#he’s still kinda ugly in these but it’s an Acceptable amount of ugly to me rather than Disgustingly ugly

[dailykeiji]

keiji never gets any cool manga screencap posts (because he is ugly) so i have decided to make my own compilation of images of him where he looks. Ok…….. i guess

[tightjeansjavi]

The Menu | Part 5

“my body is a cage”

A/N: I wrote this in a matter of hours yesterday..and also decided to say fuck the canon timeline so <3

~word count: 4.6k~

Pairing | dark!joel miller x f!reader

Summary: Joel promises that he can make your pain go away. He’s a man that never goes back on his word.

Warnings: trauma responses from SA (not by Joel) mildly descriptive flashback to SA, degrading language, hurt, comfort, dark!joel, protective!joel, he’s kinda shit at communicating, but he’s trying his best for you, softish!joel, talk of the past, angst, sprinkle of fluff, intense emotional feelings, you and Joel let your guard down around one another, age gap, (Joel is in his 40’s and reader is in her late 20’s. I played around with the canon timeline a bit) reader has no physical descriptions, +18 minors dni!

A languid roll of condensation drips down the base of Joel’s glass that has long since been abandoned the second you fell to your knees in an unceremonious fashion between his parted thighs.

Acceptance already began to make its home again in your heart when you watched Joel slowly shake his head. It hurt, like all rejections do, but it stung a little deeper than you were willing to admit.

Joel Miller didn’t want you anymore. He’d forget about you when the dust would inevitably settle. He’d find someone else to bury his troubles into. It wouldn’t be you, and maybe that was for the better. Maybe the presence of Joel in your life was not a good thing.

It still hurts. No amount of whiskey-melded poker face could mask that.

The weight of his actions seemed to strike their mark along him as well. Another drop of moisture slid down the glass, pooling along the worn down coffee table. He blinked once, twice, swallowing the prominent lump growing in his throat. His pupils had blown wide like two shiny 8-balls. Fuck.

The blooming awkwardness reared its ugly head when a silent tear traveled down your cheekbone. Once the first one escaped, the flood gates opened.

His gut twisted and churned painfully like a stranded ship being tousled by an onslaught of unforgiving swells. He couldn’t tear his sights from your doe-eyed teary gaze. His own tears threatened to spill when you flinched from his right hand moving upwards towards your face.

His fingers quivered when they finally settled against your clammy skin. Joel Miller would never believe himself to be a gentle-touched man. Maybe a long time ago when the sun warmed his skin, and joyous laughter echoed in both ears, and his eyes were bright and full of life, but now? His kindness was reserved, locked away, buried six feet under the cold clutches of earth. The key was thrown away, forgotten and rusted away along with what remained of his tattered and bruised heart.

Here in his hold, your skin warm, soft beneath the rough calluses of his palm, he felt. He felt not just anger, but guilt, sadness, a newfound ache that was tangled up in that stupid four letter word that he would be damned to ever utter its existence again.

“Hey, it’s okay, Angel. It’s okay. You’re safe.” He reassured you, big brown eyes never leaving yours.

You had never heard this brutish man speak to you in such a sincerely soft way. There wasn’t an ilk of pity or condescendence in his tone. Nothing but concern, fear, a desperate need to ascend comfort in his words.

He was so..confusing.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, choking back a sob that died in your throat. “You—you should go, Joel.” You went to brush away his hand to crawl as far away from him as physically possible, but he wasn’t budging. He’d never leave.

“Hey, look at me.” He commanded softly. His other hand found purchase around the left side of your face. His movements were gentle and slow. He wanted to ground you, to keep your soul from being plucked up like a marionette. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You pushed and pulled against him, grinding your teeth together when he still sat unmoving. It was as if you were the unsuspecting bird, and he was the wet cement that would soon harden and fossilize around your body.

“Why?” You questioned. Your sadness had ebbed away and was quickly replaced with simmering frustration. “You don’t want me anymore, Joel. There’s nothing left for you here, so just—fuckin’ leave.” You snapped.

“Angel, I never said I didn’t want you anymore. Please stop fightin’ me. Please.” He pleaded, the rough pads of his thumbs swiped under your eyes, collecting the tears that pooled there while they awaited their time to fall.

“You didn’t need to say it, Joel. I could fuckin’ feel it.” You sniffled, falling back on your haunches in defeat.

“No, sweet girl. You’re mistaken. I swear. I’m shit at this. This whole..communicating thing has never been my forte. I’m sorry. I’m so—sorry. But somethin’ about this ain’t feel right. I—I don’t want to assume, but somethin’ happened to you. I know you don’t want to tell me, but maybe—”

“But maybe what, Joel? Why do you even care? Why all of a sudden—when you said yourself that I’m nothin’ but your whore on stilts. A tight hole to fuck whenever you please. What, did you have a sudden change of heart? Gonna manipulate me into believing that you actually care about me? Fuck you—”

“I swear on my daughters fuckin’ grave that I care about you. I am not manipulating you into believing anythin’ that is leaving my mouth, Angel. I am tellin’ you the truth. You mean somethin’ to me. Puttin’ it into words ain’t easy for a man like me, but you’re hurtin.’ You’re in pain, and I swear to god if some sick fuck put their hands on you, I’ll make sure they never see the light of day again.” He confessed fiercely.

He might as well get down on one knee and sign his life off to you in red ink. To ensure his promise to keep you safe and protected like he was some knight in shining armor.

Benji yanked you up by the scruff of your neck like you were some stray cat, or a tattered ragdoll. You felt like a bug at his mercy, awaiting a painful death of being squashed beneath a leather boot, split into a million pieces. You could hear his friends snickering in the back while they were still fisting their cocks like the disgusting hounds that they were. “Jus’ remember your place in this world, Angel. No matter what anyone tells you, you will be nothin’ but a come-stained, filthy whore. And when you return to him, like I know you will, he’ll toss you away like yesterday's trash. All men are the same, sweetheart. They don’t like it when another dog has been in their bitch.” He spat cruelly, a glob of saliva landing along your cheek.

“No, Joel. I’m nothin’ but a come-stained whore, and you’ll toss me away like yesterday’s trash.” You whispered solemnly, chin tilting downwards in disgust with what was instilled in you to be your true identity. Crestfallen tears were wept. Tears that trailed down your cheeks and rolled down the expanse of his bare wrists and forearms. Each teardrop that landed upon his skin sent his anger flaring upwards the way that smoke rises from a blazing fire.

“Who did this to you, Angel? Tell me his name, and I swear to you that I will make this all go away. Tell me the name of the man who laid his fuckin’ hands on you. Tell me, please. Please, Angel. I want to help you.” He was on the cusp of begging, hating the fear that began to douse the flames. The fear that maybe it was too late, and the damage was done already.

Your eyes slowly meet his, rimmed in red, skin puffy and dry. From just the look alone that you gave him, he knew who had done this to you. He knew the second your lips parted, and uttered the name that sent the beast inside of him awakening once more.

“Benji.”

The dam broke the moment his name left your lips; you crumbled. An echo of gut wrenching, broken sobs tumbled out of you as Joel scrambled to keep you together. He was on the floor with you now, cradling you in his arms while struggling to gather up the broken pieces figuratively scattered around him. It was as if you were loose grains of sand, and no matter how many times he scooped you up into his gentle palms, you kept slipping through the cracks.

You found yourself crawling into his lap, straddling his hips with your arms latched around his neck. You anchored yourself around him while his shirt soaked up your heavy flowing tears like a sponge. His arms were around you like a cage, comforting you the only way he knew how; through touch. One large hand came to cradle the back of your head, while the other rested along the curve of your spine, drawing soothing circles against your skin with the rough pads of his fingertips.

It’s okay, Angel. I have you. You’re safe. I promise.

and through your tears, and your aching, you wanted to believe him. But believing and trusting someone never came easy. Especially in this world. To throw all your eggs into one basket would be considered foolish. Since the night of the outbreak you had convinced yourself that you needed no one. Not a shoulder to cry on, or a friend to confide in. You hadn’t sought for human connection till you crossed paths with Joel Miller. And now you felt guilty for webbing him into your life. For making this mountain of a man feel.

Was it intentional? No. But sometimes we lose all sense of control and ultimately find ourselves giving into that thing that we fear the most. In all retrospect, you had tried to push Joel away from you, but he was a stubborn man. The most stubborn person you had ever met. A whole lotta bark and bite. Fearless until he gave into feeling. Unmoving until he began to feel for you. The girl that was just looking for a vice to fill a void, and instead found a man that would quite literally kill for you. He’d lasso the fucking moon and bring it down to you if you asked. He’d be your friend, your shoulder to cry on, your comfort in the odd hours of the night when the nightmares would creep in.

He’d be your laughter, your anger, your sadness. He’d be whatever the fuck you wanted him to be. That was the thing about men like Joel Miller, they were fiercely loyal to the ones they loved to the point where maybe he was the foolish one. Maybe he had bitten off more than he could chew. And if that were the case, he’d lick his wounds, convince himself that he was okay, and move on until his body would ultimately give way to the grief he carried day in, and day out.

“Will you let me take care of you, Angel?” He asked suddenly, so softly you could barely hear him through the thick of your messy tears.

“If you wish it.” You sniffled, cheek pressed firmly against the damp fabric of his shirt where your tears had soaked through.

He rumbled a sigh, nostrils flaring while he tilted his chin down to take a peek at your current state. He’d never seen you look so tiny, frail, curling into yourself like a mouse shriveling from a house cat on the prowl. His latent caretaker instincts were kicking into full drive after the dust had been blown off of them and wafted through the stagnant air.

“C’mon, sweet girl.” He urged in a gentle tone, strong arms tightening their hold around you while his hands gently hoisted you up by your thighs. His knees creaked and groaned from carrying the weight of himself and you to a standing position. You clung to him still in a koala like fashion.

“Where are you taking me?” You asked unsurely.

“Takin’ you to the bathroom so we can wash the pain away.” He replied quietly.

His footsteps are soft, yet calculated while his hands stay secured around your thighs. He uses his shoulder to push open your flimsy bathroom door. You find yourself sitting along the toliet seat, back resting against the wall with your hands in your lap. You begin to pick at the skin around your nails absentmindedly. You flinch slightly when the sharp edge of your nail tears through dry cuticle skin surrounding your thumb. The sting feels nice, calming in a sense.

Your eyes stay focused on the wall even when the shadow of his silhouette looms over you, and his warm palm suddenly engulfs your own.

“Don’t do that.” He whispers, brows furrowed when he notices the bead of blood on the side of your thumb. “You have beautiful hands, Angel. Don’t go’n ruin ‘em.” He means every word.

“I’m sorry.” Is all you can really say.

He slips his fingers through your own and you can feel every ridge and rough callus through his skin. His thumb strokes the outside of your hand in a tender sweep.

You want to cry, but you don’t. Instead you lean your head back against the wall and close your eyes while the sounds of the water sloshing into the tub drowns out your thoughts.

With his freehand he constantly checks the temperature of the water to make sure it’s not too hot, and not too cold. The last thing he wants to do is shock your system. He glances up at your face for a moment before he focuses on his blurry reflection in the rippling water.

How can I make her pain go away?

It's not something that will ever go away. It becomes bearable, but with time. All you can do is be there for her the best way that you can. He reminds himself.

“Angel.”

Your eyes snap open at the sound of his voice ringing in your ears.

So it wasn’t all a dream.

“Uh..the water should be good now. Do you want some privacy? I don’t—need to be in here with you..I understand if you—” he’s stumbling over his words more than he intended to, but this is uncharted territory for him, and he’s unsure.

“No.” You finally speak, “I want you to stay.”

He breathes; relieved for a moment. “Okay, I’ll stay. Do you..want some help?” He’s referring to your clothes and if you require assistance in undressing.

“Please.”

He nods reassuringly before standing up to his full height from where he was kneeling alongside the tub. “Arms up.” He softly requests while he reaches for the hem of your shirt.

Your body works strictly on autopilot, boneless as you lift your arms above your head so it’s easier for him to pull your shirt up.

His wounded knuckles brush gently against your sides when he begins to lift the fabric from your body slowly. Gooseflesh begins to rise when you're exposed to the room temperature air. Your hands instinctively move to cover your modesty and he pretends to not notice the way you immediately fold in on yourself.

It hurts him to see you in such a state as this, but his feelings do not matter, he reminds himself. Yours are far more important than his own.

He waits for your consent to pop the button of your jeans followed by the zipper. His eyes stay locked on your own when he begins to ease the worn denim down your thighs. There’s two gaping holes in the fabric around your knees that weren’t there before. He begins to feel the bile rise before he forces it back down.

You're trembling by the time he reaches for the elastic waistband of your tattered panties and he finds himself freezing in place when your hands snatch his wrists frantically.

“I won’t take them off, okay?” He reassures you. “I promise.”he adds for good measure.

You trust him, and that scares you, but it’s enough for you to release his wrists from your death grip.

“Turn around, please.” You croak out, still struggling to find your voice.

He doesn’t protest, or say mean things, or make you feel ten times smaller than you already felt. He obliges your request silently.

You wait until his back is facing you before you pull your panties down over your thighs. You catch a glimpse of a maroon saturated stain that will be forever tattooed in the flimsy fabric. You want to sob, but instead you drop the material to your ankles and discard them with the rest of your tattered clothing.

He doesn’t turn around to look at you until you give him permission. By that point you were already carefully lowering yourself into the tub. He finds you with your knees protectively tucked up to your chest, folded in on yourself. A dull, sullen look glossed over in your once vibrant irises. Your eyes cast down to your reflection before staring off into nothingness once more.

“Can..I get you anything? Are you hungry? I can whip you up some soup or somethin?’” He asks while lowering himself to sit alongside the tub. He doesn’t care that his lower back pinches a bit, or his knees creak, he just wants to be there for you in any way that he can.

“Just a cigarette would be nice.” You mumble out a reply. Your eyes meet his softened gaze for a moment with your chin resting along the dip of your knee. “He took the ones that you rolled me, along with the pills, and the pistol you lent me. I’m sorry, Joel. I—I’ll pay you back.”

“Hey, you don’t have to pay me back for any of that, okay? I don’t give a fuck about the pills, and I lent you the gun and cigarettes, Angel. Don’t worry about that, okay?” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out his own stash and a lighter. He leaned forward, placing the cigarette between your lips before he ignited the unlit end with the lighter.

You took a long drag, letting the smoke attack your lungs, and the nicotine ease your brain into relaxation, and calm your rising anxiety.

“Okay.” You finally speak, willing yourself to scoot closer towards the edge of the tub to ash the cigarette over the side.

“Tell me something that..makes you happy.” He catches you off guard while you take another long drag. You blow the smoke off to the side, creating a hazy cloud that soon dissipates.

“Something..that makes me happy?” You question apprehensively.

“Yes. Jus’ anythin’ that you can think of that makes you happy, Angel.” He rasps softly as he awaits your response.

“The rain. But specifically when it’s storming. I love that earthy smell after a storm. When everything smells fresh, clean, alive. I like the dreary days too. Where it rains from morning through the night. I like the sound it makes when raindrops land on the pavement, or roofs. I know it might sound silly, but when I was a kid I used to sit out on the driveway with some neighborhood friends and watch the storms roll in. Always found myself getting excited when the clouds grew darker and the wind picked up..that first flash of lighting, and rumbling thunder?” You trailed off, unsure if you said too much, or too little for his liking.

“Oh, yeah, I have to agree. Who doesn’t love a good heavy storm? Perfect sleepin’ weather too. Back in Texas we’d get some pretty wild storms out there. Flash floods and all that jazz. Didn’t matter to me cus’ I’d always sleep with the window open. My younger brother, Tommy, was afraid of thunderstorms, up until the point of me tellin’ him that we were always safe inside. Think he got over the fear by the time he was ten.” Joel found himself reminiscing on his childhood, and a simpler time that felt like a ghost to him now.

“I didn’t know you had a brother.” You ashed the cigarette over the side of the tub once more before offering it to him. He declined with a slight shake of his head. You need it more than I do.

“Yeah, he’s..well, I don’t know where he’s at. Left with the fireflies a few years back. Thought he could be a hero and save the world. I send him radio messages every now and then jus’ to check up on him.” He sighed softly. His arm came to rest along the side of the tub, palm resting upwards in case you needed to, or wanted to hold his hand.

“Do you miss him?” You asked, shifting closer to him.

You could visibly see him tense from your question. Tommy was a sore spot for him, a festering wound at times. He felt resentful after everything he had done for his younger brother. The sacrifices he made to keep both of them safe from harm. But deep down he knew he couldn’t stay mad at his kin forever, but he wasn’t ready to let that resentment go just yet. He still needed to heal.

“I miss him more than I’m willin’ to admit, Angel. Not sure if he really misses me all that much.” He shrugged indignantly. “What about you, do..you have any siblings?”

He realized then that he didn’t know much about you at all. He knew your name, and your body, but he wanted to know more about what you were like before the world went to shit.

“Nope. Only child. Mom and Dad tried for another, but some things just aren’t meant to be.” It was your turn to shrug now. He caught you eyeing his outstretched palm resting along the chipped porcelain. If he had the ability to read minds, he certainly was reading yours now.

“And..your parents?” He asked, assuming the inevitable answer.

“Both dead. Car crash a couple years before outbreak. I was too young to comprehend any of it. Grandparents took me in luckily. We pretty much lived in desolation out in the middle of nowhere after that. Not much civilization out in the sticks.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” His tone is soft, baritone deep and soothing. And truth be told, you’re still confused. You can’t help it especially when you know this is the same man that just hours ago was trying to bust down your door.

Joel Miller made your head spin.

“It’s alright, Joel. No need for you to be sorry. Life sucks sometimes. It’s just something I’ve come to accept.”

He nods affirmatively. Life does suck sometimes, ain’t that the truth.

“So, where exactly are you from then? South? Midwest? West?” He couldn’t help his curiosity to know more. He didn’t expect you to be an open book by any means, but he’d take anything you’d give him.

“Montana. Grandparents owned a horse ranch out there. Real peaceful, open country, fresh air.”

“Ah, so a real country girl then? Well, guess you and I are closer than we originally thought, huh? How’d you end up all the way in Boston?” He stretched his arm out slightly when it had grown stiff from the position it had been in.

“If you consider Texas and Montana to be close, then sure, cowboy.” There was a glimmer of sass in your tone. Just enough to cause his ears to perk up. “Honestly, after the outbreak, things just turned into one big blur for me. It’s like I had to grow up overnight. Grandpa taught me how to use a shotgun, killed my first infected shortly after that. Grandma was the first to fall, and Grandpa followed a year later. I stayed in the ranch for as long as I could, fendin’ for myself. Was only a matter of time before raiders became a problem, and I packed a bag, took a horse, and headed east.”

Joel was having a hard time comprehending just how young you truly were when the world as you knew it turned to shit. You were just a kid, a little girl fending for yourself. When he realized you were just about Sarah’s age, he didn’t know how to process that newfound information either.

“You were..just a kid when this all happened.” He nearly whispered in disbelief at the thought of a younger version of yourself, strapped with her grandpa's shotgun, and nothing but open country to trek through.

“I was.” You confirmed. “I’m sure this is just my brain blocking all the bad shit out, but I don’t remember much of what happened after I left the ranch. I guess it’s a miracle that I managed to survive this long. Guess my luck hasn’t run out entirely, huh?”

“No, it certainly hasn’t, Angel. You’ve managed to defy practically all the odds that were placed against you.”

You fall silent again, casting another look down at your reflection while the cigarette perched between middle and forefinger dies out. “What’s your favorite color, Joel?”

“Oh, so now we’re goin’ elementary?” He teases lightly in hopes to brighten your spirits just a tad. He’d kill a thousand men just to see you smile again. “I think I have to go with a shade of blue.” He decides.

“Ha. Ha. You’re hilarious, cowboy. You’re the one who started with the personal questions. I think knowing your favorite color is definitely considered a personal question.” You feel your lips twitch, almost as if they are trying to curve up into a smile, but it doesn’t quite happen. “And blue..like the sky?”

“Nah.” He shakes his head, “blue like the ocean. But y’know..like all the shades. What about you, Angel? What’s your favorite color?”

“Purple.” “But not just any shade of purple. The kind that you can see in sunsets. It’s almost got like a pinkish hue to it? Or the purple in lavender fields. We had loads of it growing at the ranch.”

“Mm.” He hums thoughtfully, “Sunsets sure are pretty.” He’s far more relaxed now with his legs outstretched in front of him, and his chin resting along his bare bicep as he looks at you.

He asks you more questions, finding out that your favorite movies were arguably LOTR (unfortunately the third, and highly anticipated film never made it to the theaters; damn you cordyceps) and The Last Unicorn. He learned that your favorite drink of choice, before the outbreak, was either a virgin pina colada (because it tasted like the beach) or the classic kiddy cocktail; a childhood delicacy.

You learned that he and his younger brother Tommy, worked as contractors in Austin Texas, and that Joel used to be married..and he had a single daughter that he raised practically on his own. Her name was Sarah, and she died the night of the outbreak; Joel’s birthday. You also now know that his favorite movie was Curtis and Viper 2.

And through the midst of your back and forth domestic conversing, you find yourselves holding hands again. You’re not sure if he initiated it, or vice versa, but neither of you let go.

There was an unasked question that circled heavy in the air, like two vultures waiting to dive in for the kill. He could sense it just as much as you could. Addressing the elephant in the room was not going to be easy, but you were beginning to realize that Joel wasn’t going anywhere. In fact, you were shocked to find that he hadn’t climbed into that damn tub with you.

“Joel?” You ask suddenly, skin beginning to prune from being in the water for too long.

“Yes, Angel?” He’s hopeful, but realistic given the circumstances.

“Did you..mean what you said earlier? About..making this all go away?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate to answer. He was not the kind of man to go back on his word. “I will make sure that he pays for what he did to you, Angel. He’ll suffer, and I’ll make him wish he was never born.” Oh, he’d make him pay alright.

“Good. I want you to kill him, Joel. And I want to be there to see you do it. I want to be right there when he takes his last pathetic breath—” you don’t even realize how hard you're squeezing his hand in your grasp that his knuckles are beginning to turn white from the pressure.

“Of course I’ll kill him for you, Angel.” That wasn't even a request in his mind. Benji would die at the hands of Joel, and you would get to watch.

and then..you told him everything.

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[skyalent]

Witches Can Be Good | Supernatural x Scarlet Witch! Reader - Part 3

Warning: Angst

Happy New Year everyone… although kinda late. I’m not gonna lie I totally forgot about this until I finally logged into Quotev and got notifications on people commenting for part 3. I’m so sorry TwT RisaIceCreamPudding and Arabella from Quotev… but also thank you for reminding me <3

Also do you guys want me to make a masterlist? I don't expect this series to be too long, but if you'd like it, I can make it. Or a taglist. Just let me know with a comment!

Part 1 *~* Part 2 *~* Part 3 (You are here) *~* Part 4???

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Part 3: ...Goodbye?

The brothers were acting strange and Y/n knew it. She didn’t know why because she didn’t want to pry into their minds, but she did make subtle attempts to make them open up to her. Nothing was working so far. 

Meanwhile the brothers were full of all kinds of thoughts. After Sam deemed the DVDs safe and normal they watched the movies together while they sent Y/n out on a solo ghost hunt. 

Dean’s mind was blown over and over again. One, Y/n’s real name was Wanda and was part of the avengers!? Which was pretty damn cool especially with how hot she looked back then (and she only got hotter as she got older). But then both him and Sam found out about Y/n lover. Vision, a robot, but he reminded them of Castiel, as both were learning how to act human. 

While watching they felt like they were intruding in that moment. The way the two confided to each other… Dean wasn’t one for chick flick moments but he could tell that these two were utterly in love with each other. 

But then they witnessed the pain Y/n went through, practically losing everything. She lost her brother, her twin- a mute scream emphasizing her pain. Dean and Sam could relate, having lost each other more times than they could count.

She lost Vision to Thanos, the ugly wrinkled grape that both brothers just wanted to beat up in order to never see Y/n look that upset again. 

Then she herself died, her face oddly calm as she dusted away. But Sam understood. At that point, Y/n thought she had lost everything and had nothing left to live for. Her thoughts were probably along the lines of, at least I’ll be with my brother and Vision.

Coming back to life 5 years later, Y/n was understandably angry as she unleashed her anger on Thanos. But after that Y/n was lost. 

Her brother, gone. Her lover, gone. And as she came back to life she learned that her sister figure, Natasha, was gone too. 

Maybe that’s why they could only sympathize and understand as they watched WandaVision that for once in her life Y/n just wanted to be normal and happy. 

It was quite weird to watch Y/n magically give birth to two twin boys, but they couldn’t deny the amount of love Y/n had for her family. 

And then… 

“Dean isn’t that the witch that gave us the DVDs?” 

Agatha Harkness. Now the brothers knew that the witch could not be trusted based on the way she treated Y/n. 

The next time they see her, Dean isn’t going to hesitate in shooting his gun. 

But then onto Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness… 

“LIKE DUDE WHAT THE F*CK!?” 

First off, Y/n was hot. As in, slay b!tch, get it kinda hot. And she was kinda evil. 

“But think about it.” Sam pointed out, “She just lost her children, who she had for like, a couple days, she lost her husband- although I can see that she’s accepted his death by now. At this point Y/n is just desperate for her family, for love, for normality.” 

Sam wasn’t ashamed to say he was balling tears by the end of the movie. Obviously, Y/n wasn’t dead, but she had gone through so much that it left one question in their minds. 

Does Y/n… still want that normality? 

Because even if the Winchester brothers hated the thought of getting rid of Y/n from their lives, Y/n would never get to live a normal life while being friends with them. She would be stuck in a hunter’s life.  

“We should let her go…” Dean said blankly after a few minutes of silence. 

“Dean-”

“No, I’ve thought this through. That life she wanted. Sam, she’ll never be able to get that with us. Didn’t you see how happy she was with her family? I admit it was kinda f*cked up, but now she has another chance at it again. We can give her that chance again.”

Sam contemplated it, though Dean could see his resolve breaking. 

The Winchester brothers were going to let Y/n go.  

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The brothers had driven Y/n far from the bunker after telling her they were going on a trip. After parking into a driveway, they stepped out, a confused Y/n following after.

“Wait, what’s going on? Why-” 

“Y/n what we do is extremely dangerous, and it’s only going to get more dangerous from here on out.”

“Dean, I know that already. Why do you think I’m here? To protect you guys because-” Y/n attempted to explain but was cut off by Sam. 

“We can’t be associated with witches Y/n. All the hunters know who we are. Once they figure out what you are, even more people will be out to kill us, on top of the supernatural.” 

“Alright I’m calling BS-”

“Sorry, Y/n. But please, this will be so much better for you. We even paid for this house and everything. Don’t worry about it, please.” Dean opened the trunk and took out Y/n’s suitcase, rolling it to the door and passing the house keys to Y/n.

“But guys you’d be even safer if-”

“If you stayed here.” Dean sternly said to Y/n, looking directly into her eyes. She swallowed, her mouth feeling dry. “We don’t need a witch helping us.” 

Frozen, Y/n could only watch as the brothers got back into the Impala and drove away into the distance. Heart broken, tears uncontrollably ran down her face as she wept.

“...but you guys are my family…”

So... Part 4???

< Previous *~* Next >

[66sharkteeth]

kind of venting here again since it's the smallest place w/ the least amount of eyes. but man it's just one of those days where i dont feel good about my work haha. well, i kinda do, but i keep getting reassurance that it's not.

like i dont know... I'm going to New York Comic Con out of my own pocket and the company I work for just...wants nothing to do with me. How insulting is that? I can only assume they're just...embarrassed of CoB for some reason, and my leading theory is they just think the art is ugly. I see them invite smaller creators to things all the time, so I know it's not a performance thing, especially with CoB regularly being one of the top scifis and I feel like NYCC is one of the few places where that's like...actually kinda relevant. To this day, it's still never been included in any kind of banner or promo either. I've been to the office and I see art of all sorts of series, bigger and smaller than CoB all over the office, but CoB's just no where to be seen.

I see all my friends getting their ANYC acceptances now too. I applied, but it's looking like I didn't get in based on my empty inbox. I dunno. Sometimes I feel good about my art. getting into NYCC was definitely a bit of a boost. But now I'm realizing I probably got in bc my art isn't...super duper anime? And now I'm not anime enough for ANYC. And that's just...the boat I always seem to fall into. Just so fucking middle ground that I fall between the cracks. My series does well enough that it's not considered a "hidden gem" but it's also not big enough to be one of the popular series everyone talks about. And thus just...nobody ends up talking about it. And the same goes for my art in general. Not quite anime enough to appease to the anime crowd, but it's also too anime to appease the more western audience. My skill level is also just...good enough that nobody tells me my art sucks, but also not amazing enough that anyone's blown away.

Though like I said, I'm pretty sure at this point it must just be...flat out bad according to...the company I work for. They act like they're embarrassed of it. Maybe the story sucks too or something according to them, but there must be a reason they're too embarrassed to put it anywhere in the office or ever include it any kind of banner or collage. They don't even want anything to do with Shnee who is just like...ripe for marketing lol. At least I think he is. I mean, his plushie did well. But they must think he's as ugly as the rest of the series.

I dunno. It feels bad. Every time I start to feel a little good about my art, Im just kind of reminded it must not be very good. Like damn it must be bad when even your mom won't put your art on the fridge huh?

[bosskie]

Molluck Anatomy Practicing

Man, it happened again... I just had to draw before going to sleep but yeah, finished after sleeping. I should try to do more sketchy sketches but it just happens that I just gotta do details and stuff... I still cannot really stand my line art, so I gotta kinda hide it under shading and stuff...

I'm not good at anatomy but I'm doing my best to learn it, though it's trickier here since Molluck ain't easy to draw... He got so long arms that I kinda had to make him have an odd pose to have at least one hand visible... My original sketch just didn't have big enough hands, so after fixes, I just had to accept this situation. I feel like I'm still not drawing his body proportions right... Also, just some weeks ago I realized that I have drawn his hands incorrectly multiple times, his fingers I mean... It just feels like I keep learning new things about him...

But well, this one feels like the best one so far. I guess that at least after getting that proper (poseable) 3D Molluck model done I start to understand how his anatomy, proportions and such work... I just see that there's something wrong with the anatomy and pose here but well, I just need to practice more. Though, it's kinda difficult to pose his legs since well, they are pretty dead, atrophic from not being used... I wonder if he is even able to move them, even a bit, or do they just hang around... But his odd little legs are somehow endearing, at least for me. Also yeah, I don't know why but Molluck looks somehow confused here... Like he had just woken up.

Oh, and this did remind me of one older traditional sketch similar to this I have never shown:

You can see him having incorrect hands here but it's just the amount of joints in his fingers. I might like the style better here but his body has more problems here.

Oh, and I just feel like adding that sometimes I just think about that how there seems to be less 'Molluck thirst' than it used to be like 3-2 years ago. Well, I can get it but mine hasn't faded away, at all, just getting 'worse'... Man, after two months it's been 3 years of Molluck for me. It just feels like I finally have found the right one for me. Getting into the Emperor (BG3) just strengthened this feeling since I just saw how strong my feelings for Molluck are, preventing me from really having other characters around me. Though, the Emperor only started to interest me because his appearance reminded me of Molluck (and I love octopuses) but he is still my favourite character in that game and I love him but only as a friend. (I even bought the whole game because of him... But it was worth it and I'm currently doing my 5th playthrough...)

I do understand if someone thinks that I'm 'crazy' or something since yes, I do am crazy about Molluck! Also, I'm used to be seen as 'odd', like my whole life, so yeah, it's just what I am. It's just that Molluck is so 'me', like I have said many times; he felt like me as a Gluk and that's what got me into him. I remember feeling nothing toward him when I saw him for the first time, both in AO and SoulStorm. I'm just kinda immune to appearance stuff... Someone can look pleasant but eh, it evokes no desire in me. I don't even wanna call someone beautiful before knowing the person. Stereotypically 'hot' people look even ugly to me... Well, I often see that I have different opinions than the others but I don't even find Molluck ugly, even he is kinda meant to be ugly, at least to humans, since the SoulStorm art book calls him ugly and says that he is even uglier now, but he is said to be attractive by Glukkon standards, so... Well, I seem to be attractive by 'human standards', so a good match, eh? I have said this earlier but I have just heard from multiple people that I'm (very) handsome... I don't even know what to do with my appearance, it's just for identifying me, what else it needs to be... I mean, I'm not even interested in looking attractive, just pleasant enough for myself.

I don't know what has made the others thirsty for Molluck but, like I said, my reason was that I saw myself in him and only after that his appearance catched my attention. But even it was so, man, he do is such a beautiful Gluk! And well, even if there do are some difficulties due to his body since it limits him, there are ways to deal with it and I'm glad to help him out; he can give big hugs and kisses! I still honestly don't know about these terms, like what he is to me, thought many terms can exist at the same time but the main one I mean... I prefer friend-like love but it's more than that still... Romantic love is something like seeing the other as ideal, not about true love, just being in love, if I have understood correctly (I have seriously needed to read multiple definitions for it and I'm still not sure...). I see that Molluck isn't perfect and I don't want him to be perfect either but he is perfect one for me still. I'm basically trying to say that I don't really feel like using this 'fictional other' term like many self-shippers seem to use since it doesn't describe mine well enough. Well, whatever, I just love this Gluk so much!

[strawbrygashez]

for tyler and the narrator: 🎂💀👔

Sorry it took me a bit to get to this!!! Thanks for asking :D

A birthday headcanon

Narrator- Tbh I think he forgets when his birthday is :,| that or he just kinda stopped celebrating it after a certain point bc I picture him being a loner for a good amount of years before Tyler. He never had anyone to celebrate it with really & he only just suddenly remembers his when he gets a random phone call from his mom or some relative to wish him a happy birthday. They’ll ask if he’s gonna do anything fun to celebrate and he’d be like “yeah. Totally 🙂” and in reality he spends his birthday night maybe eating some ice cream and watching some random tv show.

When he’s with Tyler tho, Tyler just somehow found out when it was (probably on some paper somewhere) and he makes it a little bit of a fun occasion :) he’ll make him some cup cakes or something & he lets him pick whatever they do in 🛏 that night 😳 if he’s feeling really nice he might even go out to get a singular balloon or grab him one gift from the thrift store.

Tyler- He only goes all out if he has a friend or whoever at the time who offers to spoil him for the night. He’s met all kinds of people so I feel like some friends have been richer than others so if they offer… 🤷‍♀️ he can excuse him going some place fancy/wild/expensive by saying he’s just yknow, ‘only doing it so his friend will be slightly broker’ 😑

When he’s with Narrator tho & he’s putting on the show of being such a good role model, he says he doesn’t want anything & not to throw him any parties. The only thing he will accept from Jack that day is maybe a meal & sex 💀

I feel like the space monkeys would wanna do something to celebrate their leaders birthday but they know better than going against Tylers orders.

An injury headcanon

Narrator- From what I’ve heard, it sounds like Jacks face is really ‘messed up’ at the end of the FC book and while I don’t think he ever cares all that much about how he looks, I think sometimes he would stare in the mirror and wonder what Tyler would think. Like if this is what rock bottom looked like for him all along & if Tyler would like it or call him ugly.

He runs his hands over all the scars Tyler has gave him even after Tyler is gone. I think he truly doesn’t ever know how to feel about the kiss mark on the back of his hand. Even if he got it removed or fixed, I’m pretty sure it would still leave a scar so I don’t think he’d see the point of doing anything about it. He has a part of Tyler with him forever 😲😲😲😲😲

(Oh yeah I meant this hc in the he’s actually Tyler way lol)

Tyler- He’s just as obsessed over the scars Jack gives him as Jack is with the ones Tyler gives him. While Jack looks at his own more daydreamingly and all heart eyed, Tyler looks at the ones Jack gives him and giggles to himself :3 because Jack stops holding back as more time goes by.

He might even pick up clothes from the thrift store that will show off the injuries Jack gave him better. Jack won’t think anything of it because he knows Tyler just likes revealing clothes lol.

A clothing headcanon

Narrator- he cuts off all the tags off his clothes, even before meeting Tyler. He hates those scratchy tags that are on the back of shirts and even on the insides of pants sometimes.

I think Tyler would see him do that one time and be like “good :3 you’re improving! Not wanting any designer labels on your clothes!” And jacks like “Yeah…” but it’s really just autism.

Tyler- He used to be succchhhh a band t-shirts guy. He still has some but all of them became crop tops :3 even if the picture on the shirt looks better as a full thing, he didn’t care. He just wanted crop tops but couldn’t find any affordable nice ones for a while so he just worked with what he had. And well.. if anyone complained he ruined a nice band shirt they must just be some loser music elitist since his abs are on display but they are complaining of all things.

[barbatos-sama]

so, the new region trailer dropped and it was definitely a "nobody liked that" moment. i didn't have my expectations high because they already whitewashed sumeru but i was still Kind of hoping they'd up the amount of dark skinned characters considering this region is based off africa/pacific islands, etc. but nah they showed us the line up and there's only one dark skin character 😭 like i said though im not surprised and im kinda perplexed as to why so many Other people seem surprised since they already did the same thing with sumeru. like we been known gembin is colorist it's just something we have to accept. i've been bitching at them about it in the monthly surveys ever since sumeru came out AJDHHDHDJ

anyway here they are

they're kind of ugly AHSHDHHD

the pyro archon mavuika sticks out like a sore thumb compared to the rest of the archons. her outfit looks so weirdly modern, like she's a racecar driver or biker or something. definitely not what anyone was picturing when they pictured the goddess of war

these are my rankings

i think the baby is so cute and i do want her, unless i guess her kit turns out to be shit, but shes so cute look at her. in the interested category it really depends on personality/kit which we won't know for a while. if the guy with the teal scarf thing and tattoos ends up being anemo then i need him on the anemo account obviously. it looks like he has animal ears which is intriguing. the dendro twink doesn't have the best design imo and it really depends on his personality for me, cause he kinda has xiao vibes but he'll obviously never be xiao.

anyway yeah all around disappointing, i had no doubt they'd be whitewashed but i didn't expect the designs themselves to be so subpar. shrug emoji

[sacrxdfire]

✘what parts of ethan's destiny is he most accepting of? are there any aspects of his journey that have brought him any regret, or guilt? if he could start it all over, would he, or has he found his stride in navigating the present?

( nothing but the truth )

"Kinda early for the existential questions, don't you think?"

"I don't think much of destiny, actually. Stuff we're meant to do, written on the stars, none of this. I don't like thinking we're 'controlled' by something or a higher being, so I guess you could say I am accepting of whatever comes my way.

I am very good at finding my way throught, after all.

As for aspects of my journey I regret, I don't have any, not that I remember. So probably, if I do, they're so minor I forgot. I believe everything we go through was good to shape ourselves as who we are now, and I am pretty happy with myself, mostly.

That's not to say I loved everything that happened. Obviously I had some unpleasant encounters most 12 year old shouldn't have ever. I had to crawl my way out of serious business alive, despite the amount of adults who were trying to get rid of me. I had to face the ugly side of humanity quite more times than I wish I had.

That aside, I'm not very fond of doing the same thing over and over again. So I definitely wouldn't restart my journey. Although I will admit I had some battles I had so much fun I wouldn't mind trying again

The sentiment of seeing something for the first time is good too, but if I were to restart I'd already know it all, right? So I see no point. Still many places in the world for me to explore anyway."

[ohimesama]

1.25.23 Wednesday

5:46 am

My stick is gone....Who got it?

I hate kuya Rodel....hmm... I put my weapon stick on the table here and someone stole it...I'm 100% sure the weapon stick it is just here on my table..

Will my uncle DD get my weapon stick I just put it here on the living room table... Coz he went here last Sunday and he did the vacumm on our sofa...

100% my weapon stick is there on the living room table and someone put a rat sticker trap on the table...

7:32 am

I'm in already,Mommy Adnil eating her breakfast... And she requested for a vinegar, of course I put a small amount on the sauce bowl and she asked me to put more vinegar and get the bottle, bring the vinegar on her...

Went to the kitchen and bring her the bottle of vinegar and she asked me what is the brand of the vinegar? And I saw the bottle of vinegar that I'm holding, the brand paper name is removed. I don't know if it is intentionally or not... But I said Mommy I don't know probably "datu puti" coz the bottle cap cover is yellow...

Hmm... Hmm....Gets angels? Is it something??? Or coincidence...

8:21 am

Still, having the windblow trap... I still wanna buy starbucks everyday....

8:37 am

Went to their bathroom, the bidet is removed...We also have shower and bidet in the house...Kinda comfortable here...

Angels, we also have shower and bidet in our house...

And also they have shower and bidet but their bidet is removed...Why!!! I need bidet angels!!!

My boss,Ms Enaoj bathroom flush is damaged...But why? It was ohkay last week.. It is stressful for me even in our house if something negative happened in our bathroom... What happened to the flush and bidet here? Why is it damaged?

9:49 am

Thinking of my weapon stick,who really stole it?

Uncle DD texted...

10:33 am

Hmm... Who got it there on the living room table? 100% I put it on the living room table...

I still have the windblow trap... I'm thinking of future...

Mommy Adnil is praying now...

I wanna get new bf's with religious heart and car, a spoiled or with stability... I need a group who can accept me with beauty inside and out...

1:03 pm

I feel irritated coz my mind is on my weapon stick and I feel bad I wasn't able to perfect the centering of underpads... I'm not gonna go home without perfection...

Still,thinking who got my weapon stick...

1:14 pm

Done,eating lunch... Whew!

I know 100% I was just in the house for days coz I'm waiting for my duty and I know I just put that weapon stick on the living room table and it was just there for days...

And all of a sudden someone put a rat paper sticker on the living room table. I remember the last event was when bebeh John ate and cut the paper money, the payment for water bill...

1:58 pm

I still have thè windblow trap....Respect is very important inside the family and suggest a good thing but never steal things,stuff of a particular person...

To have a good relationship with other people family,friends or co-workers, bosses or assistant. Respect and trust should be maintained....

3:55 pm

I feel bitterish and wanna buy starbucks everyday... I wanna get new bf's as my group... Men with maturity and etiquette. Still,have the windblow trap....

6:01 pm

Hmm... Perfection is a good feeling... A center underpads and Mommy Adnil requested length is in a way a fulfillment of doing your job as a caregiver...

I care but crazy job it is.. No social life... I'm longing to get new bf's...

9:14 pm

Tita Karen dropped by here in the house,left me with some providence that I can buy a new weapon stick... Hmm... Thanks tita Karen... or new arnis stick? Probably...

Whew! I feel fat and ugly...Can't get new bf's with stability and car....Crazy life I have... I really feel fat and ugly...

My stick weapon is really gone....Stolen by?.?

[brightblessed-aa]

//Someday an emet, Elidibus, lahabrea, gaius, Zenos, ect will show up that will actually write enemies/conflict with Roi and I'll be happy.

[i9eto]

so i heard you were accepting requests and if it’s not too much…scara fucking insecure reader who thinks she looks bad/feels ugly, and him having her repeat affirmations like ‘i’m pretty, i’m beautiful’ and if she stops, he stops

pretty

hello! ok so i haven’t been feeling myself lately in terms of my writing, but i’m kinda happy with this outcome!! i hope you enjoy this <3

warning(s): nsfw (minors DNI), scaramouche x fem!reader, fem!pet names (pretty girl, good girl), fingering, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, mirror fucking, mentions of reader being insecure, degradation (scara calls you a whore and a slut once or twice)

masterlist + ko-fi

“i’m sorry, i really need to work on this project,” you’d tell him apologetically, or “i’d love to, but my favourite outfit is in the laundry, maybe next time?” scaramouche was always short-tempered, but not with you. but with the amount of excuses you’ve been using to avoid his date ideas, his patience was inevitably running thin.

scaramouche made his way to where you were sitting, on your study table writing down god knows what — he didn’t seem to care enough about it. “let’s watch a movie outside,” he muttered, his voice monotonous. you lifted your head up from your notebook, looking at your boyfriend’s face though the mirror sat in front of your study table.

your eyebrows furrowed just a little bit revealing an apologetic (or guilty) facial expression, scaramouche wasn’t sure. “i really need to finish this, sorry,” you pointed at your work. rolling his eyes, he expected this much from you.

he put his palm onto your notebook, startling you with the little thump that followed. “okay,” he inhaled a sharp breath as he looked down to you. your eyes darted upwards to him, confused. “what the fuck is up with you?” his question would’ve sounded harsh to others, but you knew he meant no harm. looking away, you shrugged whilst shaking your head, “nothing’s wrong with me.” you assured, giving your boyfriend a small smile.

he scoffed slightly, “y/n, you’ve been avoiding and rejecting multiple dates that i had planned out for you. why?” you sighed, you didn’t think he would’ve noticed so quickly that you, had in fact, been avoiding leaving your house. your arms fell to your side, gaze lowered – you thought of a way to tell him about your little issue.

“i… well,” you trailed off, “i’ve been self-conscious lately, with my appearance, my body, my clothes, my hair – everything. i can’t even bare to look at myself in the mirror, sometimes. i kinda find it more comforting to just stay home lately.” you admitted, you sounded guilty for your confession, and scaramouche hated that. why would you feel guilty for not feeling like you're at your best? we all have our moments, after all.

his eyebrows furrowed together, slightly as he looked at you. “you don’t have to feel bad about it,” he groaned, pushing his hair back. “more importantly,” he paused, you felt him tugging you by your arm, towards the full-length mirror you have by your bed, “i don’t see anything wrong with you, you’re perfect.” his voice was monotonous as he spoke, but you could see the tip of his ears turning red when he complimented you, which proved that he was being sincere with his compliment.

although you still didn’t feel like the best version of yourself, you can’t help but feel your heart fluttering from how gentle he sounded like. you offered scaramouche a small, yet sad smile. “thank you, kuni,” your voice meek as you said it. scaramouche knew that defeated tone all too well, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel sad, too. the last thing he’d ever wish is for the person he loves the most to feel bad about herself.

he wasn’t quite sure why, but he thought that the next best thing to do was to kiss you, “y/n?” he called, making you turn around a little to face him, “yes?” you answered, looking at him. he didn’t say anything, settling in for a gentle kiss on your lips. you let out a quiet gasp from the sudden gesture from scaramouche, but you quickly returned the kiss. gently feeling his lips moving against yours in a slow rhythm. it felt intimate to the both of you.

what was supposed to be a sweet gesture quickly started escalating as you felt his hands groping around parts of your body for some time before one finally settled in your hair, gripping on it so he could further deepen the kiss that you two were sharing. your body naturally started gravitating towards his, pressing your body as close as you could against scaramouche. your body naturally wanting to feel him as much as you could.

when he realised you’ve relaxed, you felt his tongue licking against your lips, you willingly let him push his tongue into your mouth, feeling it taste every corner of your mouth. scaramouche is never one to be gentle when making out — his hand started tugging on your hair to force your head to tilt upwards so he could have easier access to your mouth. scaramouche groaned against you as he pressed his tongue on yours, leaving you more or less breathless.

he pulled away from the kiss before turning you around, making you face the mirror. he kept eye contact with you as he slowly went from kissing your cheek, to your jaw, and finally leaving trails of wet kisses down your neck. one of his hands slipped into the bands of your shorts, the sudden warmth against your cunt as he started giving it teasing rubs made you moan softly. his fingers were touching you where you want them to, but not enough for you to feel satisfied.

your breath was heavy as you let him play with your cunt, every now and then he’d give your clit a flick — earning himself a small cry of his name from you. “tell me what you want.” his voice was stern as he made his demand. he was staring at you through the reflection of the mirror. “y-your fingers, i want them in me,” you told him, your face was heating up as you were speaking, you felt embarrassed from how intense his stare was.

a hum could be heard coming from scaramouche as he continued to look at you, “aren’t you pretty like this? all flushed and shy for me.” his voice was softer than before as he spoke. you didn’t give him an answer, your mind too distracted by the discreet movements of his fingers against your hole — just slightly brushing against your the entrance of your cunt where you need him most.

“i asked you a question, baby,” he said, eyes sharp as he stared at you straight in the eyes. you snapped from your clouded mind, you nodded hesitantly, “y-yes! i do look… pretty, like this,” you told him, scaramouche didn’t like the doubt in your tone — but he wasn’t feeling mean enough that he would keep you waiting.

he decided to be nice for once, shoving two of his slender fingers into you, his cold fingers made your body jolt forward, although you were lucky that your boyfriend was there to hold you. “aren’t you excited,” his chuckle was condescending, which earned him a small whine from you. he moved at a slow pace at first, carefully stretching your pussy out as much as his fingers can. he was in no rush to fuck you — after all you had the whole day to yourselves.

your impatience got the best of you as you started grinding against his fingers to get him to go faster, only for him to hold you by your hips tightly. “behave, you whore. only good girls get what they want.” he whispered in your ear, a smug look plastered on his face as he stared at your flushed expression.

“scara, i need more…” you pleaded. your begging face was too adorable for scaramouche to ignore, how could he? you look so helpless, if he didn’t know any better, he’d give you everything you want right then and there. “tell me how pretty you feel from getting off from just my fingers, then.” he chuckled. you were hesitant at first, but it didn’t take long for you to submit to his orders. “i feel s-so — fuck — so pretty with your fingers i-in me.”

a laugh bubbled up his throat, clearly satisfied with your words. “hah! such a good little girl for me.” he complimented, followed by a small kiss to your temple. “you’re tightening up real nice around my fingers, baby,” he whispered, he started leaving messy, open-mouthed kisses against your neck and jaw again; this time he made sure to leave marks all over you.

as he indulged in his possessive nature by marking you up, the pleasure from having his fingers finally picking up its pace made you throw your head back, eyes shut closed. loud moans and cries of his name left your lips as you started feeling sensitive from how good his fingers were stretching you.

“this won’t do,” he frowned. removing his fingers from your cunt, making your eyes shoot open as you immediately meet scaramouche’s. your pleading eyes didn’t do much for him other than making his cock throb against his pants, “please…” you didn’t realise how breathless you’ve become until you finally started speaking, “wh- why did you stop?” you asked him, scaramouche found it cute that your voice was laced with so much desperation.

“you can’t tell me you look pretty with your eyes closed, right? keep them open unless you want me to stop.” he ordered, you fell silent for a while before finally nodding to him. “what a good girl you are.” he cooed, once again satisfied with your obedience. you feel his fingers burying deep into your cunt again, he made sure you were able to feel every inch of his fingers creating friction against your already sensitive cunt.

“sc—ah!—scara…!” you moaned out, he moved his fingers in a scissor like motion as he moved in and out of your pussy, his fingers rubbing against the sweetest spots of your cunt, and his thumb finding its way onto your sensitive clit, rubbing circular motions onto it that made your head spin. you kept moaning his name over and over again — it almost felt like you were worshipping him.

another strained moan escaped your lips. you found yourself struggling to hold yourself still and balanced. all you really could do was get lost in the amount of pleasure that you were receiving just from scaramouche’s fingers. he made sure that every part inside of you that he was able to reach was not left untouched, curving his fingers up every time he was buried knuckles-deep in your cunt so it would be hitting the exact spot that had you screaming out his name. “look at you.” he said, his other hand lifting your chin up so you’d be looking into the mirror. his lips ghosted against your earlobe, his breath fanning against the sensitive skin, “such a pretty girl for me,” his voice low and slightly raspy.

“say it.” he ordered. the fingers in your cunt started going from slow and sensual, to fast and sloppy — and he made sure the rhythm stayed messy like that to further tease you. the thumb circling your clit started becoming rougher, too. the sloppiness made you breathless, your eyes starting to water from the pleasure. “tell me just how pretty you feel as i’m fucking you with my fingers, you whore,” he demanded. you wanted to respond to him, tell him exactly what he wants you to say — but your mind was clouded, so heavily, that all you could think of was him.

you once again started grinding against his fingers in a desperate attempt to get yourself to cum quicker. the added friction from your hips made you feel your orgasm building up. one of your hands started gripping onto scaramouche’s forearm as you desperately needed something to grip onto. “fuck– i’m s-so… i’m gonna-!” you were at loss for words, the euphoric feeling was right there, but it left as soon as it came.

you panted, confused and frustrated that your orgasm was denied. “scara…” you called weakly, looking at him. tears accumulated from the pleasure and from your frustrations started pooling around your eyes. “what’s wrong? didn’t get to cum?” he mocked, removing his fingers from inside you. your pussy started clenching onto nothing, the sudden emptiness making you gasp as a tear started rolling down your cheek.

“please, i was so close…” you whispered, turning around to face him. your boyfriend has a look of indifference, “you should learn to be obedient if you want something from me.” he scoffed, his eyes glared into yours. “i promise! i’ll do anything you want!” you quickly pleaded, more tears started to fall as you begged him, “please, i’m sorry! i really am!” it didn’t faze him much to see you so needy before him like this, but it was still laughable nonetheless.

“oh, what would your friends think if they knew what a desperate bitch you are for me.” he continued mocking you, he was amused, of course. “you poor thing, i left you unsatisfied, huh?” he continued, his hands trailing up your body as he slowly backed you against your shared bed. one hand slowly massaging your breast. you nodded eagerly in agreement, “i-it was my fault,” you told him, “b-but i’ll be good this time, i will!” you quickly continued.

a moan left your lips as as you could feel him pinching your hardened nipples through your shirt. the friction against the fabric and his fingers making them feel sensitive. “want me to make it up to you, baby?” he asked while his finger tugged on your nipple — making you yelp. you still managed to let out a meek little “yes” as a respond that was luckily loud enough for scaramouche to hear.

he merely nodded as he sat you down on the edge of the bed. he let go of your breast as he got onto his knees, hanging one of your legs onto his shoulders, he licked a lazy strip from your hole to your clit, “want me to make it up to you, my pretty girl?” he asked again, and you nodded eagerly this time, “yes — yes please,” you replied. scaramouche wasted not one more moment, pulling your lips apart with two of his fingers, he shoved his tongue inside your walls in one swift movement, making you squeal from the sensation.

he didn’t stay in one place for too long, moving his tonhje slightly upward so it was now licking up your clit. scaramouche purposely sucked hard onto your clit, knowing just how sensitive it become from the amount of times he was playing with it mere moments ago.

he was indulged in the screams you were letting out, he knew how good you were feeling from his tongue alone. as if that wasn’t enough, his fingers once again found its way inside your cunt, burying them as deep as his fingers could go inside you. “tell me how pretty you feel getting fucked by me like this.” he said, his hot breath as he was speaking fanning against your clit making your body jump.

you nodded eagerly, “you make me feel so pretty, scara– fuuuuck!” you squealed as you felt his fingers once again curving up against that sweet spot. “keep going, or i’ll stop.” he warned. between the pleasure you were receiving between him sucking and flicking his tongue against your swollen bud, you try your best to speak, “i’m your pretty girl, i-i’m the prettiest girl you’ll ever h-ah-ve!” you cried out, your hands gripping onto his hair to keep him in place.

“mhm,” the vibrations from his hum made you moan once again, “again,” he ordered. “i’m p-pretty!” you gasped as you feel his fingers scissoring inside you again, “i-i’m the prettie— hah!” you cried out. your brain was as good as scrambled from how good he was fucking you with just his fingers and tongue. your breath were heavy as you try to catch your breath. “what did i say about stopping?” he reminded, glaring at you.

he made you repeat yourself so much to the point it was the only thing in your mind as you were once again getting clouded by the pleasure building up in your stomach. scaramouche’s fingers fucking into you fast and deep, and his tongue giving your overstimulated bud rough flicks, it wasn’t a stretch to say that you were fucked dumb.

“i’m pretty, i’m yo-your pretty girl– ah! i– i’m so close!” your eyebrows knitted together as tears started rolling down your cheeks once more. your eyes shot open as they started rolling back, you could feel the overwhelming pleasure wash over you, screaming your boyfriend’s name as he was the only thing that was in your mind. he gave your clit another harsh suck, and that was what sent you over the edge, finally letting go of the knot in your stomach. scaramouche didn’t mind having you cum all over his face, even licking them up from your cunt like a starved man.

removing his fingers from inside you, he brought it to your face, showing you how much of a mess you’ve made. “clean them for me,” he smiled. you gladly obliged, sucking onto his fingers as you stared at him with doe eyes. you were tired, to say the least. “you’re a darling. my pretty, pretty angel.” he told you. scaramouche removed his fingers from your mouth, and started leaning in to kiss you again. a soft moan left your lips as his tongue met yours once again, the taste of his saliva and your cum mixing together.

“i love you, y/n. don’t ever think that you’re anything less than beautiful.”

[shlutnutt]

Eddie Munson X Headcanons that simply make sense

No heavy warnings <3

full creds to the creator of this gif

nice and short for now bc im still shadowbanned so nobody will really see this LMFAO

He'd swear up and down he's allergic to a dish he simply doesn't favor, if he doesn't like it; know he'd make anyone believe he's allergic ("turns out im allergic to —, I dunno know why.. kinda just figured over time, gives me a pretty bad rash, man.") he wouldn't have bad intentions though, just cant bring himself to say no when offered food, rare thing though

Munches on his nails when he's nervous or anxious ; if he has any lol, him being a guitarist he's accustomed to keeping his nails nicely clipped or simply just bitten to the bone and polished black at times if he finds the time for it (y: Eddie, biting your nails again? E: What? No, never. Gross.)

Hates when people touch his hair. It can be a simple grip, rake or even a tap he'd despise it and it'd be known. He'd have it a certain way, clean-looking or not, he knows how he wants it and how he needs for it to look. He'd have this certain look on his face where it's known he's trying his best to tame himself down if touched.

Can't take compliments for shit. He can try and accept a compliment but it'd be literally impossible for him to unintentionally make shit awkward, not really his fault though; poor baby's not used to those. (" y: I really like your hair, suits you nice. E: Oh yeah it's pretty matted, oh yeah.. thanks?")

Owns the fucking coolest jewlery box, it'd be an old birthday gift his uncle'd gave him when he had started getting more into jewelry, him cherishing it like his most precious thing. He'd have it stationed ontop of his drawer surrounded by random items, from fresh condoms to cut out newspaper letters, literally anything. He'd always make sure it's nothing but tidy and that the rock band stickers he used to put when younger were still visible. Know it'd always be stacked to the brim with the amount of heavy metal jewlery he owns.

Pretty good at art. Man's has probably 5+ stick and poke tats all over his body, not the ugly fucked up ones though, (him obviously having some he's not fully proud of) but he'd create such master pieces in places where only he'd admire. He gained his skill from younger when he used to sketch out his feelings instead of speaking about them, those skills improving from the dnd characters he had sketched out in mind to tattooing himself and others

Absolutely LOVES movies, total movie guy. He'd love to come home from school/work to rinse and heavily throw himself onto his bed and play a movie, not to be stereotypical but yup.. horror. And the movies? Bring up a movie date around him and he'd literally start jumping up and down in excitement, loves theaters and the theater food.

– if you see this check out my Eddie fic click here

[gangrenados]

Itty bitty titty committee

This girl is pretty sensitive with this topic ok? I need some appreciation lol

Characters: Dick Grayson and Jason Todd

▪So regardless of who you pick in this headcanon, your boyfriend has bigger boobs than you jaja life can be sooo funny .-.

•They think you're sexy regardless of how small your boobs are, like you go naked and their hearts race sooo

Dick Grayson

•Dick will probably look at you weird if you tell him he has bigger tits than yours, he can't help but left out an ugly laugh as he looks at his chest and then yours.

•You sentenced yourself to lame jokes about this, but he dosen't push to far if he notice it affects you

•Okay so, Dick has dated a lot of different people throughout his life, and although most of them were in the medium/bigger size, he still likes a nice pair of small boobs.

•If we're being honest Dick doesn't care that much, he's going to find a way to enjoy them regardless.

•Dick will still suck your tits when you're doing the nasty, lick and nip a little the bud just to hear your mewling as he grabs your other breast and rolls the nipple between his fingers.

•He also likes to grab them and rest on them, there's always something fun to do with boobs!

•He doesn't understand why you're insecure about it, in his mind you're fucking stunning and it confuses him that you're not able to see it.

•Therefore, don't be surprised if Dick don't take too seriously your rants and complaints about having a small chest, he thinks you're being low-key exaggerated.

•However, he's not a rat. If Dick catches you talking yourself down or looking at your reflection pitifully, he's gonna step in and give you a reminder that you're gorgeous.

•He loves lying his head on top of them when you're hanging in the couch or cuddling in bed. Dick loves to do it since your boobs are soft and you play with his hair, it relaxes him.

Jason Todd

•Remember what I said earlier? Well this a undeniable truth wen it comes to dating Jason thick Todd.

• This guy mantiddies are immaculate, graced with old scars and patch of chest hair, they're nice to lie your head on. Oh, and this bastard has made some jokes about him having bigger boobs than you tho

•Jason kinda understands your discomfort with your body since he himself has a hard time accepting his due to the amount of scars that cover his whole body. He might not fully understand, but he'll try his best to make you feel better about it.

•This man loves your boobs, ok? He might be a little bit rougher when it comes to grab and suck them since Jay likes to see those pretty tits covered in love marks.

• He will kiss them and suck at the bud and roll it in his mouth. In the aftercare he's gonna press at ton of kisses in those nice tiddies of yours too.

•He absolutely loves when you walk around braless around the house, it makes his heart do a little flip.

•It caught him with the guard down when you asked him why he was with someone like you who had small boobs when he has been around girls with bigger sizes. Jason didn't knew what to respond since he didn't really paid much attention to it, since he cares a little bit more about personality than looks...as cheesy as it may sound.

•He had to think hard for some nice answer that will make you feel better and for him to no look bad.

"Tits are nice and all, but the most important thing about them is the owner, you know?" Jason answered a little hesitant, not surely if it was enough." Besides your chest size allows me to be more closer to your heart and you look fucking good when you're naked."

•Jason has the habit to sneak his hand under your shirt and grab one of titties, preferably the one who can let him feel your heartbet. It's nothing sexual, he just like how soft they are.

[nochuvalencia]

𝐁 𝐁 𝐇 𝐌 𝐌 - jjk

I was basically inspired by these ^^^ pics of jk bc wow hot hi

⚠️ ALSO QUICK DISCLAIMER :: this is my first fanfic on here so it might be terrible but enjoy anyway. ⚠️

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 :: reader x crimeboss!jk

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: bitch you better have his money.

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 :: ABSOLUTE SMUTTY FILTH heh angst too ig

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 :: 11.9k

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 :: long haired tatted jk, that’s it, that’s the warning, uh kinda sketchy plot hsjsjsj, WOW ANGST ASF at the beginning tho, dub!con towards the middle don’t hurt me, fuck or die ig, gunplay????? yeah????? jks BLATANT OVERUSE of pet names, dacryphillia, major-ish character death, describing the injuries on a dead body, jk has a sir kink ig??? um excessive over exaggerated choking bc jks hands yum, explicit seggs, rough jk, he’s kinda mean, dom!jk, sub!reader, oral m&f receiving (facefucking on both ends), coochie sniff if you squint, coochie slaps if u squint too, spanking, OVERSTIMULATION, unprotected seggs, degradation, he calls her a bitch once idk, other bad names, praise too ig, jk gives an ultimatum, SLIGHT aftercare, he kinda like switches from flirty to murderous like a bunch of times it’s kinda weird, jk has an impossibly huge shlong obv, contemplating death, super mature themes, reader is a BIG fucking crybaby, overuse of the word fuck, corruption kink at the end if u squint super hard, also DUB!CON in case you didn’t see it, at this point I should just write what it doesn’t have

“If you’re not out of my house in 3.4 seconds, I'm dragging you out by the testicles” you uttered, your alarmingly calm voice laced with raw brutality as hot tears cascaded down your burning cheeks, your arm outstretched and pointed toward the blinding light of the hallway that contrasted with your dark bedroom. You said nothing more, with your eyes trained angrily at one of the four blank tan walls nearby, not possibly being able to bear speaking to or sparing a glance into the eyes of a cheating whore. The woman you had just caught him with scurried past you wearily, a terrified and confused glint in her eyes as she passed your frigid frame sans underwear, with her sparkly silver pumps dangling from her fingers and a wrinkly silver dress hanging limply from the clutches of her other hand. The man in question shuffled cautiously around the bed, clutching the exposed parts of his body and approaching you with extreme hesitation and outstretched hands, as if trying to calm the already blazing flames of your fury. He laid a cold, rough hand on your shoulder squeezing softly, a motion that once brought you comfort but only added the all consuming hatred that bubbled up inside you akin to ravenous bile filling up the pit of your belly. “Did you not hear what I said? Get out.” You spat, glossy eyes still pointed toward anything but him.

“____ please” he croaked, like the slimy frog he truly was, his voice dripping in false agony which only neared you closer to the brink of undoubtedly committing an act of extreme violence against that man. “Please baby it wasn’t-'' you blanked. He was about to make an excuse. A stupid, rediculous, horrible, completely false excuse which you had absolutely no patience to hear. So you snapped, harshly shrugging your shoulder and sending his arm flying back to his side. He stepped back, ceasing his incessant chatter as he stared at you, a surprised expression painting his “pained” features. He wasn’t accustomed to you acting like this, you were never one to raise your voice or act out in any sort of way so he stood there, eyes widened in dumbfounded silence and you took this chance, bending down, scooping up as much of his discarded clothing as you possibly could and throwing it in his face, your rage bubbling over into something much more carnal as you inhaled deeply through your nose.

“Shut the fuck up and leave!” He scrambled to catch as many clothes as he could and was taken aback by your abrupt outburst. He stood silent once again though this time, he was making the face he often made when forcing himself to cry. It was the face he made around his mother to get out of family responsibilities. The face he made around his friends when guilt tripping them into buying him drinks, and now he's using it for you. To guilt you into taking pity on his pathetic actions which merely was the catalyst for your unforgiving violence. In an instant you were behind him, heaving him out of the door with your bare hands, pushing with all your might, using the immense pain coursing through your limbs as motivation to drive his beefy frame further and further out of the bedroom, down the hallway, into the living room and closer to the door yelling “I said leave! Leave! Now!” Pushing harder and harder with every word you choked out. The tears began to flow faster, clouding and distorting your vision as your face contorted into an expression of pure anguish until finally, he was forced out of the open doorway and into the main hallway of your apartment building. You promptly slammed the door in his face and the only thought traveling though your mind was ‘thank god she left that door open’ because you wouldn’t have been able to force him through it otherwise.

You stood silently for a few seconds, back to the door, face still slick with tears as the cool wood on your back shook senselessly with every beat of his fist and muffled shout of his voice crying phrases like “____ open the fuking door!” , “this is my apartment too baby come on” and other variations of the sort. Your mind was empty while you remained there, letting the harsh reality sink in like the slowest molasses. You allowed that man, that pig, to take 10 years of your life. 10 years of your prime. 10 years that you'll never get back no matter how much you beg and plead for it. Come to think of it, you had shaped your entire life around him. His influence was there no matter how much you wished it wasn’t. His residue staining your life like the blackest ink of which you would never be able to rid yourself. At the surfacing of these thoughts, you’d finally broke down and cried, like ugly cried. Broken heaves and sobs escaped your throat until you felt like you were suffocating as you slid down the door, not caring if he heard your wails and whines of torment on the other side of the polished mahogany. You actually hoped he did hear, you wanted him to hear the anguish and grief he put you through. You wanted him to hear you cry out all of your attachment and love for him until there was none left, so he knows the tears flowing from your body hold all of the affection you harbor for him. All ten years of attraction flowing out in a gigantic tsunami of grief that can only end in a new start.

Your mind played through all the memories, and the small amount of good times you had with each other while you sobbed mercilessly, also coming to the realization that he never did anything for you. Ever since you were 14 you’d been changing everything about yourself for him, while he merely lived his life, dragging you along like a supportive little puppy and rewarding you with cheap token gifts and mediocre sex once in a blue moon.

He wanted to attend university in your hometown so you abandoned your dream school, which accepted you, to attend a closer college. He made the decision to study abroad, so you had to drop everything and move to Australia for him. He wanted to wait to have kids so you froze your fucking eggs for him. He got a great new job at a large company in Asia, so you dropped everything again and moved to South Korea. You learned Korean for him. You have the same friends as him. You even cut a few family members off because he was “uncomfy” around them. He wouldn’t even go down on you because it also made him ‘uncomfy’, which should’ve been a red flag from the start. You did all of this bullshit in the haze of love. The promise that he’d reciprocate all of it in affection and adoration, which he didn’t, and now you’re sitting in your living room bawling your brains out because you were too lovestruck to see the signs.

After sobbing hysterically for what seemed like hours, you’d sat limply in front of your door, slouching back onto it as if it were a plush armchair and staring blankly into space, your mind completely empty. Feeling overwhelmed and exhausted beyond belief, you leaned forward, groaning in anguish as your tired muscles cried out in distress after being immobile for more than four hours. Crawling over to the couch, you tiredly flung your nearly paralyzed body onto the soft cushions with a sigh, not even bothering to pull the fluffy throw blanket over your body as your entire frame began to steadily shut down. Before your eyes completely shut, you caught a glimpse of the clock perched on the wooden tv stand which read 11:11 and scoffing quietly as you thought to yourself, ‘I thought that was supposed to mean good luck’ and you gave in to the delicious expanse of slumber.

You were startled awake by the incessant pounding of your now ex-boyfriends fist on the door, again. For the past 4 days since you’d forced him out, he’d show up outside your door at the ass crack of dawn just banging on the door profusely, as if that would persuade you to open it an inch. He had a schedule, he’d come at 5am, before he went off to work, then at 12:30 on his lunch break, then again at 9:45 just to make you miserable before you went to bed. You’re actually surprised the neighbors haven’t complained to the landlords yet. You tossed the blanket off of your sticky body, kicking and thrashing wildly due to the annoyance caused by that nuisance.

You cried more times than you can count during these last 4 days, especially during the times he would attempt to win you over with sappy shit like “baby, you’re my everything, you’re all i’ve ever wanted”, the lyrics to one of your favorite songs or, “you’re my forever ____, you can’t just throw 10 years away babe” to which you cried about for 3 hours after he’d said it, after realizing that he actually wasted 10 fucking years of your life. Anger bubbled up in the pit of your stomach as you listened to the repetitive banging of his fist and at this point you had enough and came to the decision it was finally time to pack his shit. Stomping into the living room, you grabbed a necessary box of bags that sat on the coffee table in the center of the room, figuring you were ready to use it. With a final nod of your head, you marched into your shared bedroom and opened all of the cabinets and drawers that contained the plethora of his belongings and flinging them on the floor, grabbing the box of xl trash bags you’d snagged on your march in here and started tossing things in left and right, not caring about the brand name or the state of the fabric or anything for that matter. All you saw was red as your eyes welled up with tears for the first and probably not last time that day.

“I can’t do this” you sobbed out, voice hoarse as you fell to your knees, ignoring the rugburn that was soon to form on those areas as your shoulders shook with every harsh breath you took. You had been dreading this task. Dreading it only for its significance that once you packed all his things and tossed them out, your relationship would be truly over. You definitely didn’t want him back but this would be the first time you’ve been alone in 10+ years and you were not certain you were prepared for that let alone wanting it. Inhaling shakily, you sniffed, ridding your face of any moisture as you cleared your throat and walked back into the kitchen, grabbing the bottle of chardonnay from your anniversary that fell on the week prior and venturing back into the closet to resume your task. You weren’t much of a drinker but for this task, you’d need a bottle or two.

A few hours later, he’d finally went off to work and you sat in the doorway of the closet, drunkenly dressed in the wedding gown you were made to be wed in this summer still combing through all of his clothing and tossing them messily into a bag that laid open on the floor beside you. You took a swig from the bottle, hissing softly at the satisfying burn that seared it’s way down your throat and rubbing at your puffy eyes with the knuckle of your index finger. The closet was mostly bare, except for a rack with some of his clothes and one rack of semi-expensive clothing his cheap ass reluctantly purchased for you and you glanced around, catching a glimpse of some ugly floral fabric in the corner of the small space. Getting on your hands and knees you reached a limp hand out, taking hold of the horrendous fabric and dragging it out with a groan, eyes wide at the surprising heft of the object in your hand.

It was a pillowcase. A pillowcase full of something brick shaped. You raised an eyebrow quizzically before reaching into the bag and pulling out a fat stack of cash. Taking a sharp intake of breath you paused, staring blankly at the wrapped wad in your hand and cocking your head to the side. You peeked over into the bag after a few minutes, eyes popping out of your skull as they feasted on more huge stacks of money. It was Korean currency but there had to be at least 250k USD worth in the entire sack. You furrowed your brows, tossing the money back into the pillowcase forcefully as a tornado of thoughts whirled in your mind. Had he been saving behind your back? Was he planning on getting rich then eventually hanging you out to dry for some younger girl? How long has he had all of this? Where the fuck did it all come from?

You looked back at the money then back at the corner you found it in, squinting as you spotted some more ugly purple fabric. Crawling behind the clothing earnestly, you managed to fish out 4 more pillowcases full of money. You stifled a laugh, having never been in the presence of so much currency, you guessed it had to be more than 1 million dollars. You smiled for the first time in 4 days, lips curling up into a wide joy filled expression as you dumped all of the money onto the rugged floor of the closet. With all of the alcohol coursing through your veins, (almost a whole bottle) you didn’t hesitate to grab the biggest tote bag you own and stuff as much money as it could hold inside. You figured it was the least he could do after cheating on you.

He deserved to pay, and you obviously deserved a raise.

It was a full on shopping spree. After throwing all of his shit into bags, you tossed them outside your door and left with as much money as you could carry before he could come back on his lunch break. You even came back to get some more money, just to go out and spend it again. To say you splurged would be an understatement, you spent almost half of the money on clothes, shoes, a hair and makeup appointment, a manicure, a new car, and you even paid rent for six months after taking his name off the lease.

So here you were, struggling up the stairs as quick as you could, due to the fact that it was 9:30 and you were trying to avoid seeing him at his 9:45 visit. Your feet screamed in agony in your new jimmy choo pumps, because you’d been on them all day, and you had at least six shopping bags hanging from each arm, all full with an assortment of gaudy items such as shoe boxes, makeup products, and clothing. You had finally reached the door after a while, smiling at the absence of his bags which meant he took them and swiftly unlocked the door, clamoring in and tiredly dropping the bags in your hands. With a sigh, you locked the door, running a hand through your freshly styled hair as you rid your face of the designer sunglasses that shielded it. Kicking off your shoes, you hummed gratifyingly at the pleasurable feeling of bare feet and shuffled over to your couch, plopping down on the end cushion groggily.

A soft buzz in your back pocket caught your attention as you carefully fished out the new phone you purchased and unlocked it with your perfectly manicured fingers, raising an eyebrow quizzically as the texts rolled in, ‘i thought i blocked him’ you thought, preparing to do it a second time before a few texts caught your attention and you froze on the spot, chuckling heartlessly at his words.

+82 2 2263 5950 : whose car is in our parking spot?

+82 2 2263 5950 : did you already move on?

+82 2 2263 5950 : wow whore

You rolled your eyes, wondering where he attained the gaul to accuse you of a feat such as that. Calling you a whore as if that name isn’t suitable for himself. Even more so than you. You decided to text him back, feeding off of an unknown source of confidence as your fingers furiously tapped along the screen.

me : it’s my car asshole

me : bought it with the money u left me

me :thx baby <3

+82 2 2263 5950 : what money?

me : the money in the closet you didn’t bother telling me abt u dumb fuck

+82 2 2263 5950 : don’t use that money

me : why should i listen to you?

me : you aren’t my bf

+82 2 2263 5950 : no seriously ____ don’t use that money wtf is wrong with u

me : already did bye babe

You blocked him as quickly as you could, face burning with absolute anger as you tossed your phone on the cushion beside you. Who is he to tell you what you could or couldn’t do? You had come to the decision then and there that you wouldn't let him treat you like a child. He wasn’t your dad. Thanks to him you barely speak to your dad. The only thought going through your mind at the time was ‘fuck him.’ Before you could delve into your thoughts any further, it started. His incessant pounding on the door. Again. Although, this time it was much more frantic, desperate. He was much louder with his pathetic pleas and whines, crying out “please don’t use that money!”, “Listen to me god damn it!”, “___ open the fucking door now!” But you stood your ground, ignoring him once again as you did for the past few days.

Just to escape the racket of his wails of desperation, you retreated to your room, slipping on one of his expensive balenciaga sweatshirts you kept for yourself and climbing into the cool blankets, burying yourself under the plush fabric and folding your pillow over your ears. You knew this would be the longest night of your life..

And you were correct, It was the longest night of your life. He never truly got the memo that you would not be coming out to communicate with him so he finally left at around 1:30 in the morning. You had slept horribly, tossing and turning as the aftermath of his cries and pleads left a print on your mind and tormented you at all hours of the night, you didn’t manage to get any real sleep until around eight and woke up a mere five hours later in a state of confusion. It was well past noon and yet it was silent, you had woken up of your own volition, not because of some crazy man outside of your apartment screaming like a banshee. In due time, you had come to the conclusion that he had finally given up and gone about his day without banging on his ex-girlfriend's apartment door like an idiot at all hours of the day.

This theory was almost set in your mind until you heard a knock. Groaning violently, you stared up at your ceiling, eyebrows furrowed as you erased that theory from the whiteboard in your cortex. Fully prepared to ignore the person at the door, you rolled over to your side until another knock was heard. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be him. The knocks were way too soft, they lacked an element of urgency, desperation. They were simply just way too calm. So, you sat up, swinging your legs over and reluctantly standing up, before making your way into the living room to be greeted with another knock and a smooth male voice calling out. “Miss ___ ___?”

You glanced wearily though your peep hole to be met with a tall male, dressed in a blue and white uniform. “Looks like a cop. He called the fucking cops on me, shit.” you whispered to yourself, voice small as you held onto the door handle. Figuring it’d be worse to make him wait, you opened the door, being met with the warm, dimpled smile, of the decorated individual. “Yes, i”m ____” you respond, shoving your hands into the pockets of your sweatshirt and looking everywhere but him, which probably seems more suspicious than anything but you were too riddled with anxiety to care. The officer clutched a navy blue manilla folder in his hand and opened it promptly in order to sift through its contents.

“Hi, i’m officer Kim.” he breathed out, calmly bowing and resuming his apparent spiel, “do you know this man?” he pondered, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he pulled a photo from his folder with calloused fingers and lifted it, spinning it around to face you. Your eyes widened slightly upon being shown a picture of your ex and you nodded hesitantly.

“He’s my ex boyfriend- well ex fiance I guess.” you responded, voice barely audible as your mind raced faster than the speed of sound. You asked yourself what he could’ve done that was bad enough for the police to show up at your door. Maybe you had been too harsh on him and he had gotten into one to many bar fights, maybe he robbed a bank at gunpoint, maybe he stole some old lady’s car and filled it with off brand mayonnaise before he returned it. All your questions- all your thoughts stopped as Officer Kim responded, running a tired hand through his hair.

“He passed, earlier today.” he paused, giving you time to digest things and you froze, staring at his face blankly as your mind processed what you had just been told and you hummed questioningly, your throat becoming tight with realization. “It happened around five this morning,” he paused again as you stood in complete silence. Sure you hated him but you’d never wish death upon another person, especially him. You hate him now but you were in love with him once too. You hate him now but, he was the closest person in your life. He was all of your firsts, your fiance, your best friend. You thought you wouldn’t be able to get all of that back because of the breakup but now you truly can never get any of it back, because he’s dead. Then, you started to cry, for the hundredth time this week but this one was different. You weren’t crying because you missed him, or wanted him to come back like all the other times, as horrible as it sounds. You were crying because you felt bad. Because of his short life that was ripped from him by the unforgiving hand of death. You weren’t crying because of him, you were crying for him. A hand on your shoulder interrupted your sobs and you wiped your face, glancing up at the culprit with glassy eyes. “I’m so sorry for your loss...” he paused, giving you a few moments to breathe as he rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before speaking again, “but we have an idea of who did it, it would be helpful if you just came down to the station with me for some questioning.” he asked softly as the shaking sobs and whimpers that came from your body slowed to a halt and you nodded.

“Yeah, uh. Let me just go get dressed.” You muttered, smiling up at him softly and shuffling back to your room to prepare. The longest night of your life was about to turn into the longest day.

And you were correct again as you stood in front of your apartment door after the absolute, and I cannot stress this enough, longest day of your life. Your ex was murdered, brutally, and they made sure to go over all of the gory details with you while you were at the precinct, they even took you to see his body, which made you cry because it was mangled almost beyond recognition and you were horrified. Apparently, he had been tortured for hours, which explained all the bruises, gashes, and burn marks on his body, strangled, thus the huge ring shaped mark around his neck, and dumped into a river, which made his body all pruny and wrinkled. You had spent 10 long hours at the police precinct and it was now nearing midnight as you fished your keys from your pocket in order to unlock the door. Inserting your key, you jiggle it around in the lock for a minute before realizing it was already unlocked initially. Figuring you had left it unlocked accidentally in your depressed haze, you pushed your way into your apartment and locked it promptly, pressing your forehead into the cool wood of the door. You sighed softly, relaxing only for a minute as you absorbed your surroundings before freezing as you heard the rhythmic tapping of someone's foot.

“Long day huh?” the voice was deep, one you hadn’t heard before as you remained facing the door, your grip of the handle tightening until your knuckles turned white. He spoke again, “you must be ____.” he murmured softly, sending a terrified shudder down your spine. “I’ve been wanting to meet you but he said you were off limits. You know, he talks about you a lot-...” he stopped himself as if realizing something, “well talked, I mean.” the man mused, an ominous chuckle flowing from his mouth.

“Who are you?” you rasped, attempting to conceal any cowardice but blinking your eyes harshly as your voice broke. You vaguely hoped this was one of your ex’s friends coming to visit, at an odd hour of the night, sitting ominously in the dark of your apartment waiting for you to come home just to say hi but the chances of that actuality was very slim.

“None of your business” the man retorted, a smirk evident in his ominous tone. “Now, let’s get down to business little dove,” you furrowed your brows at the nickname. You had never been called a nickname, especially by a man who randomly just snuck into your apartment one night. Your ex only ever called you baby or babe so little dove was different for you. It seemed endearing in the worst type of way. “I want the rest of my money.” he paused, “I found half of it in a closet here, and he said you might know where the rest is.” he paused again, only this time a sound is heard, a metal rattling of some sort that ricochets off of the walls of the apartment like a stray jumping bean in a pill case. Then it hits you, he has a gun, and he just shook it as if he intends to use it. . “Don’t make me ask again sweetheart.” Your eyes widen and well up as your head falls down, knowing you're going to die today and you take a deep breath, telling yourself you’d be ready for whatever happens so you decide, if you’re gonna die, you should at least know the name of the man that’s gonna kill you so you scrape together every last drop of confidence you can muster and ask once more.

“I said, w-who are yo-” you choked out, in an attempt to hold onto the last shred of your dignity as you blinked back the tears threatening to fall from your glassy eyes. However, your small shred of confidence is promptly ripped from your grasp as the man cuts you off mid sentence, slamming his gun down onto a hard surface with a loud clatter. You jolt, crying out softly as the tears you’d been holding back with all your might fall onto the ground before you.

“I said none of your fucking business bitch where’s my fucking money.” he spat, his sinister tone draing a choked sob from your thoat as you realized, you wouldn’t be getting anything you wanted today. “Answer me” he said, alarmingly calm as the sound of him cocking his gun travels directly to your mind.

“I spent it” you muttered between your soft hiccups and stiffened slightly upon hearing a heavy footstep approach you, then another footstep, and another, and another until they cease, and you can feel the man's warm breath raising the hair on the back of your neck. All your readiness for whatever happens and willingness to die flies out of the window as you lean your head on the door once more, taking a shaky breath as you begin to plead, aware of how pathetic you sound and part of the reason why you have such a strong urge to cry harder. “Please don’t kill me” you whined desperately as you feel the cold metal of the gun barrel resting on your shoulder.

“Relax little dove” he whispered, his lips brushing the back of your ear and sending a chill rushing through the entire expanse of your body. “Just find a way to pay me back and we’re even,” he continued calmly, his raspy voice reverberating in your eardrums as you think through what he just said carefully. You gasp and sniffle, shaking your head softly and lifting it slowly from the wooden door frame.

“I-” you stopped, taking a deep breath and preparing yourself as much as you could for his response then opened your mouth to continue. “I don’t have that kind of money” you whispered hesitantly, shutting your eyes tightly, allowing nothing to escape but the numerous tears that fell to the ground in anticipation of his actions. There was an eerie silence as he contemplated your words before he abruptly turned away, lifting the gun from your shoulder and holstering it in the waistband of his jeans, causing you to let out a wavering breath you’d been holding that entire time. His hand traveled back up, taking refuge on your left shoulder as the other hand made its way up your right arm, the warmth setting your skin aflame and sending a shockwave of warmth coursing through your body.

“There is another way you could pay me back.” his velvet voice rasped, stressing the word ‘another’ in a way that you immediately understood his insinuation and you took a sharp intake of air, bracing yourself for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t say anything for a moment, letting his hands do the talking for him as he gripped your arms softly, using his hands to spin you around and face him. You whirled around, yelping in surprise but stopping when you were met with the most exquisite, carnivorous brown eyes you had ever seen in your life that were accompanied by full pink lips and a tousled bunch of fluffy black hair you just wanted to run your hands through. Even in the darkness of night, the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window illuminated the room enough for you to trail your eyes down his face and get a vivid idea of what he’d look like with illumination.

Yummy as fuck.

Your eyes began to wander down to his exposed collarbone and before they could travel any lower, his fingers roughly grabbed your chin, forcing your gaze upward until you met his borderline cannibalistic gaze, which crushed you into nothing. He cocked his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes as the corner of his lips turn upward slightly. “He was always bragging about you… saying,” he speaks, his sultry tone lulling you into a state of compliance as he spoke, “you’re such a good fuck,” he continues, placing his left hand gently on your waist and stepping even closer, if that’s possible, his soft breath hitting your face with every word as he speaks. “Your sweet little cunt is so tight” he glances down at your lips, running his thumb over your bottom lip “your mouth feels like heaven” he pauses again, running his hand down to hold the side of your neck softly to which you gasp “maybe i’d like a demonstration little dove.” he smiles, a twisted horrifying smile that snaps you out of his seductive trance and back to reality as your eyes widen and you pull yourself quickly out of his hold, running over to the couch and bracing yourself on it.

“No” you cry out, out of breath for some reason as you swallow thickly and shake your head. “No, I'll find a way to pay you back, I promise.” you plead, praying he wasn’t going to kill you on the spot and that he hadn’t noticed your blatant ogling. He probably did but at this point you didn’t care, you just wanted him gone.

“Whatever you say sweetheart” he replied, emitting a dark chuckle “call me if you change your mind, my number’s in your phone” he opened the front door and you glanced back at him, noticing the way his all black attire contrasts with his tan skin, and most of all, you notice the full sleeve of tattoos that ran down his right arm. Heat crawled up to your face as you realized you were gawking again and you nodded in response, feeling unable to form the words to respond with. He only uttered the words “you have a week.” before the door slammed and you were left alone in the dark.

You ran your fingers along the side of your neck where the aftermath of his touch lingered like a searing residue. No one had ever touched you like that, especially your ex. He was the man that took your virginity and was the man there for every time after so you’d become accustomed to his textbook missionary vanilla sex that left you touch starved and unfinished every. single. time. But you’d finish yourself off each time, feeling bad because you thought he was trying his hardest and truly didn’t understand how to please women. But as time went on, you realized he didn’t care about your pleasure and too enveloped in his own release to ever worry about your needs, but were too deep in love with him to care.

Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone went off to signal a text and upon picking it up there were two text messages from an unknown number that sent a shiver down your spine which read.

+82 2 5284 8735 : don’t try to run

+82 2 5284 8735 : we’ll hunt you down little dove

“Can’t you just take the shit back?” You questioned frantically, clutching the phone by your head until your knuckles turned white, rolling your eyes tiredly when you got no response. “They hung up, great” you deadpanned, plopping onto the couch you had been pacing in front of. It has been 6 days since the man showed up and you were running out of time and hadn’t slept in two days, your mind running frantically with the thought of him coming back to see you nearly empty handed. Well, not exactly empty handed. You had managed to get 253k of the whopping +400k dollars you had spent of his money and after not being able to return the car, manicure, hair appointment, rent, and a bunch of clothes and shoes, you were manic. Some might even say a bit crazy. Many of the stores and the dealership knew you by name because of the amount of times you called them. You dropped your phone into your lap, burying your face in your hands and wishing someone was here to console you through this but the only person you knew even remotely enough to offer any consolation was your ex. You wish he was alive so you could punch that bitch in the face and ask him what kind of shit he got himself into because the man that paid you a visit was most definitely not from corporate.

You sat for a silent minute deliberating if you should text the mystery man and take him up on his offer. You had asked yourself, is it really worth your life? Were you really going to die because you didn’t want to sleep with the hot guy you stole money from? The answer at first was yes because you still had your pride intact then but now, you had been starting to second guess your confidence in getting all the money back. After all, the deadline is tomorrow. You still had your hesitations, the only man who has ever seen you in such a lewd nature was your ex. You didn’t know if you were ready for sex with another person, even if he was the hottest man you’d ever seen. But, against your better nature, you convinced yourself that your ex was gone and this was bound to happen sooner or later, so why not sooner?

You grabbed your phone in earnest before anything inside you could convince you to stop and unlocked it, opening the messages for his number and typing out your text, hitting send before any sort of regret had the chance to sink in.

me : i’ll take your offer

me : this is ____ btw

You placed your phone down on the couch cushions beside you and chewed nervously on the not so fresh manicure that was still on your nails. To your surprise, his reply came in quickly and you frantically reached for your phone as the dings came rolling in.

+82 2 5284 8735 : i know who you are

+82 2 5284 8735 : i'll be there in 20

+82 2 5284 8735 : be ready sweetheart

Your heart thumped restlessly as you shot up from your seat shouting “twenty minutes?!” and you cried out nervously. You hadn’t even seen his face in good lighting and you didn't know his name so you’d basically be fucking a complete stranger which scared you enough as it is but the fact that that stranger held you at gunpoint merely a week prior is what scared you shitless.

In the limited time that he gave you, you decided to freshen up a bit so you hopped in the shower. Your first shower in a few days after your psychotic state worsened. Humming in bliss, you relished in the feeling of the scalding water flowing over your skin as you took your time washing , shaving, and singing, in an attempt to rid yourself of the horrendous nerves that overtook your senses. After reluctantly stepping out of the steamy oasis, you’d decided on a white lingerie set you had gotten yourself for christmas but never got to wear for anyone because your significant other was always “working” or too tired/busy to take the time of day for you. Pairing the set with a matching white silk robe and not bothering to wear any shoes because you’re in your own house, you slicked your lips in a thick coat of gloss and applied some mascara and eyeliner to your tired eyes just to spruce up a bit. You figured, if you put effort into your appearance, then maybe he’d spare your life after the sex. You stared at yourself in the mirror, tying your robe, smacking your glossed lips together and ogling your appearance before a soft knocking was heard from the living room. “He’s here” you told yourself with a deep shaky breath as you vacated the bathroom and slowly ventured toward the door.

You stood silently before the front door, contemplating whether this was a mistake or if it was too late to turn back. As much as you hated to admit, there was no logical solution to your problem that was in compliance with any standing laws. Heck, what you were doing was probably illegal in everywhere but Las Vegas so you had no other choice than to twist the handle, open the door and stare up at the most alluring man you had ever laid eyes on. You ran your eyes all over his body, studying him, his features, his gorgeous eyes, impeccable nose, plush lips, smooth hair, and strong arms that lead to a presumed strong chest hidden under his plain white tee. He noticed you blatantly checking him out to which he placed a finger on your chin, lifting your face up so your eyes met and making you watch as he rolled his bottom lip into his mouth, sucking on it for a moment. Oh how you wished that was your lip.

“You ready little dove?” he asked, his tone seductive and smooth like chocolate as he walked closer to you, closing the door behind him and backing you up until you stood patiently before the couch staring up at him, a wistful glint in your eyes as you nodded. He reached up, using a finger to push your robe off of your right shoulder and cocking his head quizzically. “All dressed up just for me?” he pondered, his eyes trained on the white lace peeking out from under the robe. You nodded, to which he gripped your chin roughly, furrowing his eyebrows at your response. “Use your words sweetheart” he warned, loosening his grip so you could speak in affirmation.

“Yes…” your voice trailed off, thinking of what to call him, as you still didn’t know his name, so you addressed him as you would any man you didn’t know, “yes, sir. I dressed up just for you” you concluded, your voice barely greater than a whisper as the corners of his lips turned up. He let out an animalistic growl at the name you gave for him, obviously satisfied and moved his hand from your chin to grip the back of your neck promptly.

“It’s Jungkook, but sir will do nicely” he basically growled before latching onto your lips with carnal aggressiveness. You whined heartily into his mouth as his tongue slipped deftly into yours and intertwined with yours, causing your mind to fall into a haze as he coiled his arm around your waist, bringing your body flush against his toned frame. You reached up with shaky hands, fumbling with his shirt, eager to get it off of him and gaze upon the expanse of his abdomen. His lips detached for a moment, giving you the chance to pull his shirt over his head, which he gladly obliged and lifted his hands over his head, swiftly resuming their positions when his shirt formed a pile on the floor beside you. You leaned back in, attempting to capture his lips in another phenomenal kiss but he pulled back, leaving you to chase him and whine when you ultimately lose, to which he laughs mischievously, taking his hands off of your body and toying with the silk tie on the front of your robe.

“How do you want it baby?” he pondered, the new nickname sending shivers down your spine as you glanced at him quizzically, as if asking what he meant. He chuckled softly, tugging at the ribbon and opening your robe as he brought his hands up, carefully sliding it down your arms and bending down so his face was level with your collarbone. He placed a gentle kiss there, leaving fire in the wake of his lips as he spoke, his breath cooling the seared flesh, “would you like me to be gentle?” he asked leaving more hot kisses along the expanse of your shoulder and neck, drawing salacious sounds from your parted lips as he brought his hand up to rest at the base of your neck. “Or…” he paused, sliding his hand up and increasing the intensity of his grip on your throat, restricting the blood flow to your brain as your mind became hazy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “Do you want me to be rough?” he continued, lifting his head to watch your face as he loosened his grip. “It’s your choice little dove.”

You were elated, ecstatic and a little disappointed when he loosened his grip on your neck. Your ex was always into sex that lindered toward the vanilla side, as mentioned before, so he would never think to try anything like choking, which always intrigued you just a little bit. You wished you would have experienced other styles of love before you met him but you didn't, and this was your chance to try them out now. Your fingers travelled up, lightly grazing over that hand that was tightly wrapped around your neck. Whining quietly you rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it softly as your other hand came up and wrapped around Jungkook’s forearm.

“I wanna try it rough” you mumbled, eyes closing as you relished in the hazy feeling this restriction gave you which only heightened as he tightened his grip.

“Perfect.” he groaned out almost inaudibly as he pulled your face to his, colliding your lips in the roughest, most passion filled kiss you’d ever experienced. He devoured your mouth with gluttonous amusement, his grip on your airway never wavering for a moment as he tongued you down, his carnal need prevalent and present in the thick air of the room. You reached up, completing a task you’d been wanting to do for days, tangling your hand in the messy black mass that fell upon his head, and relishing in the soft feeling of his waves. Then he detached from your lips and moved away, forcing your hands to fall from his hair and onto his broad shoulders, which, while pleasurable to touch, didn’t even come close to frolicking your fingers through his locks. He moved his hand from your neck to your shoulder, to which you whined with a small pout, missing the new contact as he chuckled at your eagerness. He stared at your lips, before leaning down and capturing your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down on it voraciously before he spoke. “Do you want me to put this slutty little mouth of yours to use little dove?” he asked, pulling back as if waiting for an answer, to which you obliged.

“Yes sir” You answered quite honestly in fact, as you felt all your hesitation and weariness about this task slip away. “Please put my mouth to use.” you pleaded, staring up at him, a wanton expression on your soft features.

“You’re so good for me .” he whispered, his soft breath fanning your face as you nodded in agreement, “such an obedient little dove, hmm?” he asked, to which you nodded once again, a bit more frantically this time as you awaited his cue. He used the hand on your shoulder to abruptly push you down with a small yelp so you were seated on the black leather couch behind you, the colder leather contrasting the burning lust in your entire body as you looked up at him. “Get to work slut.” Your eyes widened at the name. Maybe it was supposed to be an insult or he just liked calling you that but you couldn’t help the gargantuan wave of slick that coated your panties at the moment.

You looked down, a bit above eye level with his crotch as you reached up to palm him through his faded blue jeans. His scent was tantalizing, musky, and you couldn't get enough as you stared up at him through your eyelashes, your lips slightly parted as you gazed in awe. He gave you a warning glance, as if scolding you for teasing him for this long and you unzipped his pants. He held out his hand, as if to stop you before reaching behind his pants and pulling his gun from the back of his jeans. Your eyes widened, gaze now trained on the firearm in his hand, a horrified expression on your face as you ceased all actions. Which he noticed, peering down at you, a horrifying smile etched on his godlike features as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Relax darling, I won’t kill you,” he purred, reaching down and weaving the fingers of his free hand into the roots of your hair, grabbing and pulling back roughly so you have no other choice but to meet his dark eyes. “We’re only just getting started.” he lowered the gun, pressing the muzzle into the underside of your jaw, the cold metal like ice against your scalding skin. However, you felt no need to cry, felt no need to fear for your life even as this gun was pressed to your neck, aimed to kill, because you knew he wouldn’t do it. Through the dark facade and ominous gaze in his eyes there was something else that made you trust his inability to kill you. You realized you were enjoying the thrill, the excitement of putting your life in his hands. So, you did what any crazy bitch would do in this situation, you breathed out deeply, relaxing your shoulders and slouching yourself down to push your neck further onto the tip of the gun with a mischievous smile. Jungkook stared down at you in awe, running his tongue on the inside of his cheek and taking his gun off of your neck before tossing it over to the end of the couch behind you.

Resuming your actions with a shaky breath, you tugged his pants down until they fell to his ankles and placed your hands on the sides of his underwear clad hips. You might’ve been inexperienced in his style of fucking but you sure knew how to give a good blowjob, so you got to work, placing open mouthed kisses to his clothed appendage. You looked up at him once more seeing the lust clouded haze that filled his deep brown eyes. After a bit of teasing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down in a seductively slow manner as you allowed his needy cock to spring free, and you stared up at it with a gasp.

It was huge.

You didn’t really know what qualifies as huge because the only dick you’ve ever had was around 6 inches on a good day but this alluring appendage swinging before your face had to be at least 9 inches long and you wondered how the fuck you were going to fit it all in your mouth let alone your pussy, which was already aching for it. Your mouth involuntarily opened wider in anticipation of his delicious dick inside and you grabbed the base, with two hands, drawing a hiss from the man that stood over you as he kicked off his shoes and the rest of the clothing that pooled around his feet. You licked teasingly up the sides of his dick, stopping at the tip to swirl your tongue around it, and catching some salty precum when you did. You glanced up at him and he looked absolutely furious in the best sort of way. Frustrated to the max as you teased him mercilessly, only spending meere fleeting moments at the spots which needed the most attention.

Then he snapped, taking you by surprise and using his hand that was still tangled in your hair to hold you still while he shoved his cock in your mouth. You tried to gasp but it merely came out as a small strangled whimper that was cut off as his length reached that back of your throat. You moved your hands to the sides of his hips once again, bracing yourself as he slowly pulled his member out of your mouth, most likely winding up for another thrust. He propelled his hips forward once again, stuffing not nearly all of his cock into your mouth, as his tip grazed the back of your throat. The feeling of him completely filling your mouth had you livid, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you moaned, the vibrations reverberating onto his appendage which drew a salacious moan from his plush parted pink lips.

“Fuck, your mouth feels like heaven.” he moaned out, then he started to fuck your face, tears pooling in your eyes while his dick basically hit the back of your throat with every harsh stroke of his hips as he gripped on your hair tighter. After one particularly hard thrust, he held his length down your throat as tears rolled down your cheeks and you gagged around him. He took his cock out of your mouth, to which you gasped, swallowing the spit that pooled in your mouth with an aroused groan.

“Tastes so good.” you mumbled, not possibly being able to get enough as he shoved his cock back into your mouth and fucked your throat relentlessly. The tension building in you was too much to bear and your need to cum only heightened as his actions resumed. You arched your back slightly, pushing your clothed clit into the black leather cushions of the couch as you gyrated into it slowly, praying he wouldn’t notice and would be too invested in fucking your throat to realize.

You were wrong. He noticed immediately.

He halted all movements, taking his cock from your throat and grabbing your neck harshly, to which you gasped, whimpering as he pulled you up to stand in front of him, cock slapping the front of your body as you stared at his face in anticipation of his actions. You could imagine what you looked like right now swollen glossy lips, and tear stains running down your face because you didn’t bother to wear your waterproof mascara. You never needed it any other time so you figured why would you need it now. Oh how wrong you were.

“Dirty little dove, trying to get off on the couch because you want me that bad?” he rasped, nearing closer to your face with each word and you nodded frantically, basically begging him to do something, anything. “Words” he barked, drawing a cry from your lips as you thought of what to say.

“I want your cock, please sir.” you begged, before he groaned hungrily and captured your lips in a ravenous kiss, taking you by surprise. No one had ever kissed you after they’d fucked your throat before so why would he do it. You didn’t dwell on that thought for too long before melting into his touch and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jungkook took his free hand, trailing it around your body to unclasp the back of your bra, your eyes going wide at the skillful ease of his fingers. He snatched the white lace clothing off of your frame, tossing it to the other side of the room and reaching back up to cup one of your soft breasts in his hand, flicking the nipple with his index finger and making you sigh satisfactorily into his mouth. He leaned forward, taking you with him as he lowered both of you back onto the couch, settling himself between your newly opened legs and never breaking the kiss. He unlatched his hand from your neck, trailing it down your body as the other hand continued to knead your breast skillfully. His burning touch slowly ventured further and further down your abdomen until he reached the band of your panties and abruptly tore the thin while lace from your body to your dismay and discarding it on the floor beside him. You whined sadly, as those had been your favorite pair of underwear but barely had any sort of time to grieve as you felt two rough fingers dip into the wetness of your slit, trailing them up and stopping right over the spot you needed him to be at, pulling a moan from your still swollen lips.

He began kissing a trail down your body, stopping for a mere moment to suck on the pert bud of your free breast before resuming his path of destruction. He moved his hands to settle on the inner sides of your thighs, spreading them apart and sighing as he got a glimpse of the treasure between them. Your eyes widened upon realizing his destination as you scooched away, holding a handful of his tousled black hair in an attempt to grab his attention.

“I-…” you paused, chewing on your bottom lip and thinking of how to word your statement. “i’ve never asked anyone to do that for me before, so y- you don’t have to do it.” you stuttered wearily as the nerves set in. No one’s face had ever been remotely close to your womanhood and the thought of it sent a chill down your spine as you released his hair from your grasp. You wondered what it would even be like. He glanced up at you, eyes dilated as he chuckled, a dark chuckle that made you shiver as he tightened his grip on your thighs, yanking you closer to his face and taking a deep drag of your scent once you were close enough.

“Oh baby I want to” he basically moaned out, licking his lips and glancing down at your glistening slit, the corners of his lips turning up in a hungry smile. You raised an eyebrow, asking yourself ‘why the fuck would he want to do that?’, and ‘isn’t this for my pleasure?’, but all your concerns were answered once he spoke again. “I can’t wait to make you writhe on my tongue little dove” he muttered, causing your cheeks to burn with the intensity of a thousand suns as he talked into your soaking entrance. “... make you beg and cry without even using my cock.” he continued, releasing your left thigh from his grip as he placed a hand on your pubic mound, lowering his thumb and slowly beginning to circle your clit eliciting a loud wail from you. “You think, if I had the power to turn you into a messy little whore all for me just by using my mouth, I wouldn’t use it at any chance I could?” He asked and you whined, nodding as your hips stuttered up in desperate need of more friction. “It’s all about power baby, and I have it all here” he groaned, watching you clench pathetic around nothing.

Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. His hand resumed its grip on your thigh, forcing it away from the other as his thumb was swiftly replaced by his warm tongue licking up and down your wet sex. You moaned, placing your shaky hands on the mounds of your chest, toying with your nipples just to add to the pleasurable sensations he was creating with his tongue. This feeling was unlike any ecstasy you had ever felt and you never wanted it to stop. His tongue slipped deftly into your soaked entrance twisting and turning skillfully as you keened loudly. His warm wet appendage swirling around your wet cavern was the best feeling in the entire world and you knew if he continued ravaging you at this pace, you’d cum in no time. But, you needed this release. You needed to let go of all this pent up sexual frustration you didn’t even know you harbored. You needed to experience your first orgasm in months, if not years, that wasn’t self inflicted and you hoped and prayed with all your heart that it would come soon.

He switched his focus,, moving his tongue up to play with your aching clit and slipping two fingers into your formerly empty hole with a deep groan that reverberated through your core like a powerful vibrator which only intensified your moans and cries of pleasure. You looked down on yourself to see the delicious sight of him devouring your cunt ruthlessly, the sight alone almost tipping you over the edge as you brought your hands up, covering your eyes while you neared completion.

“Jungkook you’re gonna make me cum.” you called out, an exasperated cry leaving your lips when your impending orgasm was painfully ripped away from you as all his motion stopped. You uncovered your eyes, about to stare down when your body jolted, a harsh sting being felt directly on your clit, sending a wave of warmth barreling through your entire body. Then you understood, he slapped you, and you peered down at him, your eyes glassy due to the orgasm that was ripped from your grasp.

“Who? said you can cum.” he deadpanned menacingly, staring up at you through hooded eyes as you leaned your head back tiredly, realizing the error in your words and prepared to beg, just like he said you would.

“Sir” you cried, holding your arms limply over your head as you continued to plead. “Sir please, please make me cum.” you begged mercilessly, a tear of relief sliding down your cheek as he resumed his assault on your core, attacking at a steady pace and retrieving the all too familiar knot that formed in the pit of your stomach. You reached up, grabbing the edge of the couch with an iron grip, your knuckles turning white as your hips began circling on his face, your clit rubbing against his tongue with every movement and venturing you closer to your sweet release.”Please don’t stop sir, oh my god” you whined loudly, fucking his face relentlessly as you chased your high, nearing it more and more with each thrust of your hips until he finally pushed you off the brink of ecstasy, a scream leaving your lips as Jungkook continued his unrelenting attack on your pained pussy.

You rode out your high, writhing and panting before him, his pace never faltering, his fingers never slowing, his tongue never relenting and it soon became too much. The euphoric delirium quickly turned into madness as you barreled down the path into overstimulation. You wailed pathetically, thrashing under his hold as the pleasurable pain consumed your body and you could barely form a coherent sentence but you persevered, scraping all the coherent thoughts you could muster and turning them into tangible words that sat on the tip of your tongue, ready to be spoken. “Sir please, it's too much!” you cried to which Jungkook finally let up, slowing his pace to a halt and sitting back.

“Oh my god that was so fucking hot” he growled before sucking on his glossy fingers and cleaning around his mouth with his skilled tongue as he gazed amusedly upon your exhausted body. But he was nowhere near done with you. This fact made apparent when he stood and wrapped an arm around your hip, lifting your limp body and turning you over with ease, positioning you so your face was pressed into the now warm couch cushion and your ass was raised high into the air before him. His eyes rolled at the view of your swollen cunt bent over for him and he gave it a light smack, eliciting a pained, but tired yelp from you as he chuckled muttering “you’re going to drive me crazy little dove.” under his breath.

He crouched down, coming face to lips with your abused cunt as he wrapped his arms around your bent bottom, lacing his fingers together as they rested at the arch of your back and dragging his nose up the tortured path of your slit, drawing whines and cries of overstimulation from your wiggling frame as you tried to get away from the punishing menace that was his face. “No, please. I can't take anymore, it's too much.” You whimpered, your voice muffled as you leaned your face into the couch tiredly to which he obliged, reluctantly, as he stood, grabbing his neglected dick in hand and pointing it toward your pink entrance.

“I can’t wait to stretch your pretty little pussy ____.” he purred and you moaned at the sound of your name slipping off of his tongue like the creamiest butter. He dragged his tip along your swollen clit, abusing it again for what seemed like the millionth time that day as he covered his girth in your slick, a guttural groan emitting from the back of his throat. Then, abruptly, he sunk into your slippery cavern, barely all the way in but you’d never felt so full in your entire life as he pushed forward slowly, filling you up and providing you with the most delicious stretch you’d ever felt. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you whined, a desperate whine that you could barely register was your own voice as he pushed his length completely inside of you, his head falling back and your name, rolling off of his tongue once again.

After barely giving you time to adjust to his alarming size, he reeled his hips back before slamming into you again, and again, and again, over and over again until he was fucking you at an unrelenting speed you barely knew was possible to achieve. Suffering from the overwhelming pleasure he forced you to endure, you shut your eyes tight, crying out in strangled indulgence as you grasped onto the fluffy throw blanket strewn lazily over the couch in front of you. You relished in the sting of his girth, staring ahead blankly with glassy eyes as he rammed into you with a punishing speed and black mascara filled tears streamed down your cheeks.

You knew you were about to cum soon, again, only due to the all too familiar feeling accumulating in the pit of your belly. Jungkook reached down, placing a hand on your shoulder blade and pressing your chest further into the couch while he drilled into you, moaning and cursing at the feeling of you flexing deliciously around his cock. He felt you were close, so he moved his hand, snaking it around your waist and trailing his other hand to assume its position around your neck, hoisting you up so your back was arched against his abdomen and you had no choice but to stare up at him as he talked down on you, never slowing the snapping of his hips for a wavering moment.

“You’ve never been fucked this good have you?” he teased through clenched teeth as he leaned down, sucking and marking all over the expanse of your neck with grunts and growls of pleasure. You were way too fucked out to even think about the words to form a coherent sentence, barely being able to form whimpered versions of ‘mhm’ after he questioned you but he was having none of that. He unraveled his hand from your waist, tightening his grip on your throat and landing a hard slap to your left asscheek, drawing a shrill shriek from the depths of your throat as he warned in your ear. “Words little dove” he slapped you again, “how many times do I have to fucking warn you.” he concluded, landing another harsh smack to your abused flesh as you whimpered.

“You’re the best I’ve ever had, I’m such a slut for you sir.” You sobbed out, “please let me cum, please fuck” you whined, drawing out your words and you reached back, tangling both hands in his unruly mop of hair as he split you open, moaning directly in your ear which in itself, was a thing that could make you cum on the spot.

“Cum then.” He said obviously, as if it was the most simple response, only it was this simple command that shoved you off the precipice of ecstasy for a second time. The feeling that bloomed deep in your stomach soon blossomed into a full blown orgasm that racked through your body quickly, leaving nothing but white hot pleasure in its wake as your legs trembled viciously, with one last loud cry of Jungkook’s name. But, he still did not falter, his pace quickening as he neared his own climax, the speed both too much and not nearly enough at the same time. You reached back, attempting to push him and escape the all consuming pleasure torturing your body like a blazing fire but your hands were caught quickly by Jungkook’s hands which crossed them tightly and held them behind your back, resuming his attack.

You shook your head, letting it hang as your tears fell freely onto the couch before you, his moans and groans of ecstasy increasing in volume and frequency as he neared his own climax, his hips faltering in their pace for the first time in a while as he worked to his own release. In what seemed like an instant, he released the most beautiful, salacious, strangled moan you had ever heard, pulling himself out of your soaked cunt, and painting the surface of your ass with his white hot ropes of cum. He finally let you go after a moment, watching as you fell limply to the couch, laying face down, panting exhaustively, your arms still crossed limply behind your back as he smirked down at your fucked out frame. He left you alone for just a bit, coming back but a few moments later before you felt the sore skin of your asscheeks being wiped off with what felt like a warm hand towel. You were relieved he had the respect to clean his mess, it made you respect him just a little bit more as a person but you were way too tired to dwell on the subject any longer.

“You did so good for me little dove” he cooed, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he placed a sweet chaste kiss on your lower back, caressing his hand up the side of your body. A simple touch that lacked any sort of sexual aspects, it felt comforting and you sighed, leaning further into the soft couch as you heard him begin to put his clothing on. You felt a pang of distress, seeing as you were more of a fuck and cuddle kind of girl, but you really hadn’t expected him to stay so why’d you feel the need to ask him to. Pushing the feeling deep inside your gut, you sighed deeply as he walked in front of you to bend forward and grab his gun that laid discarded on the opposite side of your couch, also grabbing the throw blanket beside it and tossing it over your naked frame before thinking about something. “So,” he started, tucking his gun in the back of his pants and humming, “I’m thinking that was worth about, hmm 50k” he started. You vaguely understood what he was saying and knew you’d flip out once you were conscious enough to truly comprehend his words. “I’ll keep in touch.” He said, pulling his shirt down and smiling deviously at you as you uttered a hoarse ‘huh?’ To which he answered simply, “if I wanna come collect some more money” and he spun on his heels, opening your door and sauntering out of the threshold.

When he got into the hallway, Jungkook burst into a wide smile, satisfied with the encounter he made today. He entered this agreement fully prepared to either fuck you once and take the money you’d earned back or just fuck you and kill you, but once he’d had a taste, he was insatiable. You were flawless, your compliance was impeccable. The way you obeyed him, begged for him, the way you tasted, the way you felt, the way you looked. There was no way he could ever get enough and is probably the reason he kept overstimulating you like a frat boy with a bruised ego. There was no way he was gonna just let go of an absolute gem like you, so he made his excuse, a plan. Everytime you fuck him, you pay back a portion of the money. He was so tempted to tell you this session was only worth $100 just as an excuse to come back over and over and over until he had his fill, but he kept his composure, giving you hope that you’d ever be free of his grasp. Jungkook for once was extremely ecstatic, elated, excited to ruin you even more than he already had and he was dead set on making you want him just as much as he craved you no matter what it took. Though he was pretty sure you already did.

[hihellogoodbyebruh]

I Know What You’re Thinking, You’re On My Mind (You’re Right)

Pairing: Angel Reyes x Black!Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Y/N and Angel are in love and these are different moments in the span of their relationship.

Warning(s): Just a lot of fluffy goodness....okay some angst (it’s me lol) but mostly fluff

Word count: 2,526

AN: This is kind of a songfic, but also not really? I think of it as a bunch of drabbles loosely connected by random parts of a song. Song title and inspo from Come Close by Common ft. Mary J. Blige. The sweetest little fic I’ve ever written. Fat Black girls deserve to be loved loudly. This is for us. As always, questions, comments, and concerns are welcomed. Happy reading lovelies! xo

Smile, happiness, you could model it And when you feel opposite I just want you to know Your whole, being is beautiful I'ma do the best I can do Cause I'm my best when I'm with you

The sound of a domino being slammed on the table caused several other park goers to turn their heads and see a striking woman jumping out of her seat.

“That’s domino bitches! Y’all really thought you could beat me in dominoes? Shoulda checked my credentials mofos!” Y/N shouted, a huge smile on her face as she talked shit.

The guys around the table all groaned and huffed as she celebrated her win. Coco swore up and down that he would be the winner and Gilly was just as sure that he would be the one. EZ just wanted to play and Angel kept his mouth shut knowing his girl had been playing dominoes with her father and uncles practically all her life.

“Whatever, Y/N. You not seeing me in poker.” Coco grumbled, though he was fighting to keep a smile off his face. He was impressed.

“Well this aint poker is it? Run me my money.” She replied, rubbing her fingers together before holding out her hand.

The men all pulled out their wallets and placed the correct amount of money into Y/N’s hands. She grinned as she fanned herself with the money before draping her body across the smirking Angel’s lap.

“Oh hey there sexy. If you’re nice I might buy you something with this considerable fortune I just won.” Y/N winked.

“You my sugar mama now?” Angel teasingly asked.

“I do taste sweet so I think I fit the description.”

“Damn right you do.” He smirked, before leaning down to kiss Y/N’s lips.

Santo Padre’s mayor, Antonia Pena, had put together a community fair to help raise money for the town and uplift spirits. It was also a great way for local businesses to showcase what they have to offer. Services and items were put into a raffle that everyone who attended the event got entered into. Y/N even managed to convince Felipe to have a little booth to show off his fine cuts of meat and how they could best be used in meals.

Angel was so in awe of her. She managed to pull even his grumpy ass father out of the house and she was constantly a source of light in his life. He doesn’t know how he got so lucky, but he knew he never wanted to let her go. He loved her more than anything and he knew she felt the same about him. She never doubted him or made him feel inadequate. She understood even the ugly parts of him. Didn’t excuse or condone his behavior, but she understood it and always reassured him that she knew he could do better.

“Whatchu staring at?” She asked, after the kiss ended and he kept his intense gaze on her.

“My whole world.” He answered honestly and she felt herself get a little emotional.

“If you make me cry in public, I will hurt you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” He replied, nipping at her shoulder and making her grin.

I know in the past, love Has been sort of hard on you But I see the God in you I just want to nurture it Though this love may hurt a bit

Neither of them had the best track record when it came to relationships. Angel had an awful habit of doing things without thinking about the consequences of his actions. Impulsive isn’t a strong enough word to describe how he is. He runs on emotion a lot of the time. It frustrates Y/N to no end. She doesn’t operate like that. She rarely if ever acts on impulse. She thinks too much. Worries too much about how people will react to her and her actions. Her hesitance to engage in things before she’s run every possible scenario through her head makes Angel want to pull his hair out. He hates seeing her unsure of herself. He makes it his mission to help her just get lost in the moment sometimes. And she tries her hardest to slow him down and make him think more on things before he acts.

His lifestyle also guaranteed their love won’t always be sunshine and roses. The first time Angel got hurt Y/N thought she was going to pass out. The level of panic and fear she felt almost took her down. When she finally got to see him in the hospital bed, she burst into tears. Once he was healed, she tried to pull away from him but he wouldn’t let her. The one time Y/N was verbally and physically accosted in front of Angel, he almost shot someone right in front of her. The need to protect her almost overrode his need to keep her away from the more violent side of himself.

The silence was deafening. Neither one was ready to take the first step and speak. The whole ride back home, Y/N never said a word. Not when Angel was getting chewed out by Bishop or when several people practically gawked at her even as they tried to make it seem like they weren’t. She was silent as she went through her nightly routine and prepared for bed.

It was as she sat on the edge of the bed, preparing to slide under the covers that Angel finally snapped.

“You’re really not gonna fucking say anything?” He practically growled at her, glaring at her from where he stood at the foot of the bed. He had on his usual sleepwear of a tank top and sweats.

She sighed, “What do you want me to say Angel?”

“Anything. Cuss me out, kiss me, or I don’t know, maybe thank me?” He suggested, sarcasm in his voice at the last part because he was clearly exasperated.

She cut her eyes at him fiercely. “Thank you? You want me to thank you?”

“Yes.” He stubbornly confirmed.

She shot up from the bed and spun to face him full on. She had never been so mad at him. “Thank you Angel for causing a bigger scene. Thank you Angel for almost igniting a war between two gangs over one stupid joke. Thank you for putting yourself in harm's way and almost giving me a heart attack. Thank you so much Angel.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. It wasn’t just a stupid joke. You think I care so little about you that I wouldn’t fuck someone up for you?”

“I’ve heard way worse..” She argued, so used to minimizing her pain. Her dismissal of the incident as something trivial made him even more pissed.

“I don’t give a damn what you heard. Aint nobody gonna disrespect you in front of me and think I’m just gonna let that shit slide.”

“You could have killed him.”

“I DON’T GIVE A FUCK.” He exploded, making her freeze and stare at him with her mouth slightly open. “You’re mine. I don’t know what kinda cowards you been dealing with before, but I don’t play that shit. There is no joking when it comes to you. Not from some hijo de puta who has the audacity to put his hands on you. He’s lucky the only thing I did was bust him in the head with my pistol.”

“Angel…..” She sighed, her eyes closing as she took in his words. She understood his point but was still uncomfortable with the methods.

He walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. He kissed her forehead before resting his head on hers. He spoke only after she opened her eyes, “You can be mad. I already know you are, but I’m not apologizing for protecting you.”

She had to get used to being loved and protected so adamantly by someone. So often left to comfort herself and bury her hurt, it took her a while to accept Angel’s form of protection. A part of her kept her guard up waiting for him to turn it against her, but that day never came. Any violent outbursts he had in her presence were never directed at her and so she found herself trusting him whole-heartedly. Her love for him deepened as time moved forward.

You helped me to discover me I just want you to put trust in me

Y/N loved Pops and she enjoyed the family dinners with him and EZ, but she knew he was not the perfect father. He made mistakes and Angel still hasn’t completely dealt with the issues the mistakes left him with. Everything just got buried. She knew when he was starting to feel inadequate or like he didn’t deserve her because he would become even more clingy. He was already very affectionate with her, always having a hand on her back and kissing her head. She loved how open he was, but when he was going through it the touches would have a desperate edge to them. Like he was trying to prove something.

A new episode of Joseline’s Cabaret played on the tv showing off the Puerto Rican Princess’ latest antics. Y/N had on sweats and a tank top as she laid on your back and giggled at the fight on her screen. She doesn't know why she watches that show, but it was entertaining.

Her front door opened and in walked the man she’d been seeing for a year now.

“What did I tell you about leaving this door unlocked?”

“I knew you were coming over so why would I lock it?” She argued, tilting her head back to watch Angel toe off his shoes and take off his kutte.

“You’re so hard headed.” He slapped the outside of her thigh and leaned in for a kiss before lying in between her legs. His head rested on her stomach and her hands immediately began running through his hair. His hands ran over her thighs as he buried his face in her belly and just breathed her in.

“You walked right in so obviously I was right.” Her hands moved from his hair to slide down his back, feeling for any new bruises. “How was your day? Do I gotta kick someone’s ass for messing with my man?” She asked, a teasing tone to her words even though she was kinda being serious.

“I’m all good, mi dulce.” He responded, already knowing her touches were to comfort him but also give herself some peace of mind that he was with her and he was still whole.

It was quiet for a moment before Angel propped his chin on her belly and looked at her. She brought her attention from the television to him. There was a gentle look in his eyes, full of love but also a vulnerability that made her heart clench.

“You love me right?” He gripped her hips tightly as he searched her eyes for the truth in her words.

Her eyes widened at his question. “Of cour-”

He interrupted her. “Because I love you so damn much, querida. I know I’m not easy, but I try to be better for you.”

“Angel…” Her hand gently caressed his cheek as she softly smiled at him. “You are my favorite person in this whole world. You love me like no other and I’ll always love you. Never forget that. And when you do, I’ll be here to remind you.” She leaned forward to kiss his lips and felt his grip on her hips loosen.

The two shared loving kisses for several minutes before he pulled away and kissed her stomach before laying his head back down. His attention finally focused on the television. “What the fuck are you watching?”

She was unable to contain her giggles.

I kind of laugh when you cuss at me The aftermath is you touching me

“Oh, is that funny? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Not at all gorgeous.” His words and his facial expression did not match.

“Then why are you smirking? I’m as serious as a heart attack. If you miss the ceremony where I’m awarded for my work, we’re gonna have some big problems Reyes.” She threatened, not letting that smirk get to her as it usually did. The club pulled him away a lot but some things she just needed him present for.

“Mmhm…how big?” He asked, still joking around.

“Angel!” She admonished, striking out to punch him in the stomach and making him grunt.

“You know I love when you scream my name. Sexy as fuck.” He growled, before playfully tackling her to the bed. She finally laughed as he kissed and nipped at her neck. He pulled back to look down in her eyes. “Hey, come hell or high water Imma be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

The smile she flashed him was bright enough to light the darkest of nights.

I'm tired of the fast lane I want you to have my last name

Dabbing her eyes with a napkin, Y/N smiled as Angel and EZ shared a heartfelt hug after the best man speech. She knew EZ’s speech would be beautiful and she thanked him for his kind words.

“You’re my sister for real now.” He responded, making her wanna cry again but she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before Angel pulled her into a side hug.

“First dance time.” He whispered in her ear, taking her hand and leading her out to the dance floor.

“How does it feel to be Y/N Reyes?” Angel asked, his eyes taking her in. She looked so magnificent in her wedding dress. He wanted to rip it off, but also he couldn’t take his eyes off how good she looked in it. If he shed some tears when she walked down that aisle, who could blame him?

“It feels like the most natural thing in the world. I’m so beyond honored to be Mrs. Angel Reyes.” She responded, her eyes filling with happy tears but she refused to let them fall. She just felt so overwhelmed with happiness. Even though he’d long gotten rid of the jacket, she loved that he actually wore a suit. He hardly ever wore one and it was a damn shame. He looked so delicious she couldn’t wait for them to get back home.

Y/N found herself really taking the moment in. Their family and friends watched them with huge smiles on their faces. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Angel for long as he held her in his arms, his hands always making her feel safe. This was her life and he was her future.

Her eyes twinkled as she asked him, “Ready for forever?”

Come close to me, baby (Yeah, love) Let your love hold you (Let me hold you tonight, babe) I know this world is crazy (It gets crazy, but I'll be right here) What's it without you? (We gon' make it, I love you, I love you, I love you)

[distracted-milkshake]

Wanna talk about how the pilots are attractive

this was sitting in my unholy drafts so @silverpaintedstars and @cielo-estrellado-neborium I'm dragging you down w/ me you gotta rb on main let's goo: Tyler Joseph

It's almost odd to me we find Tyler attractive because honestly he has few to no traits that I've ever seen considered conventionally attractive. (Don't get me wrong; I think it's good to find unconventional, underrated and nonconforming ppl attractive! I'm just saying in this case I dunno what makes this guy hot stuff so I find it o d d)

He has really tired looking eyes and little muscle definition, kinda a nice jaw but idk, full lips, though i don't think that's generally accepted as an attractive trait in men (depending). His eyes are really pretty when he's actually showing any emotion /hj But then again like his fade is super damn good, love his no-shit attitude, that frickin' mcfrickin' stare dude I can't deal, his flows not great (ok) but all the things I mentioned above and his distinct and heartfelt speaking voice are things I find rlly hot Also, over the course of more than a decade no a decade and a half he's kept a youthful, deep-thinker yet shy breedable fuckboy charm that I just haven't seen in anyone else.

Also, ovary ripping bass riffs. If (fictionally, fictionally!) Tyler told me to get down on my knees for him, I would. I think rpf smut is wrong but my personal fantasies of a yes married man are between me and God alright!!11!1!! (They're always outside of any real world context anyway) I'm a horny teen I think I can get some slack. Moving on those space buns and flowery jacket thing I think contributed 17% of my bisexuality. (Even though the space buns were after I came out; just the energy of someone who would do that paired with his previous gender-role breaking fashion choices did a lot to me) I wanna kiss a precious boy.

And his hands!! Why does nobody ever talk about his hands?!? Just look–

and tell me you don't want to hold those pretty nimble digits up against your cheek and just mwah. So, like, 10/10, would date young Tyler, want to date young Tyler why can't I have a boyfriend (him)???!

(Also he's got a nice ass)

And it's just funny to me if there's enough pictures of someone and enough interviews for you to see an odd curated splice of personality and mannerisms can you find anybody attractive? I mean personal preference and character/physical traits are still 100% a thing but I'm curious if liking a person for reasons other than being physically attractive but having a huge amount of media related to them does anything to shift your view of what you find characteristically pleasing or good-looking. I mean, im nearly certain it does, but it's an open question. I'm thinking also I usually like guys with shaggy or long hair almost exclusively so... Yeah.

Josh Dun Josh can I actually speak openly here I was a bit bigoted towards and found him ugly for a long while. Before I was actually a fan and had only seen like two MVs and a poster at my friends house I thought they were a stupid pin up band I kinda thought Josh looked weird. It was sorta like this thing I won't lie it was racial prejudice (I however did not read him as Asian at the time) but I did have similar phases with and when i thought Billie Joe and Gerard were ugly (for BJ it was the basket case MV [i thought his jaw was odd! I've since loved the look of crooked teeth billie] and it wasn't because Gerard has a chubby face I actually though his makeup in the I'm Not Okay MV was very unflattering [i also disliked that song till like three listens] what sold me on Gerard and the band was WTTBP MV, which actually my thoughts were 'his face is so soft and cute!!', and for BJ just realizing he'd gotten it fixed and it was class prejudice to messed up teeth that I'd internalized, it faded with more pictures of him younger when I saw just how pretty he was) anyway getting sidetracked I didn't like Josh's odd eyes or large nose till I watched several interviews and really started to get into the band, when I saw like more pictures of him from different angles and such and it actually hit me that I had a bias. At first I thought he was Korean (thanks tear in my heart), like I actually thought that until just earlier this year when someone shared a screenshot of a thing he'd posted on Instagram. He's Japanese, actually, and I really relate to him 'cause I'm biracial as well. But yeah now I think he's really pretty but like I don't want to dismiss there was an East Asian and mixed race features alarm that was going off in in my head and it upsets me that I don't know where I picked that up from. Because less about finding him attractive I never should've thought him displeasing and ugly on grounds of race!! Not finding him attractive, sure, I find lots of people not attractive, but actually thinking negatively of him because of his ethnicity? Goddamn... I think it's worth mentioning that I had no such phase with Tyler, whose non-white ancestry is much less noticeable and who I think [Lebanese descendants] can frequently pass as white. (also i don't think anyone's gonna come for me for saying he's white so i just will; he's white) I deeply apologize for my insolence, internalized phobia and lack of education, even though I never expressed it publicly. I also just wanted to share as a reminder that brief phases of distaste or bias don't make you a racist person! So long as you acknowledge and apologize and do better there's no harm done, and really it's such a tangled sticky web of finding anything non-white acceptable without fetishizing or hyper idealizing that it's really not all your fault for having momentary feelings of dislike or discomfort (especially over someone you aren't even meeting for real!) that stem from racial stereotypes and bigotry. And if you recognize and correct it, really no problem! Which can be waay more difficult than people make it out to be, if there's the added factor of being raised with demonizing beliefs, it'll probably take much longer or not happen at all with out proactivity to think positively of certain unidealized features or racial traits. Oh and you don't have to find them hot, you just shouldn't think of them as universally undesirable But if you do, you might find a certain Asian boy super stinkin' mothafuckin' sexy. And on that note back to assessing hotness....

If you can get past his occasional awkwardness, he's such a fricking smiley bean!! He has these two flip sides of like talkative librarian to sweaty studmuffin drum machine and when and where the switch happens is always unexpected but you never see him go from bod babe back to handsome book marm. He can only devolve sexiness where no one can see, I suppose, which makes sense.

When he was doing all the wacky hair colors it damaged his hair a lot but even that was a look!

And ahhh regardless of anything he's just so pretty!!

L-like have you seen his perfect curls and gorgeous smile and laugh and his gauges and pretty eyes and his voice when his eyes sort of glance off when talking and shirtless his face when he holds his drumsticks up and his arm tats and his tits and abs and my god bABE THOSE FUCKIN TITS 1000/10 want to love from afar, an absolute gorgeous man.

Hope ur balls are ok so you can have kids just as pretty if you ever want to one day. Jenna Joseph Jenna is so beautiful I almost find it hard to say so because she's gorgeous in such a western way. Like bright blue eyes and wavy blonde hair while being average height and slender I almost feel bad thinking of her as attractive, everything about her is so widely accepted as such. I really, really love her open mind and kindness! Like just everywhere I see her I'm like oh okay! Someone called the sweet woman here to be amazing again!! Ahh why is she so cute!!! She looks a little too made up or 'perfect' to me at times but I can totally look past that, simply because I know being in the public eye a lot and running an active account on an image media website where it's mostly pictures of you is rlly, rlly difficult. Again I admire her openness! (tho i'd never be that person)

Tyler definitely deserves someone like her, but I'm still confused why she decided a dunce like him who screams and smashes piano (implication intended) was worth it lol/lh She doesn't set off my bi-panic, though, kinda just a heterosexual appreciation. 8.5/10, want hugs from, want tea with. Maybe kiss. Really sweet mom (no milf you hoe)

Debby Dun I have little to say about Debby. I think I'm still kinda in stupor at what is the weirdest real life crossover of all time for me. I've known her name and face for like... Eight years?? I used to watch Jessie every other time I visited my cousin's house. I have nothing against her, I just have nothing for her either. Like I saw vines of her and Josh in like 2019 but I didn't recognize her. I didn't know they'd been dating till everybody was leaking that they'd gotten married (which dick move btw, you seriously gonna get invited to a nice private wedding of a famous person and then leak photos and info online?? What the hell? Granted I think a private wedding is silly when you're gonna say like 'we may or may not be' because if you aren't why not just say no? Kinda outing yourself saying anything but no. But I get it on more of a matter of principle I guess) so yeah still a total shock to my real life multiverse, I dunno if I'll ever like fully grasp that they're part of the same space time continuum.

About her though, she's traditionally pretty, I like her personality, think she's funny and sweet. Cute eyes, like her hair when she has it natural. 10/10 for the shawty energy. ...like I said I have little for her.

I don't think I'd have any interest in her unless they had kids NOT to disrespect whatever decision not to or family planning they have I'm just it's odd in my brain for married couples to not have kids and I'd be lying to not convey it I am honestly curious is that a Catholic thing does anybody else feel like or know of people who feel like that?

But like yeah idk she's just boring, sorry. Sweet and I'm glad she makes Josh happy, but boring. Afterword: I swear if any of them ever read this I'll rethink all my life choices and jump off a roof (onto a mattress) tl;dr: id suck off young tyler some poignant stuff about race w/ josh and it comes down to tits and smile jenna be pretty (no milf) debby shawty but she's also eh to me