

"Armando." I moaned. His pace got faster. He was close as well.

"Come on, I need you to cum." His sounded desperate, wanting me to finish before him.

"Faster." I whined, and he delivered, fucking me so hard and fast that it felt like he was trying to become one with me.

I placed my face in his chest and moaned his name as I came. My pussy spasming around his cock as he fucked me through my orgasm.

"Where?" I told him inside, as I kissed him once more.

He stilled, the two of us moaning into the kiss as he came.

He pulled back and leaned his forehead against mine. "Time to go back." I said to him. He sighed but nodded his head in agreement.

I got dressed and went back outside to stand guard. Another guard came walking down the hall. "Everything okay?" He asked me, as he stopped in front of me.

"All good, Tobin." I told him. "Just waiting for Aretas to be done. The toilet in his cell isn't fixed yet."

"Yeah, they keep saying that someone will come in and fix it, but no one has come yet."

He left just as Armando came out of the washroom. I put the cuffs back on him, and the two of us walked back to his cell.

"Good night, Armando." I said to him as I locked the cell.

"Good night, querida." He said as he put his hands through the bars, leaning against it. He held his hand out, and I saw that he had something in his hand.

I took the paper and placed it in my pocket, going back to doing my job.

Once I was on my break, I pulled the note out of my pocket.

'Wait for me.' A.A.

I'll wait for you, Armando.

[pstarvideo]

So Much to Lose - CHAPTER 6 - dark!Joel x f!reader

story summary: Newly settled into Jackson city and forced to go on patrols with the miserable Joel Miller sets off a chain of events and encounters that have you questioning everything, including your own heart. rating: 18+ tags: Oral sex (m receiving), allusions to female masturbation, brief description of animal violence, angst, praise, dirty talk, Chapter 5 here

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

Chapter 6: Trapped Inside

It happens again the following week.

And the week after that. 

Joel’s never mean when he fucks your mouth. He's not gentle by any stretch of the imagination, but there's no cruelty in it. When you gag or when your breathing gets shallow he pulls back, hips circling, the tip of his cock resting on your lower lip as he pants. 

"You good?"

And when you give him a breathless nod you think he must do the same before his thumb hooks around your lower lip, opening your jaw wider you before he's sliding deeply once more. 

"Yeah, you're good." 

Today he has you kneeling between he and the wall of the logbook room. He groans a sinfully low sound as he slides himself to the hilt over and over, your wet mouth rasping against the curls at the base of his cock. You hear him slap the wall above you, hips jumping. 

"Such a sweet fuckin' mouth," Joel grunts as he continues to thrust and you know that he's just speaking to himself. 

You could be anyone. 

Just as when you close your eyes and feel his thick member stretching your mouth wide, you're just focused on the feel of a cock in your mouth. Heavy and salty and strangely comforting. It makes your brain shut off; it makes the world and its terror abate. 

He's picking up speed, and you can tell by the angle that he's tilting back to watch his cock disappear into your mouth over and over. You never know for sure, he insists on the scarf wrapped around your eyes each and every time.

"More of your tongue," he grunts above you. "Flick it ‘round the head."

You do it, feeling warm when Joel gives another muffled groan. His hips jump when you hit a particularly good spot. 

"Uh huh," Joel groans above you. "That's right. Someone's listenin' real good today."

Your cunt throbs at this remark. Praise . How you long for it. The comfort of being told you're doing well. Joel tells you exactly what he likes, he's blunt, there's no guesswork. The faint groans that escape his broad chest scratches that itch you didn't even know you had. 

Without thought your hands go to his thighs, fingers about to curl around his shaft before he bats them away. 

"No touchin' me," Joel instructs, voice ragged. "Just your mouth."

You wish you could see him if only to know what an un-tethered Joel Miller looks like. But with your eyes covered it brings you back into the moment, chasing your own pleasure. The hypnotizing calm of bobbing your head up and down along his stiff cock until you feel the twitch of it. 

And he knows now not to pull back but to instead continue keeping the meat of his cock in your mouth, hands on the wall above you as he empties himself down your throat. 

You swallow, humming in satisfaction.

A moment passes, one where you sit patiently, cheeks flushed and breathing sharp. The moment before the world comes back loud and oppressive. 

Joel puts himself away and zips up his jeans before removes the scarf blindfold just as he did before. He hands it to you wordlessly before he leaves the room, his footsteps heavy and quick.

You’re positively throbbing between your legs. So much so that you don’t see how you can make it back on your horse to town without being uncomfortable.

You bring yourself to a shaky stand and go to the old washroom, closing the creaking door behind you. You go to the wash basin and look at yourself in the cracked, aged mirror. Your cheeks are pink, your eyes bright and your mouth swollen and damp.

You spin away, pressing your spine to the wall opposite the mirror and slide your palm under the front of your jeans and panties. You’re soaked and you can still taste Joel’s spend on your tongue. You bring yourself off quietly with one hand between your legs, other hand covering your mouth as you cry out into the meat of your palm. 

You come down, wiping your damp hand on your jeans before you exit, chest flushed. You start when you see Joel standing, waiting for you at the door. He eyes you curiously as you swallow a  humiliated wince.

Did he hear anything? Doesn’t look like it.

"Ready to go?"

You nod. 

It's not a coincidence that the ride back is always more pleasant. You think Joel must be sated, his irritation lessened by having his release. And you feel that drunken loose limb sensation of being used for pleasure. 

You scour the perimeter with Joel, feeling your confidence grow. He's not critical anymore if you make a small mistake. He may make a scoffing noise or sigh heavily, but there's no more barbs tossed cruelly your way. 

The ride back today is in silence but now it's a comfortable one. One that allows you to breathe deeply the crisp air and relish your time on Chestnut. One that reminds you of the beautiful world that clickers don't occupy. 

One that feels remarkably like calm.

///

“You made it!”

Jennifer welcomes you into her home later that week with a wide smile and a squeal as she pulls you into a hug. You flinch at the contact, still not used to this kind of intimacy. You hang awkwardly back, looking around at her décor.

She takes your jacket and scarf, hanging it on the hook by the door before encouraging you to toe off your boots and come inside. When you finally enter you're greeted with pastel walls and warm, textured surfaces. Rugs, pillows, all of which she's made herself with scraps she had when she was working in textiles. 

“I made my own dress for the school dance,” she tells you with a soft little smile. “Didn’t even get to wear it.”

She still sews most of her own clothes, blankets, curtains. But she likes being on patrols better, she tells you. It’s more exciting. Everything about her home feels warm and welcoming. A start contrast to your sterile home with its still packed boxes.

"Let's have a tea before we start." 

Over the fairly bland beverage she talks animatedly about her life before Jackson city, about her brothers, about her family. You sit back and listen, occasionally nodding or sipping your tea. She doesn't ask you anything about yourself. If you were someone else perhaps it would offend you. As it is you like that you don't have to suffer through a stilted history of your own. 

And there's something serene about Jennifer. Not just her warm home, but the way she talks so animatedly. You enjoy that when she smiles broadly you can see the tiny gap between her two front teeth. You like that she still finds life worth living. You like that she’s silly and un-serious.

You don't mind that she's only nice to you because she wants to get closer to Joel. You don't mind that her popularity means that more eyes are on you. You don't mind any of it because for once in what feels like a very long time you feel like you belong. 

"Alright," Jennifer says when she sees the hour. "Let's get shootin'."

You follow her out to the far edge of the property, the isolated area of the town where others practice. There are cans on benches and targets on trees. It’s a quiet day, no one is around.

Jennifer has two long range weapons, ones she brought with herself on her trek to Jackson City. It’s heavier than the one they give you on patrols, but you think this is more useful anyway. She helps you to steady and brace it against your shoulder.

"Alright, plant your feet."

For the rest of the morning Jennifer teaches you the basics of shooting. How to hold the weapon correctly, how to brace yourself, how to position your feet, how to exhale before the shot. And while you do everything she says; your aim is always just slightly off. Jennifer seems perplexed by this.

"You’re not terrible," she concedes after an hour or so after you knock one of the distance cans to the ground. “You made it seem like you were so bad at this.”

You don't tell her that shooting with her is much less stressful. That her teaching is gentle and focused instead of tense and that it makes you feel confident. That you weren't always the shit shot that Joel thought you were. You're not great, but you're a far cry from useless. You give a shy shrug and focus on the far target, about to squeeze the trigger when you hear her beside you.

"Wait," Jennifer says with a frown.

You lower the gun, looking at her with raised brows. She’s peering into your face, her light eyes focused.

“Make a triangle with your fingers and hold your arms out straight in front of you,” she says, doing the same with her own. The tip of your thumbs and finger fingers press together gently.  “You see that green tin can out there? Near the tree?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, with both eyes get it centered in that triangle.”

“Done.”

“Now close your left eye.”

“Okay.”

“Can you still see the can?”

“Not really.”

“S’what I thought,” Jennifer says thoughtfully. “Okay, now close your right and what happens?”

“I can still see the can.” You lower your hands, looking over your shoulder at a nodding Jenifer. “What does that mean?”

“It’s my fault, I just assumed since you were right handed that you were right eye dominant,” she explains, peering into your face again. “But you’re left eye dominant.”

You know very little about weaponry aside from what you’ve been taught, and that’s not a lot. Just enough for large game if it got close enough.

“You need your dominant eye over the bore,” she explains shifting the weapon and showing you how to peer into it now. “And it needs to be aligned with the target. It’s no wonder your aim is always slightly off. You’re a good shot, you just haven’t been trained properly.”

If experienced shooter Joel Miller had taken two minutes to teach you properly he would have noticed this. You wouldn't have struggled. It makes you secretly furious with him that he didn’t even attempt to help you.  

“It’ll take practice,” Jennifer assures you as you ready yourself again. “But now that we know that, your aim is gonna be heaps better.”

For the rest of the morning you use this knowledge and proceed to knock off more of the tin cans, you hit the actual targets instead of the tree surrounding them and all the while Jennifer speaks softly and encouraging.

She herself is an amazing shot, easily shooting the targets in the center each time. You watch in quiet amazement at this pretty young woman who looks like  a beauty queen but shoots like a military leader.

"You ever shoot an infected?” you can’t help but ask.

"Oh yeah, I've shot heaps," Jennifer tells you calmly like she's discussing the weather. She reloads her rifle, continuing to talk and that same dulcet tone. "I never had a hard time doin' it but my brother did. He said he was worried that they were still in there somewhere."

This makes you pause. "What do you mean?"

"The people who got bit," Jennifer explains before taking aim at the row of cans and closing her left eye. “My brother said that he heard from someone else that the people that got bit were still inside somewhere. Not in control of their bodies, watching it happen but stuck inside still aware of it all. When he told me that, I told him that shootin’ them is a kindness if anything.”

She pulls the trigger, but just as she does a nearby grackle soars between her gun and the target. You watch the bird fall to the ground, a bloom of red on its pale chest as it tumbles downward. 

"Fuck." Jennifer frowns, moving towards the fallen animal.

You watch her quick stride and feel a stripe of cold go up your legs, curling in your stomach. Before you can stop yourself you've fallen to your knees, vomiting into the mud below. Jennifer notices, throwing the strap of her gun over her shoulder and rushing to your side. 

"Jesus!" Jennifer cries out, going to hold your hair back as you feel another wave of nausea go through you. A mix of eggs and oatmeal litters the earth below you as she pulls your hair back from your face. 

When the moment passes she hands you her water skin. “Here. Rinse. Are your okay?"

"Yeah," your say swirling the water in your mouth and spitting. "Think I ate too much at breakfast."

"Okay," Jennifer rubs a soothing circle on your back. "Just take it easy the rest of the afternoon, yeah?" 

"I will, thanks."

She tells you that the two of you should meet again next week for more shooting practice. But you’re completely exhausted, your eyes wet and your mouth sour with sick so you can only offer a guttural nod and muted thank you.

When you get home you shower long and scrub at yourself in the warm water. You don’t feel like yourself. Too many thoughts are racing through your mind, making your extremities tremble and your heart race. You realize you’re almost out of soap and you frown, irritated.

You pull on warm clothes and pad to the table. You re-arrange the paper flowers you made for yourself. The colorful collection cheery in your boring home. You spend a few hours making more, a bigger bouquet to take to Maria. You hope it will bring her the same cheer it does for you.

That night as you go over the day you realize Jennifer didn’t mention Joel once.

///

The sun peeks over the mountains as you walk outside of town towards the soap makers the next morning. 

It's a bit of a walk from your place but you don't mind. The air is crisp and your new boots are warm. You feel good as you stride over to the outer farms. There are very few of them, all reserved for community members that provide a certain skill. 

The couple who make soap for the community are an older couple named Hannah and Herb. They have several goats on their property, and that's the milk that goes into the soap you all use. 

You don't know the entire process or how they get it to smell like peppermint or tea tree or whatever scents they offer, but you're thankful for it all the same. It's creamy and feels divine on your skin each time you use it.

"Hi Hannah," you say giving a friendly wave. "I was just wondering-"

"I've got an almond and a lavender batch just made yesterday," she interrupts excitedly. Her aged cheeks are pink from the cold and when she takes your hand tugging you gently inside you feel the biting cold of her calloused fingers. 

You've only met Hannah once before to replenish your soap. That day she was very busy with lots of Jackson folk’s orders and she'd barely looked up from her ledger as she took your house number and handed you a bag filled with thick, rectangular soaps. 

Today she seems more calm, the farm empty likely due to the early hour. You’re thankful that she’s an early riser. She urges you into her home, motioning for you to follow her to the table.

"Tea, darlin’?"

"No thanks," you say feeling awkward with no one else around to buffer your shy nature. "Just came for the soaps."

"Ah, well, have a cuppa anyway," she says with a wink. "Herb's gone to the stables early and we usually start our day with one together."

You don't know how to refuse her again without being insulting so you nod and take a seat at her wooden table painted a shade of pale green. You sit rubbing your anxiously sweaty hands on your jeans. It's so warm inside here, the oven on and bubbling in the next room, the scent of lavender clinging to every surface. 

You watch Hannah wander back into the room with a smile. She pushes her kinked grey hair out of her face with a bandana. You take off your knitted cap, finding the fire keeps this place nice and toasty.

"Here we are," she says kindly before placing the teacup before you. She puts her own before her chair before groaning lightly as her aged bones settle into the seat. She has to be at least seventy five, the oldest of the people here at Jackson. 

You take a moment to glance around the cozy farmstead with its knotty pine walls and framed watercolor paintings. The curtains are handmade of gingham fabric and if you didn't know what happened to the world in the last few decades you could almost convince yourself that Outbreak Day never happen. 

"You're still fairly new here,” Hannah comments after a long sip. "Kitchens is it?"

"I was, yeah,” you nod. "Patrols now."

Hannah hums in reply. "You like it?"

"Not really," your say shrugging with a crooked smile. Hannah laughs behind her hands girlishly. 

"Blunt. I like that." 

You take another sip of the tea, looking at the woman's chapped hands. 

"Do you like making soap?"

"I did it all my life back on my farm in Idaho," Hannah offers by way of reply. She crosses her legs and leans back in her creaking chair. "Sold them at markets, never thought I'd be doing it at this age."

You look at the woman directly in the face now, struck by the fatigue you see in her eyes not related to age. A pang of sympathy goes through you at the thought of her working so hard her entire life. 

"Do you need help?"

"Aren't you sweet, no I'm fine darlin'," Hannah says with a wave of her hand. "Besides I've got Herb and we're a good team."

"Good."

There's a knock at the door and you glance up from your tea as Hannah hobbles over to greet the figure at the door. You flinch as a familiar voice sounds out from behind you. 

"Joel, right on schedule. Come in for a tea."

"Got coffee?"

"I do, Herb wanted one before he left," Hannah says with a nod. "Come join us."

You don't turn around when you hear the footsteps sound out along the wood floor behind you. You just stare at your tea, seeing your own concerned reflection in its sepia depths. You hold still as if that will stop Joel Miller from seeing you. 

"'Lo," Joel offers in a murmur as he comes to take the empty seat between you and Hannah's steaming cup. You don't raise your head but you do offer a weak wave.

"Hi."

Hannah comes out of the kitchen with a new mug she hands to a grateful Joel.

"Sorry it's not the good stuff," she says with a laugh because there is no good stuff. Just the stuff people find, like the instant crystals unearthed last year from a bomb shelter. 

"I'd do anything for a cup of real coffee," Joel says with a sigh as he takes the black coffee from Hannah's gnarled hand. 

"Well you'll drink this and be happy about it."

"Yes ma'am."

You peek up just in time to see Joel flash Hannah a warm smile and it shocks you to the point that your mouth hangs open. He gives his smile out so freely to so many, but never to you.

Hannah looks between the two of you, brows cocked.

"Do you two know one another?" She asks motioning between you and Joel. You slam your mouth shut before he sees you staring.  

"We're on patrols together," you murmur. 

"Ah, I see." She turns to Joel with a thin smile as she sits.

An awkward silence extends over the table, both you and Joel unable to meet each other's eyes. You start to drink your tea in a hurry, despite it scalding your tongue.

Finally Hannah turns her wizened gaze on the equally quiet Joel.

"How'd Ellie like the last batch?"

"She liked it a lot," Joel nods politely before taking a sip from his mug. You don't miss the slight blink as the acrid flavor coats his tongue. "She wanted to know if you had any more almond?"

"I do," Hannah nods. "I'll make sure to pack you extra." 

"Thanks kindly."

You bring your cup to your lips and start drinking quickly. You want to escape this impossibly warm room and Joel. Hannah must not notice the tension because she smiles between the two of you like you're old friends. 

"How's your brother?"

"You see him more than I do these days," Joel muses. "He can't stop talking about what a difference your soap made for Douglas'' skin."

"Goats milk is perfect for eczema," Hannah acknowledges. "I used it on my kids when they were young."

Joel hums a reply, taking another sip of his coffee. Judging by the way he winces it’s pretty acrid.

"Tommy was here the other day," Hannah says thoughtfully to Joel. "Says someone brought paper flowers to Maria the other week. So beautiful and ornate and it must've taken them hours to do. Isn't that sweet? Apparently they barely even know the woman."

Your body tightens at this and for some unexplained reason your eyes dart to Joel's face. He's looking at Hannah perplexed. 

"Why would she do that?"

"To be kind," Hannah replies. "To welcome your nephew to the community."

"You don't know who it was?" 

"I should leave," you interject awkwardly.

At your loud blurt and abrupt jump up from your chair the two figures at the table glance over, looking at you in confusion. Joel is of course an unreadable enigma, but Hannah peers into your face. 

"But-"

"Thank you very much for the tea," you bluster, tugging your cap back on and practically running from the room. 

You burst out the front door, heart hammering in your chest. You don't know why but you didn't want to be there if Joel put two and two together. You didn't want to avoid his questioning glare. 

You don't know why but you're certain he would have had something to say about it and it wouldn't have been kind. And it would have made you feel worse than ever. 

You take your hat and scarf off, hanging them up before going to the kitchen. As you clean the crumbs from your counters and wash the few dishes in the sink you think about the patrols you’ll have with Joel in a few days.

Will things always be like this? Awkward and strained every time you run into him outside of patrols? Will there ever be an instance where the two of you might interact as friends? Is that even a possibility? Does Joel Miller have friends?

It’s hard to hate him when you know about his daughter. Harder still when you see how he is with Ellie. But at the same time, he doesn’t really endear himself to you. The two of you treat each other like transactions to get off. What sort of friendship could be borne of that?

There’s a knock at your door and you wonder if it’s Jennifer. You wouldn’t mind having her over sometime. You have playing cards, perhaps-

The idea leaves you as the door swings open to reveal Joel Miller standing on your porch, peering at you. His graying curls rustle slightly in the wind, his cheeks pink from the cold of his walk from the farm. In his hands he holds several bags of soap from Hannah and Herb.  

"Hannah said you forgot these," Joel tells you handing you one of the bags full of new soaps.  In your hurry to rush out the door you completely forgot your reasoning for being there. You feel embarrassment sweep over you.

"Oh. Thanks."

You take it hurriedly, feeling his glove against your finger as you tug it from his grip.

Manners would say you should invite him inside for a drink. But this isn’t really a social call and even if it was, what would the two of you talk about? It’s like pulling teeth for him to share anything about himself.  

Joel's eyes dart from your face over your shoulder and it's too late before you realize that Joel has seen the colorful paper flowers sitting there on your table. Judging by the narrowing of his dark eyes it’s clear that he's drawn the inevitable conclusion. 

"Thought so," Joel murmurs to himself before glancing back at you.

You flush as you wonder if he's thinking you're strange for bringing gifts to people you barely know. You wonder if he’s thinking that he’s an idiot for wasting his time with someone that makes paper flowers.

"Why'd you take ‘em to Maria?"

His voice isn’t cruel or rough, merely interested. Your eyes stay on the floor, unable to meet his face. There’s something about Joel’s eyes that are incredibly disarming at times. You think of how to answer this without exposing too much.

"I just wanted to do something nice for her."

"Why?"

Why did you do it? It wasn't that you felt you had to. More that you wanted to. That you had seen that acute sadness before and wanted to remedy it. Your eyes finally raise to his, seeing that he’s not frowning or angry-looking, he’s more just curious.

"I like making people happy, I guess?"

Joel stares at you a moment too long resulting in your pink face tilting to the floor once more. You feel heat creeping up your neck and you wonder how to excuse yourself without coming off too rude.

Joel steps forward slightly, more just shifting in place, but you find the motion makes every part of your body stand on end. He drops his voice to a husky rasp, hushed.

"You like what we do on patrols?"

It's a quiet ask, one so low and husky that it feels he's siphoning it through his thick boots. It's a loaded question, though. One that makes your stomach flip pleasantly. But you’re momentarily taken aback, the silence stretching on a few moments before you reply gently.

"Yeah."

"You doin' it for me or for you?"

This causes your mind to still. You'd never considered it would be for anyone but yourself. You take a moment to search your feelings and confirm that yes; this is for your pleasure. You consider that Joel could be anyone with a decent cock that propositioned you. 

"For me."

That seems to answer something in him. He nods before sticking his gloved hands in the pockets of his dark brown leather jacket. He stares at you, unblinking before taking a step backwards.

"Alright then."

He turns away from you with no goodbye, no glance behind him. Just a casual nod and then his broad frame is lumbering away from you, leaving you to stare after him, wondering what on earth brought that about. 

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taglist: @casssiopeia @getitoutofmymind @joeldjarin @elegantduckturtle @cosmic006533-blog @orcasoul @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @valkyreally @multiversed-daydreamer @deninoe @ashleyfilm

[angel-minhee]

MANEATER

ミ★ ### : “she’s a maneater… make you want all of her love”

PAIRING(S) poly!ot7!enhypen x fem!addedmember!oc WARNINGS minhee is mentioned to be in a dating rumour with someone outside of enhypen. (brief) crying. miscommunication. profanity. avoidance. WC 1.91k [back to library]

MINHEE DIDN’T KNOW WHEN THE RUMOURS ORIGINALLY BEGAN SPREADING. It was hard to pinpoint the exact spot on the timeline when she saw the first tweet.

It got even harder to pin the rest, with countless accounts coming out and saying the same things over and over.

 A timeless record, as she called it. 

A record that only plays the same envious tunes, the sweet poison spilling from her lips with every tap of their fingers. One after another they kept the record spinning, the music in their ears only intensifying as they saw the success of their mission coming to light. 

Their vicious grins replaced their tearful eyes, their victory held high on their shoulders as they celebrated- what they thought- was the beginning of the end.

Maneater. A word Minhee now knew all too well. The word that’s been painted over her pristine image, one that many now identify her with. 

The darks of her eyes grew with the passing weeks, bleeding down into her skin as they made home with her misfortune. She was a beautiful disaster, a shell of the woman that they once loved the most. 

Her friends began turning their backs, their sharp claws coming out as they tried grasping ahold of their own careers. No one was prepared to go down with her, not even herself.

The change was gradual. 

It started with one less handhold, her arms glued to her side as she avoided all eye contact with the taller man beside her. The sudden avoidance made Heeseung stare at his palm in shock, intruding thoughts entering his mind as he began questioning himself.

It ended with complete silence. The world kept spinning, days turning into nights as Minhee closed herself off. She was drowning in the hues of the night, her magnetic pull being far too strong for her to handle.

She was barely gasping for air by the time the news hit the other members. Time was a thief, but they seemed to have fate spinning across their palms in a web of sudden realization.

“Noona, what’s a maneater?” It wasn’t often that Riki called Minhee by her set honorific, often opting to call her by whichever pet name he found most intriguing at the time. 

But it also wasn’t often when Minhee avoided him at all costs, her presence leaking from his life as she removed herself from their home. 

Minhee froze in shock, her body unmoving as she stared into Riki’s confused gaze. Her chest burned at the thought of them finding out about the rumours, her heart palpitating as her worst nightmare played out in front of her. 

“It’s nothing for you to worry about, just ignore it.” Minhee turned her eyes away from the slightly younger boy, her back facing him as she countinued walking from the washroom to her bedroom. 

Riki’s confusion never settled, the feeling growing as he read through the comments. His gasp, once again, caused Minhee to freeze. 

Her eyes closed on their own as the long-awaited revelation came out. “Why didn’t you tell us?” He didn’t care to express what he had read, automatically connecting the dots on his own.

Minhee never respired, her voice stuck in her chest as the air squeezed her lungs in an agonizing hold. 

“What are you talking about, Riki?” Fuck.

Minhee had no time to delay the reaction across the room, Riki taking initiative as he spilled her best-hidden secret. “They’re saying that Minhee is dating Park Sungho.”

Minhee flinched in surprise as a door adjacent to her rooted spot swung open, Sunghoon standing in the doorway with his eyes glaring slits toward’s their sole female member.

“Is it true?” He couldn’t stop himself from asking, his emotions blinding him from the heaviness of the duration. Any other time he would’ve known not to believe these useless accusations, but it was different this time.

Her avoidance made him all more suspicious, his overlooking sense of betrayal filling the holes in his eyes as he shot them straight through her walls.

Minhee finally reacted to the boys surrounding her, her palms coming up to cup around her ears as her nails dug half-moons into her scalp. 

Sunghoon’s anger was her tilting point. She could’ve handed anything, anything except for the betrayed look in his eyes.

He was the level-headed one, everyone in the room was well aware of this. This is why it came as a shock when he appeared to be the angriest one, his usual delicate eyes nowhere in sight as the venom seeped in. 

“Minhee? Are you okay?” Through her fuzzy vision, she could see Jake standing before her. His arms, in slow motion, reaching out to hold her.

“It’s not true! I promise it’s not true!” Everyone shared a concerned look as their lover began to break down in front of them, her eyes filling with tears as she sunk further into her own hold.

“Minhee-“ Jay tried stepping forward to comfort her, his heart aching at the sight of his girlfriend in pain. He barely took a step before Minhee went rushing out of the room, her feet bare as the door slammed behind her.

“Fuck, Sunghoon I swear to God…” Heeseung angrily shouted at the frozen man, his hands moving on autopilot as he pulled his shoes on.

He swung the front door open, the hinges squeaking due to the sudden force. Before he could close the door he turned his head towards the others standing behind him, “Tell the staff, make sure every single post is taken down.”

Jungwon was the first to call their manager, describing everything that Riki had read off his phone minutes before. The rest followed him, their voices overlapping as they yelled at the receiving end. 

They didn’t know everything about the situation, but they knew that they’d stop at nothing until your name was cleared.

“Have you ever heard of a song called Maneater?” 

Minhee jumped at the sudden intrusion, her wide eyes jumping toward the woman leaning against the wall across from her.

Her recognition came almost automatically, the familiar eyes of her former best friend's member meeting her own.

“What?” Minhee wasn’t completely impressed, the impression that the elder woman was poking fun at her clouding over her mind due to the terms of their relationship.

“Maneater, by Nelly Furtado?” The older woman’s jaw dropped in faux shock, her eyes wide as she gasped out loud. She dramatically threw one hand over her forehead, the other fanning her face as she pretended to hyperventilate.

“You know..” Minhee barely bit down the giggle that was threatening to leave her lips, her hand over her lips as stared at the woman dancing and singing in front of her in a dramatic fashion.

“Your smile is too pretty to be kept away.” A finger was pressed against the bottom of Minhee’s chin, her face rising towards the idol in front of her. 

“Make them regret messing with you, give them a show they never expected.” The finger left Minhee’s chin, moving up to gently brush against her right eyebrow. 

“If they want a maneater, give it to them in the way you know best.” Yunjin stood from her crouched position, her hand stretched out to help Minhee up.

Minhee wrapped her fingers around Yunjin’s, her knees straightening as she rose to a stand. 

Yunjin released her hands, fingers coming up in a little finger wave before she turned her back, shoes clicking against the ground as she walked towards her gym bag.

“Remember, you’re Minhee.” Minhee moved her gaze towards the large mirror in front of her, unfamiliar eyes staring back. 

“And our Minhee can do anything.” Yunjin was right. 

Minhee can do anything, and she was ready to take her own life back into her hands. 

The perfect opportunity was just about to fall into place. The card falling from the dealer's hands as it got mixed in with her own scattered deck. 

In mere hours she was about to break the internet, a star shooting back with a blinding encore. 

Minhee stood amongst her staff, everyone’s nerves high as they picked and prodded at her outfit- ensuring everything was secure in place.

Her nerves were at an all-time high, her heart racing at the thought of the crowd's faces as soon as she stepped on stage.

Through her anger, Minhee decided to keep this stage a secret from her members.

It’s barely been twelve hours since she ran out of their dorm, eleven since she had her run-in with Yunjin. Her mind was quickly set, a smirk pulling to her face as the song's melody played out from the studio's speakers.

Her entire day shifted, the stars aligning in her favour. Minhee was originally supposed to sing a cover of another song, one that she’d memorized for weeks as she practiced day and night with her team.

It just so happened that this song shared the same rhythm as the one she had chosen before, the sultry moves coincidently fitting her new song.

It was fairly easy to persuade her team, everyone agreeing with excited cheers as they listened to the idol explain her plans. They practiced for hours straight, changing a few moves to replace the awkward move that didn’t look right with the lyrics.

“Minhee, prepare yourself for thirty.” The stage crew began counting from the thirty seconds, Minhee’s nerves disappearing as the cheers grew with the backing music.

Minhee decided to sing the song live, choosing to try and get wanted the impact to hit harder than anyone could imagine. But there was only one problem, one that had the potential to grow into something more.

Minhee got lifted to the stage, her glaring eyes appearing bigger due to the sharp liner outlining her eyes. “Everybody look at me.” She curled a finger towards the camera, a sudden close-up of her smirk shining on the big screen.

Her dancers came up behind her, their fluid moves highlighting hers as her stable vocals echoed across the stadium.

“She’s a maneater, make you work hard.”

It was an understatement to say that the male members of Enhypen were in shock, their jaws practically touching the ground as they watched Minhee’s performance through a televised broadcast in their room.

“Oh my God?” Sunoo was the first to break the silence, a sly smile growing on his face as his eyes sparkled at the sight. The shocked feeling coursing through his body was replaced with amazement, pride overwhelming his veins.

“Is she really doing that?” Jungwon laughed out loud, his hands clapping in front of him as his eyes never looked away from the screen.

“I think I know what a maneater is now.” Riki finally found some words, a joke falling from his lips as he tried copying Minhee’s complex dance.

The look in her eyes had the eldest members in a trance, Minhee had never made that expression before, and they now wanted nothing more than to see it more.

The remaining staff cheered from around the room, their phones pulled out as they recorded the screen from their positions.

News outlets were already going crazy, Minhee’s performance blowing up before she even finished. But there was only one reaction Minhee was truly looking forward to.

The boy's primal reaction would only come out the second they got home, away from the watchful eyes of everyone around them.

Minhee couldn’t wait, and neither could they.

[wyniepooh]

Swear

hotch doesn’t swear. or at least he didn't, until he met you.

Female bau!reader x hotch. Cw: mentions of alcohol and reader being drunk, creepy man saying slightly creepy words to reader, swearing. Slight talks of anxiety, self blaming, guilt. Random man tries to get w drunk reader at a bar, hotch comes to her defense.

“To catching another dumb son-of-a-bitch!”

Raised glasses filled your mildly limited vision as your toast echoed bounced around the table. The night didn’t always end like this, but when it did, the team made sure to celebrate enough to last the whole year.

Today’s case was particularly satisfying. There was nothing like putting handcuffs on a seriously cruel offender that put a smile on your face and fuelled tequila shot after tequila shot. although, you wouldn't deny that perhaps it fuelled a little too much drinking.

“I’m pretty sure the ladies is on the left, Derek. Are you forgetting that my name is literally on the regular’s list?” Your own words sounded unusually slurred, but you didn't bother questioning anything that was happening in the moment.

The man in front of you chuckled, letting go of his grasp on your forearm as he lifted his own defensively, raising his suspicious brows with a smile. “Alright, alright. Didn’t know we were still on duty. Go wherever you want, agent. Just don’t get lost, and don’t blame us when you see something you do not wanna see.”

You rolled your eyes as you stumbled away, using the light of your phone to shine at the approaching door of the washroom. Once you reached the hard door, you stuffed your phone into your pant pocket and pushed on the flat surface.

“Woah-“

You felt the gulf of cold air hitting your face before you could register what had happened. A middle aged man stood dazed in front of you, his expression sweetening by the second, and it was right then that you realized Derek was totally right.

“Uh, I’m so sorry. I thought this was the women’s washrooms. Clearly I need to revisit my directions,” you tried to chuckle.

The stranger flashed you a toothy grin, and while you probably didn’t smell any better, you swore the man would catch on fire if you dropped a match.

“That’s all right, sweetheart. Here, where are you headed? I can give you a ride.”

You only now registered how close he was, and how close you were to the wooden wall behind you. You tried to look over his shoulder, but he mirrored your movements, smile so intact yours started to falter.

“Excuse me- get out of the way." Even though the music was being blasted at an unreasonable volume, your clear voice still rung throughout the room.

He laughed. “Come on, sweetie. You were the one to bump into me. Shouldn’t you…” he stepped closer again, “…make up for it?”

Your smile had fallen completely by this point, and you crossed your arms as you spoke, “I’ll say it one more time, sir. Get out of my face.”

“Just give me a little-“

the flash of a familiar red tie swung past you.

“You heard what she said.”

Looming behind the sweaty man was hotch, suit still impressively pristine as it was at the beginning of the day, but furrowed brows seemingly worse.

The man’s face flushed red at the interruption, and had you not felt so cold and had your hands not been shaking, you would’ve laughed at this stranger’s ridiculous appearance.

“And who the hell are you?”

“You shouldn’t be the one asking questions."

You uncrossed your arms, attempting to step in his direction. “hotch, let’s just go-“

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw an arm reach towards your waist.

“Hey, baby, don’t go away so soo-“

The sound of skin colliding hit your ears much aggressively than the blaring music. You looked down to see hotch’s hand firming gripping onto the man’s wrist, his arm just about to make contact with your body, no doubt.

“She told you to go away,” hotch whispered.

the guy sighed. “hey, relax man. come on, you get it. I’m just- you know, tryna get some action from this pretty little-” his sentence was interrupted by a nasty groan.

He toppled over, nearly in half, as hotch crouched down to his level, hand still squeezing his wrist.

“Maybe you didn’t hear her. She said to fuck off.”

The bar went silent. You swore someone had lowered the sound of the music, and it seemed everyone had stopped drinking and laughing to catch a glimpse of the situation.

The man managed to twist his arm to escape hotch's grasp, quickly scurrying to the front. You sighed a breath of relief as the door opened and the man practically ran away.

“Thank you-“

“Come on,” he murmured as he extended his arm, and you instinctively grabbed his forearm as you both began to walk.

You chuckled. “I’ve never heard you swear before.”

“I only use it when I need to,” he smiled.

“Wow. So I ruined somewhat of a clean streak, huh?”

He stopped. He turned around, eyes reflecting onto yours with the slight smile still wavering on his face. “You didn’t ruin anything.”

The seemingly immeasurable adrenaline finally stopped pumping in your blood, and the repressed tears finally made their space in your eyes. You returned his smile, giving his arm a firm squeeze as you whispered,

“Thank you.”

-

A/n: oh to have hotch comfort me and tell me I didn’t mess anything up 😔

[ivestas]

underlying bitterness

Summary: You were depressed. The family is quick to notice. 

Tags: platonic!yandere!batfam x fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, depression, coddling, isolation, etc (you know the drill)

Word count: 1.6k

Notes: temporarily back from the dead! decided to finish this since i had it collecting dust in my drafts LMAO---apologies for my lack of writing, i have several projects im combing through and school 😭

The manor never really was quiet; there was always something going on.

The only time the quiet came was when they were out for patrol, or when everyone was asleep—but even then, there always seemed to be a pervasive spirit of noise and life that, on a good day, didn’t bother you.

But today was a bad one. Today, everything was an unbearable stretch of life, a near-constant torment of both mind and soul, leaving you incapacitated by your own head. 

It was these days where the bearable—hell, even the nice—was acidic on your gaunt body. 

A knock on the door had you wearily raising your head. 

A call of your name bounced through the door. The voice was bright and chirpy, downright dripping with honey. “You okay in there? Can I come in?” 

Eleven minutes alone? New record.

You sighed. The question only had one answer. 

“Yes, and yes.” 

The door to your bedroom opened silently, barely a squeak from the hinges. Dick revealed himself with a giant dopey grin, Damian just a step behind him. 

You didn’t bother smiling. “Hey.” 

“Hi!” Bright as always, his movement carried an excitable sway, acting more like a kid than a 20-something bonafide detective/vigilante. There was something predatory about it, an inherent layer of manipulative intent with it that never left you at ease. 

At least Damian was always himself, the deep-set frown never leaving his face in anyone’s presence, including yours. 

You would’ve been inclined to like him had it not been for the palpable softness that eased the furrows of his brows. 

Shifting under the heavy blankets, you pat the other side of the bed, the movement practiced and learned. Routine. 

Damian was the one to take the invitation while Dick sat at the end of your side. He rarely sat there. You didn’t care to decipher his intentions, merely regarding him with the same placidity as you had before. 

“So..?” 

“The family’s noticed you’ve been off lately?” 

Ah.

You shifted some more, feeling the weight of their stares assess every micro-movement made. It wasn’t subtle. This was an interrogation, not their self-indulgent visits that had you puking right after. 

“I’m on my period,” you responded bluntly. 

“Your cycles aren’t during this time of month.” Dick’s voice was deceptively light. 

"Hm, well, the female body works in mysterious ways.” 

“Then I’m gonna go check the washroom garbage.”

The silence of your mind buzzed to life. “What?” 

“I’m gonna go check the washroom garbage.” He repeated, rising from the bed. 

What the fuck.

You could let him go and find out for himself that you were, indeed, lying. However, you weren’t in the mood to deal with the punishments that came with that...

...Though, regardless, you were going to be punished. Lying—especially to Dick of all people—never bode you well. 

Really, maybe you just weren’t in the mood to deal with the drama, the stormy face he’ll don when he walks out the washroom after finding out the lie. 

So you sighed tiredly, back sinking further into the thick pillow. “I lied.” 

Dick’s pleasant expression flickered. Damian’s stare deepened in its calculating weight. 

Dick spoke slowly. “You know what happens when you lie.” 

You sighed again. It bordered a scoff. “Hurry up with it then.” 

The smile turned to a neutral line, though you knew he was feeling anything than neutral. Dick loathed lies, but he kept a calm voice. “Why’ve you been off lately?” 

“I lied, Dick. Aren’t you supposed to do what you usually do? Neglect and all.” You were flippant. This was gonna make it worse, and at this point you knew better, you always tried to avoid this, but something was possessing you. 

A will, or more accurately, a lack thereof. 

“Just tell him,” Damian hissed. 

You glanced at him, unimpressed. “No.” 

Dick breathed slowly. “Why?” 

“Because you’ll make me feel bad for it.” 

He blinked. Surprised. 

Why was he surprised? Is this another manipulation tactic? 

Probably. Why did you even bother trying to decipher his intentions? Their intentions?

“You’ll make it about you guys. How bad you guys feel. How you want the best for me.” You yawned. “I’m not in the mood to humor that. Pull that some other time, I just need to recuperate. Touch bases with my soul and all that hippie shit.” Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Okay?” 

A pause thickened the tension in the air tenfold. 

Then, it was Damian who spoke. “You’re..?” 

“Depressed.” Dick finished, mild disbelief lacing his words. What stood out was the underlying offended tone the word wore. 

You didn’t bother responding, keeping your eyes shut, pulling the covers over your chin. It was only midday, but you were tired. 

“Why are you... ‘depressed’?” Damian was the one to speak, now with incredulity. 

“Why is the sky blue?” You muttered. 

Cold fingers brushed your cheek, a colder voice poking through. “Open your eyes when you talk.” 

You did as told, looking up at him from your curled position. “Why are you depressed?” He repeated with a voice of iron. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you responded. “None of it does. I’ll be better soon. I just need you to give me space.” 

Another pause. 

Then, uncharacteristically, Damian slipped away. He glanced over where Dick was. 

Dick, even more uncharacteristically, nodded and slipped away, walking with Damian out the room. 

In any other circumstance, your blood would run cold. 

But, at that moment, you were thankful for the temporary relief. 

-----

You hadn’t thought you’d sleep, but you did, only to be awaken by Tim. 

“Dinner’s ready.” He said, eyes burning into yours. 

You grunted, tossing the sheets away. The cold raked your body. Getting off the bed, you glanced out the barred window. 

Sunset. 

How long did you sleep? 

And how come they let you sleep for so long, undisturbed? 

You didn’t care to wonder. Blearily nodding to Tim, you tipped your head to the washroom. “I’m gonna clean up a little, give me a—”

“You look fine, just come.” His hand, now wrapped tightly around your wrist, left no room for complaint. 

Faintly sighing, you nodded again. He led you out the room and through the colder corridors of the manor, down several staircases and past various pillars and paintings you’re always surprised to see, as if you hadn’t been housed in the manor for two-something years. 

Two years. 

730 days wasted here. 

730 days, never to be recovered. 

Your chest tightened, but your heart was empty.

Pushing the thought away, you blankly focused on the outstretched dining table you’d eaten countless meals on. 

Tim said your name. 

You look at him, confused. 

“Sit?” 

Oh. Right. 

You slipped onto the chair, vaguely aware of your surroundings. 

“...That’s my seat.” 

“Sorry,” you moved to get up, but his hands pressed down on your shoulders. 

“No, it’s fine, I’m just surprised. That’s all. You’re usually pretty attentive.”

“Sorry,” you repeated. 

Tim didn’t respond, opting to sit beside you. 

You were vaguely aware of the rest of the family settling in their respective positions—Bruce sitting at the head on your left, Dick sitting across you with Damian to his right, and at the end of the table Jason settled with a tired huff.

What you were fully aware of however was how good the food. The aroma was thick and savory, leaving your mouth to water 

Raising a fork, you dug into the food. 

“How was your day?” Bruce was the one to break the silence, and you notice him looking at you. 

“It was good,” you mumbled around the food. 

A silence cradled the room for a moment, the clanks of silverware mute. 

“Was it?”

“Yeah.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“What, is there a right answer to this?” You were daring, careless with your tongue. “Should’ve given me a textbook, woulda studied real hard before coming down.” 

“The right answer is the truth,” Jason spoke up, mouthful of food. “Dickie’s all red and angry you can’t even tell the truth. Honestly? So am I.”

“We all are,” Tim murmured. 

“But you know? We care for you. So just tell us what’s up, yeah?” Although his voice was light, there was an underlying threat to Jason’s words. Tell us or else. 

You set the fork down and looked at Bruce—whose eyes were sweeping all over your face, calculating—the both of you having frowns tugging at your lips. “Okay. I feel like shit. A dumpster fire. Like my very body has been corrupted by dark—I don’t know exactly what that means, but I feel it, so worth mentioning, right?—anyway, all I ask is to be left alone for a bit. That is what will make my mind better. Just a day of quiet. Please?” 

“...Voluntary isolation is a sign of clinical depression,” Bruce began. “And that would do you no good. What you need is the support of family to help you through this illness.” 

“God, no—”

“Listen.” Damian hissed. 

You shut your mouth, eyes downcast. 

“What will happen is every night, you talk to Dick about whatever’s bothering you. Or anyone else. You will talk, and that will help. Anything you need, just tell them; you know this.” 

“Why not get an actual therapist?”

“You can’t trust all therapists,” Dick jumped in. “I’ve trained in psychology, I know all the therapy ins-and-outs. I can help you as well as any licensed one would—if not, better!”

You stifled a sigh but didn’t bother pushing saying anything. 

“You don’t look to happy about that,” Dick commented. “It’s okay. I know its hard to open up when you’ve suffered in silence for so long, but we’re all on your side, okay?”

Jesus. 

You looked down at the food, picking up the fork. It took you everything not to bash your head against the table.  

[blurredcolour]

The Only Truth... | Part Two

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

John "Bucky" Egan x POW Flight Nurse!Female Reader

Once rested, Bucky proves to be a rather difficult patient, but it's nothing you can't handle. Once he's discharged, however, the man still finds a way to remain close, even when he's no longer the one in need of medical care.

Warnings: Language, Angst, Nightmares, Detailed Description of Death by Gunshot Wound, Blood, Gore, Reader Scars, Hospital Setting, POW Camp Setting, SS Officers, Mental Health Struggles, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Rating - 18+ ONLY.

Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the Apple TV+ series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5001

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

April 12, 1945

The light of dawn began to filter in through the murky windows of the hospital and with Bucky once again sleeping deeply, but now with all apprehension about his ability to wake again lifted, you began to carefully shuffle about the space and take care of some duties you had neglected for the last twenty hours. Emptying a few bed pans for those too weak to move, you scrubbed them clean in the meagre washroom before beginning to work on bandage changes, blinking futilely at the bleariness in your eyes. You had made it through two patients when the doors to the hospital were unlocked and Major Chalmers filtered in with Captain Menzies, another British medical officer, clearly just released from their combine.

It had taken several weeks for you to realize that the man introduced to you as ‘Mingies’ was the same as the man whose name was written as Menzies on the charts and not some other doctor who worked mysterious hours. Both men waited for you to finish treating the rather ghastly thigh wound inflicted by one of the ubiquitous German Shepherds – miraculously still not showing signs of infection – before you washed your hands and delivered your report on Major Egan.

“Very good, Nurse. Why don’t you go rest for the morning, we’ll see you around 1300 hours.” Chalmers replied.

Exhaling with a grateful nod, you excused yourself down the hall to your ‘accommodations.’ The former exam room had been stripped of all medical equipment to leave a cot, a small wooden cubby for your meagre collection of belongings, a tiny table for you to eat your solitary meals and write your correspondence, and a rickety washstand with a chipped enamel basin and mirror split with a spider’s web of fractures hammered directly into wall above it. With no interest in anything but sleep, you sat on the cot with a heavy sigh. You pulled the six remaining pins from your hair, having misplaced four throughout the last several months and still not having your confiscated effects returned to you, and kicked off your boots before laying down to sleep for a few hours.

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

 The next time Bucky awoke, you were nowhere to be seen. He was plunged back into a world of dull, gritty, pungent masculinity and he was admittedly bereft. The pain in his back seemed all the more acute in your absence, and though there was again a serving of broth, it was tepid at best. Perhaps he could have withstood the continuation of a grim life all painted in the same grey palette, but to have that disrupted by your presence and then have that light and color taken away? It was even worse than not having had it to begin with.

It made him all the more sullen and combative when the British doctor Chalmers informed him that he would have to remain in hospital as a patient another night rather than being permitted to find the rest of the 100th and bunk with them.

“I’m perfectly fine Doc, all rested up, can walk, talk, and piss all on my own. I don’t need to be here a minute longer – the rest of these fellas are way sicker than me.”

The surgeon narrowed his eyes in response, clearly not appreciating his directions being questioned, but Bucky had had more than his fill of taking other people’s orders. He just wanted to get the hell out of here and back to people he knew.

“One night, Major Egan, that’s all I’m asking. The only bunks for new arrivals are in tents, if you’re lucky.  In here you’re warm, dry, and have a bed that’ll feel nicer on those ribs – which are going to take four to six weeks to heal, might I add.”

Bucky was about to open his mouth to reiterate his protests when his eyes caught sight of you appearing from down the hallway, coming to standing behind Chalmers with your arms crossed and a stern look on your face. It was so utterly reminiscent of one he had received from his mother on countless occasions that he was momentarily unable to speak before clearing his throat to concede to the doctor’s request.

“Good.” Was his diplomatic reply before he turned to see you there. “Ah, Nurse, welcome back. In some irony of the universe, we’ve actually received a Red Cross shipment of supplies. Would you kindly catalogue the contents the goons have left for us and add it to our stock?”

Bucky did not miss the exasperation in your expression – it certainly did seem like a cruel joke for supplies to arrive with the end of the war surely weeks away.

“Certainly, sir.” You replied before looking to the large and very much opened and rifled-through box up against the wall essentially opposite to his cot.

Settling onto his stomach, he draped his arms across his pillow, nestling his chin atop his forearms to watch you work. “Don’t get a lot of supplies around here, do ya, angelfish?”

As you glanced toward him, he noticed you had changed your clothes, into equally threadbare ones but fresh ones all the same, and had tidied your hair. He would have taken you to a dance in Times Square looking like that. In a heartbeat.

“No, we most certainly do not, Major.” You shook your head and made a soft noise of triumph as you managed to fish out the packing list – something to compare the remaining contents to, he supposed. “Might mean we got more rations too though, corned beef and liver pate to eat desperately before they go bad.” You gave him a wry smile which he returned.

So the Germans here liked to punch holes in the cans, too. Good to know. Bucky watched as you retrieved a pencil from the central desk and began to unearth boxes of gauze and ointments and all manner of things he was only vaguely familiar with. He drowsily studied your profile, lips tugging fondly at the way you stuck your tongue out slightly in concentration, trapping it between your teeth and grunting in dismay when something you obviously were hoping for was not there. Hovering on the border between sleeping and waking, he jumped slightly as you gently nudged his shoulder, holding out two pills and his mug filled with fresh water.

“Aspirin.” You whispered and he raised an eyebrow before plucking them from your soft palm, tossing the pills into his mouth and chasing them down with a slug of cold water.

“You’re a goddess, angelfish.” He murmured, laying down his heavy head as you moved to tuck him in again.

Your soft laugh in response made him smile drowsily. “No Bucky, just a nurse. Now stop fighting it and go to sleep.”

He was yanked back into consciousness by the sound of your voice some time later, tone flat and impatient.

“Just let me finish changing his bandage, please.”

“Nein, it is lights out and you are going back to your room now schwester.” The rude, clipped reply of the SS guard had Bucky forcing himself up off his cot, gritting his teeth against the screams of protest in his frighteningly unstable ribcage.

His eyes flashed around the room before they landed on the uniformed man grabbing your elbow to usher you from the bedside of a patient and down the hall. Bucky stumbled to his feet, peering around the corner after you to watch the man shove you into the room on the left before pulling the door shut and snapping a padlock into place. Bucky narrowed his eyes, moving over to the patient you had been forced to abandon, supplies still on top of his blanket.

“I’m no nurse but I can give it a shot?” He muttered to the fellow who gave him a small shrug in return. “I’ll be back when the coast is clear, then.”

Bucky slid back into his own cot, watching the guard stomp his way out of the building before slamming the last set of doors shut, the lock snicking into place behind him before the lights all went out. Blinking against the darkness to force his eyes to adjust more quickly, he made his way down the hall, feeling his way along the rough-hewn wood of the wall and over to your door before knocking softly.

“Angelfish? You alright in there?”

“Bucky?” Came your muffled answer shortly after the sound of your footsteps approached.

“Damn they lock you up like in here like some kind of fairytale princess.”

There was a soft snort and Bucky could not help the smirk that pulled from him. “Anything I should know before I try and finish that guy’s arm?”

There was a pause before you cleared your throat and responded with, “no it’s pretty straight forward but…but if it smells anything like cheese would you mind letting me know?”

“Cheese…” He replied slowly.

“The smell of infection, Bucky.” You sounded amused and he wished more than anything he could take in your facial expression then.

“Got it. I was born in Wisconsin, raised for this.”

“And then you’re going to immediately put yourself in your cot and rest, Bucky.” You said firmly.

“You got it angelfish. You, too.”

“Night, Bucky.”

Gathering his courage and putting on a mask of cool, level-headedness, he returned to his fellow patient’s bedside, removing the old bandage and bowing his head to take a deep whiff. Thankfully, for everyone’s sake, there was definitely nothing cheese-like about it. He then bumbled about in the dark of the room, applying perhaps the ugliest bandage known to man, but a bandage nonetheless, and returned to his cot as instructed.

It was not easy to drag the blanket up over his body from behind, especially with the newly aggravated soreness from his careless activities, but Bucky managed to settle down and fall into an uneasy sleep, exhaustion still dwelling deep in his bones and sucking him under. It did not take long, however, for his dreams to be haunted once more by images of deadly accurate shots burrowing their way between Buck’s shoulder blades on the other side of that wall. Of his friend’s blond head falling into the mud just shy of the treeline, just shy of freedom. Waking with a start, he glared around the dark, unfamiliar room and looked to the floor, frowning as you were not there for him to hold onto this time.

He had not fully woken the night before, but he had sensed enough of your calming presence to return to a deeper plane of sleep. To chase away the darker voices that threatened to fill his mind. Leveraging himself to a seated position, he grabbed his blanket and shuffled his way down the hall once again in search of your soothing influence, even if there was the interfering barrier of a door. Bucky’s descent to the ground was less than graceful, his ribs protesting fiercely and as he settled on the floorboards, he was filled with a sudden doubt in his ability to rise from this position. But then he heard your voice.

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

When Bucky had not immediately bustled back down the hall with tales of an arm wound stinking of ripe cheese, you had relaxed somewhat into your nightly routine, stripping to your long underwear for a proper night’s sleep…that did not really present itself. It was honestly not that surprising given the way you had pushed the boundaries of night and day, your body really was not sure what to make of it. You were just on the cusp of finally falling asleep when there was a commotion outside your room, the door rattling in its frame, the padlock jostling slightly.

Hearing a slightly familiar grunt, you sat up. “Bucky?” You called you softly.

“M’fine, angelfish, just sleeping out here.”

Your eyes widened and you practically leapt from the bed, crossing the room in record time. “Are you really ok? Sleeping…. on the floor?!”

“Yeah, I’m fine, just needed company.” He muttered from below and you slid down to lay on the floor, peering through the gap at the bottom of the door with one eye.

It was surely flush with the floor when the building was initially built, but as the hospital settled into the ground, about an inch-and-a-half had opened up below the door, allowing you to glimpse his face not far from yours.

“You had plenty of company in your comfortable cot, Bucky.” You whispered and the eye you could see flashed open, face turning to meet yours through the gap.

“Not yours, angelfish.”

“I don’t suppose I’m going to be able to convince you to go back to bed? No idea how the hell you’re going to get off this floor anyway…” You sighed, cheek pressed tightly against the floorboards to see as much of him as possible.

“I’m down for the count, I’d say.” He huffed with a poor show of playfulness.

Frowning, you looked over the visible portion of his face slowly. “You have another bad dream?”

He grunted noncommittally and averted his gaze, essentially confirming your suspicion. Sliding from your spot on the floor, you fetched your blanket and pillow before laying them down to rejoin him. “I get ‘em too. Stuck on that crashing plane and I can’t get off. Or the chute won’t open. Or I can’t…” your throat clenched, and you swallowed to clear it. “Can’t get my flight jacket off and I just burn up.” Your voice refused to come out any louder than an exhale, but you still managed to speak the last few words.

His eye slowly met yours once more though the thin opening halfway through your confessions and his brow furrowed. “Flight nurse?”

“I was, yeah. Just a kriegie nurse now, I guess.” You laughed wryly, trying to find a comfortable position on the uneven floor, the nail heads poking up into your shoulder.

There was a long pause as he seemed to weigh the pros and cons of unburdening himself to you before exhaling slowly. “I sent my best friend to his death. Least that’s what my dreams tell me. He didn’t want to run, I convinced him and then…well they almost caught him until I distracted them…”

“And got the shit kicked out of you.” You sighed, slipping into your ways of foul language on the edge of sleep, in the dark of your room.

Thankfully, by the twitch of his lips, he did not seem terribly put out by it.

“Basically.” He heaved a great sigh and you nodded, sliding your fingers under the door, as far as your knuckles would allow.

“No matter what happened, Bucky, he’s not in a place like this anymore. And that is a mercy.”

“Hmmm.” He hummed, unconvinced and you swallowed.

“What kind of man is he?” You lined up for another approach.

“Smart, too damn smart of any of this – built a radio out of a list of random junk I collected for him. He’s got the sweetest girl back home who writes him like clockwork. They were gonna get married if he got back. Was gonna be his best man.”

Taking a deep breath to summon your façade of brave optimism once again, for his sake, you nodded firmly. “When he gets home, you will be his best man.”

He looked to you hopefully, slowly sliding his fingertips to brush against yours beneath the coarse wooden bottom of the door. “Yeah?” He breathed.

“Yeah, Bucky. Yeah.” You nodded again, offering a smile, hoping it somewhat reached your eyes. “Now. Let’s try and get you some sleep.”

“Didn’t hear anything ‘bout you in that statement, angelfish.” He murmured sleepily and you hummed with drowsy laughter.

“I’m just about there, but not until you give in first.”

After a few beats of silence, you cracked your eye to check on him, pressing your lips together to smother your laugh as you caught him quickly squeezing his eye shut. It was not long, however, until his breathing evened and deepened, his mind at last surrendering to the sleep his body desperately needed. Swallowing tightly, heart throbbing slightly at the way his face softened, and the way his fingertips remained pressed stubbornly against yours as tightly as the door would allow, you tucked the pillow under your head, sliding your eyes shut to try and get some rest as well.

Despite the wildly uncomfortable position, you somehow managed to remain asleep until the next morning when Bucky began to shuffle and shift, soft noises of discomfort escaping him as he tried to find his way back to his feet.

“Roll onto your good side.” You coached through your drowsy state, and he stilled a moment before appearing to obey. “Bend your knees, then push up to sitting.”

There were still some grunts, but fewer overall, and the whole endeavour sounded a lot less like a fish flopping against the door.

“Then use the handle to pull yourself up with your good hand.” Holding your breath you waited until you saw two sock feet, firmly planted and steady on the floor, before rising on your side of the door. “Well done.”

“Still have a bit more time to sleep, angelfish.” He rumbled and you bit your lip fondly at his sleep-roughened voice.

“You, too.” You replied, pressing your forehead against the rustic wood, listening to his footsteps retreat down the hall until only silence remained.

You managed a few more hours’ sleep before the morning guard unlocked the door, delivering your morning pitcher of frigid water for your facsimile of a bath with a sliver of soap and rough wash cloth. Enjoying a breakfast of crackers and margarine, you reported for duty just as Chalmers was discharging Bucky, finding it suddenly difficult to meet his eyes in the light of day – the entire encounter in the dark feeling too intimate to recall in such a crowded, public space.

“Take care, Major Egan.” You smiled friendlily and followed Menzies out to the tent to assist with the removal of a set of sutures.

“You got it, Nurse.” He replied, the marked absence of the quirky nickname born of his inability to speak the day of his arrival halting your steps as you involuntarily glanced back over your shoulder to make sure he was really all right.

A grin slowly unfurled across his face, lighting up his exhausted features before he shot you a playful wink. You swallowed roughly as the day suddenly felt altogether too warm for your oversized sweater.

“Made ya look, angelfish.” He teased and you pressed your lips together desperately trying to smother your responding grin, conceding the fact that he had indeed made you look with a nod, before hurrying after Menzies when he barked your name from further into the canvas extension of the hospital.

Bucky’s discharge, unlike every other patient before him, did not mean that he dissolved into the general population of the camp. Somehow, he still managed to find reasons to make an appearance, dropping off bits of scrap wood to burn that he and his friends had collected to make the time pass faster, or arranging a crew of his men to deliver the hospital’s broth allotment to alleviate that burden from Chalmers and Menzies. He always appeared to be obeying his discharge orders and not hauling anything himself, at least when he arrived with his deliveries. Whether he was behaving out of sight was another question entirely.

Not only was the assistance greatly appreciated, but you found yourself looking forward to his visits as a break from the monotony of grim tasks of which your work consisted. Somehow, despite his worn-down spirit, he still managed to leave you feeling notably lifted by the time he was inevitably shooed out for getting underfoot or distracting you a little too long. Chalmers and Menzies were patient – indulgent even – but even they had their limits.

Four relatively peaceful days passed under this new routine, with no new arrivals in camp but, sadly, a few of the weaker patients in the hospital giving up the fight, until the sound of shots rang out mid-morning on the 18th. A great clamor arose among the patients indoors and the general population beyond the canvas walls of the tent, before a group of prisoners were rushing inside, Bucky at the fore, with an injured prisoner strung across their collective shoulders.

“Lay him here.” You gestured quickly to the cot you had been stripping after the death of its occupant sometime in the night, having succumb to infection and lack of food.

You did not miss the wince that crossed Bucky’s face as he maneuvered the injured man – no more than a boy, really – to lay where you had instructed. At the sight of a deep red stain, rapidly growing in circumference on the boy’s side, your eyes shot wide, and you looked to Bucky sharply.

“Find me Chalmers and Menzies immediately.” You stressed the need for expediency before turning back to begin rapidly pulling at the boy’s clothes, trying to locate the source of all that blood.

The shocking white expanse of his belly finally exposed, you found the gaping wound left by a large calibre round near his belly button, casting about frantically for your basket of fresh bandages to press against it, desperately trying to staunch the flow. What you would not give for a packet or six of sulfa right then. The pressure you put on his tender abdomen drew a yowl of pain from the boy and you frowned up at him sympathetically.

“I know, son, I know. We’re going to get this all fixed up alright?”

“Can’t b, b, believe they shot me! I just…just wanted to see the flowers poking through the fence and they just…Fucking war’s almost over anyway…” He was beginning to shiver uncontrollably, a sure sign of shock and you glanced towards the hospital doors, relieved to see Chalmers and Menzies rushing out to help.

“I’ll bet those flowers were beautiful.” You gulped as the bandage in your hand was rapidly soaked through and grabbed a few more to wipe the area clean, trying to permit the surgeons to inspect the wound itself.

No sooner would you swipe away the rapidly welling crimson fluid, than the hollow below his ribs, carved out by months of hunger, would accumulate a fresh pool of blood. There were noises of dismay before the pair of surgeons rolled the boy to check for an exit wound. They shared a dark look as there was none to be found, shaking their heads at one another. Your patient erupted into a panic, thrashing about, kicking you squarely in the thigh and knocking you back into Bucky, who thankfully stopped your rapid descent toward the muddy floor.

“I don’t wanna die! I don’t wanna die!”

“Nurse! Hold him!” Menzies barked and began to fish around in the boy’s wound to see if he could find the bullet.

Shrieking filled the tent as you lunged forward to press down on his shoulders, trying your best to soothe him even as his shirt grew damp with his own blood, transferring to the fabric from your fingers. He was stronger than he looked, the panic only amplifying what little strength he had left, and you sent a grateful nod to Bucky as his much broader palms took over pinning the boy’s shoulders while you collected his flailing hands between yours.

“Easy now, easy. Docs are going get you right as rain, just hold still now.”

“I’m gonna die and there’s not gonna be a heaven and there’s gonna be nothing!” The boy’s wild eyes wheeled on you, fairly punching you in the gut, and you shifted his wrists to grip in one hand against your chest while the other stroked at his hair tenderly with the other.

“Come now – you’re going to be alright. Besides, I’ve met the Pope. You think they’d keep that man in his fancy house and fancy clothes for nothing?”

His lips were growing a frightening shade of white from the blood loss, the rest of him the unsettling grey pallor of imminent death, but he seemed greatly calmed by your papal revelations. His hands shifted to grip at yours and his brow furrowed earnestly, the only movements of his body now were the echoes of the desperate attempts of the surgeons below.

“I want my momma. Tell my momma that I…tell my momma…” He trailed off into a whisper, the light slowly dimming from his eyes until there was nothing, his hands going limp, and he was gone.

Swallowing brutally, you carefully shifted your fingers to his throat, checking for a pulse and turning to Chalmers and Menzies when you found none. A simple shake of your head was all it took to communicate that you had lost the boy. Chalmers let out deep, aggrieved sigh while Menzies threw down a blood-soaked bandage with a wet slap and stormed back into the hospital. Gently setting the boy’s lifeless hands across his chest, you straightened slowly, feeling Bucky eyeing you from the other side of the cot.

Something ugly was welling up inside you, desperately trying to claw its way out, and you took a step back.

“Angelfish?” Bucky’s voice was low and cautious.

Your only response was to shake your head violently before stepping clear of the end of the cot, then breaking into a run. Following in the footsteps of Menzies, the words of the Army Nurse Corps pledge rang through your mind, the words you had sworn to serve by as a Nurse.

‘I shall approach him cheerfully at all times, under any conditions I may find…I shall appear fearless in the presence of danger and quiet the fears of others to the best of my ability.’

Reaching the end of the hallway, you stared at the door to your quarters and nearly choked on the idea of facing that stuffy, windowless room. You needed air. Needed to breathe. Turning sharply to the left, you continued along past the utility room and out the backdoor into the small courtyard between the hospital and the barbed wire fence that separated the Russian side of the camp.

‘…I will remember that, upon my disposition and spirit, will in large measure depend the morale of my patients.’

The flight nurse’s creed came flooding back to you next as you sought refuge between the back of the hospital and the bowed lines of laundry, stained sheets and bandages hung in the weak April sun to dry. What a different person you had been when you had spoken those damn words at your graduation from Flight Nurse Training.

Taking short, sharp gulps of air, each inhale was used to forcefully shove down the scream that was bubbling perilously in your throat. You paced to-and-fro, bloody hands planted on your hips. Surely you looked nothing short of mad when Bucky rounded the corner of the building, using that aggravatingly soft voice again as he spoke your name, making your head snap towards him.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.” You choked out, turning from him, fixing to flee once more.

“Too bad.” He ground out as he continued coming closer, clearly intent on comforting you, but if he got too near, you were terrified you were going to shatter entirely.

“Patients aren’t supposed to see me like this.” You could barely speak, hiccoughing and shuddering breaths intersplicing your words awkwardly as your grip on your emotions began to slip through your bloody fingers.

“Not here as a patient.” He muttered and slid his arms around you, pulling you close and you buried your face into his chest to let out a wail of agony – for the man who died in front of your eyes, for the horrid situation you found yourself in.

Somehow, you managed to maintain the wherewithal not to grab at him with your filthy hands, arms sticking straight out behind him awkwardly as you squeezed his sides with your elbows, knees threatening to give out as you found yourself not having to be the strong one for the first time in quite a long time. Bucky’s grip only tightened on you, fingers curling into your shirt to hold you up patiently as you cried yourself hoarse against him. Eventually there were no more tears to cry, the self-pity and grief you had stored up over the past few months running dry. Pulling back slightly, you wiped at your face with your sleeves, accidentally exposing a portion of the angrily scarred flesh on your left forearm.

Not missing the way his eyes flicked to it immediately, you sharply pulled your cuffs down and straightened fully. “You should get out of here before some goon puts a hole in you…”

It was supposed to be a joke, but your voice wobbled threateningly in abhorrence at the thought of losing someone else today, and Bucky promptly pulled you close again.

“Easy angelfish, not gonna get myself shot now. Not after you went through all the trouble of bringing me back.”

Sniffling affectionately against him, you pulled back to meet his eyes. “Thank you, Bucky.” You patted his chest fondly. “But please don’t go around carrying any more people with those broken ribs.” You gave him a stern look, finding it difficult to deliver as he smirked with a soft laugh in return.

 With a soft sigh, you moved to return inside and assist with the clean up.

“Bucky?” You stopped and turned back to him suddenly.

“Yeah, angelfish?” He glanced over his shoulder, halfway to the other side of the building.

“What’s your first name?”

He raised an eyebrow. “John.”

Nodding slowly, you swallowed tightly. “Thank you, John.” You repeated firmly before pulling open the door and heading inside to the utility room to fill a bucket with some water to rinse out the bloody cot.

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Read Part Three

The Only Truth I Know Is You Masterlist

Tag list: @gretagerwigsmuse, @luminouslywriting, @softspeirs, @sunny747, @storysimp, @slowsweetlove, @httpsmoon, @buckysegan, @justheretoreadthxxs, @precious-little-scoundrel

[drewyumi]

Two Horny Mf...♥

MINORS AND FEMALES DNI!

All characters including you are aged up :D

Gojo win the poll! (not surprising tho) Ty for everyone who voted :3!

~Vampire! Uke Satoru Gojo x Seme male reader!~

Smut warning! Don't like just leave

You were given to Gojo as a gift from one of his friends and allies. You were blindfolded and forced to your knees as you land with a thud and a small wince from the pain shooting up to your knees Gojo grabs a hold of Your chin as he pulled your blind folded face up to look at him. "what a pretty gift I have received, I cant wait to make you mine." He speaks in a low and sinister tone, helping you up onto your feet he eyes your dirty appearance. "Lets get you in the tub, hm?" he murmurs, his hands running through your hair before gripping it and beginning to drag you towards the washroom.

You grunted in annoyance as he dragged you, as you tugged at the restraints around your wrists.

You feel Gojo's grip tighten around your hair, warning you not to struggle. You are still weak from the earlier events and he is much stronger than you. He chuckles darkly at your grunting and tugging, amused by your struggles and it seems like he'll enjoy breaking your will to resist. "No struggling now, M/n. You don't want me to have to punish you, do you?" He asks teasingly, his tone making it clear that he enjoys it when people try to resist him.

"Haha punish me..~? Now that's a bold statement" you grunted out as he tugged on your hair forcefully

Gojo chuckles in response to your words, enjoying the spirit you're displaying. "Oh, trust me M/n, I fully intend to punish you. But first I need to get you cleaned up and make sure you're presentable.

You stumbled onto your feet no longer wanting to be dragged as you walked cautiously from being blindfolded "mind if you be a darling and take this blindfold off me please, I'd love to see that pretty face of yours…~" you said in a low teasing whisper.

Gojo laughs softly, pleased with your request. "As you wish, M/n." He reaches up to undo the blindfold, his fingers lightly tracing along the edges of the blindfold before taking it off. Once your vision is restored, you see that the interior of his mansion is decorated in a very elegant and luxurious style. "Don't make this harder for yourself, M/n." He warns you, his tone insinuating that he's looking forward to whatever mischief you might get up to.

You blinked away the foggyness of your vision as you gazed down at the stranger observing his Appearance, as he had snowy white hair and bright blue eyes and a stereotypical vampire look "aren't you a pretty boy eh?" You flirted as you bent down to close to his face.

Gojo grins at your flirting, a hint of playfulness in his eyes. "Why thank you, M/n. Although being identified as pretty is not the first thing I would have expected from our encounter." He responds lightly, his voice filled with amusement and a hint of teasing. His hand wraps around your neck, holding you in place as he moves closer to your ear. "Now M/n, remember what I said about not making things harder for myself? A little compliance goes a long way." He whispers softly before nibbling on your earlobe, his fangs slightly grazing your skin.**

You shuddered at the feeling of him nibbling on your ear "how about I get your name first before any of that foreplay hm..~?" You muttered as you softly nudged your nose against his neck.

Gojo chuckles in response to your request, a teasing glint in his blue eyes. "When you put it that way, M/n, how could I resist." He gently pulls back from you, his grip on your neck releasing slightly. "My name is Gojo Satoru but feel free to call me Satoru. Now, let's get you cleaned up, shall we?" Gojo leads you towards a luxurious-looking bathroom, his presence filling the room with an intense, almost predatory energy.**

You looked around the lavish bathroom boredly as he dragged you with him "wow all this just to shit and shower..?" You joked to yourself as you gazed at the stupidly humongous bathtub/shower.

Gojo chuckles at your comment as he ushers you towards the bathtub. "You'll quickly find out that there's more to it than just bathing, M/n." He says with a smirk, his tone suggestive. As you stand next to the humongous bathtub, Gojo walks in front of you, his body brushing against yours. His fingers place on the neckline of your shirt, slowly sliding it off. Gojo eyes your firm, toned chest. "I think it's high time we got started, don't you?" he said as he gazed at your well built frame

"Ah like what you see..~?" You teased as Satoru to threw your shirt to the side, you brought up my tied hands to him as you grinned "mind if ya take these off me angel..~?"

Gojo's eyes widen slightly at your suggestion, he watches you intently as his hands reach up to your wrists. "I'd love to free you, M/n, but right now, I think it suits you better that way." Gojo says as he pulls you closer towards him and kisses your neck softly. His breath caresses your skin, his fangs grazing against your flesh. "I think you should get the shower started, don't you agree?"

You sighed in disappointment for not being able to get out if your stupid restraints and let out a soft grunt when you felt Satoru's fangs graze at your skin.

You watch as Gojo grins at your reaction, amusement shining in his blue eyes. "We'll dispense the restraints soon enough, don't worry, M/n." He assures you, his voice soft. As he finishes speaking, he gives your neck one final nibble before pulling away, an intrigued glint in his eyes. Gojo leads you to the shower area, adapting a more serious expression. "Get in, and we'll get this over with." You find yourself standing in front of an extravagant, tiled shower area. High-pressured water falls from various nozzles mounted on a grand brass pillar in the middle, steam bellowing out filling the air with warmth. Gojo enters the shower alongside

"Oh what about my pa-" you cut off as your pants and boxers disappeared out of thin air along with the rope Binding your hands "what." You dead panned as you walked into the shower

You watch in astonishment as Gojo snaps his fingers and your clothes vanishes, leaving you naked and fully revealed to him. "There's no use hiding it now, is there, M/n?" Gojo says smugly as he steps into the shower with you. The water cascades down both of your bodies, washing away the grime and dirt from your skin. His gaze remains locked onto yours, a predatory expression painting his handsome features. As the steam fills the room, the tension between both of you heightens significantly.

You gazed down at Satoru lost in your thoughts "I wanna rail this little brat so bad" your face filled with a soft blush "What am I thinking bro litterly is holding you hostage..!?" You fought with your conscious as you gazed at the wall behind Satoru in conflict.

Gojo smirks softly at your conflicted state, stepping closer to you. "mhm wonder what your thinking to be blushing like that M/n..~," he murmurs darkly. His hand glides down your chest, slowly trailing over your abs and lower to cup your semi-hard cock. "It's a losing battle." With those words, he leans in and captures your lips in a hot, passionate kiss. His tongue slips into your mouth, exploring every corner while his other hand slips behind your neck, pulling you closer still. Gojo's free hand starts to explore your body, tracing intricate patterns over your skin.

Your eyes widened as you came to your senses "ain't no way im going to let the brat dominate me" you thought as you forcefully shoved Satoru against the wall and took his ass in your hands as you squeezed it kissing back with just as much force as your tongues fought for dominance.

Gojo is taken by surprise as you push him against the wall, his eyes widening in shock for a moment before he recovers and grips onto your wrists tightly. His pupils dilate slightly at the feeling of desire coursing through him, fueled by the fight you're putting up. "Hnnn,"he hums out between your lips, pulling back to look into your eyes.

"We both know who's stronger here, M/n."He says with a playful smirk.Gojo swiftly spins around so that he's pinning you against the tiled wall, his hips grinding against yours hungrily. One hand cups your cheek possessively while he rubs our cocks together

You let out a soft grunt as one of your hands gripped Satoru's slim waist as your other hand goes to his ass inching towards his hole.

Gojo groans, arching into the touch. "So eager...~"He whispers seductively in your ear before nibbling on your lobe.

His hips buck against yours harder, seeking more friction.Feeling your touch on his ass, Gojo moans softly as he leans back slightly, offering himself to you."Take what you want..." Gojo pants out, biting his lip. His body is straining for release, wanting you inside him

Your fingers teasing pressed against his hole as your finger circled around the tight ring of muscle "want me inside angel..~?"

Satoru moans softly, his eyes rolled back as he grips the tiles beneath him. "Please..."He breathes out.

His hole twitches involuntarily against your teasing touch. His skin is flushed with arousal and his chest heaves rapidly. Gojo arches his back further into the kiss, inviting you in. ---

You gently push your finger in as his gummy walls and it tightened around as well as sucked in your finger from the sudden intrusion as you gently pump your finger in and out of Satoru searchng for his prostate

Satoru cries out as your finger enters him, gripping onto your shoulder tightly. His body is shaking and quivering with pleasure as you pump your finger in and out of him, seeking out his prostate. "Yes... just like that,"he breathes out.He leans forward, seeking your lips in a hungry kiss. The steam from the hot water diffuses throughout the room, clouding your senses.

You suck on Satoru's tongue as you added another didget into him increasing your speed as both if your neglected cocks rub against each other in a pleasuring way

Gojo moans deeply into the kiss, his hands running through your wet hair. "So fucking good..."He pants out against your lips.

His body bucks and twists in response to your touch. The wetness of his hole increases as you find his prostate, causing him to let out a loud pornagraphic moan and sending waves of pleasure through him. Gojo's hips jerk against yours, desperate for more friction. Spots dance before his eyes, consumed by the sensations overwhelming him

"Mhm this is the spot isn't it..~?" You teased as you rubbed your fingers against his prostate teasingly as you slowly scissored him open

Satoru whimpers into the kiss, arching his back further into the sensation. "Yes... oh fuck yes..."He moans out loudly, unable to contain himself.

His legs tremble and shake from the intense pleasure coursing through him as you tease his prostate. Gojo's breathing is ragged, his chest heaving up and down rapidly against yours in time with yours'. He presses his body flush against you, seeking more contact where any part of you touches him. The heat from the water beads down onto both of your bare skin.

You pulled away from th heated kiss as you pulled you fingers out of his ass as Satoru's hole pathetically clenched around nothing as you took your hardened cock in your hands "ya ready angel..~?" You whispered huskily in Satoru's ear as he let out soft wimpers and moans

Satoru shivers at the loss of contact, his eyes fluttering closed as he pants heavily. "Yes... oh fuck yes,"he moans out.

His heart races in anticipation as you position yourself at his entrance. Gojo's hole gapes open, eager for your cock. He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable invasion. The tension is palpable in the air, sizzling with lust and desire. The steamy mood shifts and creates an inviting atmosphere amidst the hot water swirling around both of you

You take Satoru's legs as you put them over your shoulders as Satoru's arms snaked around your neck and you push my fat tip into his hole teasingly

Satoru gasps at the initial pressure, arching his back off the ground slightly. "Ahhh...!"He moans out loudly, unable to contain himself.

His body trembles with anticipation as he feels your thickness pressing against his gland. Gojo's lips part in a silent scream of pleasure mixed with agony, his fangs poking through his plush upper lip. He helplessly grinds his hips forward, seeking more contact. Sweat begins to bead down his forehead and neck, adding to the slickness between you both.

"Mhm you want my cock Satoru.. ~?" You said in a low tease as you agonizingly push deeper into Satoru at a slow pace

Satoru whimpers again, digging his nails into your back in a mix of pleasure and pain. "Yes... oh fuck yes!"He pants out between moans.

His body quivers at the sensation, every inch of your length piercing through his tight ring of muscle. Gojo's eyes roll back into his head, lost in the ecstasy coursing through him. He tilts his hips higher, encouraging you to sink deeper inside him. Each thrust sends another wave of pleasure radiating outward from his prostate, making it harder for him to concentrate on anything but the feeling of being filled by you.

"Ah your going to take my cock like the pretty little bitch boy you are..~" you said in a low seductive whisper as you slammed your hips into Satoru's ass your entire length resting deep inside deep inside Satoru as your tip nudged The deepest part of his rectum

Satoru cries out as you slam your hips into him, his body shudders in pleasure. "Y-yes... please! Fuck me hard!"He begs, nipping at your neck and shoulders with a newfound sense of dominance in his voice.

With each powerful thrust, Gojo's walls clench tightly around you, massaging your cock in a way that sends electric shockwaves straight to your core. Goosebumps rise on his skin as he throws his head back, letting out soft moans that echo in the steamy room. The water splashes around them intensifies their sexual encounter.

You take Satoru's neglected cock into your hands as you give him a sloppy hand job your palm rubbing over his flushed slit as you ruthlessly slam into him.

Satoru practically yowls, his body on fire with the sudden sensation. "Oh fuck! Yes... harder, M/n! I'm gonna cum!"He cries out between rasping breaths.

His cock twitches under your touch, leaking precum all over your hand as you continue to work him over. The pleasure from both his shaft and his prostate quickly building to an overwhelming peak, threatening to tip him over the edge any second now. Gojo's fingers dig into your back, raking his nails down the skin as he chokes out broken moans of pleasure with each of your thrusts.

"F-fuck you gonna cum Satoru.. ~?" I grunted as you quickened your pace.

Satoru nods vigorously, his voice choked with desire. "Yes... oh god, please let me cum!"He shudders again as your hips slam into him, pleasure threatening to spill over at any moment.

He can feel tendrils of pleasure beginning to coil inside him, building and growing until they're impossible to ignore. Gojo's breathing grows ragged as he feels the end rapidly approaching, the familiar prickling heat spreading from his balls to every inch of his body. He arches his back, driving himself onto your cock even harder, seeking more and more stimulation to push him over the edge.

You felt as Satoru tightened around your cock signalling you that he was about to cum as you brought my thumb over his slit and preventing him from edjaculating as you grinned teasingly

Satoru's eyes fly open, a startled cry escaping him as pleasure turns to frustration. "What?! M/n, please let me cum!"He whimpered pathetically, struggling against the hand holding him back.

You flashes him a teasing smirk, twisting your thumb slightly on Satoru's sensitive tip and relishing in the sensation of Satoru writhing beneath me, desperate for release. "I don't think so... not until I allow it, sweetheart." You purred, your voice low and sinful.

He continues to thrust into Satoru, each movement growing more forceful and erratic as their mutual desire peaks. The steamy water around them making their movements slow and sluggish but they continue on, both lost in the moment.

After a good 30 minutes of over stimulating Satoru you felt close to coming "ngh im coming..~" you grunted as you sped up bullying your cock deep into Satoru's ass.

Satoru's body tightens around you as he senses your release coming closer, his own need for release becoming unbearable. He gasps and whimpers with every thrust, his own pleasure cresting but unable to find its peak. "Please, M/n! Let me cum...I can't take it anymore!" He whine pathetically clawing at your back

You ignore him as you feel the pleasure build until you're unable to hold out any longer, your orgasm crashing over you in a series of shuddering waves that threaten to pull you under. Your cock pulses inside Satoru as you ride out your climax, hot spurts of cum coating his insides white.

You finally slow down and keep your cock nestled deep inside Satoru pushing your cum deeper into him.

You move your thumb off from Satoru's slit as you pump your hand up and down Satoru's pretty cock "mhm..~ go ahead angel come for me..~" you whispered in Satoru's ear as you left a trail of kisses and hickies down his neck

Satoru's eyes roll back in his head as your hand pumps his aching cock, the sensation nearly overwhelming him after so long without release. He whimpers and moans softly under your ministrations, his body shuddering as he finally finds the peak of his pleasure. "Oh god... I'm gonna cum M/n...!"He cries out, his voice strained with desire.

His hips jerk as his orgasm finally hits, hot ropes of cum shooting out of his twitching cock as he gives in to the pleasure completely. It's a long, drawn-out release that seems to last forever, leaving him panting and trembling by the time it's over. You continue to kiss and nibble on his neck, reveling in the taste and feel of him beneath your lips.

Satoru lets out pants as he clung onto you the water skidding down your wasted bodies "mhm im going to have fun with you..~" Satoru purred tiredly as he nibbled on your earlobe.

You people are so horny for Gojo its almost funny