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wwooyology · 2 days ago

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Prove It To You | J.YH

「pairing」 : yunho x fem!reader ��word count」 : 3.5k

「synopsis」 : you could feel the end of your relationship coming, and yunho saw his opportunity to finally take his chances to show you just how much better he was than that asshole you called your boyfriend.

「genre」 : frat boy!yunho, uni au, angst, a small bit of fluff, smut

「warning」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, infidelity, unprotected sex, dom!yunho x sub!reader, slight size kink, big dick!yunho, biting/marking, fingering, clit play, breast play, teasing, begging, yunho is just a little bit possessive, petnames (baby, darling, sweetheart, my love), semi-rough sex, multiple orgasms, praising, creampie, readers bf hears from the other room, sloppy makeout, lmk if I missed anything!

「notes」 : tbh this idea stemmed from a memory of something similar that happened to me, except it wasn't a guy I was dating. it was a guy that I was crushing on, but sadly I didn't have a yunho back then </3

It was maybe close to three in the morning, and you were still awake as your so-called boyfriend slept peacefully on his bed. You had tagged along with him and your other friends who lived in the frat house to hang out; however, as soon as the others excused themselves to either leave or go to bed, you were left alone with him. At first, you thought you two could watch a movie before going to bed, but he just hummed while scrolling through his phone. He lay in bed while you sat on the ground.

“Just put on whatever you want.” His tone was uninterested as you turned to look at him and he didn’t even take a moment to look at you.

Defeated, you just put on a random show to watch, knowing that he wouldn’t pay attention to anything. You had planned a whole night for the two of you after everyone had left, seeing as he had been out of town with his family for the past two weeks. Yet now he acted as if you were the least important thing to him.

The movie hadn’t even played halfway through when you heard his soft snores behind you; looking over your shoulder, you saw that he was sprawled out all over the queen-sized bed. Letting out a huff, you rolled your eyes before going back to the movie.

Until you started to get tired, but you didn’t really feel like sleeping in the same bed as your boyfriend right now. However, you also couldn’t just leave because you had ridden in with your boyfriend, and everyone was already asleep.

You stood to your feet before bending down and grabbing your phone off of the ground, then walking out of the room, not bothering to turn anything off. The house was quiet, which was a strange thing to you because the frat house was always lively, but you just shrugged it off before carefully making your way down the stairs. Getting to the first floor, you looked around the dark room with the small light of your phone’s lock screen and made your way to the front door.

Unlocking the door, you pulled it open and slipped out of the house. As soon as you stepped outside, you were met with the harsh, cold winter winds, causing you to shiver. Shutting the door, you walked over to the step, sat down, and pulled your phone out again.

Opening the screen, you thought about using the rideshare app to get a ride back to the dorms, but it was a Friday night, and it was late at night, so you quickly closed the app once more. You debated walking back, but you were all the way across campus, and once again, it was late.

“Fucking hell.” You cursed quietly as you shoved your hands into the pockets of your coat along with your phone as the cold started to settle into your bones.

Leaning against the railings, you just watched as a few cars drove by, and you could feel yourself starting to drift off. Your eyes fluttered closed once more, and you hadn’t even heard the front door open behind you.

“Why are you trying to sleep outside?” His voice startled you right awake, and your whole body twisted as you looked up at Yunho. He stood just a few feet behind you with his arms crossed over his chest, his hair a mess, making you believe that he had just woken up. Your heart beat rapidly against your ribcage as you looked at him. Ever since you had been introduced to him, there has been an unspoken attraction, but you never act on it because of your boyfriend.

Swallowing thickly, you turned away, “I’d rather sleep out here than in there.” Your voice was soft as you pulled your knees to your chest, your skirt riding up your hips.

Yunho eyed you carefully before stepping forward and taking a seat next to you, leaving a comfortable space between your bodies. You looked over at him for a moment before turning back to look at the empty street.

“I figured you would be cozy in bed with fuckface.” You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh at his choice words knowing very well that Yunho and your boyfriend never got along, but you had no idea why.

After a few moments, you inhaled deeply before breathing out, watching your breath fog in the air. “I would be, but he seemed to be more interested in whatever was on his phone than me.” You let out a short laugh before looking over at Yunho, who was staring at you with an unreadable expression.

Yunho’s jaw tightened as he looked at you. He wasn’t sure how anyone could treat you so harshly. If your boyfriend wasn’t just bluntly ignoring you, he was short and seemed uninterested in doing anything that involved you unless it was with your group of friends. Yunho hated it and had believed that he could treat you so much better, but you never left that asshole; far too kind to end things.

But tonight, Yunho had enough, and he was determined to show you that you deserved so much more.

“Yunho?” You called out to the tall male, waving a hand in front of his face, trying to snap him out of whatever daze he had fallen into.

A gasp fell from your lips when he grabbed your wrist, pulling you into him. Your other hand flew out to catch yourself, landing right on his thigh. With wide eyes, you looked up to ask him what he was doing, but he cut you off as his lips smashed into yours. His tongue swiped over your lips, the sweet taste of your lipgloss invading his taste buds. It wasn’t until his hand wrapped around the back of your neck that you pushed away from him with wide eyes.

“We can’t.” Your voice was quiet, eyes glued to your lap, and Yunho let out a deep sigh. He leaned forward, laying his forehead against yours.

“Forget about that jerk, y/n; he doesn’t deserve you.” He told you, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, and you looked up at him with misty eyes. “Let me take care of you. Let me show you how you deserve to be treated. Please.”

Your brain turned into a warzone as you stared into his eyes, contemplating the repercussions of your action. There was no love in your relationship with your boyfriend anymore, and you were sure that he would take the first chance he could to leave you.

Yunho was so much more than he was, and deep down, you knew that; he was always attentive to your needs and cared more than your boyfriend has ever in the entirety of your relationship. The only thing that held you back was you were too scared to leave your boyfriend, but now you couldn't care less. If he wasn’t going to care for you correctly, Yunho would.

And that’s all it took for you to lean forward to seal your lips over Yunho’s once more.

Yunho’s grip on your neck tightened, pulling you closer to his body, wanting you as close as physically possible. Your lips were soft against his and tasted like sweet cherries; it was driving him nuts. Once the both of you were out of air, you pulled apart, a small string of saliva still connecting your lips.

“Let’s go inside.” Yunho rasped, and you quickly nodded before standing up with him and following him back into the house.

As soon as you were inside his bedroom, Yunho’s lips were back on yours, stealing all the air from your lungs. His hands cupped your face as he stepped back, leading you to his bed. You let out a gasp when the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed, and you fell back.

Yunho chuckled before crawling over your body, trapping you with his and bringing his lips back down to yours. His tongue slipped into your mouth, exploring every inch, trying to memorize every part. Your hands moved up to wrap around his shoulders, pulling him even closer to you.

“God, I can’t even tell you how long I’ve waited for this.” He groaned against your lips as your hips rolled up, brushing against his growing erection. Heat pooled in your core, and the pressure was almost unbearable as he moved away to look down at you.

“Yunho.” You whined softly, hands tugging at his shirt, causing him to smirk, his hand moving to grab your chin.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked, pulling your attention back to him, and he felt his dick twitch in his sweat at the needy and lustful look in your eyes.

“You. I just want you.” You breathed out, wrapping your hand around his wrist as you looked up at him.

“How could I tell you no when you look so desperate.” He teased, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips before moving his hands down to your skirt. “But I gotta prep you first, darling.”

You opened your mouth to protest but the sharp look he gave you instantly had you closing your lips once more. Yunho then unzipped your skirt before pulling it down your legs and throwing it somewhere in his room. Not even seconds after the cloth left his hand he grabbed your shirt, telling you to sit up and pulling it off.

Yunho felt like his body was about to combust at the sight of your pretty lace lilac lingerie, the cloth hugging your curves in all of the right places. You felt small under his gaze as he continued to stare at you, his fingers tracing along the seams. A soft moan fell from your lips when he brushed over your erect nipple.

“Did you wear this for him?” His voice was low as he leaned over your body again, face inches away from yours, and you just looked up at him with hooded eyes.

“It’s for you now.” You cooed, cupping his face as you looked up at him, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip.

Yunho smirks, his large hand grabbing your waist, causing your back to arch up, giving him just enough room to unclasp your bra. Once the piece of clothing was off of your body and off somewhere in the room, Yunho’s lips latched onto your collarbone.

He left a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down your chest until he got to your soft mounds. A sharp moan fell from your lips when he took one of your buds into his mouth. Yunho took his time with your chest, marking almost every inch of skin he possibly could, relishing in the sounds that left your pretty lips.

“Yunho…” You whined, back arching against him as his hand slipped under your underwear, cupping your wet heat. The feeling of his hands on your body was electrifying, like nothing that you’ve felt before.

“Already so wet for me,” He groaned against your skin, moving up to your neck as his slender fingers pressed against your clit.

A choked moan fell from your lips as he started to circle your sensitive bud, his lips pressing wet kisses along your jugular. He soaked in all of the noises you made as your fingers tugged at his shirt; he was determined to make sure that you only knew his name.

“Yu–” You were cut off when he slipped a finger into your tight cunt, brushing over spots that you’ve never been able to reach. Tears pricked at your eyes as he kept a steady pace, watching you closely and studying all of the expressions you made.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart. I’m not sure you’ll be able to take me.” He pouted as he added a second finger, stretching you out and pulling another moan from your swollen lips.

“I-I can take it, I promise!” You choked out, looking up at him with so much need, and your hand wrapped around the back of his neck.

“You’re such a good little thing, aren’t you?” He hummed, picking up his pace after adding a third finger.

You’ve never felt this full before, and your high was right on the tip of your tongue; you just needed a little bit more. Noticing, Yunho pressed his thumb against your clit, circling the nub in time with his thrusts causing your eyes to roll back as you came undone.

“Yunho!” You cried out his name as he worked you through your orgasm, his lips pressing against your temple.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let it all go.” He spoke softly, his pace slowing to a stop, and you lay there breathing heavily. Yunho pulled his fingers from your soaping cunt, and wrapped them around the flimsy fabric before pulling them down your legs.

Your body still felt like it was on fire, the burning need for more almost suffocating as you sat up. A chuckle left Yunho’s mouth as you tugged at his shirt, begging him to take it off.

“You’re so cute when you’re all needy.” He cooed as he pulled his shirt over his head and pulled his sweats down his hips, letting them pool on the ground.

Your eyes went wide, seeing the outline of his cock under his boxers; he was big. Noticing your expression, Yunho grabbed your chin and pulled your eyes back to his. Leaning forward before he sealed your lips in another kiss as he laid you back down, hands traveling down to your hips.

He pulled away for a moment, but you tried to pull him back, not getting enough of his taste, and he pressed a kiss on the corner of your lips, “Hold on, I need to grab a condom.” He then moved to make a grab at his nightstand, but you quickly sat up, grabbing his arm.

“No! I want to feel all of you, Yun, please.” You pleaded with him, your bottom lip jutting out as you looked at him. He looked back at you in shock, wondering if he had heard you correctly. “I’m on the pill, please.”

Yunho felt like he could cum right then and there at the thought of fucking you raw, but then he started to wonder if you let your boyfriend fuck you raw too. Noticing the conflict in his eyes, you reached up, cupping his face.

“He’s never fucked me without a condom, just you.” Your voice was soft, and Yunho looked at you for a long moment before his lips crashed into yours once more.

“I love you, fuck. I love you so much.” He told you, and he tugged his boxers down, letting his aching cock spring free. He pulled your hips closer to his, not once leaving your lips in the process, even swallowing all of your moans as he teased your entrance with his tip.

“Fuck! Yunho, please!” You whined, rolling your hips, trying to get him to push in already, and he smirked.

He watched your face contort in pleasure as he started to push into your wet cunt, splitting you open, and you gasped out. You started to question whether or not you would actually be able to take him as tears started to spill from the corner of your eyes.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you said you could take it.” Yunho teased as he continued to push into you, and you choked out his name.

“I can– fuck!” You cried, wanting to be good and take all of him, and Yunho watched in amusement as you brought your hand up to cover your mouth as your moans got louder.

Yunho was almost fully in when you grabbed his wrist that was beside you, your brain going hazy at the sudden fullness. Incoherent babbles fell from your lips, and Yunho chuckled as he took in your already fucked out state.

“I’m not even fully in you yet, and I’ve already fucked you stupid.” He sat up a bit to grab your hips, using the leverage to push the rest of the way in. A choked moan fell from your lips at the sudden movement, your eyes rolling back. “God, you feel so fucking good, sweetheart.” He groaned, fighting off the urge to move, wanting you to get adjusted first.

“Y-Yunho…” You breathed out; all of your nerves felt like they were on fire, but it still wasn’t enough. “Fuck me, please!” Your eyes cracked open, gazing up at him with a teary gaze and Yunho felt the last bit of his composure crumble away.

“My pleasure, baby.” He growled before pulling out and slamming back into you, eliciting a loud moan.

Yunho’s pace was relentless, allowing no room for you to breathe, and stars danced across your vision. Your moans were bouncing off the walls, and Yunho was sure that the neighbors could hear how good he was fucking you. Then he suddenly remembered that your boyfriend was still asleep in the next room, and a sinister smirk spread across his face.

“You’re mine now, sweetheart.” He told you, leaning down to press a kiss against your jaw, and you nodded your head, all words lost to you. Kissing his way up to your ear, he nipped at your earlobe, causing your body to shiver, and another broken moan fell from your lips. “Tell me who you belong to, baby.”

“You,”

“Say my name,” Yunho growled, pulling away to pick up his pace once more, and you let out a pitiful squeak.

“Yunho.” You cried out, fingers wrapping around his wrist as your head fell back when he brushed over your sweet spot.

However, that wasn’t good enough for Yunho, “louder.”

“Yunho!” His name fell from your lips even louder than last time, but again, it wasn’t quite enough for the male.

“Louder!”

“YUNHO!” You screamed his name when he pressed down on your clit, causing stars to cloud your vision, your high right around the corner.

A triumphant smile spread across Yunho’s face when he heard movement on the other side of the wall, knowing full well that your boyfriend had heard you. The smile was soon wiped away, replaced with a groan as you tightened around his swollen cock.

“Fuck!” He cursed as he felt his own high creep up on him, and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially if you kept squeezing him like that.

“Yun, ‘m close!” You cried out, back arching off of the bed as the knot in the pit of your stomach tightened.

“It’s okay, sweetheart, cum for me. Make a mess all over my cock.” His words were the last push you needed before you came all over his cock. He groaned as he looked down to see the milky white ring forming around the base of his cock.

“Yunho!” You cried out as he continued to fuck into you at his merciless pace, white spots littering your vision as he abused your sweet spot.

“I’m almost there, baby, just a little bit more.” He cooed, leaning down to capture your lips with his in a sweet kiss as his thrusts became sloppy before he shook in your hold as he came, painting your velvet walls white. “F-Fucking hell.”

Coming down from your highs, Yunho laid on your chest after he pulled out. Both of you just lay there as you tried to catch your breath, your fingers running through Yunho’s hair as he held you close.

You were then snapped out of your trance when you heard movement in the next room, realizing that your boyfriend’s room was right next to Yunho’s, and your heart dropped. Noticing the change in your mood, Yunho lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He asked, and your heart swelled at the endearing pet name.

“I think he heard everything,” You whispered as you glanced down at him, worry written all over your features and Yunho let out a sigh before pushing himself up until he was hovering over you once again.

“He definitely heard something, but it’s his loss. You’re mine now.” He told you before leaning down and kissing you once again, his kiss filled with so much love and need it pushed all other thoughts away.

After a few moments he pulled away, cupping your face in his hand, his thumb brushing over your cheek. You wrapped your hand around his wrist as you looked up at him with a soft smile, soaking in all of the affection he was giving you. Pulling him back down, your eyes fluttered closed as his lips brushed over yours.

“I’m all yours.” You confirmed his statement before sealing the kiss, all thoughts of your ex-boyfriend no longer clouding your mind. It was all replaced with Yunho and the feeling of his lips and body on yours, showering you with all of the love and appreciation that you deserved.

@wwooyology | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

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comicaurora · 3 days ago

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A bit of a strange question, but if there were any of your videos you were to "remake" today for any reason (ex: you feel like you misrepresented the original text or spread misinformation), which would it be and why? None of them is a perfectly valid answer

Again: bit of a strange question, but I've been thinking about my own creations and how I could have done so much better with some of them, but I also know that is a sign of my growth and constantly chasing "what if I did this instead" isn't always healthy for nurturing a creative mindset, and I was wondering what your opinion might be as a Creator of Things with a bit more experience than I

There's been a few trope talks where I've thought later of other angles I could've explored that might warrant sequels or part 2s, but I don't dislike any of the summaries enough to justify a rework.

I always find "I could've done this better if I made it now" to be a bit of a fallacy. I'm only better at making things now because I made all those earlier things. If I knew everything I'd learn from making a project before I started the project, it wouldn't come out the same.

I think when it comes to the "rework remake perfect" instinct, it helps to zero in on what the impulse is really grounded in. In my experience, more often than not, it's not actually about making the art better, except incidentally. It's usually about showing that you are better. It's demonstrating your competence and your higher standards and your skills, and more importantly it's overwriting the proof that you were once less than perfect. If people look at your old work and think that's all you're capable of, they'll be judging you poorly!

If that's the motivator, it's a very unhelpful one. You can't control for being harshly or incorrectly judged. It's a fruitless effort to stave off potentially upsetting outdated criticism, and it's not even going to work. Fear of critique is an unreliable and untrustworthy motivator.

If it really is about making the art itself better, perfecting your magnum opus with your newly leveled-up skills, that's a little more solid. But from where I'm standing, it's always better to use those skills to make something new instead of polishing something old. The older, unpolished work has already acquired its audience that finds it appealing for reasons that might never occur to you. Trying to bury or overwrite it just deprives that audience of the thing they like, and maybe makes them feel bad for having liked it in the first place. Also, usually when you look back on the older work, you'll conclude that the problem is everything and it'll need to be torn down and started from scratch. I know when I revisited the first three chapters of the comic, when I let my critic brain spin up, it wasn't shading or lineart I wanted to fix - it was panel composition, overall pacing, the entire structure of the chapters as a whole. I would've had to make them all over again to be happy with them, and they wouldn't be the same story by the end.

I've been thinking a lot about the Discworld through this lens lately. It ended up over 40 books long, but everyone agrees that the first two are not what you should start with, because they're the worst ones. They're entirely parodic, purely referential of at-the-time major fantasy series, and borderline mean-spirited in places. If you haven't read Fafhrd and the Gray Mouser and Dragonriders of Pern, you're not gonna understand like a full 50% of The Colour Of Magic.

It's clear that when he started in on them, Pratchett was entirely focused on taking the piss out of a genre he found mostly shallow and unimpressive. But the Discworld wouldn't leave his head, and everything he made fun of he clearly eventually found himself overthinking. He'd make little one-off jokes in the early books about Dwarves having no women and a hundred words for gold, and then twenty books later he'd have a Dwarf gender revolution make waves across the Disc, and then he'd write Thud!, a book that delves deeper into the nuances of Dwarf societal structure than Tolkien ever did.

If you look for them, there are continuity errors everywhere in Discworld. In his introductory book, Carrot defused a dwarf bar full of rowdy brawlers by guilting them all into writing to their poor lonely mothers back home. Shortly thereafter, Carrot will be outraged at the mere concept of an openly female dwarf. Pratchett even eventually wrote Thief of Time, a book that loosely explains that the Disc makes no sense because history has been broken and put back together incorrectly twice, and therefore any continuity errors are because of that.

He's the writer. He could've gone back and fixed it, edited the reprints to be less disruptively discontinuous with the later books. Instead he continuously moved forward and allowed the world he made to grow without cutting it off from its roots. And because he didn't bury his older, far worse work, we have the privilege of following the Disc's evolution from the very start, and seeing how this shallow, stock fantasy world parody became something incredibly rich and complex without ever pretending like its early installments never happened.

Anyway, that's why I think it's better to move forward. You make more good stuff that way.

#asks #not aurora #writing stuff

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duck9irbl · 3 days ago

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Same past, Same thoughts, Different reactions, Different meaning. How can something so similar yet be so different?

The same shared past flashing though their eyes. The same thought 'I thought you were dead' Yet the reactions and meaning are... different to say the least.

First we have, Moon: His Shoulders are slumped with defeat perhaps with relief or sadness? Maybe both. Eye sockets wide open with pupils blown open with a hint of softness in them, eyebrows raised high and his mouth hangs slightly open. With a curve of a small smile? Starting to form or maybe he wants to laugh. Laugh away all the pain in his heart, cause he might not believe what he's seeing is actually real. You can see the slight bags underneath his eye sockets he seems tired. Tears forming in his eyes as they quietly slip out maybe he notices but is in too shock to care or maybe he doesn't notice because all his attention is on Him. His head tilted up perhaps to see prove to himself that it's not just his imagination playing a cruel trick of him. But to and see to try and get closer to Him. He stands their still in quiet disbelief as if what he see's is all but his imagination a dream? Maybe? No a nightmare?

Perhaps it is... we have almost the opposite

Then we have, Sun: His Shoulders are tensed up with displeasure perhaps with fear or rage? Maybe both. Eye sockets wide open with pupils shrinking holding resentment in them, eyebrows slumped low with a crinkle in his brow. Baring his clenched teeth his mouth stretched wide, a little too wide to be a smile looking more like a grimace. Starting to form a scream? Scream away all the pain in his heart, cause he might not want to believe what he's seeing is actually real. You can see the slight bags underneath his eyes he looks strangely enticed? Maybe some irritating amusement. A blurry gloss dusting the side of his eye sockets. Like he wants to cry but he doesn't he won't allow it. His head titled down as if trying to try and get away from the memory. To get away from Him. He stands their silently as if beginning to shack as if what he see's is all but a memory? A dream maybe? No a nightmare.

Moons: 'i thought you were dead' feel like a cry to wind a silent plea to come back. It's soft and careful holding the words letting it repeating itself multiple times as if to not forget or to make it come true. A reminder of what he thought it was. As if he was holding prosocline glass a whisper to have it not break.

Suns: 'I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD' feel like fury, a challenge something that SHOULD NOT even exist like he's exasperated it's even their. A bitterness to his tone as he'd prefer for it to not exist it all. Once out of disbelief another out of out pure frustration. As if being louder would make it go away a scream to have it evaporate like thin air.

(But those are just my thoughts take it as you will oh and good job on the art and AU love it!)

reunion.

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chancloud8 · 2 days ago

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Teach Me {4}

<< previous chapter || next chapter >>

series masterlist

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader, Bang Chan x Reader

Word Count: 3,3k

Tags: fluff, kissing, second base, nsfw, very light smut?

Summary: Jisung joins you for some alone time in the bathroom and afterwards you have an interesting conversation with him and Chan.

*****************************

Two hours into dance practice, you get bored. You’ve already scrolled through all your social media accounts, massaged Felix’ back and Jeongin’s cramping calf, and went on a coffee run for everyone. It was a miracle to you how the guys were still going, dancing with almost as much energy as when they started.

With a sigh you throw your phone on the couch cushion next to you and stand up to throw away your empty coffee cup. Changbin notices you in the mirror and winks at you before effortlessly falling into the dance routine they’re doing. For a moment you watch them again, the way their bodies move to the beat like they’re made for it. When the guys dance it’s almost impossible to look away, but after two hours it’s a little easier.

‘Y/N?’ Felix calls out to you over the music when you’re about to slip out of the room to head to the bathroom. Everyone else keeps dancing, but the blonde moves away from the group and towards you with a frown on his face. ‘You okay?’

You smile at him. ‘I’m perfect Lix, I’m just going to the bathroom.’

The frown disappears from his beautiful face immediately and he nods, already walking backwards to the others again. ‘You know where it is, right?’

You give him a thumbs up and quickly slip out of the room before anyone else can stop you, your bladder already screaming in protest. Maybe that big cup of iced coffee had been a mistake. The bathroom is quiet and after relieving yourself and washing your hands, you stay a little longer, just leaning against the sink with your eyes closed. You always like a quiet moment every now and then to recharge.

A knock on the door makes you startle and when you look down at your watch, your eyes widen. You’ve been gone for a little over twenty minutes already.

‘Y/N? Everything okay?’ Jisung calls out, slowly opening the door a little.

You rush to the door to open it completely, revealing Jisung with a concerned frown on his face. There’s a towel around his neck and his face is still flushed from dancing.

‘I’m good, just enjoying the quiet for a bit,’ you explain, smiling up at him.

‘Can I join?’ he asks, taking a step forward already as if he doesn’t think you’ll say no. Which you won’t.

‘Sure, but shouldn’t we head back?’ you reply, turning your back to the door to face Jisung.

‘I’ll text them,’ he says, already typing on his phone.

You shrug and walk back to the sink, lifting yourself up to sit on the counter this time. Maybe he wants to talk about something or just enjoy some quiet himself, both are fine with you.

When Jisung looks up from his phone and sees you sitting on the counter, he blinks, his eyes lingering on your exposed legs that are dangling in the air, swinging back and forth. He puts his phone away and steps forward until his stomach touches your knees.

‘Uhm, hi?’ you laugh quietly, a bit startled at his sudden closeness.

‘Hey,’ he grins, placing his hands on the sink at either side of your thighs, caging you in between his strong arms. ‘Tell me if it’s too much, yeah?’

You blink rapidly, your heartbeat rising and you suddenly feel hot all over.

‘If what’s too much?’ you ask, your voice sounds strange to your own ears.

‘Anything. If I'm too close, if I make you uncomfortable, if I touch you somewhere you don’t want me to. Just say the word and I’m backing off, okay?’ Jising says. ‘The little show Felix and Jinnie put up with you in the studio earlier made me a little jealous.’

‘Jealous?’ you feel like an idiot for repeating his words back at him, but your brain feels hazy from his close proximity, the scent of his cologne and sweat is intoxicating somehow.

Jisung brings one of his hands up to trial his fingers over the red and purple bruises Felix left on your throat.

‘Mhm,’ he hums. ‘Maybe it’s wrong of me, but I can’t help it.’

You swallow, nervous butterflies erupt in your stomach as he sets his hands back down and leans in even closer, his breath fanning your lips.

‘Would it help if I let you introduce me to something new?’ you whisper and you have no idea where that bold question just came from. ‘I mean, would that make you less jealous?’

Jisung grins and leans forward to press a soft kiss on your lips. ‘That would help me very much, baby.’

‘Okay,’ you nod. ‘But you do know there’s nothing to be jealous of right?’

Jisung leans his forehead against yours. ‘I know and I know we said that it wouldn’t get weird between us, which it won’t, I promise, but we do all want to teach you.’

‘Which you will,’ you say. ‘Or I wouldn’t have agreed.’

‘I know,’ Jisung repeats with a laugh. ‘It’s just silly, it’s probably our hormones or something.’

You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck. ‘I can’t say I know much about male hormones, but okay sure.’

Jisung nuzzles his nose against yours before kissing you. He’s the fourth of the guys to kiss you and it amazes you how all of them kiss differently, it’s interesting really and it fits each of them so well. Jisung kisses you softly, slowly, like he’s not in a hurry to be anywhere while his hands stroke your sides.

Your fingers tangle in his soft hair, remembering what Chan had said the other day about most guys enjoying it when you pulled their hair in the heat of the moment. At first you just play with the strands at the back of his neck, focussing on the way his mouth moves over yours, but when he finally flicks his tongue over your bottom lip, you pull.

Jisung doesn’t disappoint and moans into your mouth, his fingers digging into your side. The sound sets your whole body on fire and without thinking you wrap your legs around his waist, to pull him closer. You gasp when the movement connects your core with his stomach, creating a delicious friction you’ve never felt before. Tingles spread all over your body and feeling dizzy you pull back from the kiss, panting loudly against Jisung’s mouth.

‘Damn,’ he mutters, moving his hands to your bare thighs around his waist. ‘I’m not sure if you even need us to teach you, you’re a natural.’

You look down at where your body is pressed up against Jisung and the sight makes even more heat pool in your belly, it feels funny. Your skirt has ridden up even further on your thighs, almost showing off your panties.

Jisung follows your gaze and groans, his fingers squeezing your thighs. ‘Look at that, so beautiful wrapped around me like that.’

‘Yeah?’ you whisper, lifting your head to look him in the eyes again.

‘Oh yes,’ Jisung sighs. ‘It will be even better when you’re naked, but that’s something for the future, hm?’

You nod, grateful for his understanding. So far all of the guys have been so good to you, never crossing a line you weren’t ready to cross yet.

‘Has anyone touched you yet?’ he asks, leaning in to press his lips against your jaw.

Your heart skips a beat at his question or maybe it’s because of his mouth on your skin, or both, you don’t really know nor care.

‘N-no, it’s been just kissing so far,’ you stammer and nervously lick your lips.

‘Okay, so just first base so far, kissing and receiving hickeys,’ Jisungs leans back a little to look at you. ‘How do you feel about second base?’

Your breath hitches and you accidentally pull on Jisungs hair that’s still wrapped around your fingers.

‘Ungh,’ a strange noise leaves Jisung’s mouth and he closes his eyes for a moment, swallowing, his Adam's apple moving visibly.

‘Sorry,’ you hurriedly untangle your fingers from his hair and place them on his chest instead.

Jisung shakes his head and opens his eyes again. ‘It’s okay,’ he smiles. ‘What was I saying again?’

You giggle and pluck an invisible piece of lint from his shirt, your cheeks heating up. ‘Something about second base?’

One of Jisung’s hands leaves your thigh to hold your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently pinching as he forces you to look him in the eye.

‘Do you think you’re okay with that? It’s okay if you’re not, you know, I’ll happily just kiss you until we run out of breath,’ he grins.

You can’t help but giggle again and you nervously shift against him at the thought of him touching you in more ways than he already has. The movement makes that same delicious friction as before as your core moves against his stomach. Your eyes widen at the feeling and Jisung bites his lip, clearly not unaffected by it as well.

‘I’m okay with it,’ you whisper, clutching onto his shirt.

‘Mhm, good,’ Jisung hums, placing his hand back on your thigh and leaning forward to latch his lips onto your collarbone while his fingers slowly inch up until they disappear under the fabric of your skirt.

Your entire skin breaks out in goosebumps and Jisung chuckles, kissing his way to your neck, licking and nibbling as he goes. He even leaves a few marks of his own between the bruises Felix already gave you.

‘As much as I want to touch you right here,’ Jisung whispers against your jaw, his fingertips nearly grazing your panties. ‘Let’s not move too fast shall we.’

A small part of you is disappointed and wants to beg him to do just that, to touch you where your body seems to hum with heat, but you appreciate him for trying to take it slow with you.

‘Okay,’ you breathe, tilting your head to give him more access to your neck.

Jisung kisses a trail of open mouthed kisses on your neck all the way up to your earlobe, gently biting down on it with his teeth.

You gasp and your body jolts, pushing you against him once more. Your eyes nearly roll back in your head at the feeling and it takes everything in you not to buck your hips forward to feel that again and again.

‘So sensitive,’ Jisung smiles. ‘I wonder if you’re like that here as well.’

You’re just about to ask where he means when his fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, gliding upwards over your warm and naked skin. You shiver and he kisses you again, licking into your mouth with no hesitation.

His hands move from your belly to your back first, exploring every inch before he caresses your sides and slowly moves up until his thumbs brush against the underside of your breasts. His fingers are gone before you can even register it and he moves his hands to your back again, this time playing with the clasp of your bra.

‘You can take it off,’ you say against his mouth, getting impatient by his teasing.

Jisung chuckles against your lips, nipping your bottom lip at the same time as he easily opens the clasp, freeing your breasts. You make quick work of getting the straps off your arms and dropping the bra on the floor as you pull Jisung close again by wrapping your arms around his neck.

His fingers tease the underside of your breasts again and you whine in the back of your throat, wanting him to actually touch you. Another chuckle vibrates against your lips, but then he finally cups your breasts in his hand, his thumbs flicking your nipples. You arch your back at the surprisingly good feeling and gasp against his mouth. He does it again and again, until you’re shivering in his arms.

‘I knew you’d like it,’ Jisung whispers when he pulls away from your lips, to once more kiss down your neck. ‘Can I take your shirt off?’

You release Jisung’s neck and grab the hem of your shirt yourself to pull it over your head in one swift movement, throwing it on the floor next to your bra. The cool air feels nice against your bare chest and you only have a moment to realize what you’ve just done before Jisung lets out a loud laugh, his eyes gazing over your exposed skin.

‘I love this side of you, baby,’ he says, watching his own fingers as they glide over your breasts with a glint in his eyes that you can’t quite describe. ‘So responsive and eager.’

‘It appears lust makes me bold,’ you whisper, more to yourself than to Jisung.

He laughs again and you smile at the sound. You like his laugh. Always have, but lately he has been doing it more often and it always makes you happy to hear it.

‘Well, since you’re feeling bold, is there anything on your mind you want to share with me right now?’ Jisung grins, tilting his head in a teasing way.

You think about it for a moment. A small part of you wants to ask him to do more than just touch just breasts and kiss you, but you’re not sure if you’re really that bold.

‘I want you to take off your shirt,’ you say instead, tugging at the fabric a little. ‘It’s only fair.’

Jisung doesn’t waste any time, grabbing onto the back of his shirt and pulling it over his head. You’ve never seen him shirtless before and the sight of his bare muscled chest, his abs and the tattoos, nearly make you choke on your own spit.

‘Holy shit,’ you mutter, reaching out to touch him. ‘You’ve been hiding this all along Sungie?’

You knew he had broad shoulders and nice muscled arms, that much he showed often by wearing a tank top, but this is new. He’s nearly as ripped as Chan.

‘I’ve been working out a lot more recently,’ Jisung shrugs, a blush covering his cheeks.

‘I can tell,’ you laugh, your fingers gliding over his abs. ‘You look incredible.’

‘Says you,’ Jisung snorts, cupping your breast again. ‘I’d much rather focus on that.’

He puts his money where his mouth is and without any warning he leans forward and wraps his lips around your nipple. His warm tongue teases the hard and sensitive bud and when his teeth lightly graze over your nipple, you let out such a loud moan that it startles you.

‘Shhh or someone will come looking for us,’ Jisung chuckles, moving to your other breast.

‘It’s your fault!’ you say, but there’s no heat behind your words.

Jisung continues to kiss, lick and nibble your breasts until you’re once again shivering in his arms, your loud panting echoing through the bathroom. You arch your back, seeking more friction and your hips move on their own account then, grinding against his stomach.

‘Fuck,’ Jisung whisperes against your skin, his hands grabbing onto your hips to hold you still.

The door to the bathroom opens then and the both of you freeze.

You completely forgot that you’re in a public space where anyone can just walk in and see you naked from the waist up. Jisung seems to think the same and he presses his front against you so your modesty is somewhat intact.

A familiar chuckle fills the room. ‘I figured something like this was going on.’

Over Jisung’s shoulder you can see Chan leaning against the door with his arms crossed and a shit eating grin on his face.

‘Chan,’ you say, letting out a relieved sigh.

He pushes himself off the door with his shoulders and strides forward until his chest is almost touching Jisung’s back.

‘I see your lessons have continued,’ he smiles, bringing his hand up to brush his thumb over your swollen lips.

‘One you just interrupted, Hyung,’ Jisung mutters, looking over his shoulder to glare at Chan.

Chan just shrugs and steps back, leaning down to grab both of your shirts and your bra. ‘The others are getting ready to leave so I figured I’d find you guys.’

With burning cheeks of embarrassment you accept your clothes from his outstretched hands.

‘I’ll wait for you in the hallway,’ Chan winks, letting his eyes linger on your exposed skin for a moment before he turns around and leaves.

Jisung groans and hides his face in the crook of your neck, making you laugh. You gently rake your fingers through his hair and press a kiss against his temple.

‘Come on, we can continue this another time.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Jisung grumbles and he helps you off the counter before leaning in once more for a final kiss.

You quickly get dressed and turn around to look in the mirror. Your cheeks are flushed, your lips swollen, your hair is a mess and your eyes sparkle. You look like you’ve just been fucked and the thought makes your heart pound loudly in your chest. Maybe soon.

Chan is waiting for the two of you in the hallway, scrolling on his phone and he looks up when you walk towards him.

‘You okay?’ he asks, smiling sweetly at you.

‘Just a bit embarrassed you walked in on us, but other than that yes,’ you blush, fidgeting with the bracelets on your wrist.

Chan chuckles and Jisung kisses your cheek. ‘No need for that, baby.’

The three of you walk back towards the dance studio, chatting a bit about the upcoming plans you have for the next few days and whether or not you want to come back to their place to watch a movie tonight.

When Jisung suddenly stops walking, both you and Chan turn to look at him.

‘Uhm, before we meet up with the others, I have a question,’ he says. ‘It’s a bit of a personal question and I don’t know if you’ll be comfortable answering it in front of everyone.’

‘Okay, what is it?’ you ask, nervously biting your lip.

‘Uhm, so I noticed the way you reacted to some of my touches earlier and I wondered if you’ve ever orgasmed before?’

You blink at him a few times and his cheeks turn red.

‘Told you it was personal,’ he mutters. ‘You don’t have to answer.’

Chan takes a hold of your hand and squeezes. ‘Y/N?’

‘Well, uhm,’ you stammer and both of their eyes grow wide.

‘You have touched yourself, right?’ Chan asks carefully.

‘Of course,’ you blush, shuffling awkwardly on your feet. ‘I’m just not sure if I’ve ever come before.’

‘What do you mean you’re not sure?’ Jisung asks with a frown. ‘How can you not be sure?’

‘Jisung!’ Chan hisses, once again squeezing your hand. ‘It’s okay if you haven’t, you know.’

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. Of course it’s okay and probably totally normal for a woman too, I’ve heard it can be difficult,’ Jisung takes a hold of your other hand.

You can’t believe you’re actually having this conversation with two of your best friends, but considering what they’ve been doing with you and what is still to come, it’s probably best that they know.

‘It is difficult. I mean, it feels good, but it always gets too much and I have to stop,’ you explain in a whisper. ‘I don’t think that feeling is actually an orgasm.’

‘Probably not, because trust me, you will know when you have one.’ Jisung says, winking at you.

Chan nods in agreement. ‘It’s very likely you haven’t.’

‘Oh,’ you breathe out, looking down at your hands in embarrassment.

‘Hey,’ Chan lifts your chin with his index finger. ‘That’s nothing to be ashamed about, love.’

‘Yeah, we’ll just have to fix it,’ Jisung grins, poking your side. ‘And trust me, we will.’

‘Oh we will,’ Chan agrees. ‘You’ll get that first orgasm and you’ll get it soon.’

Oh boy.

*******************************************

a/n: Thank you for all the love on this series and for your patience!! I hope you liked this chapter <3 Comments feed my soul and motivaton to write so please let me know your thoughts <3

taglist: @lunearta @danceonmyheyday @gigizzz @kaqua @haven-skies @livixcore @staylovesmiley @jaeminie-cricket @halfwinterhalfuniverse @jesuschrist2006 @staybabblingbaby @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @hanji-coffee @wolfhallows4 @sweatyracoon @symmieangela @hanniesbubuwife @astro3des @galaxy4489 @inlovewithstraykids @httpseungmxn @thebonsaibadass @stay-tiny-things @skzbiasot8 @darkwitchoferie @duwangdays @iknow-uknow-leeknow @yoongiismylove2018 @hyunjinsruinedpainting @steadysuitenthusiast @eastjonowhere @stay1ngsane @luvbangchan @stellmeiv @shycreationdreamland @hannie-and-binnie @deadpool15 @thillusionist @emmxxsworld @itza-meee @mel-onthemoon @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx

#stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #ot8 x reader #han jisung x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #skz fanfic #skz fluff #skz smut #chancloud8 writes #teach me part 4

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amiaclone · 2 days ago

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hi, can you write where 001(frontman) and reader fall in love during the games?

Sure I’ve gotten so many frontman im kinda used to writing him now 🥲

Tw: cursing

Love works in mysterious ways

*In ho laid down in bed in the middle of the night thinking about the concept of something that can be dangerous toxic yet joyful and bitter sweet at once.*

*It was love*

*As he thought of that the same memory kept on replaying it just had to be that one person…*

“In ho incase the two of us don’t make it I just wanna you to know…..you’ve stolen my heart…” *He stood stunned but tried to remain calm* “We’ve known each other for a few days how can you be sure?” “The chemistry the talks the….ugh In ho it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way but there’s something about you that drives me fucking crazy…”

*And he stood there silent for the rest of the time*

*As the moment replayed In his head he could only ponder what should he have said? What should he say? Should he avoid you?*

*He barely knew you…*

*You just happened to be a friend and helper of Gi hun to end the games unfortunately for you just happened to be there and got trapped in the games with him…*

*And you met now he won’t be in denial….the feelings for you are strong too and aren’t hate….he feels something sweet towards you no matter how bittersweet it makes him feel at the same time.*

*He pitied you really the man you’re trying to stop is….the man you fell in love with and honestly…he regrets it almost.*

*Here he was dreading the morning knowing he has to face you…….should he kill you should he spare you should he get one of the workers to kick you out so he can never see you again? He didn’t know why but…a part of him didn’t want that.*

*In the morning he’ll say something……love can be strange it’s so strange maybe he can somehow convince you him managing these games aren’t that bad.*

Andddd sorry if this was short i really had no ideas 😅

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portraitsofguilt · 3 days ago

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── # 𝗠𝗘𝗟𝗧 𝗠𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗧 𝗢𝗙 𝗜𝗖𝗘 jinx/powder au

description. as the hours slip by after closing time, powder and you circle each other, your unspoken connection undeniable, the space between the two of you bridging. the thick and sweet tension lingers before you completely give into it.

content warnings. 18+ MDNI, nsfw content, SMUT, female-bodied reader, they are friends who pine after each other, reader is very angsty (it's because i'm listening to a song), making out, consent is so fucking hot, cunnilingus (powder receiving),

author's note. idk how much this fic delivers but i tried to, I TRIED OKAY? I WAS BEING SAPPY ABOUT IT BUT I GOT IT OUT SO PLEASE DON'T HATE IT. reblogs and feedback is always appreciated, enjoy, please <3

the bar was nearly empty by the time powder finished wiping down the last of the glasses. the hum of the neon lights was the only sound in the otherwise silent room, the night stretching on into the early hours. outside, the streets were quiet, a thin mist rolling over the cobblestones.

you rested your head on your folded arms as you sat behind the bar, a little too close for comfort, watching her work with an intensity that made your chest tighten. powder moved with ease, her motions fluid and unhurried, as if the world could wait while she took her time. but her eyes- those sharp, blue eyes- kept flicking over to you, catching the way you studied her.

you had been drawn to her from the start, her warmth, her energy, something that clung to her like a melody. she was the type who could make a room brighter just by being there, and yet, there was always something about her that seemed to whisper, to beckon, as if she knew exactly how to make you feel something deep inside you.

you were cold-had always been cold-so distant, so unreachable. but with her, it felt like maybe... maybe you didn't have to be.

powder finished stacking the last of the glasses and turned to face you, leaning against the bar casually. her lips twitched into a smile, her gaze soft but knowing.

"you know," she teased, "it's rude to be so obvious."

you chuckled, but there was an underlying tension, something in the way she had you hanging on her every word. you had tried- tried so hard- not to care, but her eyes, full of understanding seemed to see right through you as if she knew exactly how to crack the ice on your heart.

"maybe i like being obvious," you said, your voice low, but playful. "what are you gonna do about it?"

powder's smile only widened, her eyes narrowing with mischief. "what if i kiss you?"

the question hung in the air as if she were testing the waters, seeing if you would retreat or lean in. you swallowed, heart racing, a strange warmth spreading through your chest. you should have said something, anything, to keep her at arm's length. but in that moment, you didn't want to push her away. you wanted to feel the heat she offered.

instead, you get off the bar, your gaze meeting hers with a quiet challenge. "go ahead," you murmured, straightening your posture on the chair.

she closed the space between you without hesitation, her lips brushing against yours with the gentleness of a question. the kiss was soft, tender, and surprisingly calm. for a moment, you allowed yourself to surrender to it, to feel the warmth of her presence, and the steady thump of your heart in your chest.

"you are not as cold as you make yourself out to be." she murmured, her voice quiet, teasing, but laced with something genuine.

you were the one leaning in the second time, slowly, as if savoring the moment, before your lips brushed against hers. powder didn't pull away, her hand resting on the counter under the marble of the bar as she let you take the lead. when you deepened the kiss, her lips parted slightly in acceptance, a soft sigh escaping her.

there was a rush, but no need to push boundaries. she let you explore, every soft press of your lips, every touch an invitation to let go. powder wasn't the type to rush things, but tonight, she made an exception. she welcomed you in, embraced your all but hesitant vulnerability, and made you feel like it was okay to need something more than just the distance you had built around yourself.

when the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, eyes locked. powder's smile was soft, reassuring, as she slowly pulled back, her fingers now lightly grazing your arm. "you really know how to get a girl's attention," she whispered, her voice a little breathless.

"then let me give you some more." this wasn’t an obsession or an opportunity to feel something more than the creeping feeling of mortality caused by your frigid heart- it was something close to love.

your mouth moves to her throat, leaving hungry kisses along her throat as your hands muster up the courage to touch her, and after a few well-placed hickes you surface for air, hoisting her up onto the counter.

"can i?" your eyes filled with desire as you drop to your knees in front of her, manoeuvering her to quickly bunch and push her skirt up. she nods dumbly, her breath hitching in her chest when you reach for her panties, pulling them aside, exposing her cunt to the open air, body trembling in anticipation of what you're about to do.

you look up at her through thick lashes, fingers grazing against her inner thigh and up towards her awaiting core, waiting for another nod, a whimper- anything to know this is the right thing to do. you run your fingertips over her slit and collect up all the slick pooled there, smearing it over her clit as she hums in approval.

not wasting any time now, you lean in and with the first stroke of your tongue, you already have her whimpering out your name as you fuck her with your tongue. powder's hands come up to tug on your hair, pulling on your locks and moan out the cursing she was trying to hold back. "fuck." she breathes, her hand tightening in your hair as you continue pumping your tongue in and out, moving fast, surprising her with a thumb over her clit.

"please..." she whispers, hips bucking as her toes curl inside her shoes, her thighs clenching around your head. "please don't stop."

the thought of the first time spotting her across the bar was supposed to be the last thing on your mind, following the memory of your clumsy way of trying to make conversation and how she smiled at you, laughing, inviting you to take a second to think. you wanted to keep this memory close to your heart, keep it forever locked inside. you couldn't explain how much it affected you, that it still affects you, and yet the burning in your heart doesn't feel like a burden anymore.

"fuck..." she thrusts her hips upwards as she moans and whines continue to spill from her lips as you lick and such on her, tormenting her sensitive bundle of nerves and flicking your tongue against it harshly.

she is panting, absolutely consumed by the pleasure, the bumps of your nose against her clit when your tongue slithers back inside her dripping cunt. her grip on you is merciless as she gets closer and closer to coming undone into your mouth.

you flatten your tongue and hold it flush against her, shaking your head side to side, slurping up at her sopping hole and moaning into her. "g-gonna cum... fuck-" she cries out, begging you to give her what she wants without hesitation. her thighs claiming around your head as she grinds into your face, her senses tingling, seeing white when the knot in her finally tears and she cums all over your mouth.

the taste of her still lingering on your lips despite vigorous licking as a means of cleaning, standing up straight again and connecting your mouths lazily, tongues meeting messily, and letting her taste herself.

she pulls away and presses her forehead against you, smiling at her dreamily as she looks into your blow pupils and listens to your voice whispering to her, "should be so obvious now that i want your heart to melt mine."

#📗 — written by moss !#jinx x reader #arcane x reader #jinx x reader smut #arcane x reader smut #arcane smut #powder x reader #powder x female reader #powder au x reader

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justrandomthoughtsforlater-blog · 3 days ago

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new version of frankenstein where victor's friend henry or elizabeth becomes like his lady macbeth style accomplice, asking how was it to resurrect the dead??? You hate your creature but I love them, but I am also disconnected from their humanity and want to feel the power of God more than I realize the magnitude of what has happened.. I want them to also break down but take on making the bride of frankenstein first, and only when they do it themselves do they fail differently from victor.

*from this point on lady macbeth is stand in for new version of henry or elizabeth*

Victor is a perfectionist and a coward, revolted by his success who immediately lies to everyone to everyone's detriment. I want his lady macbeth to try to tell everyone about this new thing and be not believed, or imprisoned for it. Instead of abandonment I want them to be controlling and overly attached to the creature. I want the whole world to become strange to them as they find it revolting that it is not their own creation. I want them to have a toxic hate for the world that becomes destructive like a lion that kills cubs that aren't theirs. I want them to resent Victor getting credit and I want Victor to squirm that people know he's done this thing he now considers an abomination. I want Victor to be raised up by his lady macbeth against his will and have it intermittently reignite the indignant vanity and arrogance he arrived at university with. I want him to hate himself for liking the credit and attention, until things continue to go wrong and he hates it purely and resents his wife or friend for taking him to this place of influence and publicity.

They need to be fundamentally different in their flaws. Victor's cowardice and guilt leads his neglected creation to hate the world that rejects him, and violently harm it. His lady macbeth style counterpart should love their creature to the point the world seems like dust in comparison, enmeshed horribly, protecting the creature and taking personal risks for power. I want this creature to learn in the lap of it's mother the wrong things about the world, that it would never reject them, but that they are better than it's dirt. I want Lady Macbeth to die in the act of creating again. I want death to not make sense to this resurrected being.

I want the mate made for victor's monster to be uninterested in him with every need provided by lady macbeth, twisting the knife as the original monster is rejected by his own. For after all we are not with each other just because we are humans, and they will have such different experiences.

I want the new creature to seek the same godlike powers trying to resurrect lady macbeth. To be human is an abomination now that we have this knowledge, so the abominations we create are just as human as we are, facing rejection and God in the same breath.

I want this so bad. I want to explore invisibility of elizabeth if she makes a monster and then things get attributed to victor. I want her invisibility to parallel the original monsters as he hides while his mate is more palatable or more forced to be seen and scrutinized. I want the creature to recon with the fact that another one of his kind does not commit murder, but I want him to eloquently dissect their different circumstances. I want a monologue on the violence and hatred humans hurl at each other as they violently disagree about the status of the new monster. I want the new monster to feel violent urges not due to rejection but due to objectification, or invasion of privacy, or pain, or manipulation. I want public outrage and skepticism. I want lady macbeth to be cruel in different ways. Victor's struggle has been compared to postpartum depression, I want postpartum anxiety. I want victor's monster to continue to suffer from rejection, and the new monster to experience loneliness differently

One of the most frustrating things about contemplating humanity with frankenstein is Victor is barely relatable but an idiot, and sometimes I have felt so disconnected from the way both Victor and his monster react to life. You double the humans and monsters on stage, you double the ways they can differ and parallel.

It's always "I can't believe you dug up those graves" and "You really built a guy out of corpse parts?" and never “How was bringing the dead to life. Was it thrilling? Was it enthralling?”

#frankenstein

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melminli · 8 hours ago

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BANG BANG BANG

summery - thanos was always just such an easy person to argue with. you really hated the guy and that was something that was never going to change, even if your life was on the line and it fucking was.

pairing: (thanos) choi su-bong x fem. reader

word count: 1.8k

contains: violence, death, dark content - just usual squid game stuff really

prev.

"I ask for your attention. The first game will begin shortly. Each player will have their picture taken, then they will follow the staff onto the pitch."

You eyed the confusing and pastel-colored building you were standing in as you listened to the instructions. It wasn't too loud although, there was a bit of whispering from the crowd, the line to the photo booths was pretty organized as well. That was until you suddenly noticed a commotion from a corner, and look who was at the center of it. You just rolled your eyes when you saw the purple-headed guy standing casually between his fans and looked away annoyed after he winked at you charmingly.

Thanos didn't let your subtle rejection bother him. He called out your name and gestured with his fingers to indicate that there was an empty spot next to him - you know, for the group photo. "Hey, you can join the photo too. Come on."

You continued to ignore his voice and moved forward as the gap between you and the others in front of you widened. Eventually, the loud voices faded into the background, and it was your turn to take the photo. However, while you stood in front of the camera and looked at the smiley face before you, all sense of happiness vanished. If only you weren't so desperate for money, you wouldn't feel compelled to remain in this strange place surrounded by these people.

The flash went off without you even realizing it and caught the absent look on your face. You continued to follow the moving queue like a grazing animal following its herd, lost somewhere in your thoughts until suddenly a person grabbed you by the shoulder.

You instinctively started to defend yourself with widened eyes. "What the hell dude?!" you screamed silently in a panic until you saw the grinning perpetrator in front of you. "Su-bong? What's your problem, I told you to stay away from me asshole, are you stupid?" you grunted angrily and tried again to catch up with the person in front of you so as not to block the way any further.

Thanos just shrugged his shoulders disinterestedly while he casually climbed the stairs behind you. "You really talk a lot, so don't hold it against me when I tune most of it out," he replied, which made you walk a little faster and made him pick up a little more speed to keep up with you.

"Hey, wait a second, woman!" he called out and followed you. "Besides, you know what? You should just call me Thanos, everyone does - it's the name I go by you know? Not that I expect someone like you to understand the creative thought behind it, but come on. At least try."

You raised your palm to stop his flow of words and perhaps also to put up an imaginary wall between the two of you. "You can explain it however you want, but that's not your name, it's stupid and I'm definitely not going to call you that." you laughed at him. "Only someone like you could watch every single Marvel movie there is and then identify with the ugly mega villain, really."

That's why I'm not listening, he thought to himself, running his tongue through his teeth in annoyance. "Can you not be a bitch for a second? You're killing the mood," he spoke out before leaning over the railing and shouting. "The mood is dying!"

"Shut up!" you whispered aggressively as you dragged him away by the arm and rubbed your face in frustration. "What did I do wrong in life besides being born to deserve this..."

Su-bong shook his sleeve from your grip as he sighed himself. "Don't be so dramatic. Are you really still angry about that thing with -"

"Yes," you answer without hesitation, not needing to know how he finished his sentence. Why? Because ever since you knew him, this guy had only made decisions that made you angry. When you thought of the reason that finally broke the camel's back, you had to stop yourself and take a deep breath. "Whatever, someone like you isn't worth it," you declared and then walked with several others through some gate, into the open. No, you were still surrounded by walls, even if they disguised themselves as the sky and clouds.

"Welcome to the first game. All players, please wait a moment on the field. I repeat -"

You continued to look around and noticed people entering from two more entrances. Thanos stood in front of you to block your view. "Are you seriously ignoring me right now? You women are all the same."

You only confirmed his statement with your silence and by averting your gaze from him. Before he could object any further, the gates suddenly closed behind you and the voice from the loudspeakers started talking again. "The first game is called: Red Light, Green Light."

A game for children? You repeated perplex in your head and tuned out the voice explaining the rules of the game. You often played this game as a child anyway, you knew how to play it. Do we really earn money by playing this?

"Listen to me! Listen carefully, everyone!" A man suddenly shouted out, attracting the attention of the crowd by trying to explain that losing in this innocent game would mean death.

Unconsciously, your heart began to beat faster as various thoughts raced through your mind. What is this crazy guy talking about? You get killed if you lose? What nonsense. But on the other hand, there must be a catch, who else would give out money for something like this? Maybe -

"Don't worry, that guy just has a few screws loose." Su-bong's voice suddenly spoke out next to you as he turned his index finger next to his head to visualize it. "I can see that there are a million completely unnecessary thoughts running through your little head right now because you always have this funny look on your face when you do," he explained and you just tried really hard not to pay attention to him. He just had to make life difficult for you.

Your eyes wandered again and you looked at the disbelieving faces of the others, who were also just looking at the front man strangely. I'll just be careful and see what happens. Someone will probably lose and then we'll see if it's true or not, simple as that.

There was an announcement that the game was about to start and you saw the stopwatch at the front set to five minutes. You took a deep breath and finally, the robot girl moved to look away. "Red light, green light."

Your concentration was fixed on watching her movements so that you could stop at the right moment. You didn't want to rush, but the time pressure was real. You found yourself glancing at the time too often and subconsciously started to count the seconds you had left. You usually weren't a person who could work under such circumstances, but you had to manage the whole thing somehow. You really didn't want to lose, especially not be the first to do it.

"Freeze! Don't move!"

Shut the fuck up. This guy was seriously getting on your nerves. Your eyes were looking forward while you just stood still and then, a bee flew in front of you. Stay away you stupid thing, you thought as the distance between the insect and your face grew smaller and smaller.

A female voice next to you finally spoke out. "Is this guy on drugs?" She asked when the strange man started to scream again, you didn't know if it was that which caught the bee's attention or her sweet perfume that was suddenly being carried through the wind in your direction, but it didn't matter. You were just glad that it wasn't your problem anymore. Though, you couldn't breathe a sigh of relief since you didn't dare breathe at all when that creepy doll was turned in your direction. The thing looked like it could shoot lasers out of its eyes at any second or something.

"Nope, that's not how you act when you're high." Thanos replied from beside you, and even if you could hold your breath for as long as you needed to, things looked a lot different when it came to a petty comment.

Your mouth didn't move when you spoke, like that of a ventriloquist's. "Of course, you would know best, you fucking drug addict." was all that came out of you while you looked at his back.

Thanos grunted as several ideas popped into his head about how he could twist your words, but he tried really hard not to say any of them. I could really take some pills right now. "I'm about to really hurt your feelings, sweetie."

"No! Really?" you let out as you pretended to be really scared of what was about to happen before your tone changed back to being monotone. "I'm pissing in my pants, please don't."

Ignoring your little argument, the little innocent bee finally landed on the neck of number 196. "Hey, what's that?" she uttered as she felt a slight tingling sensation on her neck.

Thano's eyes turned to her figure beside him as he answered her. "Don't freak out, it's just a bee."

"A bee?!" She exclaimed in a panic and started waving her arms around wildly to scare the insect away as quickly as possible. You watched her, as many others probably did right now, but the girl herself realized her own mistake far too late when she finally stopped moving and looked up at Thanos. "Shit." she laughed out. "I just moved."

As soon as she finished her sentence, a bullet flew straight through her skull and dropped her body motionless to the floor. You felt a cold shiver run through your whole body and your heart suddenly stopped before it started beating like crazy in your chest. That didn't just happen. Your head automatically tried to calm you down with some kind of slander, but your eyes couldn't help but move to the dead body on the floor, which was now smeared with fresh blood. No, it really did.

#squid game thanos #squid game season 2 #squid game #squid game x reader #x female reader #x fem!reader #x reader #thanos x reader #thanos #thanos squid game #choi seunghyun #chou su bong x reader #cho su-bong #choi su bong #choi su-bong x reader #fanfiction #t.o.p

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maikelfist · 3 days ago

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Working Title: Man With Big Dick Fucks His Precious Boy

Okay so I had the weirdest, most random ass idea for post-breakup BuckTommy and it just got more and more random the more I kept going. It's all over the place, I kind of rushed near the end, I have no idea where I was going with this. I would call this a fever dream more than I would call it a fic but it's here now so might as well throw it at you guys PS: Don't get fooled by the working title, this is more sappy than sexy

Edit: There's a more refined version of this on ao3 now and I updated it here as well

Buck's sex life went from mind-blowing, life-changing and so-so-active to Missing In Action in what felt like seconds, and unfortunately, his libido hasn't gotten the memo yet. He'd been advised to throw himself out there again multiple times now, but every single cell in his body recoils at the idea. I'm not your last, I'm your first. Yeah well, we'll see about that.

It feels like a no-brainer to start watching gay porn since that's what Buck's currently missing the most. He jerks off to a handsome guy—the hint of cleft in his chin may or may not have been the reason Buck clicked on the video—fucking into a pretty twunk, and honestly, Buck is having a good time. It’s only when tears begin to swell in his eyes after he comes with Tommy’s name on his lips that he realizes he should not do that again.

The next videos he watches pointedly feature plump bears and dainty twinks, but even then, Buck can't help but make comparisons. Can't hold a rhythm, not attentive enough, where are the reassurances?

Buck comes to a visceral, gut-wrenching realization: Every single guy he considers will have to measure up to one Thomas fucking Kinard from now on.

So.

No gay porn for Buck anymore.

He moves to het videos, and the second realization of his latest porn binge hits him a lot quicker. There is absolutely no way he will ever be able to go back to regular straight sex again. Buck is very, very bi, and even relationships with women will have to be queer from now on.

Of course, porn isn't reality, but being confronted with the exaggerated heteronormativity of it all—the idea of fulfilling a society-given role after Buck learned what things can feel like when he's allowed to be himself—makes his stomach churn.

Living in a post-Tommy world is not an easy feat.

In between baking like he's preparing for an apocalypse, Buck keeps going down a rabbit hole of trying to find porn that would help him take his mind off Tommy.

Luckily, after browsing the most obscure, likely virus-infested websites the internet has to offer, Buck finds a video that instantly becomes a staple in his tabs—a comforting presence whenever he feels lonely, which these days is all the time. He doesn't even bother closing it.

As long as it took him to find the video, it’s quickly forgotten when Tommy and Buck make up.

The reunion is messy and like a balm for Buck's wounds. It is filled with tears and Tommy's ability to make difficult conversations feel easy—something Buck had desperately missed when Tommy chose to walk out of his life. It’s a skill Tommy can apparently lose when he’s petrified with fear. Buck vows to chip away at all of Tommy's worries now that Buck is aware of them. Now that Tommy lets him.

It's strange and not surprising at all how much like coming home it feels to have Tommy back. How easy it is for Buck to cook for them in his kitchen while Tommy looks for something they can watch later on Buck's laptop.

"I found this documentary about hyper-regional food," Tommy says.

Buck perks up from the herbs he's cutting. "Like Threads of God? Do you know that only three women in Sardinia know how to make that type of pasta?"

Tommy hums at that. "Sounds like we don't need to watch it."

Buck laughs and lowers his eyes to the herbs again. "No, I want to. But isn't there a new part of that car restoration series you like?"

"We can watch that later." Tommy emphasizes the last word in a way that makes another part of Buck perk up.

Early in their relationship, they found out that there are few things that can make Buck relax and fall asleep quicker than the sight of competent hands making old things look new to the rhythmic sound of metal being hammered and ground. This means Tommy has to make sure it's him that gets to tire Buck out before his favorite mechanics have a chance to. Thankfully, Tommy seems to be fine with Buck never reaching the end of any of the restoration videos he enjoys.

Tommy makes an intrigued noise of interest that breaks Buck out of his musings. "Ooor we can watch this."

Buck listens to the sounds of shuffling and smacking coming out of his laptop's speakers, confusion furrowing his brows before recognition seizes him by the throat.

"Oh my God!" The parsley Buck is holding ends up somewhere in Nirvana as he hurriedly frees his hands to grab his laptop. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod—" Since when is closing a laptop so fucking difficult?

Tommy lets him fumble for a moment, a teasing smirk playing at his lips. It’s infuriating how he can just calmly wait till Buck, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, finally meets his gaze before speaking slowly and deliberately, savoring each syllable.

"Woman With Dragon Dick Fucks Her Precious Girl."

Buck is glad he wasn't cutting chili because there's no way he can stop himself from pressing his fingers into his eyes as he whines, "You don't have to say it out loud!"

"I simply appreciate the originality of the title."

God, why was Buck a firefighter when he couldn't even do anything about his face being on fucking fire?

"Look, I missed you, and I couldn't watch gay porn because they either reminded me too much of you or they weren't you, and regular straight porn was tedious, so I found this feminist porn site, and I didn't feel bad about supporting them, and please, please don't judge—"

"Evan." Tommy says his name in a way that allows no ifs and buts. "I'm not judging." Whenever Tommy's voice falls into that no-nonsense sternness, something in Buck stills. He has learned to hold his breath when Tommy speaks to him like that. It's a Pavlovian reaction that only Tommy can ignite and it sends shivers down his spine. Tommy raises his thumb to the birthmark on Buck's temple, gently brushing it as his voice softens. "I'm taking note." Buck exhales shakily and leans into the touch.

Tommy reaches for the laptop, opens it, and enters the password that Buck shared with him even before they broke up. He moves to stand behind Buck, arms wrapped around him, as he hits play again.

The titular precious girl is on all fours surrounded by luxurious wine-red pillows and candlelight, purring kittenish noises into the mattress as the woman kisses her neck and shoulders, murmuring sweet nothings into her skin. She's fucking her strap-on in between her thighs, making sure the dildo rubs against all the right spots.

"The shape is interesting," Tommy observes. He glances at Evan, unsure of what kind of reaction his comment will provoke. Maybe some more bashfulness, maybe a sweet sigh similar to the ones the girl is making on screen while the dildo enters her.

Instead, Evan turns to him with an excited smile on his full lips. "Yeah, right? I found this website. Wait, hold on—" Evan pauses the video, opens a new tab, and Tommy is hit with the sight of colorful, artfully crafted fantasy dildos. Handmade, apparently.

Evan starts rambling about which ones he finds the most appealing, what media they're inspired by. Tommy has never heard him talk this much about pop culture, and no one is ever allowed to know that Evan learned about Avatar this way. Chimney would get an aneurysm.

Having Evan in his life means being in a constant state of whiplash, and Tommy has learned that he wouldn't have it any other way.

Tommy keeps in mind which ones Evan pointed out and makes a mental note to take a look at the cock sleeves the store has to offer before gently nudging Evan back to the porn.

"What else do you like about the video?" Evan relaxes back into him as they keep watching. Tommy can guess what Evan might find hot about it, something that has nothing to do with pretty girls kissing, but he would like to hear it from Evan before making assumptions. He also just wants to hear Evan, period.

"I like— I like that she's sweet to her? Most of the time, women in straight femdom porn are just mean, like men being dominated by women is automatically degrading. I don't like that."

Tommy hums in acknowledgment, enjoys the small gasp he receives as he dips his fingers into a gap in Evan's button-down shirt, soothingly playing with the trail of hair on Evan's stomach. That Evan likes sweet talk isn't new information, but hearing it is always lovely. "Keep going," Tommy encourages.

"But she's also kind of… possessive about it? She calls her 'my treasure' a couple of times. I love it when she does. It's like—it's—she—she's—"

"Cherishing her?"

Evan sighs and nods, rubbing his temple against Tommy's.

Tommy leans in, noses at the pulse point of Evan's neck as he goes in for the kill. "Claiming her?"

Evan's moan sounds like it was punched out of him, and Tommy barely has enough time to hold onto the laptop to keep it from being dragged down as Evan turns to kiss him.

Tommy braces himself, gathering more and more courage with each kiss, praying to whoever might be listening that he's not mistaken when he asks, "You want me to hold on to you? Make you mine and never let go?"

A heart-wrenching sob escapes Evan's mouth, and Tommy swallows it greedily. "God yes, please!"

Evan keeps pressing pleas against his lips, and Tommy desperately wants to give in, but there is just one small thing that needs to be done first.

"Evan, the thing you're making, can—can that wait?" The last time they allowed themselves to get distracted while cooking, Evan kept pouting afterwards over the food being 'ruined'. In an attempt to cheer him up, Tommy had said that he couldn't tell the difference which had just made things worse. He wouldn't make that mistake again. There are many mistakes he wouldn't make again.

Evan utters a dazed noise before clarity settles into his beautiful features. "Oh. Yeah. It'll just marinate."

Tommy nods and moves to turn off the stove, Evan clinging to his side. He returns his attention to Evan, fingers playing with his curls.

The stove was a short distraction, but long enough to ensure that Tommy's next words are spoken with all the gravitas they deserve.

"My treasure."

Another broken sound escapes Evan's throat as he burrows into Tommy and continues what they started.

Tommy hates breaking things, but, God, does he love repairing them. He knows he has a lot to make up for, and he will do it happily. If that means wiping away his boyfriend's tears and indulging in his trauma-induced dragon kink, so be it.

#bucktommy #tevan #911 #tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #evan buck buckley #kinley #kinkley #911 abc #911 show #my posts

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strawberrystepmom · 3 days ago

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bakugou x f!reader. part 1 of a mini series called by heart. cw: mentions of alcohol, implied sexual content, weddings. | word count: 1.7k, reading time: ~10 minutes

For Katsuki Bakugou, the act of participating as a groomsman is as much fulfilling his duty as donning his suit and gauntlets to patrol the streets of Musutafu is. It’s natural and reflexive, he can handle the stress with little effort. Always responsible and on time, he has been asked several times despite his attitude because of his impeccable ability to keep things moving if they’re breaking down.

That being said, his designation as Best Man instead of a simple groomsman as a member of the Midoriya grooms party has been a different animal entirely.

The changes in his nice and comfy usual role started with requesting he arrive a day earlier than the other guests or party members, throwing off his schedule even if he knew about it ahead of time. Everything in his life is scheduled, planned, and measured including how many days he needs to request off to meet his own internal rules. Ideally this is no days off yet somehow this task has required an extra day compared to what he usually days.

Then he was told about the other duties - welcoming the families of Mr. and soon to be Mrs. Midoriya alike as they arrive at the hotel, ring keeping, disciplining, and the thing he’s looking forward to the least.

“Walking the maid of honor during the procession. And also if you’re feeling really generous and want to make sure your good friend has a great wedding, keeping her in line.”

Deku didn't have to say your name for him to know you were the one to whom he was referring.

“Is it really her?” Bakugou asked, unable to temper his annoyance though his lifelong friend would’ve picked up on it regardless.

“Who else would it be? They’re best friends, it would be like me being told that you couldn’t be my best man.”

This makes six out of six weddings the two of you have been paired up. Iida, Kirishima, Ashido, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, and now Midoriya. It’s not a coincidence the two of you received your respective promotions for this event given your relationships to the bride and groom it just feels strange.

It’s not that he hates you or even dislikes you, it’s that things are just…kind of complicated. Nothing he feels for you is anything close to hatred. It’s what confuses him so badly about it because he should. You’re loud and messy and incredibly nosy and demand everyone’s attention when you walk into the room and your laugh is contagious and really you’re just an absolute pain in his ass he was hoping to be free of for one measly matrimonial weekend.

Since that day he’s been dreading what’s next to come despite how happy he is that his best friend has finally convinced the brilliant, compassionate stunner who puts up with him to do it forever. It felt and continues to feel like a huge dick move for him to say anything about so he’s kept his mouth shut.

Time passed in a flash and now that the day has finally come, arriving at the hotel hours later than originally anticipated hasn’t helped with the nerves that he swears he isn’t feeling.

Thankfully no additional issues popped up while getting off of the plane. Traffic on the way here was light. The cab driver had no desire to make small talk with him. Check-in was already completed before the glass doors could automatically part and welcome him into a gleaming lobby and onto a clean elevator that rides alone and that drops him directly on the 33rd floor.

It’s here that he breathes a sigh of relief. Nothing is unsalvageable today even if it got off to a rocky start. Things are going to be alright.

At least until he hears that sound.

Your laugh.

It permeates every single corner of the long marble hallway separating hotel suites and smaller single rooms alike. It echoes and bounces and shifts the world on its axis every time he hears it. Katsuki swallows through the tilt, clenching his fist around the carrying handle of the rolling suitcase it holds. His feet hurry toward room 3304. You offer a little goodbye to whoever you were talking to, footsteps thumping against the carpeted floor below them as you continue toward what assumes is his end of the hallway.

“God damn it,” he mutters under his breath, reaching into his pocket to dig for the keycard he was handed at the front as soon as he arrives at his destination. Perhaps if he’s really lucky he can make it inside before you catch sight of him, before you say his name and demand his time and fuck his night up before it even begins.

This evening’s plans are as follows: taking a long and thorough shower after spending nearly half a day on an airplane, nap for no longer than 30 minutes to recharge in preparation for the first celebratory dinner of what will be multiple over the next four days, and return to his hotel room before midnight and very much alone ready to sleep until his alarm goes off tomorrow morning so he can go for a run with Izuku before everyone communes again for brunch.

The less deviation there is from this plan, the better it is for everyone involved. It seems like everyone involved with this wedding and the others that have come before it has managed to finally accept this aspect of Bakugou’s personality besides you. His digging search becomes frantic the closer he hears your footsteps come and just when he thinks he can make it without being seen, you wordlessly slide up to Room 3302. Right next to him.

“Hiya neighbor.”

Actually, nothing from this day is worth saving. If the flight delay didn’t do him in, sharing a wall with you certainly will before the weekend is over.

“Uh hey,” he mutters back stiffly.

It’s still a strange comfort that while all of his and your friends get married off and start their families and build their lives that it will always be you and him starring as the lone wolves who are bound to be paired up in every wedding party for all eternity. While he’s never really been sure if it’s simply because you’re both single or if there is other meddling it’s something he has come to expect all the same. Even if the two of you have a pair of axes to grind.

Sighing, he slips his card into the lock and the light turns green. Turning to look at you he finds you already doing the same with a smile he should probably feel more irritation toward seeing on your face. Garnet colored eyes slip from your smile down to your hand and where it inserts the key into the door, repeating the steps he just completed. No ring, no indication that you have anyone waiting for you back at home.

The knowledge that you are likely still potentially single brings a sense of peace to the man, a feeling one could even call relief if they were feeling brave enough to confront their emotions to begin with.

“Don’t make me regret sharing this wall with you,” he finally says after an extremely loaded period of silence.

You giggle, mirthful and light and he wishes the ground would stop shifting, his hand now clutching the doorknob tightly while the edge of the keycard digs into his palm.

“What makes you say that?” A pout crosses your clever mouth, side leaning against the door to your room. “Do you regret other things you’ve shared with me?”

This is exactly why he was hoping not to see you. Dropping the knob, his hand finds its way to his face and he scrubs his palm down the length of it with a groan.

The souring that led to whatever rotten interaction is happening in this hallway right now began over Yaoyorozu’s wedding weekend last summer.

That sounds very dramatic. However, in both you and Katsuki’s defense, this situation is pretty dramatic. Two attractive, single people and endlessly flowing alcohol sharing a kiss that turned into more kissing which turned into carpet burns on your knees that you couldn’t get rid of for a month after the event occurred wouldn’t usually create this much issue especially after taking into consideration that you are both fully grown adults well into your lives.

The drama arrives at the party when you are reminded that you’ve known in your heart for as long as you’ve known him, Katsuki Bakugou isn’t a man who merely hooks up. He treats people more carefully than that, even delicate in the way he’s responded to your own shameless attempts to get him to flirt with you over the course of six wedding parties in as many years.

You certainly thought he wasn’t this type until he not only hooked up with you, he left before what happened the evening prior could even be discussed. You woke up to a dry mouth, pounding head, and empty bed with no trace of blonde hair or scarred torso left behind. It’s the sole reason why you’re gripping the handle of your own suitcase so tightly your knuckles are turning white, practically burning holes into him with your angry, weighty glance.

“Do you mind if we talk more later? I’m tired from the flight.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes when he asks. You roll yours and that laugh he’s so shaken by regularly becomes something a little jilted, harsh and nasally in its near snort-like form when you let it loose.

“Yeah, if you want. I mean you have had a whole year to clear the air so why not wait until two nights before we have no choice but to be amicable to do it?”

Ah yes. Now he meets your gaze, nodding silently. It’s not shocking that you’re upset, only that you’re still this upset.

“We’ll talk later.”

You don’t bother to argue knowing you’ll never win one against him. It also doesn’t help that he immediately flung the door to his room open and stomped inside, punctuating his sentence with a slamming door.

Rolling your eyes, you finish your safe entry into your own room and begin to dread what the future has in store for you.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #kendall writes #by heart

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menolly5600 · 21 hours ago

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Bruce clenched his hands, unable to do anything but watch and wait and hope. He didn't dare even to take Danny's hand in his, afraid his strangely melting, gelatinous flesh might slough apart between his fingers. Danny was a fighter. A scrappy, bold little thing, like all of Bruce's kids. And he was terrified that he was watching him slip away before he'd had a chance to really tell his newest son how much he wanted him in his life.

After long moments of the IV draining steadily into Danny's arm, Bruce forced himself to exhale steadily. "He's stabilizing. The melting has stopped." His fingers hovered over the back of Danny's hand for a moment before gently resting on his skin. Feeling firming flesh and skin beneath his touch, Bruce stroked gently over Danny's fingers.

Alfred spoke up then, "It appears his vitals are stabilizing. His temperature and heart rate are still low but rising closer to normal ranges."

"Thank fuck," Jason huffed from back near the door. He moved forward to loom over the foot of the bed and scowl down at the kid. "You can stop giving us all heart attacks any day now, ya little brat."

Damian scowled at Jason from across the bed. "Strays are more resilient than you think. He's survived the worst already. He will not die in our care."

"Is that a compliment to our Stray Brother?" Tim asked with a relieved little smile as he moved up past Damian and leaned down to carefully brush Danny's hair out of his face. "You hear that? You better not disappoint the gremlin, Danny. He doesn't give out praise lightly."

Then Tim's face scrunched with confusion as he lifted his hand away and looked at his fingers. He ignored Damian's indignation and rubbed his fingertips together. "What...?"

"Chum?" Bruce asked, alarm prickling at him at Tim's expression.

Tim frowned and reached down to brush his fingers over Danny's forehead again. "He's sweating profusely."

Bruce reached to take Danny's hand in his. Holding him, he could now feel faint micro-tremors running through Danny's flesh in waves. "He's trembling. Alfred, check his vitals again."

"His temperature is up to 95 degrees, but his pulse is fluttering despite being close to finally being back to a normal heart rate."

Still frowning, Tim reached over to get a cotton swab from the nightstand and took a sample of the sweat from Danny's temple. "His sweat is unusually thick and tacky. I'm going to analyze it. Maybe his body is trying to sweat the toxin out."

Bruce was about to nod in acknowledgement, but Danny's fingers suddenly spasmed in Bruce's loose hold. Startled and hopeful, he leaned forward. "Danny?"

His fingers spasmed again and Bruce squeezed back, hopeful that he might be waking. "Danny, can you hear me?"

"Is he waking up?"

"Hey, don't crowd him."

Bruce reached out to run his fingers through Danny's hair, squeezing his hand gently again. "Can you hear me, lad?"

Danny's hand spasmed again, then suddenly a shudder ran through his body. Then another.

Then suddenly Danny convulsed on the bed. His body bucked and heaved uncontrollably as he seized.

"Shit!"

"Hold him!"

Bruce was already lunging up to hold Danny's shoulders as Jason scrambled to brace his legs so Danny didn't hurt himself.

"What?! What is happening?" Damian protested, hovering uncertainly.

"We don't know yet. Here!" Tim shoved the sample he'd taken into Damian's hands. "We've got him. Take that to the Batcomputer and start the analysis. It might be related to this reaction." Tim turned back to force a dental dam into Danny's mouth so he wouldn't bite his tongue.

It was telling that Damian only hesitated a moment before actually listening to Tim instead of arguing with him. Clenching the sample container, he turned with a huff and hurried out to start the analysis.

Tim sighed as he got the block into Danny's mouth as Damian left. Danny was still heaving even as they held him carefully to prevent further injury. Then Tim cursed and stepped back, startled. A green-black sludge started to bubble up out of Danny's mouth and nose.

"Turn him, quickly.". Tim darted back in to keep his head stable as they moved Danny into a recovery position on his side. The sludge dripped onto the towel Alfred tucked under his head. It bubbled and steamed, seeming to sizzle and froth even after his convulsions expelled it from Danny's body.

After a few more harrowing minutes, Danny's convulsions eased, but the bubbling sludge continued to leak slowly from his mouth and nose.

"...What the fuck." Jason flatly exhaled.

Prompt idea: Danny has been attending Wayne family dinners for weeks now and he truly doesn’t know how he got this far

Danny has been without a home or a means to get food for a while because of either identity reveal gone bad or Dan timeline shenanigans. Either way he needs to eat. As a last ditch attempt Danny tries to attend/infiltrate a Wayne family dinner. He’s seen the Wayne kids around Gotham and he’s sure that he could look and act the part enough to get in the door and out with some bread rolls at least.

Was it his best idea? No.

But he sure as sugar ain’t firing on all cylinders rn.

And Bruce already has a gaggle of blue eyed, black haired children.

What’s one more?

Batfam of course notices immediately when a whole new kid shows up, grabs some miscellaneous pieces of food and then prattles off some excuse about “not being that hungry.” (Clearly a bald faced lie) And that they were “Going to the library to study for finals, bye Dad!”

1. No one skips out on family dinners. Even Jason was here.

2. Alfred sets the table for everyone ahead of time and the kid had no place to sit.

3. Nobody in this house studies anything beyond case files.

4. Nobody in this house calls Bruce Dad.

Danny thinks he is suffering from success. No matter where he is in Gotham someone picks him up and insists he’ll be late for family dinner which is unacceptable.

Alfred just wants to feed the boy.

The batkids are amused by his efforts to look as though he’s been here all along.

Bruce is drafting adoption papers as we speak.

#dpxdc #menolly writes #not actual medical procedure #comic book psuedo science #Danny has a bad reaction and rejects Lazarus Pit contaminated ectoplasm #but its actually kind of good because the blood blossom molecules are binding to the rejected ectoplasm before his body expels it #Danny is running a fever but its reading as almost normal temperature #headcanon that blood blossoms molecules bond to ectoplasm molecules and the chemical reaction releases an acidic compound that burns #burns through ecto and flesh and releases heat as it burns causing lots of pain weakness and paralysis as it destroys and converts ectoplasm #danny phantom #Batman #Batfamily

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pedgito · 2 days ago

Text

𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

summary | twisted into the miller brothers web, you find yourself deeply entangled in a complicated situation between the two and hell bent on self-preservation, you discover that running isn't always the best choice.

author's note | i was going to get this out before the end of the year if it was the last thing i did. i have never been so fully engulfed in a fic like this. it's just a little mini series, but i could talk about this shit for hours. thank you to everyone who's listened to my incoherent rambling and especially @gracieheartspedro who nailed down this ending when i was struggling so hard to decide. if you enjoy this silly story as much as me, ily.

content warning | 18+ smut, this is heavily joel miller x reader leaning, cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, death, joel's territorial <3, lots of unprotected sex going on 'round here, oral (f receiving), pain kink go hard, blood kink and consumption, biting kink, literal love as consumption, restraints, description of wounds from said bites, scarring, omitting a few tags for spoilers but please remember you are responsible for the work you consume, if you are ever feeling uncomfortable, do not continue reading. this is dark fic. that's the only warning i'm giving.

word count —13k, BITTER (part one)

“Killin’ is a viable option.”

Tommy groans, hand rubbing over his face as he leans against the kitchen counter, “They aren’t backwoods folk, Joel. You know that, we gotta be smart.”

“All they gotta do is get the law involved,” Joel points out, “fancy lawyers—“

“We’re selling to half that department,” Tommy argues, a long moment of silence before he adds, “and if you’d stop interrupting I’d tell you I already spoke to ‘em. Said I’d run it by you first before we set anything in stone.”

The big brother seal of approval.

You watch along curiously, stuck in the chair that Joel had a hand gripped around, sandwiched between them both as they volleyed arguments back and forth like they were fighting gladiators shoved in the colosseum—may the best man win.

“I still think we should just kill ‘em,” Joel chirps with finality, glancing briefly over your dumbstruck look, frozen somewhere between fear and shock, their voices fading in and out like muffled conversation, “make sure no one’ll come askin’ questions. Easy. You ain’t never had an issue with it before.”

The letter was still clutched in Tommy’s hand, a list of vague threats and accusations—the weird occurrences around the Miller property, the strange behavior of Tommy’s older brother, the smell. There wasn’t hard evidence, but they weren’t wrong either. A few minutes grazing the property and a look in the barn would confirm anyone’s suspicions—which, speaking of…

“Are you going to kill me now?”

It was a brave thing to interject with, given Joel’s current hostility around the situation with their nosey neighbors and you, like a pest making a mess of his home. But, instead it was him. His mind—a foreign feeling that he didn’t like or intent to allow to wreak havoc much longer.

He’d kill you if he had to, if that was what it took.

Unsurprisingly, they both ignore you.

“Let me talk to ‘em tomorrow, Joel,” Tommy barters, “see if I can smooth things over.”

“Ya ain’t smoothin’ shit over, we know how this goes—you lose your temper and then we have a mess. Just take care of the fucking problem like I suggested.”

You knew the house, it was the only one within walking distance. Far off, covered by a line of trees and eclectic decor—you never thought much of it, under the impression that everyone in this town was as demented as the Miller brothers, most of the suspicions confirmed as the brothers continued to argue.

It was an open secret—deranged and fucked-up, but there was full, completely loyalty.

If you had gone digging enough, you would have found out yourself. But, Joel wanted you to know. It takes a killer to know a killer—the wood of the chair cracks behind you as his grip tightens.

“We aren’t gonna hurt you,” Tommy comforts suddenly, a quick glance over of your injuries, “not intentionally, at least—”

“She fell,” Joel explains, a half-truth, “made a damn mess and wasted the scraps for the pigs—”

“Joel,” Tommy warns, returning his gaze to you, “You’ve been good to us, better than most. We can trust each other, alright? Ain’t no reason to think otherwise.”

He was sickeningly sweet, laying it on so thick you see right through the facade. He was upset, rightfully so, but you weren’t sure how much of it was directed at Joel and how much of it was directed at you.

“When did I surpass being a meal?” You turn your attention toward Tommy, flicking your eyes up briefly at Joel, “Was it before or after you fucked me?”

You expect it to be newfound information to Joel, but he doesn’t react in the slightest. He almost smirks, actually. A sudden, miniscule response that you wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t so on edge.

“Now, darlin’—”

“Cut the shit, Tommy,” You retort, “When did it happen?”

“Still a chance, if you’re feelin’ persistent,” Joel taunts.

Tommy shoots Joel a dangerous glare before his face softens.

“The thought never occurred to me,” Tommy replies though you find it hard to believe him, “M’not sayin’ we’ve been this kind to everyone, but with you—s’different. Right, Joel?”

“Well, she does like the taste,” He grins viciously, a showing of teeth that sends your body into a full chill, “ate it right up, loved it.”

Your eyes shoot daggers in his direction and he shrugs, his tongue shoved into his cheek as he moves to stand, turning in a circle on his heels as he leans against the nearest surface.

“I mean it, you’re safe with us,” Tommy assures, “out there—we can’t protect you. And if you think we’re the monsters, you’re in for a rude awakenin’, baby.”

“Don’t,” You chuffle, a short laugh through your nose, “I’ll—I’ll stay, but this,” You wave your finger between him and you, before it circles the group, a discoordinated trio, “I don’t trust either of you and don’t call me that. Don’t call me anything, actually.”

Your anger was justified and Tommy didn’t try to argue, only sinking back in his chair with an ‘I told you so’ look on Joel’s face. Luckily, they leave you to gather yourself, ignoring the subtle sting from the wounds on your legs and your spiraling thoughts—you could wait until nightfall.

That was it—wait long enough until it was dark and they were both asleep and make a run for the only sane people in the nearest vicinity. They could help you and help take the two brothers down in the process, it was a fair victory for the opposing party and your only saving grace.

–

They retire to their rooms eventually, the insistent chirp of crickets keeping you awake, standing on sore legs as you move around the dark room and pulling on a warm pair of clothes to trek against the nighttime winds.

You were careful, prying open doors with a quiet effort and allowing the softest steps against the old floorboard as you reached the door, immediately met with the deadbolt lock and an even heftier lock to keep you trapped–or to Tommy, safe. The house was silent aside from the sounds of nature, the occasional howling wind blowing through but you looked around, searching for another path—you had already made it this far, you weren’t going to go scrambling back.

If anything, the backdoor would have the same locks and your eyes scan the windows, closed shut but not inescapable. If either of them decided to wake, they would surely know.

There was no time to deliberate or weigh the consequences, hurrying toward the living room window that led toward the yard, pulling it up with forceful but cautious precision, ripping at the screen.

It isn’t an easy feat, not nearly the path you would have chose, but you fell to the ground with a deft slump, careful of your fresh bandages and gravel under your hands as you land, wincing as you stand but peering inside of the house cautiously, determining if you needed to make a run for it.

Silence meets you. Dead silence.

The eerie feeling in the distance creeps in, eyeing the house over your shoulder that is still lowly lit but quite the walk, you turn on your heels and make the long walk there, wondering if darting off down the road would be simpler, continuing until you came upon another sign of civilization or normality, anything to save you.

As you grow closer, the muffled melodic tunes coming from the house start to drown out your stream of thoughts, the bass booming from the driveway as you grow closer. You careful approach the steps to their door, pressing a finger into the doorbell as it chimes throughout the house—the music lowers in an instant, quiet enough that you could hear a pin drop, the door ripping open with a forceful gust of air, meet with the fierce scowl of an older gentleman.

It was hard to describe him, but there was so much going on—a peek at the inner house decor that screamed for a touch of neutralness, a mix of beaded necklaces hanging around his neck over a stretched out tank, barefoot as he approached you on the mat at his door.

It only dawns on you now that you hadn’t prepared anything—you were drawing a complete blank.

“You better start talking,” He speaks, a grittiness to his voice that stills you at your core, “botherin’ us in the middle of the night—”

“You’re right,” You blurt out, shaking your head slightly as you realize how abrasive it was, taking a breath before you speak slower, “about Joel and Tommy, you’re right. They’re bad people.”

His expression turns steely, jaw tightening as he straightens his back in an intimidating manner. You couldn’t mistake the whiff of alcohol on his breath, his drifting eyes down the length of your body, slowly realizing that this might have been a mistake.

Self-preservation had always come first, even if you didn’t think the Miller’s were the worst possible people you could have come across, they were unfortunate targets in the moment.

“They—they are killing,” You point vaguely in the direction of the house, “it’s—the smell, it’s the bodies. They’re murders, you have to help me,” It comes out in a panic and you stutter as the confession rolls off your tongue, his expression only growing dark as time passes.

Fuck, he didn’t believe you. Of course—who would?

Hey, you’ve got a couple cannibals for neighbors—let’s deal with them.

It was never that easy.

“You don’t think I know?” He responds, stepping into your space to send you stumbling backwards, but his arms lock around your biceps and keep you upright, but not for the reason he should, feeling the sting of pain as he squeezes down hard.

You gasp at the suddenness of it, “N—no, no! You have to believe me!”

“I’ve seen you helpin’ them,” He nods vaguely, “Think I’m gonna believe this shit? Where are they, huh?” The spit from his vicious reaction and volume sprays against your face as he shoves you to the ground, your arms skidding against the cement as you scramble backwards, trying to flee his quickly approaching figure, “They use you as bait?”

He’s over you before you have a chance to roll out of the way, your forearm presses up against his neck as he leers, glancing around for any sign of the brothers—silently praying that he was right in the moment, but you knew there was no one to help. Just you. Just him.

He forces you onto your stomach as your face was smashed into the rock path along the driveway, “Well, good—they can watch,” It makes your blood run cold, sensing the exact implication of his words as you calmly and slyly wrap your fingers around a palm sized rock, curling it in your fist as he leans back on his legs, twisting in his grip and bashing the rock blindly at his face, a grunt releasing from him as you make contact with his skull, falling to the ground with a dead weight as you scramble away breathless.

You stare at the sight, a man near death on his lawn before the whistle fades in—low and melodic as it approaches with the sound of heavy boots and speaking before you can react.

“Well, look at that,” Joel looks on in admiration, a small suspicion of amusement in his tone as he steps onto the lawn and peers over you, hand extended out blindly for help as he cautiously steps around the pooling blood of the now dead man, “little messier than I like, but you got the job done.”

If looks could kill—you’re seething, staring up at Joel with narrowed eyes as you take his hand and stand.

“I’ll give you some credit,” Joel continues, “You’re resourceful but predictable—suppose you can’t trust anyone in this town anymore, can you?”

He’s cocky about it, which pisses you off more. Undoubtedly, he was probably watching you the entire time, waiting in the shadows, undetectable. He’s mastered his craft, he killed people for a living. It wasn’t a mystery how he knew or expected your retaliation. But, his reaction is jarring.

“C’mon, up,” He yanks at your hand and helps you upright, instinctually brushing the clumps of grass and dirt out of your hair with a pinched expression as your eyes slowly drag toward the motion, unmoving out of…not fear. It was something indescribable, flinching at the heat of his hands as his eyes gradually rose toward the upstairs window.

“You know what happens next, right?” Joel asks, kicking at the dead body to roll him on his back, staring down at the lifeless corpse.

You didn’t need the whole speech—murder me now, please. Spare me the misery.

“Alright, alright,” Joel sighs, almost like he’s carrying on a conversation with himself—and with your silence, he was. But, he senses your fear, “well—you can’t just murder one and not the other, you little killer. You’re gonna take care of the other one, too.”

“Joel—I—” The adrenaline rush was waning, the bile in your stomach swimming and swirling.

His face hardens in an instant, forcing his hand over your mouth with a stern shake of his head as your eyes grow wide, “Ain’t time for excuses. You made this mess—you’re gonna finish it.”

You blink slowly, searching for any sign of a bluff. It never comes, in fact, his grip only grows tighter until you answer, shakily nodding your head.

“Go on,” He urges, “I’m right behind you.”

He’d have a front row seat this time instead of waiting in the wings.

Joel wanted a full taste.

–

The wife is tucked into bed when you finally find her, barricaded in her sheets and sleeping soundly despite the loud, blaring music when you first approach the house—you figured it was a regular occurrence, but you don’t linger on the thought long.

You hold onto the thought of the husband and his unwillingness to hear you out, how they seemed to already have you figured out, wrapped up in the Miller’s web and just another willing accomplice, repeating the same careful steps from earlier that had clearly failed you as Joel breathed over your shoulder.

It needed to be quick—not entirely painless, but clean.

The vase to the left of her head seemed like an emergency option, the woman splayed out on her back as you searched around, knowing that you didn’t have long with Joel’s looming presence. You chew at your bottom lip as you reach carefully for the pillow beside her head and slowly press it over her face, a few seconds of calm before you find yourself in a predicament.

Climbing over her lap, you mount and press the weight of your palms into the pillow, face scrunched in concentration as the woman flails and shakes against the movement, grunting meekly as your hand slips against the scratch of her nails, glaring at Joel for a silent plea of help, realizing that she was putting up far more of a fight then either of you expected.

He waits until the last possible second, an unreadable expression on his face before he’s flipping the switchblade out of his pocket and piercing it through her clavicle, the blood squirting on your chest and face, rearing back instinctually as you gasp, her body falling lifeless in an instant.

“I can appreciate the effort,” Joel comments, wiping the blade off on the sleeve of your shirt before he pockets it again, “how’d that feel?”

You don’t realize your heart is racing until he asks the question—it was a similar feeling to a drug-induced high, slightly floaty and off-balance, your mind hazy as you blink, the stench of iron filling your senses and that strange look on Joel’s face returns.

You understand it then—lust, another subtle hint as he licks at his bottom lip out of reflex.

Joel would lick you clean if you let him.

You clear your throat and speak quietly, “What—what do we do?”

“Well, we gotta transfer ‘em to the house,” Joel explains, “So, you’ll stay here and wait—not run, that clear?”

You nod mindlessly, towering over your second dead body of the night.

You were far too deep now.

You don’t move—not really. You sink to the sheets beside the woman’s body but you listen dutifully, ears perking up at the roar of an approaching truck and door slamming followed by footsteps before Joel reappears again, seemingly breathing out a sigh of subtle relief as he spots you.

He’d never admit it, but you can see it.

It take a while, but eventually you carry both bodies into the bed of the truck and cover them with tarp, questioning Joel on what happens with the house, the evidence, everything that could essentially criminalize both of you—

“That’s above my paygrade, honey,” You’re not amiss to the change in his voice, his expression more relaxed as he shifts the truck into gear, “the sheriff handles all that for us.”

“And…the sheriff…he—”

Joel chuckles, “It’s everyone. Not just a group of us. We aren’t just sellin’ to townsfolk, either. It’s overseas, across the country. Shit is high risk, high reward. Why do you think I followed you tonight?”

So, he did follow you—he’d known the entire time.

“I saw the idea pop into your head earlier while Tommy and I were arguin’. Like I said, predictable. I’m not sayin’ you didn’t have a fair reaction, I get it. But, we can keep you safe.”

You cross your arms over your chest silently, skin and face caked with blood.

“But will you?” You retort, “Can I really trust you both?”

As the truck pulls in near the barn, the ignition falls silent.

“I want to,” Joel admits, “natural ability like that shouldn’t be wasted.”

A natural-born killer, he means.

“You feelin’ guilty right now?” Joel asks, eyebrows raised.

You shake your head quietly, avoiding his gaze.

“Good, keep it that way.”

Joel works silently to unload the bodies and load them in the barn as you sit quietly in the passenger seat, staring at the barn door as he drags tarp covered corpses inside with a brute strength unlike his brother, somehow spotless throughout the entire ordeal.

“I’ll move the truck in the morning,” Joel tells you as he pulls your door open, a hand waiting in assistance as you climb out on unsteady feet, the ache of your wounds coming back in waves as reality sets in.

“It is morning,” You retort, earning a huff of annoyance from Joel.

“You know what the fuck I meant,” He responds, his thumb flicking at a flake of dried blood on your collarbone as you stand in front of him, “Tommy’ll get pissy if you wash the blood off in the main bathroom—I’ll let you use mine.”

Your face contorts in a mix of confusion and amusement.

“Or I can hose you down out here, your choice.”

–

The house is as quiet as you left it, guided silently with the touch of Joel’s hand between your shoulder blades as you traversed the dark house—and you aren’t sure what you were expecting as you enter Joel’s bedroom, but it wasn’t this.

It was lived-in, personal; full of books and random trinkets, pictures lining the top of his dresser and walls—his family, you can only assume. A few pictures of kids that you surmise are Joel and Tommy, you avoid Joel’s gaze as you look around aimlessly, clearing your throat as you approach the bathroom, hearing the light flick on beside your head.

It was clean, at least. A dark colored shower curtain hiding the tub away from view and his bathroom amenities only slightly astray, probably from previous use that night.

You turn to him with a quizzical expression, his expression matching.

“What? Somethin’ wrong?” He asks.

“It’s just—it’s…clean. It doesn’t—it doesn’t fit you, I guess.”

“I’m just a dirty old man to you, ain’t I?”

It’s a joke, but his delivery falls flat.

“I’m confused, I guess.” You tell him honestly, “Look at me—” A vague gesture at your own disheveled state, dirt and blood smeared on your face as he tilts his head against the doorframe.

“I am,” The deep timber to his voice strikes you at your core, a casual but unsuspecting answer, “I cleaned up for the night, wasn’t plannin’ on getting dirty again.”

“But, you’re always dirty.”

His job required that—but Joel was meticulous about his routine after he was done for the day. Dinner, a thorough shower, sometimes another if he was feeling particularly bothered, and the quiet of the calm house to lull him to sleep.

Unfortunately, that routine has been disrupted since you arrived.

Like an infestation, you’d taken over.

Joel ignores you with a half-assed shrug and flicks a dried speck of blood from your nose.

“Go on,” He demands, “I’ll grab you some clothes and fresh bandages.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and nod as you gently swat his hand away, avoiding his gaze as you press the door closed enough that it doesn’t lock, but allows you the privacy to undress.

It feels good to clean the blood and grime away, scrubbing at your body until it burns, bathing in the distinct smell of Joel’s body wash, a faint hint of it always wafting off of him despite his usually dirtied state.

You can hear him moving quietly beyond the curtain, his shadow passing a few times as you’re expecting him to fold against the urge to peek his head beyond the curtain—something, anything.

You hated the forced gentlemanly facade.

Once you’re out of the shower and dressed in clothes Joel had picked out, a matching set and a fresh pair of underwear that had you glancing sideways at him as his fingers peeked around the bathroom door with a bottle of rubbing alcohol and fresh bandages in his hands.

He kneels quietly with a concentrated expression, mirroring his actions from before. Wincing through the sting of pain as he cleans and dresses your wounds, catching his glances as the noises slip beyond your lips—an inconspicuous check-in, wordless.

You can’t help but fuck with him now, defenses down.

His eyes follow the way your hand smooths over the waistband of your shorts, your thumb slipping beyond the thick band as you lean against the mirror, watching as he taped down the gauze, “Kinda defeats the purpose, don’t it?”

“What’re ya gettin’ at?”

“The whole—bet you can’t guess what color underwear I’m wearing joke,” You play quietly with the waistband, fingers twirling in the drawstrings below your navel as your thighs spread against his guidance, his hand sliding down to your ankle to raise your leg higher in an effort to secure the bandage, “I see you wanted them to match,” You jest at him lightly, noticing the way his eyes immediately lock onto the apex of your thighs.

He brushes it off, a roll of his eyes as he finishes up his job, carefully piling up the trash on the floor as you slowly slide off the bathroom counter, leaving his head level with your waist.

Had you asked yourself if you wanted to be this close to him twelve hours ago, the answer would have been different, but the downright pathetic look on his face as his eyes drag up your body and eventually land on your face are a powerful spell.

Slowly, your hands drift into his hair—surprisingly soft as the curls sway with your movement, gripping the hair tight and pushing his head back in the process, a low rumble in his throat at the action.

“Do you like that?” You inquire, his eyes darkening at the question as he sets his sight on something he wants—a primal gaze, almost like a warning.

“You tryin’ to make my brother jealous?” He asks, “Think I should tell him about your plan to rat us out—how it didn’t work and now you’re tryin’ this—”

“I can’t leave now,” You admit, still not fully settled with the idea but deep down you knew, “I—I do feel safe, you know. With you—”

You exhale shakily as his lips press against the sliver of skin beneath your shirt, just below your navel as his eyes fall shut, his tongue following the path as he presses surprisingly gentle kisses into the skin before his fingers are curling over the band of your shorts.

“Don’t trust me, though—do you?” Joel asks snarkily, eyes peeking open slightly as your lips part in a soft gasp as he pulls the clothing down your hips, peeling the underwear down with it.

One hand drags up your calf, calloused hands against soft skin as he pulls one knee over his shoulder and shoves your shirt upwards, giving him an obscured view of your cunt, lips spreading open with the movement and glistening with slick despite how much you tried to loathe him—there was a racing in your heart that differed from Tommy, like you know you shouldn’t be doing this but your body was demanding otherwise.

You shake your head lazily as it drops back, slumping against the medicine cabinet as he drags a finger through your folds, toying with your clit in small movements, silent as he drinks in every small sound you make, your opposite hand digging into the counter of the sink as his fingers dig into your thigh, opening your eyes as he presses his lips to your cunt, right against the mound and into the short, coarse patch of hair before he’s spreading his tongue out flat against you and licking a slow, tortuous line up the seam.

“Trust–trust is earned,” You reply breathily, “It, fuck—it takes time.”

Joel hums a response of approval as his nose nudges against your clit, tongue dipping inside of your hole as he stared up at you, even at this angle you could see the smug smirk on his face as he drank you in—Joel was still a frightful man, enough unknown that you found yourself wondering if the choices you were making were correct, if somehow this would cost you your life in the end.

But, then he’s pulling away, dragging his finger up the seam of your pussy as he stands, unbuckling his belt quietly as you strip your shirt away, not needing to be told or guided, his tanned skin flushed a subtle red as he unbuttons and parts his flannel, adjusting his jeans and underwear down just far enough under his balls that they sit snug against the fabric, his cock intimidatingly large against his even larger hands.

So much with Joel is unspoken, his intensity held in his gaze. Even from your first meeting, there was a look—and even now, he’s got that look. Like he’s trying to decipher you.

He flattens one hand against the bathroom counter as you spread your legs to accommodate him, his other hand grabbing at your ass to pull you near the edge before he’s running his hand down his shaft, the foreskin swallowing up the red, angered tip of his cock before he’s pulling back and rubbing his cock through your folds, gathering the wetness there and pressing inside with a pinched expression on your face, your breath catching as your hand twists into his shirt.

“That hurt?” He asks, his voice taking on a softer tone.

You nod fervently, “Yeah—yeah, it’s—you’re…pretty big,”

You weren’t trying to actively compare the brothers, but the thought passes in your mind and Joel notices the thoughtful look on your face, huffing out a laugh under his breath.

“Good,” That it hurts—he wanted you to feel it tomorrow, that it would be a constant reminder.

He’s a natural masochist, but he wasn’t about not enjoying sex. So, while he savors the soft hiss of pain at first, the dig of your nails into his chest, eventually you relax and turn to curling yourself around him, legs tight around his hips and your arms slung over his shoulders as he presses his forehead into your own and fucks you with a slow, powerful force of thrusts that make the walls shake—surely it would wake his brother, maybe that was what he wanted.

His mouth parted slightly, panting out hot against your skin as he glares at you—into you, through you, your eyes fluttering open and shut as he follows your trailing gaze, the precipice of your pleasure clawing over the edge of their metaphorical walls.

“Yeah, s’right there—isn’t it?” He taunts, a half smirk on his face as he watches you.

Always watching you.

You nod again, feeling the hand that was squeezing at your thigh digging into your skin as he used it for leverage, thrusting into you while he guided your hips toward him, using your body like he had full control over it. His other hand finds your breasts, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he’s rubbing his thumb over the quickly hardening bud, a shiver running down your spine.

There was nowhere to hide with Joel, all imperfections on display as your head lulls back against the mirror, eyes opening to find him matching your expression—somewhat sated but nearing the edge of his own release, he nudges his chin up and speaks, “S’this what gets you off?”

Your brow furrows as you tilt your head, his hand trading your breast for the hand twisted into his shirt, guiding it toward your clit as he gives you a silent order, your fingers circling the sensitive nub.

“Fuckin’ both of us—s’gonna be a hell of an issue when he finds out, you know.”

“Is this what you like—huh, talking about while you fuck?” You counter, “Your brother?”

His jaw shakes slightly as he gaze dips, admiring the way your cunt swallowed him up, his fingers wrapped around the wrist that was working at your clit, toes curling as your knees squeezed into his hips, that heat building in your core.

“I can talk about how he eats pussy better than you,” It’s teasing, an effort to get a rise out of him, “or do you—you wanna hear how he whimpers when he fucks me because he’s so pathetic? Is th—is that what you want?” His hips stuttered with your words, “He’s so much sweeter, you know? S’all soft and kind—”

Nothing like Joel.

His hand seems to loosen at the mention, but you shake your head.

“Oh, don’t ease up now, honey—I never said I liked it.”

Joel opens his mouth to speak, but you didn’t want to hear it, shoving your opposite hand over his mouth as you both spill over the edge, the ache of loss finding you as he pulls out, thick ropes of come panting your stomach as you clench around the emptiness, his teeth digging into the palm of your hand as he groans with his release.

“I’ll handle Tommy,” Joel promises as you both dress, cleaning yourself up as he buttons his shirt, “It’ll be easier coming from me.”

“You don’t have to lie, he should know—”

“I’m not,” He responds quickly, looking up at you through his downturned gaze, “like you said—trust is earned. You’ll earn it.”

How was a mystery—but what other choice did you have?

You learn very quickly that Joel was intentional in you earning his trust—not so much Tommy. He wasn’t surprised by your attempt to escape, but the marring of their neighbors—yours too, now—he was slightly disappointed. Hoping that he could spare you the gruesome side of things, that keeping you within the house and under his watch would help save your innocence about the entire ordeal.

But, he quickly finds out that isn’t the case.

And you find out how steady their diet of human meat was, a fridge stocked full of various cuts and textures, unsuspecting to the eye but you knew—and truthfully, the sickness dissipates after a month of eating that way. Tommy will occasionally skip a day or two, sometimes even a week.

Whereas Joel, he’s fully accepted his ways.

“How does it work?” You ask curiously, night has crept in and left both you and Joel, who you’ve gradually drifted toward lately, aware of Tommy’s lingering touches and fighting that feeling of betrayal on both ends—Tommy never seemed to mind you favoring Joel, even indirectly. However, Joel was territorial, overwhelmingly so. You wished you disliked it, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.

“How’s what work?” He asks, legs spread wide on the couch as take a seat beside him, legs curled under your body and the fire crackling beside you, his hair wet from a recent shower and his shirt sticking to his skin, “Tommy’s job?”

You nod quietly, chewing on a piece of dried meat, akin to jerky.

You’ve willingly succumbed to the lifestyle over the past few weeks, partly to blame on Joel, but mostly out of your own morbid curiosity, finding that it wasn’t all that bad as the nauseous and general sickness fell dormant.

“I don’t fuckin’ know,” Joel answers bluntly, but honest, “He’s got some kinda system going, I do my job—cuttin’ things up, mindin’ my business. I just know it makes us damn good money.”

You wouldn’t be able to tell outside of their house, but they kept things well within the interior—they owned nice things, you assumed they were out of debt and had money saved back, but they lived beneath their means as much as possible.

Joel liked a quiet life, you could tell.

“I could help out more, you know.”

Outside of your general duties and decent pay—it felt lacking, like you could be doing more.

Neither of the brothers kept you chained or trapped, that much was obvious. And you didn’t feel the lingering threat of something to come, the need to run—the feeling of security was something you had searched out for a while and oddly, they provided that.

In some sick, fucked up way, you felt protected.

“Stock is runnin’ low,” Joel debates, his thumb circling the beer bottle between his legs, while his other trails along his bottom lip in thought, “I got an idea, dunno if Tommy’s gonna like it.”

“Who cares what he thinks?” You reply, “He cowers like a puppy when it comes to you.”

It was essentially a lure and catch situation—Joel never strayed too far, always on the outskirts while you found the next willing victim, it was always you approaching them, never the opposite. You were in full control and under very specific orders.

Never people in town, always the stragglers. The more meek and unsuspecting the better, but it varied—after a couple months, Joel doesn’t even bother to stick around, sitting in his truck while you finish up the job.

And you’ve learned over time just how different Tommy and Joel are—Tommy prefers seclusion in the extremist of ways, more subdued with his affection when Joel was around and didn’t argue with him in your presence, almost like he was attempting to shield you.

Joel is out late in the barn when Tommy crowds you in the kitchen, a curious and longing stare out the window at the closed barn door, his tell-tale throat clearing as his hands wrap around your waist, his chest pressing against your back as you sip gingerly at the glass of water in your hands.

“M’glad you feel safe here,” Tommy murmurs into your skin, a soft peppering of kisses along your spine as he moves the material of your shirt out of the way, his fingers slipping beyond the thick waistband of your pants, shoving them down wordlessly, “ready for bed?”

“Not yet,” You admit, letting the silence linger before you speak again, “Can I ask you something—and I’m just curious, I swear.”

Tommy makes a noise of approval.

“What happened to my car?” A laugh bubbles up at the thought and Tommy laughs too.

“I mighta sold it for scraps when you agreed to stayin’ with us long term. I was meaning to tell you, but you never asked…so I figured…”

Who cares, right? Truly, it was a piece of shit anyways.

You laugh softly at his advances as they grow more needy, your arm curling behind you to flex your fingers in his outgrown hair, “I want you to fuck me here,” You admit, his eyes peeking open as he leans over your shoulder to look at you, a salacious smile on your face as you lean back, rubbing your ass against his cock, growing hard underneath the confines of his sweats, before you turn to face him, “like this—right here.”

Fortunately, it takes very little convincing. He’s impatient in his movements, only getting both of your pants down before he’s pushing the head of his cock inside of you, a welcomed but comfortable stretch before his cock is fully seated inside of you, walls squeezing down tight as he buries his face into your clothed chest, your hands cradling his head as he rocks into you at a gentle pace.

“God, I’m never gonna get tired’f this,” Tommy groans weakly, a hand gripping tight at your hip as he quickens his thrusts, one hand falling back on the counter to support the forceful angle of his movements, laughing breathlessly at his comment, his head rises to look at you with complete and full admiration, “I’m serious, baby.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that quickly divulges into an open-mouthed exploration as you trade sounds, feeling Tommy teeter closer to the edge of his own orgasm as his fingers drift against your clit, always assuring that you were taken care of first—it doesn’t take long, hands gripping the curtain above the sink as your whine loudly against his ministrations.

Tommy is too distracted to hear the quiet creak of the door, but you’re not. The lights are off, only granting you a silhouette of Joel, but you know—he’s smirking to himself, closing the door behind him quietly as he freezes for a moment, seemingly locking eyes with your sated expression, your orgasm hitting you just as he passes down the hall, his face coming into view for a brief moment.

It was pathetic, how quickly your mind drifted to him even while his brother was buried inside of you, your grip on the curtain tightens, pulling the rod from the wall and sending it clanging down against the sink as it startles you back to reality, feeling Tommy’s hips stutter before he’s pulling out and you sink to the ground instinctively, lips wrapping around his cock as he releases the warmth of his cum against your tongue, a heady but tolerable taste that slides down your throat with ease.

Joel is already gone by the time you rise to your feet, redressing quietly as Tommy examines the broken curtain with a subdued chuckle, tossing the few pieces of sheetrock in the trash.

“Sorry,” You wince, looking at him apologetically.

Tommy grins, his thumb rubbing down the center of your chin in a comforting way as he shrugs, waving it off, “Easy fix.”

The difference between the two is simple to spot after a while—Joel’s leniency with things comes to a head as Tommy’s rigidness battles for dominance. He doesn’t make it a habit to put his foot down often, but he was already increasingly hesitant as you started luring people back to the farm—while thankful, it was dangerous. You were good at it, without fail, but something was bound to implode.

–

“She’s earned it, you know,” Joel fights for you, the usual recluse encourages a night-out—a real one, no work, just pure enjoyment, “Ain’t much trouble to get into there.”

The bar, he means. With how often you frequented it now, it was like a second home.

You were coming up on your sixth month mark of living with the Millers, finding the stragglers came in like a cycle, every few weeks, and the town was due for more.

Tommy squints cautiously, turning in the desk chair as the heel of his boot scuffs against the flooring, “An hour—only an hour, don’t need you stickin’ out like a sore thumb.”

Joel, he means. He rolls his eyes in response, dressed more casual than you’ve ever seen him. It was a simple pair of jeans and a dark-colored shirt, but it made him seem normal.

It was unsettling.

“Don’t worry,” Joel smirks, “No one’ll touch her.”

Except him, you think.

Tommy wasn’t oblivious to your odd affection toward Joel, but he wasn’t privy to every detail. He didn’t know how often you snuck into Joel’s bed at night, sometimes after being on his own before that, the devouring looks and purposeful touches that always happened behind his back.

Joel knows you find comfort in Tommy, but there was something missing.

Something lacking.

Tommy eventually relents and you arrive at the bar a half hour later, Joel in tow.

And it is mostly uneventful, drinking amongst the other patrons with the loud rumble of music drowning out far away voices—Joel was stoic, like a bodyguard over your shoulder as he seemed to people watch, like he often did.

“You’re doing it again,” You tell him, peering up at him from your seat as he glances down, his glass pressing to his lips, ignoring the wide-eyed stares from the occasional townsperson, seemingly shocked to see him.

“No I’m not,” He argues, tapping his finger against your lips before he’s guiding the glass to your lips, a wordless order to silence yourself, “Drink, enjoy it—or all that beggin’ was for nothin’.”

Eventually, Joel lets you wander.

Even if it was to dance lazily a few feet away, practically begging him to join you with your hand outstretched, a constant scowl on his face as he refused. But, eventually someone takes that offer for him, obstructing his view with a grin—an older gentleman with wiry hair and rotted teeth.

There’s a few moments of uncomfortable movement before you’re making an excuse to flee toward Joel who snickers at your discomfort, a hand wrapping at your waist to pull you between his legs as the man, persistent as you suspected, approaches beside you.

“Tommy finally let his dog out of the house?” He asks over you, staring Joel down.

Joel chuckles at that, subdued as his hand tightens against your waist, hiding your own giggle behind a sip of beer.

“C’mon, sweetheart—I’ll show you a better time than this guy. Wouldn’t know how to care for a nice piece of ass like that—him or his damn brother.”

Joel stands then, without warning as he towers over the man and you as he forces you into the seat, “Get the fuck out of here,” It was the only warning he was offering, but it strikes fear through the man without fail, sending him scurrying off for the moment.

“Tommy’s gonna kill you when he finds out about that,” You comment as Joel approaches at your back, maneuvering you out of the seat to settle between his legs again, his large palm settling against your stomach as he pulls you against him, spotting the man again from across the room, staring you both down with hardened eyes.

“What he doesn't know won’t hurt him,” Joel argues, the surprising press of his lips against your neck as you jump at the touch, calmed by his reassuring words, “Gonna scare him off, alright?”

“How—” You’re cut off on a gasp as his hand travels up your shirt, squeezing at your breast as his teeth dig into your skin, mouth hung open as you stumble back against him, eyes fluttering closed at the stinging pinch of Joel’s teeth, hard enough that you fear it breaking through the skin

Surely, it does.

As Joel raises his head and catches sight of the man’s widened eyes, he scurries off. He’s not amiss to your reaction to the bite, fingers clawing into his skin, moaning at the action. Really, he should’ve expected it.

“Turn around,” He orders, spinning you on your feet before you can react on your own, catching sight of your dilated pupils as you stare at him wondrously, a smile growing on your face as his impatience grows.

He ignores your wandering hands that crawl up his arms, gripping onto his large biceps before he’s hauling you out of the bar without a word, arm twisted behind your back as you tumble on your feet toward his truck parked in the far back of the parking lot, far away from the roar of music.

“Did I do something—oh,” You squeak, jumping back at the creak of the drivers’ side door as he sandwiches you between the seat and him, “wrong—Joel, did I—”

You’re stuttering but he isn’t answering and you begin to crawl to your side of the seat before he’s stopping you in your tracks, feet pressing against the step bar of the truck while the upper half of your body curls against the seat—and Joel, with his large and threatening presence, towers.

He works at the belt in your jeans, turning your head over your shoulder as he rips the leather from the loops of your pants, “Put your hands on the steering wheel,” He orders and you follow suit, watching as he quietly tightened the belt around your hands and through the steering wheel, rendering you immobile from the waist up.

“Wait—right here? But, there’s people—”

Never stopped you before,” He comments and your face heats at the mention, having never brought up the instance with you and Tommy until now, “I’m not a fan of waiting and I’m not against takin’ you in front of my brother—rather not, but…”

“You like having me to yourself,” You finish for him, a hum of acknowledgement following.

Joel yanks at your jeans until they fall to your ankles, pulling them off alongside your shoes and underwear as he tosses them over your head and into the passenger seat, sinking to his knees without a word as he parts your legs, licking into your with warning as you gasp, your hands yanking against the leather belt.

He squeezes your ass in his hands, spreading you open as he dips his tongue inside of you, forcing you up on your toes as you curse into the seat of his truck, forehead pressing into the fabric as your hands are stretched over your head.

He’s got an idea…a lingering suspicion as he trails his lips along the inside of your legs, never quite kissing or lingering, just a slow drag before he’s digging his teeth into your skin, a sharp pain that makes your pussy clench, his eyes locked on the action as he bites down.

Instinctively, you yank against the binds, the urgency growing as he bites down more, picking various places along your legs until he decides to bite into the fleshy cheek of your ass, purposefully breaking the skin—the tiniest drop of blood pooling at the surface before he licks it away.

He repeats the process, trading between bites and licking at your cunt until your orgasm catches you by surprise, panting against the seat as you catch your breath with his satisfied presence looming behind.

Quietly, he rustles with his belt and slides into you without a word until he’s got his hand tucked up under your chin, wrapped around your throat as he presses you against the seat with his chest, turning your head to the side to catch your already fucked-out expression, more turned on from the biting than the fact that his dick was finally inside of you.

“I fuckin’ knew it,” Joel remarks, watching the smile spread across your face, “You like it when I bite you? The pain?”

You shake your head with a soft hum, “S’nice, but I like you marking your territory.” You watch his face morph into something indecipherable as you laugh, “Got you really riled up in there, didn’t it?”

“Gotta let them know to lead you back to me if you go runnin’ off again,” Joel taunts, grunting against the shell of your ear as your walls squeeze down when the head of his cock nudges at a particular spot inside of you that steals your breath away, “Yeah—that? That right there?”

You nod weakly, wishing you could touch him—claw at his skin, grab on and take hold, but you were left helpless. Though, somehow it was more comforting this way. Joel was increasingly careful of the authority you tried to hold over him, never allowing you to have the upper hand—and you didn’t mind it.

Again, it was the stark difference between he and Tommy, who’d be willing to bend to your will if you asked, eager to please you, but with Joel, it was kismet. He always knew what you were thinking before you even spoke about it.

And as the ache in your wrist grows into full discomfort he releases them without a word of acknowledgement, lips parted with bated breath as you turn until your back is pressing into the seat, legs wrapping around his waist as he hoists you up with his brute strength, releasing a loud moan of expressive pleasure as you surge forward, pressing your lips against his before he can object, licking into his mouth with profound eagerness as his nails dig into the skin at your hips, his balls tightening with an impending release as he returns the wet, sloppy exchange of lips.

It stalls him for a moment, the sensual pace of your lips pulling his focus up, your tongue twirling around his own before they trail to his lips, your lips dragging down his chin, along his jaw, before you’re biting against where his jugular would be hiding under his skin, not nearly hard enough to cause any damage but enough to have his eyes rolling back and his hips stuttering.

“Don’t—don’t pull out,” You tell him through a murmur, running your tongue along the mark in a soothing gesture, catching his gaze as he looks at you, “What? Are you scared, Joel?”

Not scared—Joel wasn’t sure he could emulate that emotion anymore, but it was far too personal for his liking, even with the few partners he’s had in his life he’s never crested beyond that, purposeful in his abhorrence distaste of kids or the possibility of, but you have him completely under your spell and he shakes his head.

“S’just you—wouldn’t want it to be anyone but you.” You assure him, his expression softening as your thumb trails along his bottom lip, eyes locked on his own as his thrusts stuttering through his own orgasm, face pinching at his brow, your breathy moans guiding him through as he pumps your pussy full, feel the warmth seep down as he eventually pulls out, his cum sliding down the inside of your thighs.

“Get in the car,” Joel instructs as he tries to catch his breath.

His silence on the ride home is deafening.

–

Joel is more stoic and pensive over the following weeks—spring is always harder on the business, or so he says, and selling overseas picks up quicker, it wasn’t something they could explain but it was a constant trend; high demand, high reward. It was quite stressful, really.

So stressful that eventually things are beginning to run thin and you become the source of stress relief for both of them—in different ways, but nonetheless.

Tommy would rather cuddle up with you on the couch while you lull him to sleep with your magic fingers, dragging through his hair—it was gentle caresses and quiet conversation that he found comfort in, but Joel was always unpredictable.

Sometimes it was just sharing a meal—his weird obsession with feeding you; providing, in a way? You couldn’t make sense of it, but it never made you feel uncomfortable.

“Have you ever gotten a bad batch?”

“We’re careful,” Joel reminds you, “It’s why we test all of ‘em before we go through the process.”

“Is that why you sent me?”

“Do you want an honest answer?”

You stare at him blankly, waiting.

“Yeah—we had to make sure you’re clean.”

“But now?” You push, your tongue pressing against the underside of the fork as he brings it to your lips.

“I trust you,” Joel admits, “You’ve kept up your end of the deal.”

It was conversations like this that led to Joel’s affinity toward you, a drunken night several weeks later leading you both outside after Tommy had already fallen asleep, walking backwards as your fists curled into Joel’s shirt as his hand cupped your head, licking into your mouth as he unintentionally led you toward the barn door, both of you separating as your back hit the creaking wood.

You pull apart, peering curiously over your shoulder and attempting to look through the cracks, awaiting Joel’s reprimand that never comes.

“You wanna see inside?” He asks curiously.

“You’re fucking with me—”

“It’s a yes or no, darlin’.”

“Yes—yesyes, I do.” You spit out quickly, curiosity getting the best of you as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and snakes it into the lock, unlocking and prying the door open, met with full and complete darkness as he leads you inside, his chest close at your back.

He reaches blindly for the lights out of memory and you’re engulfed in the blaring lights of a spotless room—almost like a medical office with the array of equipment lining the walls and the long embedded tables, something reminiscent of what you would see at a mortuary for draining bodies and embalming, probably to help with the mess.

You sniff slightly, curious about the lack of smell as the door closes.

“That’s partly the animals, but we dispose of some of the shit the pigs can’t eat out behind the barn.”

“Like what?” You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide.

“Clothes, shoes—s’why we have the barrels burning every couple weeks when the stench gets too bad.” He spots your itch to explore, that glistening curiosity in your eyes as you relax at his answer, “Go on, look ‘round.”

You’re not ignorant to the absence of bodies—it was confusing to see a place so clean come from a man who always left work looking like he had brought half of it home with him.

There’s an array of knives and confusing cutting devices that you trail your fingers along, a bonesaw lying against the table lining the shelves, a stack of papers with faces and names, various info that you took a glancing look at, attempting to avoid the idea of putting names to faces and treating the people as anything other than product—it was how Joel lived, as disconnected and separate from the ideas possible.

“Usually it’s messier in here,” Joel admits, your lips parting in a surprised gasp as he presses his lips to your neck, “—we can fix that, though.”

“Joel Miller,” You respond in a scandalized tone, “what exactly are you implying?”

“I’ve got a room upstairs,” Your eyes flick up, spotting the loft overhead—that would explain the long nights when you wouldn’t see him at all, his comfort with being more openly affectionate outside of sex has grown slowly, turning your head to face his over your shoulder as his gaze trails up in another silent question, “unless you’ve got another idea—m’just dyin’ to get inside of you, honey.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip in faux thought, already knowing your answer as you were brimming with excitement, resisting the urge to drag him after you.

“Yeah?” You tease, his lips pressing against your soft, kissing you soundly.

“Yeah,” He responds against your mouth, a rare moment of calm, a sweet exchange before he’s chasing after you with a swift slap to your ass.

–

It was essentially an extension of his bedroom, cozy and homey, you find yourself stretching out on the rug rather than the couch, watching as he carefully kneeled to the floor, cursing his achy knees as you giggle, spreading your legs open to invite him in.

“The things you do for me,” You joke, slowly unbutton his flannel as he yanks you towards him, knees falling against his hips as his palms grip either side of your, his thumbs rubbing against the soft skin underneath your shirt, “careful—I might think you love me.”

“If that’s what you want,” Joel replies easily, stripping your shirt over your head as your breasts bounce free, removing your jeans with the same impatience before he’s immediately latching his lips onto your breasts and lazily trading off, biting teasingly into the skin as he looks up to gauge your reaction.

If Tommy notices Joel’s evidence that he leaves, he never says anything. Perhaps it was unspoken, maybe they’ve talked it out—it was information you weren’t privy to, but you didn’t question it. He could smell his brother all over you and he was dying to rid you of it, baring his teeth as he bit into the flesh of your breast, a satisfied hum coming from you in response.

“Do you want that?” Joel asks again, “To be loved—ain’t somethin’ you’ve felt much, is it?”

Quietly, you shake your head.

“Well, you’ve got my brother by the balls,” He chuckles knowingly, “I’m sure he’d marry you if you asked—I ain’t good with words, but I can show you—”

Curious, you watch as he stands, grabbing a sharpened knife off the end table before he’s returning to you, “Somethin’ my parents passed down to me—never used, just like lookin’ at it.”

“We’re not about to Romeo and Juliet ourselves, are we?” You joke lightly, half-serious.

Joel grins wide at that, a full belly laugh following as he slices his palm with a squint of pain before he’s allowing the blood to pool in his hand as beckons you forward with a finger. You rise on your palms and stare curiously before he’s directing his hand to your mouth, lips parting wordlessly as the deep crimson hits your tongue, eyes falling shut as you sucked at the wound.

You were so accustomed to the rich, irony taste that it isn’t even a surprise, moaning as the blood slides down your throat and his fingers curl, squeezing more blood out for you to consume before he’s sliding his hand over your mouth and down your chin, stopping against your chest as he smears it with blood, one-handed as he shrugs his flannel off and rips his shirt over his head, tearing the fabric apart in strips like butter, not a sign of struggle.

He ties the fabric around his wound before he’s wordlessly handing you the knife.

“My hand?” You ask curiously.

“S’up to you,” He admits—the wordless blood trade vowing his affection toward you.

It was something far deeper than love, you think. Devotion. Loyalty.

“Wherever?” Your eyebrow raises as Joel seems to clock the moment the idea comes into your head, trailing the blade along the inside of your thigh, up your stomach, along your breasts.

Eventually the tip of the blade finds a spot against your inner thigh, Joel’s hand careful adjusting your placing as he speaks, “Careful, there’s an artery there,” Further down, you brave the initial sting and slice through the skin, watching as the blood rose to the surface and Joel quickly descends, knife clattering to the floor as he sucks the flesh between his lips, his tongue lapping against your skin.

It’s euphoric, the feeling. So intense you could descend into madness as Joel eagerly lapped up the blood, even as he pulled away going back for a second time, a third, rising with blood stained lips and the crimson liquid pooling on his tongue as he pulls you toward him, mixing the taste of his blood with your own as he kisses you, a messy exchange of fluids as you claw at his skin, rising to your knees to match him.

Silently, you work at his jeans, unbuttoning and pulling them down his lips alongside his underwear—Joel works them the rest of the way before you’re pulling the hand supporting him over you out from under him, straddling him into the rug as your cunt sat directly over his cock, feeling him grow harder underneath you, a sight to behold with blood dripping down the corner of his mouth.

“I want more,” You tell him honestly, his cock twitching at the words, reaching for the knife laying beside his head, “Can I have more?”

Joel nods wordlessly, slightly breathless.

It was a trading battle of surface wounds, just enough to spill blood but nothing deep enough to cause any damage—surely looking insane as you straddled him with a smile, blood-stained lips yearning for more. Joel has a drunken haze to his expression, committing the sight to memory as he squeezes at your hips, rutting his cock between your soaked folds.

“Enough,” He says softly, barely above a mumble as he tosses the knife aside, rolling you underneath him before he’s sliding home inside of you, a hand cradling the back of your head while the other gripped at your knee, pulling it high over his hip, near his chest as he thrusts into you, a controlled but needy pace that was followed by low, pitiful groans of pleasure.

You’d broken this man.

His head was buried in your neck, your hand trailing down his back as you squeeze into the flesh of his ass, the fingers off your opposite hand carding through his hair, pulling gently at his curls.

“Got so much of me inside you now,” He breathes into your skin, “fuck—I’d eat your right up, baby.”

Despite his obvious lifestyle, your laugh is careless and light.

“Greedy,” You note, “I’ve already given you a taste and you’re asking for more?”

He doesn’t respond, not really. His hips are sharp, forceful as his cock spears itself inside of you, rubbing against the sensitive spot inside of you, eyes fluttering shut as it overwhelms you.

“Take a bite,” You encourage him, “f’that’s what you want.”

A real one.

Enough to scar, to leave a permanent mark and reminder of him.

One, two—you didn’t care.

His teeth drag over your breasts, tongue trailing around your hardened nipple before he’s biting into the skin at the top of you breasts, a gasp ripping from your throat as your walls flutter around him, tightening at the pain that slowly transfers to pleasure, glancing down at the small gash and trail of teeth marks in your skin.

He’s admiring, finger running over the wound before he’s rising on his knees, continuing the thrusts of his hips but slowing as he reaches for your hand, pulling you upright again.

“You–do you want me to?” You ask cautiously, feeling the blood from your wound trail down your chest, “Are you sure?”

“Ain’t never been sure ‘bout nothin’,” Joel admits, “but—this…yeah, I want it.”

It shouldn’t make you hesitate, but it doesn’t. He isn’t emotional or forceful—it was like a plea, disguised behind his facade of stoicness. He needed this devotion just as bad as you. He needed someone to put his own trust into.

When your teeth dig into his side, he hisses, his right hand cradling your head as the other curls tightly into a fist, your face pinching up as you bite beyond the first layer of flesh and taste the liquid against your tongue.

He pulls you away eventually, looking down at you with a newfound expression.

This was love—not the lust you were used to seeing.

The rest of the evening is quiet, his pace gentler before he brings you to a slow orgasm, coming inside of you nearly seconds after with a soft moan, persistent that the wounds needed to be cleaned immediately after a few moments of rest.

He tapes it away with a gentle care after cleaning and applying an ointment to fight away any possible infection, snorting at how fatherly it all seemed, even helping you situation your top back on.

“At least we spared the rug,” You break the silence, “guess you aren’t as messy as I thought.”

“Oh, I can be,” He assures you, noticing the scabbed up bit of your lip that had become victim when he’d bit into your, biting down to silence yourself. Just a small movement and the wound reopens, completely unintentional but he sucks the blood away from your bottom lip in a soothing gesture before he kisses you soundly.

You only hoped the bliss would last.

–

Eventually, the implosion comes. But, instead of gradual—it was all at once.

Tommy’s birthday was supposed to be a quiet affair, something at home, between the three of you, not having time to celebrate during the week on his actual birthday like you had planned—but eventually Tommy finds himself antsy and Joel senses your annoyance as he keeps finding excuses to slip away or cancel. He encourages Tommy to go off on his own, leaving you both sprawled out on his bed after a rousing round of sex that leaves you both sweaty and breathless, resting your arm against his chest as you stare at him, “What’s up with him lately?”

“He’s good at acting, isn’t he?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a reason he keeps to the books, you know—why I do my job alone.”

Your eyebrow raises in a silent effort to urge him to continue.

“When I’m angry, you’ll know—” That much was obvious, having been on the receiving end plenty, but Tommy—it was unnatural to see anything but his kind, bright smile.

“He’s my brother—but there’s plenty of shit you haven’t seen yet. And I think it’s unfair that he’s actin’ like things are normal, like he can keep that act up, but something’s gotta give—”

“So what, is he like…a psychopath or something?”

Joel’s silence is telling, jumping up from your spot as you settle on your knees.

“He’s a fucking psychopath?”

“No—no,” Joel excuses, your face contorting into a mix of confusion and amusement.

“You took a long time to answer that.”

“He has episodes—periods of time where he ain’t himself. I can’t explain it and my parents refused to take him to the doctor—you know, backwoods folk and all. If we had a problem we toughed it out.”

“So, he’s got anger issues?”

Joel shakes his head, lips pursed into a tight line.

“He’s killed a couple people—by accident. Least, that’s what he calls it. Tried killing me a few times, too. I’ve always been good at talking him off that ledge, thankfully. M’not trying to turn you against him but I’ve grown up around him, I know how to handle it.”

It was a lot of information to consume at once, still naked in Joel’s sheets as you adjust to sit more comfortably, a small peek at the scar near his ribcage as the sheets shift down.

“He’s lucky we do what we do—he’d probably be in jail otherwise, I’m just telling you because—“

“If it came down to me and him, you’d choose him.”

Joel pauses, his face softened as his lips downturn.

“It’s okay,” You shrug, “Let’s just hope it never comes to that.”

Truthfully, Joel wasn’t sure anymore.

After years with Tommy, he’d grown tired. It was exhausting, fighting between the battling personalities that lived within his brother.

“C’mere,” He beckons, your nose scrunching up as you grin, fitting your face between his waiting hands as he pulls you back over him, kissing you slowly.

A gentle calm before the storm.

–

The arguing is what wakes you first, not the roar of the truck, voices trailing toward the barn.

The bed is empty too, not a single remnant of Joel in sight.

But, you hear him. Loud, angry.

By the time you’re outside the barn is already closed, illuminated by the light inside as you pry the heavy door open, several underdressed with only a shirt to cover the underwear clinging tight to your skin, bare feet digging into the dirt as your feet scuff against the cement and the door falls shut behind you.

“She doesn’t need to know, Joel!” Tommy’s voice cracks, a slight slur to his speech.

He’s drunk, clearly.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Tommy—one night and you pull this shit? It’s exactly why dad had a tight leash on your ass for so many years—”

“Need to know what?” You ask suddenly, breaking through the tension as your head peeks around the corner, both of their heads whipping toward you, Joel moving subtly to block the body that you spot on the table, eyes widening.

It had always been something you and Joel had managed together—Tommy had never shown an interest, didn’t seem to care, but this…

“I’m just tryin’ to carry my weight ‘round here—is that why you like him more?” Tommy asks suddenly, his eyes glazed over and dark as you step forward.

“I invite you into our home—give you a place to stay. I—I stuck up for you when he wanted to throw you out and you chose him? My own fuckin’ brother?”

“He’s drunk,” Joel states blankly, almost dismissive of his rant.

“No—no, let’s show it off, Joel.”

Tommy comes at you with a knife, slicing it down the middle of your shirt as you struggle against him, ripping the fabric away and showing off the healing scar on your chest.

“What happened to no attachments, Joel? No baggage?”

As Joel moves toward Tommy to remove the knife, he lunges at Joel and pushes him out of the way, leaving you with a clear view of the woman laying on the table, an eerie resemblance to yourself as your eyes widen, stepping toward the table as you glance over the body—unmoving, still. She was already too far gone, with no signs of what Tommy had actually done to her.

Your head snaps up at the brawling brothers, screaming for the attention to break through their rage, Joel burying his knee into Tommy’s back to subdue him.

“Why her?” You ask him—Tommy, looking directly at him as you point to the lifeless body.

“Get the fuck off me—” He argues through gritted teeth, attempting to shake his brother off him.

“Why—her?” You stress again, walking forward to crouch in front of him, uncaring of how your body was bared to him in your vulnerability.

“Thought I could give Joel his own version of you to play with—but she wasn’t cooperating. That what you wanna hear? I had you first—motherfucker won’t let me have a single thing to myself.”

“Let him up,” You instruct Joel, backing away slightly.

As Tommy stands, you approach him, his face tight and unrecognizable.

He reeked of alcohol and sweat, a stench of something else that made the bile in your stomach rise, “I never chose, you both had me. You would continue to have me, but this—Tommy—”

“Don’t fuckin’ lecture me, not you,” He bites.

You stare at him with a growing sadness, “You’re drunk—really, really drunk. You’re gonna sleep this off and you’ll regret everything you’re saying right now, I know it. I know you.”

Something seems to snap in Tommy—attempting to rip away from Joel as you scramble toward the floor.

Tommy gets a solid right hook in, something that, if any normal person would have delivered would have left Joel unphased, but Tommy had his advantages, similar in size and stature to Joel, it was barely a fight as Joel dropped to the ground, hitting hard enough that both of you freeze, a slow ring of blood pooling from his head as your chest clinches in a mix of anger and resentment, but your body flinging into flight mode, fleeing while Tommy has distracted by the possibility that he killed his own brother.

Unfamiliar with the place you scramble to hide, unsure if running off would help after your last try, squeezing into a closet buried in the back corner behind a pile of yard tools and mowers, watching as Tommy dropped to the ground.

You could hear him mumbling to himself—a mix of self-assuring words and back and forth conversation, as if someone was responding to every word he offered.

“He’s dead—yeah I killed him,” He mumbles, “if I—if I chop him up, chop her up. Fuck,” His head whips over his shoulder, realizing you were gone, “gotta find her—but Joel, deal with him first.”

Your eyes widen at the firsthand witnessing of exactly what Joel had admitted to you—like some kind of bad omen of what was to come, you sunk down into the darkness and hide yourself away, watching as Tommy roamed around for tools, not a moment of hesitation as he intended to follow through on his plans with Joel’s lifeless body awaiting it’s demise.

It feels wrong, tossing a bone saw aside carelessly as he ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation, flailing tools around wildly, a knife clattering so far away that it lands near your feet, small enough to wrap your fist around as you grab it quietly, awaiting Tommy’s approach to Joel.

Sometimes takes over, not entirely yourself as you crawl from the spot you were hidden in and lunge at Tommy, planting the knife between his shoulder blades as pressed the blade against his own brother’s neck, his blood curdling scream ripping through the barn as he dropped to his knees.

“You bitch,” He groans, shouting out in pain as you remove the knife and sink into his spine, a few seconds of struggle before he slumps to the ground, his eyes dragging toward your shaking frame, bloodied hands rubbing your hair away from your face as you stare down at Tommy’s face, his lips parting as he gasped for air but instead find blood dripping from his mouth.

You drop to your knees, the air stolen from your own lungs but for different reasons.

Both of them dead, within a matter of minutes and it was all your fault.

“Fuck, fuck–” You cry, slamming your fist into cement, but quickly startled by the rousing beside Tommy, almost blaming it on a break in your psyche before Joel is mumbling your name, pressing his fingers into his temple as blood coats his fingers, a sizeable gash on the side of his head as he sits, slowly picking apart the sight before him.

“Oh, honey—what did you do?” Joel asks, glancing down at Tommy’s lifeless body and up at you—surprisingly, there wasn’t an ounce of anger.

“He thought—he thought you were dead, he had a knife at your throat,” You rambled in a panic, “He kept saying he was going to chop you up—chop me up. I don’t know, I fucking panicked.”

Joel remains wordless, staring into the deep abyss of blood pooling on the floor.

“I’m so—I’m sorry. I’m,” The emotion is like a tidal wave, “Joel—I panicked. I swear—”

Joel grimaces against the sharp sting of pain as he reaches for your face, his blood covered hand pressing against your face, fingertips wrapping around the back of your head as he forces you to lock eyes with him.

“Look at me,” He demands, waiting until your eyes lock on him, “This is the part where you promise—and I mean promise, that you won’t fuckin’ run off.”

“No—never. Never, not,” You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut to blink away the thick tears, “Never again, Joel. I promise.”

“We handle this together,” He explains, “I’ll protect you but you have to say it.”

“Anything,” You nod, leaning forward on your hands to move closer to him.

“Say you’re loyal to me—that you’ll listen and do whatever I ask, without question.”

“I am—I am. Joel, I’m loyal to you. I love—I love you. I need you to know that.”

Joel sighs, head bowing.

“I would have chosen you over him. I couldn’t admit that to myself earlier, but I’m telling you now. Tommy’s always been a manipulator, I tried warnin’ you. Months ago.”

You ain’t the first, you won’t be the last.

“I won’t run. I promise, Joel.” You assure him, because with Joel you felt that protection.

A silence falls before you speak again.

“What happens now?”

“You follow my lead, that’s all I need.”

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