#jd fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

oh-goddess-of-chaos · 2 years ago

Text

⠀ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 – 𝐣. 𝐝. 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ✧‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ (navi. & masterlist. & tag. )

「 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 」 yandere!jason dean 𝒙 female!reader

「 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 」 being the new girl at a school can be difficult, especially during the middle of the year and in a place with a rigid social structure such as westerburg high, but things can only seem to worsen when you start feeling as though you're being watched.

「 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 」 general themes from heathers the movie such as bullying, mentions of suicide, murder (c'mon, it's a heathers fic, what did u expect?), usage of guns, kissing, stalking, attempted rape (kurt n' ram), swearing , usage of drugs such as cigarettes, unconsensual kissing (doesn't get further than that in this), very slight insinuations to sex (spoken), the whole shebang.

「 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 」 4.5k

「 𝐞𝐝𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 .⁺ ˖ ⌒ (slight spoilers) i wanted to make the reader decently perceptive and sarcastic this one, but nearing the end i definitely made her rationality kinda disappear since that's what fear can do to a person. jd is more based off movie jd, and so is veronica.

Joining a new school midway through the school year was, to say the least, unideal.

You and your parents had just gotten the wonderful opportunity to move to the quaint town of Sherwood, Ohio, somewhere you all were essentially forced to go since your father had been promoted by his job and your family was strapped for cash. And, sure, your house was bigger and nicer than your last, but you'd had to leave all your friends you'd been with since your childhood, which was difficult.

To add to all of that, the people were unfriendly and rude, and the weather was tolerable at best. Though your old home wasn't perfect by any means, it was most certainly better than where you were living now.

And now, here you were, standing before your new high school, knowing perfectly nothing about it or what to expect yet still expecting it to be one of the worst schools you've gone to. The odd stares your fellow students were shooting you seemed to be indicative of that.

Oh, good grief.

You sighed as you entered, only to immediately crinkle your nose in disgust as you were hit with the pleasant aroma of sweaty jocks and what you could only guess were something akin to rotting bodies. Speak of the devil, you thought to yourself as you were almost hit by what you guessed were two football players dashing down the hallways.

This was going to be a long rest of the year.

You were quick to shove past the students to get to the front office, keen on getting your class schedule and getting to your class as early as you could. You'd only just gotten here and yet already you wanted to go home, though you supposed that that was how high school normally operated. It was never something anyone particularly enjoyed. Most people just managed to tolerate it enough to attend the next day.

"Hello, I'm looking to get my schedule?" You said once you'd reached your destination, crossing your arms as you stared at the woman at the front desk. Focused upon her own work, she offered you no response. You pursed your lips.

"Excuse me?" You spoke, louder this time, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

Apparently you weren't the only one unhappy to be at Westerburg high today, as the woman, seemingly irked, slowly craned her head to face you. "Yes?"

She seemed an unpleasant sort of woman, a frown etched permanently upon her wrinkled face. You wondered what the other teachers must look like, and if they resembled her by any means.

"This is my first day here. I need my class schedule."

"Name?"

"Y/n L/n."

The woman nodded and typed something into her computer. She then pointed to the printer. "Wait over there. Your class schedule is printing right now. Once it's finished, just go to your first class. The class numbers are listed on the right side."

"Well, is anyone going the help me find my way around?"

Your question was only met with silence. "Fine, I'll find it on my own. After all, why would I ever need the help of a teacher, anyway? It's not like I'm new to this school or anything." You grumbled before grabbing your schedule and exiting.

Luckily, navigating the school was a relatively simple task. The numbers on every door and the maps plastered on the walls definitely helped, and you were able to find your history class before the bell rang.

"Here's your textbook, Ms. L/n." The teacher said to you the moment you told her your name. Silently, you nodded, deciding to take a seat somewhere in the middle of the classroom as you waited for class to begin.

Something seemed off, though, as the lecture began and you jotted down nearly everything you heard. You could sense eyes boring into the back of your skull, like daggers piercing through your mind, and it inhibited your focus. You could hardly pay any attention to the teacher as she went on and on about some war you didn't even know the name of. And so, discreetly enough, you 'grabbed' something from you bag, staring over your shoulder briefly in an attempt to see if anyone really was watching you.

And, as it seemed, someone was. You managed to spot them - or him, to be more specific. Uncannily dark eyes stared back at you, blank and hollow. It made your stomach sink. Quickly, then, you retrieved an object from your school bag and continued with your notes to the best of your abilities. Unfortunately, though, you couldn't get that kid's sharp gaze out of your mind. Something about it - something about him - was off, though you couldn't quite place what it was. And, sure, from what you could see he dressed somewhat oddly - a dark trench coat adorning his shoulders, covering his already black pants and shirt - but it was more than just the way he was dressed. You knew it.

You gave up on the matter minutes after you were done with US History. As much as you were curious at the time, you could care less if some creep was watching you. It wasn't like you didn't have your fair share of those back at your old school - you just supposed that they didn't seem so outward about it. After all, you'd stared at that kid - caught him right in the act, but he didn't look away, didn't flinch, just kept staring. Looking back on it, you were convinced that you'd caught the glimpse of some sort of smile. But, as you'd mentioned, what was done was done. You'd only have to deal with him for 45 minutes every day for the rest for the year, at worst.

Sighing, you dropped your bag beside you as you sat down on one of the sticky cafeteria benches, secluded from everyone else. Although you knew you could've tried to make friends during your classes, you were aware of the truth about social politics in high school: halfway through the year, friendships were already sealed airtight and people were much less open to saying 'hi' to a new face, so you didn't even bother. And, sure, the seating was horrible, but you weren't about to make a fool of yourself, especially on your first day.

The food at Westerburg High was - albeit surprisingly - quite alright, and you found yourself somewhat enjoying it. Disregarding the horrible smell and the violently loud chatter, you supposed the cafeteria and lunch as a whole was okay.

That was, at least, until you caught sight of that kid who'd been staring at you in history. You hadn't even noticed he was there at first, but there he was, halfway across the cafeteria, staring blatantly right at you. This time, though, he was just smiling - smirking, even, and it unnerved you.

What is wrong with this guy?

The rest of the week went by like this. On your way to class, you'd always see him in the halls, eyes locking with yours as you passed him. Or getting your books from your locker - he'd always be there, eyes glued to your form. He wasn't even doing anything, was simply fixated on you. It made you shiver, the looks he gave you at first.

Now, however, it was almost expected. You'd anticipate dark eyes boring into your skull and the fumes of cigars to follow you in class, or truly just anywhere around school, just as you would expect your shadow to follow you in the sunlight. And, as annoying as it was the every first day, now it was eerie. You didn't have to look over your shoulder to know you were being watched, but when you did, you'd surely freeze out of both paranoia and fear. While, yes, you'd expected this year of high school to be your worst yet, never had you expected for it to be to such an extent.

Your fear later festered when he pulled a blank on two jocks in the cafeteria. Although you knew blanks couldn't truly hurt them, you shuddered to think what he'd do if he really wanted to cause some damage.

Things got worse still when the kid started dating the infamous Veronica Sawyer, not quite a Heather but not quite anything else either. Gossip around the school grew mad about the unconventional couple, and you soon learned the name of the kid who never did seem to leave you alone: Jason Dean, or 'J. D.' as everyone knew him.

Now, whenever you'd see J. D., he'd always be accompanied by his girlfriend, Veronica. He never did stop staring, though, resulting in numerous glares coming from Veronica's way.

So much for being tolerated by the popular crowd.

School had then became a living hell for you, because if one Heather didn't like you, none of them did, making life going unnoticed near impossible. Now, no matter where you were, someone was either glaring or gazing at you, their intentions vague and unclear.

Things then got particularly bad when Heather Chandler became a sort of enemy of yours. You weren't sure what you did to irk specifically her, but, whatever it was that you did, she most certainly hated you, more so than Veronica, even. Not a day went by without a rude confrontation by her, and you could name several instances when she'd embarrassed you in front of the school.

But then, one day, she was gone.

Suicide. At least, that's what they said it was, but you knew too many people hated that bitch for it to be so. All it would take was a teenager driven insane enough by her to be driven to such a point, and considering the state of Westerburg high, you didn't doubt for a moment that the queen bee of the school essentially prompted her own death.

So, yeah. You knew her suicide was faked. Not that you were going to report it to the cops - you weren't planning on stirring up more drama - but you weren't stupid enough to be fooled by such a thing. And, besides, though you'd never admit it aloud, you were glad she was dead, in an odd way. Now you had at least one less person to make your life at this sorry school miserable.

So, life was okay for a while. People got too busy about mourning Heather's death to notice a nobody like you. Other than that creep J. D. and his jealous girlfriend stalking the halls, life was tolerable.

But when you're at the top, the only way you can go is down. And that's where you went. Down. All the way to rock bottom.

You didn't know how to put it in lighter terms, so here it was: You were almost raped. By Kurt and Ram, to be more exact.

Apparently, J. D. wasn't the only one who had an eye on you, and with all your attention focused on him (since you were so damn paranoid) you'd failed to notice the two jocks that also seemed to have been interested by you.

It was late at night. You were walking home from some house you'd babysat at as a favor, and two guys started following you. You didn't think much of it at first - just tried to forget about it and cool your nerves, but then they started to get faster, and faster, and you did too, until suddenly you were running, and then, almost abruptly, the two jocks had grabbed your arms and startled forcing you elsewhere. You screamed and fought, but no one was around to hear you.

You could only imagine the other 'nobodies' they must have done this to.

You remembered vividly your horror as the two piled themselves on top of you, eager to rip your clothes off. But, just as they were about to do so, a gun shot rang out, and then another. Frozen in terror, you didn't even move as you felt the boys' bodies go limp over you. You were only able to move when you felt a hand grab onto your own and force you up and get you back on your feet.

"Thank you," you barely managed to sputter out once the initial shock wore off.

"Go," is all the figure replied. A man, you presumed. You couldn't see his face, though, covered by the dark lighting. And so, dazed and confused, you obliged, not thinking twice about the words spoken to you.

The next day, though, was when things truly got out of hand.

Kurt and Ram, supposedly, had died in some gay love pact, wherein they killed each other. Hearing the news over the TV your parents played, you felt sick to your stomach. But, there they lied on the screen, a bag of supposed 'homosexual artifacts' and a suicide note to tie it all together.

And the whole town ate the story up.

You didn't go to school for about the next week or so. You told your parents that you were sick, and even though they knew you weren't, they still called in sick for you, able to detect that you weren't exactly feeling well mentally.

The week of repose was good, too. You were able to gather yourself up, not to the point where you didn't fear what could have happen had your savior not came to the rescue, but to the point where you could suppose that you were grateful that you wouldn't have to answer any questions from the police.

But now, at least for now, you knew you'd be safe.

* * *

You let out a soft sigh as you landed on your bed, curling into your warm sheets as a way of seeking comfort. At least you were safe and secure at home, you supposed, your parents only a relatively quiet yell away and your windows locked for good measure. If school was your hell, then you would consider home your heaven, away from the Heathers, away from J. D., away from everyone.

Turning off your light, you sank into your pillow in a desperate sort of way, clinging to it as if it were your lifeline. You'd hardly been getting sufficient sleep within the past weeks, so it didn't take long for you to fall into oblivion, the abyss of sleep consuming you whole in minutes.

So deeply unaware of your surrounding now, you didn't even hear quiet footsteps entering your bedroom.

J. D. was, to say the least, unsure what made him drawn to you in the first place. Maybe it was your calm and uncaring demeanor, or maybe it was the way you seemed to pick up on things through simple observation so easily, similarly to him. Whatever it was, he most certainly found you interesting. And, somehow, he could simply tell that there was something different about you - something like him that he saw in you, and it intrigued him to no end.

No matter how paranoid you were, you were never completely aware of J. D.'s reach in your life. When he'd watch you when you were at home, he'd remain particularly clever, knowing that if he was caught there was a high chance that he'd get into some really deep shit. Staring at a girl in school every day was one thing, but following her home? That was much more serious, and required a much less conspicuous plan.

But, alas, his plan paid off, and J. D. smiled knowingly as he stared at your vulnerable figure, taken over by a much needed sleep. You simply looked so perfectly innocent like that, something he couldn't wait to ruin once he had the chance.

J. D. laughed euphorically as he continued to just stare at you, unsure if he still had his wits about him but uncaring at the very same time. Perhaps all the cigars he had been smoking really were getting to him. But he knew what he needed to do before he brought you with him. So, quietly, resisting the urge to kiss your pristine lips, J. D. raced out of your bedroom, your door that was previously shut left open behind him.

Unfortunately for him, however, he'd forgotten that you were often a light sleeper that woke up at different intervals in the night, so when a particularly cool gust of wind came in through your open window, you were startled awake.

"What the fuck?" You muttered under your breath as you drowsily peeled your eyes open, squinting them as you stood up to close the window, before pausing and wondering how on earth your window had opened. After all, your parents never came into your room late at night as far as you were concerned, and you had locked your window when you'd fallen asleep, so how could it have opened?

It was at that very moment, too, that the faint smell of smoke wafted through the room, and you froze.

Sure, you knew you were paranoid, and that maybe fear had gotten the better of you, but you also knew that a potentially dangerous kid had been staring at you ever since you got to school and that it would be idiotic for you to assume that he had no malicious intentions.

Your stomach then tightened up once you noticed your open bedroom door. So, yes. It was possible that maybe your assumptions were idiotic, but you'd be a fool to not go with your gut when the most it'd cost you was some short-lived embarrassment, especially considering what could have happened with Kurt and Ram. So, quietly, you exited your bedroom, looking down the hallways of the upstairs floor as to reassure that the coast was clear.

It was.

More silently than you've ever done so before, then, you tip-toed to your parents bedroom, hoping to either alert them of an intruder or ask them what the were doing. But, just as you were about to open their door, footsteps were heard on the other side - not your mother's quiet, considerate ones, nor your father's loud, heavy ones, but a different kind.

Fuck.

As fast as you could, you dashed into the nearest room, leaving the door only just barely open as to not allow it to make any sound. From your parent's room exited a dark silhouette, wearing what you guessed was a trench coat and with only the burning edge of a cigarette as a light source plucked between two fingers.

You were right. You were fucking right. No other than Jason Dean was in your house, and right now, he was heading right for your bedroom, most likely intending to kill.

You needed to think fast.

My parents - right, my parents. They keep a gun in their bedroom.

You were shaking. Yes, your parents showed you were they kept the gun in the case of an emergency, but you'd never been taught how to use it.

As quietly as you could, you dashed over to your parents bedroom, closing the door behind you. And, even though you knew you didn't have the time, you took a moment to catch your breath. God, you couldn't breathe. And neither could your parents, as it seemed, when you looked over at their limp corpses sprawled in the bed. Slowly, you retracted the covers from their bodies, only to find a wet pool of blood that lay beneath them and their slit throats.

They were dead. J. D. had fucking killed your parents. You felt your knees buckle underneath you as you caressed your mother's lifeless face, her eyes never to once again open.

"Mom..." You whimpered, not caring if her blood stained your fingers. But then, you paused, realizing that, if you didn't speed up, you could be next.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I really need to find a weapon or a way out of here. I only have so much time before he finds me.

You suppressed a scream as you then scoured their bedroom in search of the gun safe, not keen on wasting any more time, but to your dismay, you couldn't find it.

They must have moved it from last year - fuck! - what else could they have?

Your eyes then landed on your father's esteemed baseball bat. You'd remember him talking about it, the pride radiating from him as he explained how it was the first bat he used to hit a home run with in high school.

Well, sorry dad.

Picking up what was now a weapon and placing it in such a way that would allow you to swing at a moment's notice, you slowly sauntered out of your parent's bedroom and into the hallway.

Your blood ran colder and colder as you approached your bedroom door, until, finally, you did, and raised the baseball bat even higher as to deliver the hardest blow on the boy that stood before you.

"You know, it would have probably been better if you'd stayed hiding," you then heard J. D. speak, turning around and raising an eyebrow at the bat in you hands. "You know, that isn't going to do much against a gun."

Time seemed to stop, and all you could stare at was the gun that sat loosely in J. D.'s hand. He was going to fucking kill you.

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to use it on you," he then reassured coyly, as if reading your mind. "It's just a necessary... precaution. Now, why don't place the bat down so we can talk."

"I could scream."

J. D. seemed to smile at this and clicked his tongue, as if scolding you. "Now, would you really like to have someone else's blood on your hands like that? Just because I'm not going to shoot you doesn't mean I won't shoot anyone else. It'd be a shame if anyone had to die because of you."

Silence.

"Good, now... place the bat down."

Nodding, you complied, slowly placing your only means of defence on the ground.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, trying to calm your racing heart down. Though you doubted it, you supposed that there was a chance that, if you could calm down enough, you could convince J. D. to leave you alive.

J. D. grinned. "Now, darling, why don't you come right here."

If you could've moved, you most certainly would've. After all, you'd seen that gun in J. D.'s hand. You knew what it could do. But you were frozen by fear, and no amount of rationality was going to move you.

"Now, this would all be, uh, a lot easier if you'd just come with me, because I'd hate to have to man-handle - " J. D.'s words cut short as he watched you, nearly stunned, as you bolted past him and towards the window. But he was quick to recoup his bearings, cocking the gun (for good measure) and grab onto your leg, successfully dragging you towards the ground. You grunted in pain upon your head slamming against the hardwood floor, the beginnings of a bruise already starting to appear.

Now only partially unconscious, it took you a long while to notice the tongue now prying apart your mouth and the chapped lips pressed against your own. You'd only really noticed when you realized that you couldn't breathe, and you let out a strangled groan as you tried to detach yourself from the figure above you, but to no avail. J. D. merely slid his tongue deeper down your throat, inhibiting you from screaming or making any other noise as he kissed you roughly.

You thrashed and flailed under his touch, but nothing was enough to free yourself from him. He was faster, stronger, and had the firearm in this situation. You stood no chance. So, with a heavy heart, you moved pliantly underneath J. D.'s touch, hoping he'd at least go a little easier on you at the very least.

And then, with bated breath, you observed as he stopped, and, hovering above you, took something out of his pocket. At first, fearing it was a gun, you began to once again fight against him, but then paused upon not recognizing the silhouette of the object in his hand.

"You know, as much as I'd like to continue this, I did come here for a reason." J. D. stared at you, no ounce of sympathy as he spoke his next words. "You know, it'd have been a hell of a lot easier if you'd just fucking stayed asleep."

Without so much as a moment to respond, a wet rag was forced upon your face. Confused at first, you lied still, before realizing what it must have been drenched it. You were now even more urgent in your fighting of J. D. (if that was even possible), punching and kicking him wherever you could. But he didn't budge, simply kept a firm grip on the rag.

"Shhh, it's fine, I won't hurt ya," he reassured, "Not unless I need to, of course."

But you didn't hear him, your consciousness already slipping as you'd only been half conscious before. You were trying to kick free, but already you were so exhausted, your adrenaline already beginning to ware off. Worse still, J. D.'s words of reassurance that you'd be fine and that everything will be alright were starting to mess with you.

You could hear him talking, but the words were muffled and blurred, and your body seemed to take everything in as if it were truth, because it was already relaxing under his cool touch. And it seemed that, the more fearful your mind grew, the more numb your body became, until, finally, you gave up your thrashing and your fighting, and sunk into J. D. harsh embrace willingly.

Upon your figure going limp, a devilish grin spread across J. D.'s face. Though he knew this was not how things were meant to occur, he was simply so happy - for he finally had you in his arms, where you belonged. And then, unable to help himself, he pressed a hungry kiss on your mouth, pleased to hear a muffled moan escape it as your tongue moved submissively under his own.

This was it! Finally - finally, after waiting for so long, you belonged to him. No more were the days when he'd have to watch you through your bedroom window, or the days where all he'd see of you were your paranoid eyes in the hallways, because, finally, here you were, in his arms, where you belonged!

Here you were at last, finally.

Finally, you were his and only his.

789 notes · View notes

lyshasgf · 1 year ago

Text

I need more of the Brozone being SO protective of Branch pls

Someone even look at him the wrong way? His brothers will start throwing hands.

I love this kind of sibling relationship sm, it's so cute.

Branch who would usually fight back but doesn't do it anymore after getting his colours and his brothers who will do the fighting for him!!

When anything bad happens/there's a threat, the Brozone is always infront of Branch to protect/shield him or smt

I've seen a few fics of this idea and it's so adorable 😭

"Why is there blood on you?"

"Remember that guy that insulted you?"

I like to think there's an internal club of just "Protect Baby. Protect. Baby"

(Off-topic but does anyone have good trolls fics recommendations??)

2K notes · View notes

sinnaminsuga · 9 months ago

Text

𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖉𝖏𝖆𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 - sub!hyunjin x sub!reader x dom!chan

wc: 2,804

cw: hyunjin is a slut, so is the reader, chan likes it that way. SMUT MDNI.

synopsis: while shooting the red lights mv chan noticed something about hyunjin and now he's got a theory he wants to test, he just needs your help.

a/n: was literally plagued with visions of overstimulating hyunjin and making him cry soooo this is what i ended up with. oops. also if there are any spelling errors pls don't tell me bc ive read this trash so many times trying to work it all out and if i have to re-read it again i might go blind.

sw: dirty talk, daddy kink, unprotected sex (pls be smarter than that), bondage, threesome, some gay shit, breeding, blowjobs, lingerie, deepthroating, general toughness, waxing poetic about hyunjins beautiful face. idk probably more but im bad at this shit.

hwang hyunjin is beautiful. its a well documented fact, no ifs ands or buts about it. he has the kind of face ancient civilizations would have gone to war for. old world dynasties would have been reduced to rubble over a face like his. hwang hyunjin is the kind of beautiful where it almost hurts to look at him. it makes you question your belief in a higher power because, how could there possibly be any room for debate on if there is a God when there is simply no other reasonable explanation for how a devine creature like him came to exist on this earth? so with all that being said, there's no way he could get any more beautiful. or so you thought.

it had always been your assumption that there was no possible way he could look any more stunning than he naturally does; but your mind was changed the minute you saw the lithe expanses of his smooth milky skin held captive by blood red ropes. you felt an astounding amount of pride as your eyes bore witness to his soft flesh being pulled tight by the coarse material; the blood under his skin rushing to the surface where the ropes were knotted artfully over his collarbone, across his abdomen, splayed over his pelvis, looped around his upper thighs and finally circling the base of his dick. and you had worked hard to make sure the knots around his wrists and ankles were comfortable yet sturdy before attaching them to each bedpost.

you had taken your instructions very seriously, as the man giving them to you from edge of the bed, wouldn't allow any of this to continue if either of you were to disobey his direct orders, and dear god you would rather die than see this endeavor be cut short.

you admired your handiwork a bit more before the rumbling of a particular voice hit your ears.

“how do you feel baby? is this what you wanted? y/n did a good job huh? you look so pretty.” chan spoke softly to hyunjin, absentmindedly petting his head. hyunjin looked up at his leader and nodded, unsure if he could speak without whining as the ropes pulled across his body with every move.

“yeah i knew you'd like this. the whole time we were shooting “red lights” i saw you ya know? the way your breathing got shallow when the staff chained you up. the way your eyes glazed over when they gave you instructions to pull against your restraints. god, standing above you on that bed, watching you writhe below me was a sight to see. my good boy just wanted to be tied up and used huh?” chan said to him, his finger hooked under hyunjin's chin forcing his head up to look him in the eyes. a whimper forced its way out of him as his hips instinctually bucked and the the sensation of the ropes took over.

you couldn't drag your eyes away from his lower body. the sharp angle of his hipbones jutting up to the ceiling as his cock drooled uncontrollably, the fluid flowing from his tip dribbling down to darken the rope wrapped snugly around the base of him. without even thinking you reached out and wrapped your hand around his shaft, you were just so overwhelmed with the desire to touch him. the feeling was unexpected and the sound that punched its way out of hyunjin's chest was glorious. his body attempted to curl in on itself but the ropes kept him firmly in place. you watched the range of emotions flicker over his face in rapid succession; surprise at your initial touch, pleasure from finally being granted a little stimulation, sensitivity from being denied his pleasure for so long, shock when he remembered the restraints keeping him spread open, frustration at not being able to move, and finally acceptance as he gave in to the languid stroking you were doing. he continued to toss as the pleasure took over, thrashing wildly against the mattress and moaning into the pillow.

hyunjin's noises were reduced to whimpers as chan’s hand squeezed around his jaw, directing hyunjin to look him in the eyes. “shhh baby boy, y/n is gonna make you feel good okay? you'll let her do that, won’t you? you'll lay there and take what i let her give you, understood? words please, jinnie.” chan cooed. “yes daddy. i'll be good for you, for her too i promise. i'll be your perfect boy just like always, i promise, please! god just please keep touching me!” hyunjin choked out, making chan grin. he leapt up from where he was perched on the edge of the bed and rounded the corner until he was standing behind you. you repressed a shudder as chan’s hand slid up your back, tracing over your spine and occasionally tripping over the straps of the lingerie set you were wearing. his hand glided up into your hair with ease until his palm cradled the base of your skull, then suddenly he locked his fingers to grab your hair firmly by the roots and pulled you upright so your back was against his chest as he angled your head to the left exposing the expanse of your neck. the suddenness of his movements caused you to lose your grip on hyunjin’s dick and he cried out from the loss of contact, his hips frantically bucking into the air in a fruitless attempt to find friction.

chan hummed as his lips made contact with the skin of your neck and continued as he licked, nipped, and sucked at your flesh. he hooked his chin over your shoulder as his right hand charted a course down your abdomen to the apex of your thighs where the pads of his thick fingers rubbed over your damp slit. when you could finally manage to pry your lids open, you locked eyes with hyunjin. he was practically panting watching chan devour your throat and palm your pussy. “so pretty y/n, y’look so pretty. like a dream. want to paint you one day, just like that.” he whispered. hyunjin's words and gaze coupled with chan's wandering hands and skilled mouth were almost enough to send you over the edge.

“now here’s what's next my loves. y/n, you're going to get on your knees, lean down on your elbows and suck hyunjin's pretty dick right into the back of your throat okay? i want you to take him as far as you can, and quickly. do not stop until i tell you to. not if he begs, not if he cries, not if he screams. got it?” you nodded as well as you could with his left hand still in your hair. chan released you and you quickly got into the position he had described, gently grabbing hold of hyunjin's cock. “i’m sorry jinnie, but you know i have to.” you quipped right before you took him into your mouth and as far into your throat as you could manage. the garbled noise that ripped its way out of hyunjin's throat threw you into over drive as you bobbed your head and sucked him like your life depended on it. he was groaning deeply and his limbs were flailing the best they could in his current predicament. his back arched up off the mattress so beautifully you wished chan would take a photo.

“fuck, fuck, FUCK. jesus chri- oh my god! y/n, sweetheart slow down- PLEASE! oh fuck i can- i can feel- fucking fuck. i can feel your throat squeezing me so tight!” hyunjin wailed throwing his head back, the veins in his neck becoming more prominent as he grit his teeth.

suddenly chan’s hand made its way to your pussy again and you gasped around the thickness embedded in your throat causing hyunjin to hiss.

“crotchless panties angel? so proud of you. always so prepared for daddy huh? know just what i like.” chan muttered from behind you. you heard the telltale jingle of his belt being opened and the zipper being lowered on his jeans. he had already removed his shirt earlier so he was naked quickly, and he wasted no time before rubbing the head of his dick along your weeping folds.

“now i'm going to fuck you nice and deep the way you like and i want you to keep sucking my good boy okay?” chan said but before you could respond he shoved himself into you in one swift thrust. chan was not small in girth or length for that matter but the stretch you felt every time he fucked you open was delicious. you couldn't help but moan around the cock in your mouth which in turn caused hyunjin to scream at the unexpected vibration. chan’s laugh that followed was dark and proud, thrilled that he held so much power and that you both let him use it.

“fuuuuck sweet girl this cunt is always so fucking tight huh? doesn't matter how many times i fuck you or let someone else fuck you, you always snap right back. god i love being inside you.” chan growled as his hands gripped your hips and held you steady as he pummeled his way in and out of your slippery hole. the whole time he was fucking you, you were being forced onto hyunjin's cock as well, every moan muffled by the thickness battering your throat.

“hyunjin is y/n a good cocksucker? hmm? you think? you think she's better than you were?” chan taunted him as he drove himself inside you over and over again. “remember when we had our first one on one meeting? just me and you alone in the studio? i said 'hyunjin if you really are serious and want to stay in this group i need one thing from you’ do you remember that? i do.” you could hear the grin in his voice even if you couldn't see him. hyunjin groaned and mumbled what sounded like a yes. “i also remember how fast you sank to your knees and scrambled to try and open my belt. you thought i wanted you to suck me off to stay in the band. and you were so willing to give me whatever i wanted. all i was going to ask you for was your loyalty and your honesty in all things. but you offered up that pretty mouth quick as a bitch and who was i to say no?” chan laughed at the memory as he threw a foot up onto the bed to change the angle he was fucking into you from so he was now nailing your gspot on every thrust.

“y-yes i remember. ‘course i do. i knew w-what you were gonna ask me because felix told me beforehand what you were going to ask, what you asked a-all of them. i just- fuck yes keep sucking y/n im so close. i jus’ wanted you so bad i thought if i tried and y-you didn't want me back it would just be an easily brushed off m-misunderstanding.” hyunjin whined, his hands balled up into fists, knuckles white.

“y/n suck him dry. now.” chan ordered and you sucked harder pulling a squeal out of hyunjin. “go on sweet boy. go ahead and cum. you earned it.” chan encouraged as he delivered a heavy smack to your ass. your muffled yelp was the final straw and hyunjin came hard into your mouth, his body attempting to lurch off the bed. you swallowed everything down and pulled off of him, replacing your mouth with your hand. as chan continued to ram into you, you mirrored his thrusts with the fist wrapped tightly around hyunjin's still hard cock.

“stop stop stop please! god please i can- i can't take it! it's too sensitive please!” hyunjin cried. “yes you can baby. you can take it. trust me.” chan cooed. feeling bold you leaned forward once again and sucked hyunjin's tip harshly while lashing the tip of your tongue over his slit.

“FUCK! no no no no it's too m- too much. stop stop stop!” hyunjin continued to wail. he was begging you to relent but he also didn't use his safeword so you knew he didnt really want it to stop. the sound was like music to chan's ears and the rhythmic clenching of your cunt around him propelled him quickly toward his own orgasm.

“i'm gonna cum in you okay baby? gonna breed this pretty pussy, stuff it full of my cum. that what you want? yeah it is isn't it?” chan rambled and you moaned out a “yes please daddy” right before he exploded inside you. your hand around hyunjin never stopped moving and he was crying now. big fat tears rolling down his cheeks from the overstimulation.

chan pulled out of you and watched your hole flutter, pushing out his seed. he murmured a string of praises as he watched the glistening fluid drip out of you. you looked over your shoulder at him, jutting your lower lip out.

“daddy i didn't get to cum yet. can i?” you asked.

“go ahead baby. make yourself cum.” chan said with a wave of his hand and an evil grin etched on his face. you grinned right back before scrambling up hyunjin's body and straddling him.

“wh-what are you doing? oh...oh no. no no no. please it's so sensitive it's so so sensitive y/n i can't!” hyunjin hiccuped, tears still flowing. you leaned forward and ran your tongue up his cheek, lapping up the briny liquid seeping from his eyes. then you whispered “oh jinnie, don't you want me to feel good too? i worked so hard after all.” you reached behind you and positioned his tip at your entrance before effortlessly sliding down onto him. you moaned as he filled you and he once again thrashed against the ropes wrapped around him. you started to ride him in earnest, aching for your own release at this point. the man beneath you was mumbling incoherently about how good your pussy feels and how badly he wants to come again. chan sauntered over and perched next to hyunjin again, reaching out to pet his head and pepper his face with kisses.

“i’m gonna cum, fuck i'm gonna cum!” you cried as you worked yourself over hyunjin’s dick and used one hand to furiously rub your clit.

“daddy shes squeezing me so hard i don't think i ca- can get out. can i cum inside?” hyunjin pleaded with chan. “of course you can baby, right sweetheart? you want jinnie’s cum inside you don't you?” you just nodded in response. “my girl loves to be creampied you never have to ask. just go ahead baby boy.” chan explained. you drove yourself down onto hyunjin twice more and then you were cumming, mouth dropping open as your inner walls milked him for all he was worth. hyunjin spasmed beneath you as he came and came and came inside you. he wasn't speaking anymore, just making these stunted little sounds as his body shook with the aftershocks of his second orgasm.

chan had begun to untie the ropes as you slowly lifted yourself off of hyunjin. you whispered praise to him as he has hummed, completely fucked out and boneless beneath you.

“shhh it's okay sweetheart. you did so good for us baby. we’re gonna put you to bed now okay?” chan murmured to the man shaking in the bed. hyunjin managed to croak out an “uh-huh” in response. you grabbed a bottle of lotion from nearby and began to work it into the reddened skin all over him where the ropes had been, while chan wiped down hyunjin's groin with a warm cloth. you hummed a tune you knew hyunjin loved and his eyes fluttered shut, a tiny smile making its way to his face.

after everything was put away and the room was right again, chan crawled into the bed to spoon hyunjin’s half asleep form while you crawled in the other side to press yourself to hyunjin's still somewhat heaving chest. you pulled the blanket up high and tucked yourself into his warm skin and he wound an arm around your waist. chan's hand rested on hyunjin's hip, squeezing the flesh there every so often.

being here felt so right, so natural, so easy. loving these two was as easy as breathing. you couldn't believe it had taken this long to get here but now that you had, you weren't letting them go. before your eyes fell closed you heard the sound of chan's lips kissing along hyunjin's shoulder before he whispered “rest now my loves. because i have big plans for you tomorrow.”

THE END

774 notes · View notes

soosoosoup · 7 months ago

Text

JD and BB

#dreamworks trolls #trolls #trolls branch #trolls john dory #bitty b #what's this!? not broppy!!??#was not planning on jd #lol i have like two broppy pieces im working on and this guy just cut in line #but fics have been sucker punching me in the feels #i wonder how he was before brozone #I have another post coming up with these two #trolls fanart #my art <3 #excuse the messiness

775 notes · View notes

mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

Note

request for virgin eddie munson who loses his shit over anything and everything reader does

you are speaking my LANGUAGEEEE GOOD GOD

warning: smut, wholesomeness, eddie is down bad

"So... you've really never done this before?" you said, biting your lip. You have no excuse for why it kinda turned you on. Perhaps because it was the last thing you expected from a guy like Eddie... or because you got the feeling you could blow his mind without putting all too much effort into it.

"I-I mean, I've done stuff," he assured, "just... not this, yeah."

"Don't tell me you were saving yourself for the right girl," you joked, and he laughed nervously as he rubbed his palms on the trailer's ratty old couch.

"No," he breathed, "not really, just... never had much luck with girls, I guess."

"Well," you purred as you leaned in closer, running your hand over his chest through the adorable DIY Hellfire shirt, "if you don't mind giving up your virginity, you can get lucky tonight. How's that sound?"

"Uh... pretty much perfect," he laughed thinly.

But what truly sounded perfect was Eddie himself-- the way he moaned, whimpered, even begged for you as soon as you did anything for him. Grinding in his lap, making out and running through your fingers through that beautiful mess of hair... it seemed so easy to drive him crazy, and you loved it.

"Baby," he breathed, "I-- I don't know how much more I can take of this..."

"You've still got your jeans on," you noticed with a smirk.

"Yeah, and you've got your top off-- can't help it," he grinned, "you're gorgeous."

"God, I want you to fuck me," you sighed.

"What are we waiting for, then?" he cooed, running his hands up your bare back.

"W-well, it's just--"

"Oh, fuck," he breathed, "been down this road before-- sorta how I ended up still a virgin by now. But it's fine, we don't have to--"

"No, it's not that!" you interrupted. "I really want to... I just feel kinda weird about being your first."

"Weird, like, you don't want to be?" he asked, concerned.

"Weird, like, not sure why you want it to be me. Are you really sure?" you pressed.

"At this point, doll, I want it to be anybody," he joked, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

You thought you hadn't shown your disappointment on your face, but he still noticed, and reached up to turn your head towards him when you looked away.

"Hold on, I didn't mean it like that," he promised. "I-I really want it to be you. Specifically-- like, not just any girl. Yes, I would pretty much take 'any girl' by now, as long as she's not, you know, an objectively horrible person, I guess... but oh my god, you..."

He pulled you a little closer, looking right into your eyes, and you had the terrifyingly wonderful thought that this might be more than just casually hooking up. You might have a tiiiny bit of a crush...

"You-- you're... so much better than I ever thought I could do," he continued laughing. "And I never made a big deal out of my first time-- I mean, I wanted it, but I didn't think it had to be special or anything. And it doesn't have to be, especially if you don't want it to be, but... I think it kind of is, more than I expected. Because, honestly, getting lucky with a smokin' babe like you is always gonna be special-- whether it's the first time or the thousandth time."

You kissed him again, a little differently than before; and he pulled you closer, holding you tight and sighing against you.

Before that, you'd imagined 'special' meant sweet, slow, patient-- really romantic stuff. That night, though, Eddie taught you that special could be wild, desperate, and just downright animalistic. Actually, he taught you that lesson repeatedly...

"So... just as special whether it's the first or the thousandth time, huh?" you remembered what he'd said as you both laid back, staring at the ceiling, panting like dogs.

"Yeah," he agreed, to exhausted to say much else.

"How about the second time?"

"The second time was five times ago, sweetheart," he laughed breathlessly.

"No, I mean like... the second date," you explained.

"As long as you give my dick a few days to recover... yeah, it'll be just as special next time."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #bex and jd's sleepover

2K notes · View notes

felsicveins · 8 months ago

Text

We're a lethal combination, too lost for therapy

#one more!!!!!!! ive had this drawn forever but hadnt colored it!!#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls oc #trolls oc julien #jd ex husband #john dory #john dory trolls #the song is called lethal combination by the wombats #its sooo them #this is post separation obvi and jd is snapping at julien for bugging him all the time #i have an even angstier drawing that i did yesterday but ill post that some other time #i wish i could sit down and write the fic .. its probably never gonna happen

438 notes · View notes

ryssbelle · 8 months ago

Text

Introducing to this jumbled up mess of a family: Lief! Hes actually already made his debut in a comic but he was easy to miss

Hes the stand in for Jades kid from @spjs fic Lost Opportunity which is so good ah, Jade is also their oc and I love her which is why shes here. I'm not gonna spoil anything more tho hehe

Well kind of. I have to explain the guy. I'll put it in the tags for those who wanna read the fic and figure out who Lief is standing in for lol.

Lief doesnt do much in the story up until the 3rd movies storyline, hes kind of just a fun silly guy in the background until then.

He's around the same age as Poppy, so they were in school together, he hangs out a lot with JD, but when JD isn't around he'll go bug Floyd or Branch. Floyd doesnt mind entertaining him but Branch has trouble since Lief is a massive klutz, so hes afraid he'll break something or hurt himself.

#my art #trolls #trolls oc #n2 au #dreamworks trolls #not the only one au #trolls branch #trolls john dory #trolls poppy #hes been rotating in my head for a fat sec #okay so originally i wasnt going to really add him in #but i realized i didnt know what to do for the 3rd movie plot in some areas #like it needed more substance #and if youre reading the tag youre okay with spoilers cuz this will spoil the fic #but Leif is JDs kid #he stands in for branch in that fic where jd is secretly branchs dad its written so well dude #youll find me in the comments lmao #but ye so i have leif taking tiny diamonds place as a tag along #and he actually has more purpose as part of the perfect family harmony #im not gonna like shoehorn him in in scenes where he wpuldnt fit #lile hes not in the reunion scene between clay and jd cuz hed take it ofer cuz at that point jd would know leif is his kid #which he doesnt for a while #so leif being there would take priority in johns brain so ge couldnt fully focus on the reunion #also i just realized im spelling his name wrong in the tags but whatever #lief leif its all the same rn you know who im talking about #but yeah he also hangs back during scenes like bruces reunion with branch and floyd #and clays reunion with branch and floyd #and theres a character reason for it im not just having him not acknowledge them for no reason #the biggest reason im including this subplot of jd secret child and stuff is because #jd and floyd coming back changes one of the biggest conflicts of the film and i needed to add it back ive reached the tag limit so expln l8r

299 notes · View notes

metalheads-trash-bin · 11 months ago

Text

Hello everyone! My name is Toby, I’m a beginner writer and love to make shit uber realistic for readers. Here’s all the info about my stuff!

——————————————————————————

Key:

Ships

Notices

Warnings

Fandoms

Baseline importance

——————————————————————————

So far I have three fanfics, a fourth is on the way.

All of my fics will be linked down below! They are wips, so please be patient. Each has their own schedule so make sure to read!

All fanfics will have nsfw, and I don’t mean the basic “stick penis in hole” shit. I mean detailed, loving, and non vanilla nsfw.

——————————————————————————

TROLLS:

The first one is my all time fav: Fliff! It goes into Floyd’s trauma, his healing, and realistic dynamics between the characters. This fanfic will be updated twice a week, it used to be updated every day but that’s not survivable long term for me ^^

The second one is Breek! Creek is in no way infantilized in this fanfic. I look at things in a psychological aspect and make damn well sure he’s not babygirlified. This fic goes into Creek’s trauma, Branch’s trauma, allll the trauma, a bunch of healing, and a little bit of angst. It’s updated whenever I feel, but it won’t be abandoned or rarely touched!

The third one is John Dory x Reader! In this it talks about JD’s trauma, some headcanons of his diagnostics, and a bunch of intimate stuff and heart to heart stuff. He is not glamorized in this fic, instead he’s recovering and in therapy. He also has a smallll teeny weeny alcohol issue, but he’s in therapy for that as well! The reader is a trans male, fat L if you can’t handle that. <3 It’s updated whenever I feel just like the Breek fic, but it won’t be abandoned or rarely touched!

The fics are interconnected, so if you see a ship or lore that’s in one of them, assume it’ll be mentioned or involved in the other!

——————————————————————————

CREEPYPASTA:

I am currently working on ideas for a rework of a Jeff x reader fic I read. It had a really nice plot but the execution was absolutely horrendous + it was abandoned. I’ll type more info as I update!

———————————————————

Where else you can contact me or see my content:

Insta: _.metalheads.trash.bin._

Twitter: _mhs_trash_bin_

——————————————————————————

And with that…

!!Release the hounds!!

———————————————————

TROLLS:

Summary:

Floyd is forced into therapy after Branch takes him to his annual checkup since he's staying with him.

Branch's reason for sending him being that he notices Floyd's facade of "being fine" and totally not traumatized even toward a doctor. This leads to him sitting in therapy, which in turn gives him homework. Whats the first assignment you ask?

Making friends besides your brothers and Poppy.

Who better than Barb, the queen of rock, as a starting point??

Summary:

It was the last few weeks of fall, Branch heading to the forest to get the final harvest for the season. There were rumors of an animal lurking around the farm, he didn't realize that that animal was a familiar face.

Summary:

You're a metal/rock troll starting a new life in Pop Village. During one of your bonding activities with Branch, you notice a large creature in the meadow.

Why not pay the owner a visit??

——————————————————————————

CREEPYPASTA:

———————————————————

PS. I have a shit ton of playlists on Spotify of ships, characters, and more! Check em out down below~

——————————————————————————

Enjoy! <3

——————————————————————————

319 notes · View notes

joannasteez · 6 months ago

Text

almost blue (1)

pairing: cody rhodes x black reader warning: explicit descriptions of violence and sexual activity. minors please do not interact. readers eighteen and older interact only please. descriptions of alcohol consumption and the use of deadly weapons. authors note: JOHN WICK AU!!! so excited to share this! i had this sorta kinda in my back pocket for a while, while trying to build up tanks of blood, which you can find to read here. not everything in this is super true to the world of john wick but the most im using as inspo is the aesthetic anyways. also a one off mention of john wick lol. that and some of the names for certain things. italics in the beginning represent flashback perspective music inspo: almost blue by chet baker word count: 4800 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @southerngirl41 @2-muchsauce @crxssjae

new york. the continental hotel and it's flatiron shape. september 2019. the rain, this soft unsteady pitter patter. a gentle gray coloring the sky. the air cold and biting. the city filling its brim with a sleepless droning.

and amongst the deathly sort of decadence—gold trim and blood red carpet floors—bath water disturbs till its sloshing to overtake the tub. a messy spill against the floor. his lips working over yours. fingers kneading deep enough into skin that it stains with the print of his touch. nails tender in his hair and your body melting in till the heat of him breaks over your skin. his everything settled into the wisp and charm of your voice as his pleasure becomes whole. too great.

—but his memory tires from old moments like these, a shell of itself as it attempts in vain to restore to it's former glory. has been in a perpetual state of exhaustion for sometime. but this straining is singular. a throbbing at the forefront of his skull. a tight pulling pain at the nape of his neck till it's creeping wild at the tip of his spine. forcing him to grow ill as he works to reminisce. body wistfully undone. and what words do the men of our time say about insanity? to be in a perpetual state of trying, doing, in hopes of something new. and so on he went, flirting with this disaster, this run of nostalgia, so much so that memory has forsaken him, taking these little complexities —the new york rain and the taste of your lips— along with it.

but cody can handle the load and reload of a glock 26 as fast as he does it well. a deft maneuvering before the barrel raises and he pulls the trigger, the recoil driving sharp. a bullet through the skull and the splattering of blood. whoever meant to kill him, now dead in his wake.

but what cruelty this is. a traitor to his own body. living with nothing but the means to kill and tattered memory. with him still, only, all of the things left unsaid—

you'd smelt of vanilla. the yearning about his tongue deep and yet to be settled. his lips a shadow as they feathered against yours. his questions overdone with a frightening passion. "where are you ten years from now?"

your fingers slipped over his skin, as easy as they would over porcelain. a delicate taking over wet soapy muscle till it clawed over his shoulders and against the heat of his cheeks. "somewhere warm and comfortable. retired".

where ever you were, is where he wanted to be. "am i with you?"

a reversion, just barely perceptible, but there all the same. something like fear, like hesitation, pushing against a situational sort of tenderness in your eyes. the warmth slowly but forcibly outdone by the cold. lukewarm. just like the fate of too old bath water. not enough of either extreme. lukewarm.

"seems more like a question for you to answer".

"answer it anyways".

and he couldn't feel your lips anymore. too much air, too much distance. caution thick. woven about your words. the tones. the inflections. "ten years from now, you'll be somewhere as warm, as comfortable and retired too".

"am i with you?"

to draw such a long length of need into the air. passions and hopes and dreams. cody knew. it would've been easier to take the sear of a bullet, the ripping tear in of a knife or the crack of something blunt and unforgiving to his skull. those things easier than the down trod of such a silence. your eyes having gained more and more distance. fear peaking soft and brown before the quick slip over of indifference. like you didn't care for his whispered words sounding too much like forever. and recovery from bullets and knives and blunt force was tedious. sewn up skin and the reformation of fine motor skill. but this. the way you suffered him to feel the drift away of your body and the simple, delicate, eager push in of your touch. something in his heart—amongst the lukewarm water—failed. this low dropping into a less lively place.

new york. the continental hotel and its flatiron shape. june 2024. a peak of the sun amidst more grayish than white clouds against an icy pale blue sky. the air breezy with a teasing smell of rain. like a stray tendril before some great unraveling. the city as sleepless as it's ever been.

and amongst the deathly sort of decadence—scarlet sage in bloom and the ever present air of readymade violence—cody sips at a short glass of brandy. an edgy spike to his tongue as it settles. everything of the continental he possessed now lost to time and the overwork of his sore tired memory. lost to a bout of corrosion done by words left unsaid. because he did not remember your answer after the persistence of his "am i with you?” all thats left, this great blurring. of words and the finer littler complexities. your lips and your eyes and the soft ways of your touch. and maybe it came to be this way for good reason. using such a burn to his ego to fuel the fire of his rage. revenge for memories unforgettable. around the glass of brandy, his hands feel stronger. less careful in how they hold. caution be damned. he sips again to finish. his finger buttoning his suit jacket, making way from the bar and across the communal space of the hotel.

warmth at his ear and a twitch in his trigger finger. something like eyes resting over him. watching him.

he continues to a connecting hallway. elevators and mosaic floors. maybe the brandy wasn't the best idea, but neither was coming to such sacredly awful ground. lovers trauma and all that bullshit jazz.

the fourteenth floor is quiet. his steps carpeted by soft wool. a second twitch in his trigger finger that leads into the sharp driving heat reminiscent of staggering gun recoil. a sweet burning in his arm, the muscles knowing, remembering. but he has nothing of use on him. nothing to snuff out and quiet that vicious call of death. his hotel room styled with a modernistic flare to it's luxury. clean and unadorned. a simple reflection of his own style thankfully, but nothing extravagant to weaponize. he would have to, if needed, to make due. a slim ball point pen, sleek and multifunctional, rests next to a complimentary bottle of wine. "enjoy your stay", in cursive. cody feels the warmth at the tip of his ear again, something greater than a simple bout of paranoia. his fingers slip the pen into his pocket, a reversing in his steps to triple check the locking function of the room doors.

and he shouldn't be so wound up should he? conducting business was, is, has always been forbidden on hotel grounds.

his fight or flight saying otherwise. breathing over his skin overwhelmingly warm. lingering wearily. intuition always a nagging son of a bitch but never wrong. it's never failed him.

cody showers, stands amidst the icy rain of too cold water. cody showers, because warm baths terrify something in his body. the possibility of turning stale and lukewarm. too distant and uninviting to be either extreme. like eyes and soft lips he can barely form well enough to reimagine.

and the bed sheets are welcoming. slipping along his skin with a delicate relief. but still, something feels wrong. a heaviness to the air that precedes this faithful old tryst with life. with death. the ring of his phone working to unburden him suddenly, but for only some seconds. the number blocked. he answers, rushing to fish that ball point pen from his dress pants. sleek and multifunctional in his grip. but the urgency in his maneuvering cuts short with the slip in of something dangerously angelic. memory sore and exhausted no more, but now rushing back to him fervid and unrelenting. a tender charming tone in his ear that disrupts the stalwart build of his resolve. september 2019. june 2024. five years of an almost complete pain. icy feeling wind with the teasing of a torrential down pour. almost there but not quite. the anger and the pain never red enough. the sadness almost blue.

"the loft in tribeca" you start. cody commits it all to memory. the words, the tones, the inflections. shuffling to rough his pants on. pen in his pocket. phone wedged to his ear as his fingers rip off the casing of a pillow. body easy as it maneuvers to protect his six o'clock, leaning against the wall. his eyes scope along the room. an over examination. waiting. "if you're not dead in the next 30 minutes, meet me there".

the call drops.

the slow unlocking click of his hotel room door. his muscles burn with remembrance. eyes sharp. his ears attune. the shells of them warm. cautioned steps approach the entry way of the bedroom but they fail to go unnoticed. thudding against the soft carpet. and if not for the possibility of his demise, cody would laugh. surely this was amateur hour. boots and inconspicuous were no more suited together than suede in the rain. and he'd made that rookie mistake before. back when he was a rookie. but the high table were no idiots, sending rookies to bring his head in, unless they hated him that much and felt he should feel the brunt of that hatred with some disrespect. and disrespect it was.

cody's breath holds. his head thumping against the wall before he makes a swift crouch to his knees. a gun rounding the corner, and a bullet flying aimed for where his head had knocked in. a simple quick diversion. nothing special or particularly extravagant, but enough to give him seconds to maneuver. and oh this is disrespect in deed. dominik mysterio the source of his current heavy breathed, adrenaline rushing circumstance. cody knuckling the hold of the still upward pointed gun with a punch before another sinks into domink's abdomen. a short grunt breaking from the scrappy, ill-sophisticated, mullet wearing piece of shit. and surely dominik is more of a piece of shit when his heavy boot toughs into cody's jaw. racing for the gun.

but cody is quick. has felt and faced harsher things. if anything, its more of an irritation he feels than a full measure of pain. it was hard maintaining good skin considering the life he led. he spits against the carpet. iron on his tongue. red staining the clean line designs. he reaches for dominik's leg just before he's in reach of the gun. pulling him near and flipping him over quickly. a rough hand in the silk of domink's mullet as he rains down punches with the other. cody ill satisfied as he hears the sloppy singing of grunts from the younger mysterio. and as his frustration mounts, swindled by the audacity of the high table, dominik gains an advantage. his hips shifting up to propel cody, his arms lean and tight and trapping over cody's and rolling.

"you three piece suit, hugo boss wannabe wearing motherfucker", dominik's face bloody and angry. his fists balled and quick as he comes down against cody's face.

the impression of the pen presses into cody's thigh. memory and dexterity working like a trained muscle. amidst the barrage of fists, cody reaches for the sleek ball point pen. clicking the tip and rushing it into dominik's side. harsh vicious stabs till the pain takes hold enough for him to hesitate. plunging the inky tip into his neck, where blood flows to gush. breaking up out of his skin. choking on air and the pain of a slow to come death.

"bulletproof three piece suits asshole", cody roughs out. kicking dominik for satisfaction.

if you're not dead in the next 30 minutes, meet me there

the loft is the same. unadorned by that uncanny but natural weathering of time and neglect. warm homely autumn inspired tones with splashes of green and hand carved wooden furniture. cody ever the horrendous sucker for hand carved shit. an intimate union of labor and passion. ever the reflection of a once lively relationship. carefully cultivated, ending poorer than a bastard dying with his eyes wide open. because when you go that way, you deserve it. but cody? his passions didn't deserve that violent abrupt end. and yet here he is, creeping past the entrance. a painful stuttering of footfalls as he goes. muscles sore and his skin on fire.

dominik mysterio was a warm up. a warning even. the call must've went out. a bounty worth enough for people to try him. the train ride to tribeca interestingly violent. a woman with a knife, a man with a gun and another thinking his bare hands were some great unstoppable force. and no, cody did not make quick work of them. not as quickly as he would've liked. but he managed. and at the very least, he'd suffered a slitting cut to his cheek and a laceration to his chest. that piece of shit running the blade right through his tattoo. some maybe secondary bruising and a bad headache. but he's not dead. not like the idiots that tried and failed to kill him.

the loft, much like the continental hotel, is agreed upon neutral ground. a place for trysts and the sharing of information. or rather, thats what it used to be. now, cody isn't so sure.

and his limping is pathetically loud. shoes a heavy clack against the floor. makes him bristle annoyed. you stand just behind the kitchen island. wine bottle opened. a glass in hand as you sip. more beautiful than he remembers. soft looking still, your eyes casting over the rim as you sip, undeniably deceptive.

a gun lays easy on the coffee table sat between two couches. too easy. but his displeasure gets the best of him. he shifts for it quickly. a swift up of his hands positioned about the gun, aiming for your face.

you knew his whereabouts. so much so that you knew the whereabouts of the people trying to kill him. taking the chance to trust could cost him his life. and cody quite likes his life.

"you had me scared a little bit". a gentle float of words. a finger dancing along the rim of the wine glass. a daring stare down the barrel of the gun. "i thought you got bested by a second rate mysterio". and when cody doesn't move, captured by pain, caution and the mystique of your presence, your eyes roll. his form fixed and perfected. trigger finger cool, but his heart unsure. "cut the melodrama. put the gun down cody".

"you knew i was being followed", he clips. jaw tight.

"i mean...duh...", you give. dry and teasing. finishing your wine. "half of that was me, and lets not be silly", covering the length of distance between your bodies slowly. a stalking patience. a fierce feline approach. "you shot a bullet through the skull of one of thee most important men. finding out don't come cheap when you fuck with the high table".

"everybody seems to forget I had to bury my father", the barrel of the gun kept high with perfect aim as you near closer. "killing that sack of shit was just me evening the score".

"i didn't kill your father cody".

was that sincerity? empathy? a sudden waft in of warmth after years in the cold. it felt unreal. true but unreal. and he was sure it wouldn't last.

"obviously", cody bites out.

your forehead nestles against the barrel of the gun. his memory overwrought. his senses in a frenzy. a horrible mixture in his skin of pain and elation. steeped with the fear of having to endure another sudden vanishing. angry that such an endurance was his portion in the first place.

"so then why is the gun still pointed at me?"

his fixed form eases. your hand slipping the gun from his hold gently. fire over his skin as you touch him for the first time in five years. a deft maneuvering about the cold heavy metal to expose the contents of the magazine.��amusement coloring your eyes and spreading over your mouth for a teasing little smile.

"they're blanks anyways", emptying the magazine as the faux bullets fall to the floor. your hand settling down the gun and its magazine on the coffee table. leaving him in an exasperated awe as you head toward the kitchen. "just wanted to see how thin your patience has worn".

your chin jutting over to the couch. hands full of medical supplies as you pad over to him softly. his body aching and slow as it rests into the tender leather seating, but moving without delay still. always under the gentle charm of your voice, his being falling under this servile sort of subjection. making him bristle silently within himself. all that time and distance amounting to nothing for his resolve.

cody surrenders. mind over matter no longer needed. succumbing to the full weight of his pain. hair messy with red droppings of other peoples blood. his muscles sore and the hammering about his skull diligent and taunting.

"my pain has always been a funny little joke to you".

you pull the coffee table closer to the wide spread of cody's legs. your own slipping over to straddle the strength of one of his thighs. your body warm and comforting against his skin. an old feeling blooming in his chest. you were doing this on purpose. he's sure of it. to see him waver and yield to the charm of your presence. gentle touch dabbing to rid his cheek of dried blood before you went about cleaning the wound. his fingers itching to form to your body, desperate to push dull nails into your skin again. to form in and caress with the intent to renew his memory.

your eyes flit to his crotch. "its a lot more than little. give yourself some credit", you muse. applying butterfly stitches.

the air is thick. forces him to maintain a steady breath. memory overwrought once more. a mighty rushing in that heats him whole. your hands working his button up open. the lax take of your palm to his belly forcing a throb to the crux of his thighs. the closing in of the distance makes for easy intimacy. a registration of the lesser noticeable, more complex things. the prick of your nails telling familiar stories, as they work to rid him of the shirt all together. tender and caring, similar to how they used to be. your eyes roaming and thinly glazed over. he spares a glance at the wine bottle. halfway done. your ministrations functional but indulgent of the moment. of his skin.

a quicksand sort of state of affairs. if he doesn't pull himself together now, he would fall into you. full consumption. and he can't possibly risk his life because he's half hard and overdone with sentiment.

"how long have you been following me?"

you apply something like a salve after cleaning the nasty chest wound. an anesthetic. how sweet of you. to suddenly take his pain into consideration.

"a few months".

"why am i not dead?"

your body adjusts a top of him. somehow closer. your knee nearly running into his crotch. "yet", you give. beginning the process of suturing. "the question everyone wants to know is why is cody rhodes not dead yet". breaking shortly to peer over him. a full examination it seems. heat rising in his cheeks. "cause he's no john fuckin wick. so why is he still here". pressure of the needle feeding into his skin. your lip tucking under your teeth in full concentration. "people don't know resilience is the bane of even your own existence. a little meat puppet made to take push pins".

he scoffs. "this doesn't feel like a compliment if it is".

you finish off the suture. a hesitant but delicate maneuvering off his thigh to rid of the medical supplies. the heat of you gone in an instant. "its an observation". the uncorking pop of that half drunken wine bottle. a generous crimson pour that you sip at.

"on what basis exactly?"

a whipping swing of kitchen cabinet doors. a bottle of brandy and a short glass. for him it seems. and the pained parts of him grow excited at the possibility of a simple taste. anything for a temporary fix. something to numb the burn in his bones.

"very close encounters".

and no you don't dip into the leather to sit beside him when you return. you assume a much more compromising position. a full straddle of his legs as you gift him his little amber colored remedy. and if at any moment he ever thought he needed it and actually didn't, let this be the moment where that edgy spike to his tongue becomes essential. something to help him as he searches for a secure hold at control. and of course he drinks it all. an easy burning slip against the back of his throat as he feels the heat of you settling back into him. once dormant urges awakening in his fingers. supple thighs lined up over his kevlar woven dress pants. the baggy button up you'd decided was good enough for his visit thin and something like revealing. the other details left to his imagination. and God was that prone to running at any moment. tripping and falling away from him well enough till his crotch became to uncomfortable to bare the perfect fit of his pants. your empty hand returning to where it'd been. roaming tenderly against slow but steady bruising skin. his nose picking up the sweet wine on your breath. the glaze about your eyes. thighs over him, clenching slightly.

"you were always a little too indulgent with the wine", cody gives.

your eyes flitting to his crotch again. bulge more prominent. the teasing of your nails inching over past his navel. your throat humming. "and you with me".

"don't think much of it". an attempt made in vain he thinks. feeling the hard throb of himself as soon as the words leave him. "it tends to happen. adrenaline from almost dying multiple times", his thigh knocking up into yours to grab at your attention. tipsy eyes drifting to the cold blue of his. "now spill. why am i still breathing?"

"because the number isn't high enough yet". another sip of wine before turning to rest it at the table. your hands free to run over the muscle of him. about his shoulders till your thumbs are caressing at his nape and the hard cut of his jaw. and that nearly drives him to insanity. the weight of you resting right where he pulses with life. "i take your head now, i'd be settling. and the game of it all ain't that fun right now anyways. its too amateur hour-ish for me. i wanna battle it out with the adults".

"im flattered", cody deadpans.

you smile. thumb soothing over his lip. "as you should be".

"why else", the pulse about his blood wild. an unadulterated beating that coaxes to life the run off of his imagination. his touch a staggering grip at your jaw. pulling your eyes to him. lowly sat pretty brown eyes with a penchant for doing him inexplicably dirty. but they draw him in all the same. his stomach empty. filled with nothing but the slosh of brandy. cody feeds into the daze of it. the possibility of a buzz. your lips a breath from his. desire on your tongue by way of the sweet smell of wine. "talk".

your hips shift over him. a rut into the fabric. friction to appease the ache, he's sure of it. thin panties and the desperate curl in of your nails. running into his scalp. trying to persuade him with tender touches and the charm of such wanton need. and its working. fuck, itsworking well. had worked some time ago and doing well now just the same. because cody, despite such deadly skill, was not immune to this type of torture. could not battle it with stalwart patience or dapper precision. and as you rut against him again, mind clouded by wine and your own intent, his fingers burn to touch you more. not so simple and plain but disgustingly greedy. his lips smooth against the seam of yours. amber brandy and red wine a near perfect melding together.

"fuck", you relent. your nose knocking soft into his. laughing with a wry sort of amusement. "it would stroke your ego to a nice little finish if i did say it wouldn't it?"

cody hums. slips his hold till its anchored about your neck. measured in its pressure. his tongue licking to wet his lips. the slight of it forcing a tremble into your body.

maybe his suffering isn't a lonely one after all.

you whimper. taking a hard swallow.

"vindicate me", cody rasps.

your struggle is apparent. surfaces with a tear that stains your cheek. body undone by the defeat of such an intimate admission.

"i miss you", fragile and nearly unclear.

he smiles mirthless against the soft ways of your skin. his nose buried into the dip of your neck. "i don't trust your sentiment".

"it's true cody".

"she says, after admitting she wants to kill me".

"better me than someone else". your fingers abandoning him to grip into the leather of the couch. a tight take to it that fastens your body into him. your mouth lax as your lips slip over his. the tease of a kiss filled with too much tension to bare. "touch me", you give. a plea and a command all the same.

his fingers working in swiftly, a firm obedience, cupping your cheeks to steady the wild go of your tongue as it snakes to slip at his. a frail whimper singing from your chest and the return of your sharp nails. digging against his scalp to bring him impossibly closer. nearly suckling his tongue whole as your hips rut at him again. a less cautious shifting as you look for harsher friction. the pain of a murderous sort of labor and the pleasure of touching you again warring over the tenderness of his skin. coaxing him to groan and wince. strong, tired fingers forcing your hips to rock over him. an easy, stable grind along the hard bulge of his cock that leaves you living without the proper brilliance of words. reduced to the struggle of too pleasured moans.

your teeth prickling and sharp as they snag against his lip. fingers deft, undoing his zipper. the heat of him hard and throbbing dangerous. his headache out done by more pressing matters, hazy and his senses going numb with lust. palms persistent, sinking into supple flesh. and fuck does it feel good. even better when his patience thins. fingers stretching the fabric of your panties till they tear. the slick way of your arousal making for an easier pace. a sweet teasing slip through your slit. his imagination wild and unfettered. even the thought of slipping in to have his full way with you enough to twist the base of his belly. groaning into your mouth.

fire in his fingers as they pull against the fat of your ass. sweltered skin sweet in his palms. forming with every push and spread and pry that he gives.

your mouths depart. a hesitant slipping away. breaths heavy. your face hiding in the dip of his neck. your pussy messy. bewitching even as you grind mindless into him. an undulating heat over his skin. "cody", a mantra as it travels to slight the beating of his pulse.

the tell tale trembling in your body. a breath away from bliss. and he can feel the build in his bones. the return of an ache thats been transformed. throbbing and restless. an urgency he works to relieve. and with it so does your mouth. less desperate to consume him. melting to linger at his lips. breathy and stuttered.

"right there angel", he gives. a whisper against your lips. corralling the last bits of resolve to break. your hips stuttering but caressing faithful still. coming undone. rutting greedily to grasp at the last bits of pleasure.

and here he finds that charming sort of relief. an unfurling warmth about his skin. snatching your body into him as he strokes against you and throbs, coming undone. release pooling and spurting against the baggy button up you'd worn to tease him with.

your lips finding his again. needy still. and he accepts without wait. ready and willing. your moaning along his tongue delicate and wispy. reminiscent of a memory once forgotten. new york. september 2019. cody cups your face again. thumbs dusting over the apple of your cheeks. on a mission to stain himself with this moment. sweet red wine mixed with aged brandy.

she was getting to be a lil too long so i had to break her up! but how do we feel about our little hitman?

#cody rhodes #cody rhodes fanfiction #cody rhodes fanfic #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes smut #john wick au #hitman!cody rhodes #black female reader #dominik mysterio #judgement day trying to kill cody #they dont know hes kinda into the pain thing #cody trying to avenge dusty in every timeline #dom isnt a second rate mysterio #i just needed to get that piece of dialogue off #cody rhodes x reader #cody rhodes x black reader #jd mcdonagh #joannasteez

152 notes · View notes

bloody-cupcakes · 5 months ago

Note

Jd x yandere male r with a corruption kink 🙏🙏

Okay it can't be just me who loves the idea of a reader who's somehow more perverted and insane than a character who's already perverted and insane

Also when I tell you this is the MOST FILTHY thing I've written so far for this account I mean it

Tw: yandere/dark content, male reader, smut/nsfw, blowjob/oral sex (reader receiving), brief dacryphilia, degrading, hair pulling, facial, cum eating, dubcon-ish in some areas (all of this is JD receiving btw), could be seen as a toxic relationship but that's a given considering the content

When you and JD first met, he was already into some dark stuff, but he could never imagine the absolutely filthy things you'd end up getting him into. In his defense, you didn't immediately come off as the nasty pervert you ended up being.

"Come on, baby, just let me cum on your face this one time," you begged as he knelt down on the floor in front of you, unable to answer due to your cock being in his mouth.

He let out a garbled response, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and spilling down his cheeks. You had no idea if that was a yes or a no, but it didn't matter. You planned on doing it regardless.

"God, you're so pathetic. I mean, just look at you." Your hand reached down and gripped his hair, yanking his head back in a position where your cock was shoved even further down his throat as a result.

A strangled whimper could be heard coming from him, a sound that made you grin with utter delight. Despite his slight discomfort, he did his best to keep sucking like the good boy that he was.

"There you go, that's better." You let out a grunt as you felt his tongue brush against your length. "You're such a natural, are you sure you haven't done this before with men other than just me?"

The bright shade of red his face turned at your question was priceless. It kind of made you wish you had a camera to capture the moment. He was struggling to catch his breath, even after you told him time and time again to breath through his nose.

Luckily for him, you were close to finishing anyway, so you pulled your cock out of his mouth and came all over the lower half of his face. Not wanting to give him the opportunity to move away, you tightened your hand's grip in his hair and kept him still until you were done.

He stared up at you with a look of embarrassment on his face that was only partially hidden by the white, sticky substance you'd left there. "I didn't want you to cum on my face," he mumbled in a indignant manner, his lips curled downwards into a slight frown.

"Oh, grow up. You really didn't think I was going to give up on the opportunity to paint your pretty little face with my cum, now did you?" Your tone was condescending, as if you were speaking to nothing more than a bratty child.

"Besides, I know how much you love it when I treat you like the pitiful little whore that you are. You might have everyone else fooled, but I don't buy your tough 'bad boy' act for even a second."

You smirked at the way he simply pouted in response, unable to think of a good enough comeback. While he was caught up in his own thoughts, you reached your hand out and swiped some of the cum still on his face onto your fingers. "Open," you commanded as you held them in front of his lips.

JD opened his mouth and licked off the cum despite himself, his hazel eyes glaring at you in a displeased and bratty manner as he did. You merely watched, not put off or intimidated by him in the slightest.

Even if he did decide to complain about it afterwards, you had a few tricks up your sleeve that you were certain would quickly shut him up.

146 notes · View notes

oh-goddess-of-chaos · 2 years ago

Text

# — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓⋆·˚ ༘

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⁰⁰¹ (masterlist.)

## JD

leave me with watercolor eyes – j. d. x fem!reader // breaking up with jd proves to be more than difficult when he's not willing to let you go that easy. @iovesia

yandere j.d. & veronica x reader // jd and veronica both decide they want you, and then decide to take action. @chezzywezzy

smoker – j. d. x fem!reader // the new kid on the block pulls a stunt in the cafeteria and makes a name for himself. you never thought he'd have you screaming that name later that day. @sxtvrns

desperation – j. d. x reader // the reader gets into a relationship with jd to help her friend out, but finds he's a lot more enthralled with her than she'd like him to be. @famwhy

boyfriend – yandere!j. d. x reader // avoiding your boyfriend jd is hard, especially when he shows up at your house one morning to talk. @froggywritesstuff

dom!j. d. x fem!reader // the reader tries to go to the police but j. d. kidnaps her. @tellingyouastory

neck kisses – j. d. x reader // neck kisses with j. d. @darling-i-read-it

yandere!j. d. x reader // after being ignored for too long, one night j. d. takes things into his own hands. @anxiousnerdwritings

haunted – j. d. x reader // you thought you knew your boyfriend, but when he kills kurt and ram and tries to rope you into blowing up the school, you realize you didn't. @carlisles-girl

tick tick tick – j. d. x reader // after killing your perverted ex boyfriend, you finally learn to accept the dark feelings inside you. j.d. copes with real feelings as you pull him out of the numbnesses of his life. @fandom-imagines-stories

boom – j. d. x reader // preparing to run away together, j.d. and the reader hit a problem in their plan. j.d.’s father. things take a turn and j.d. has to decide if this new feeling of love are real enough to die for. @/fandom-imagines-stories

an afternoon well spent – j. d. x reader // although you're not quite a 'people person', j. d. seems to take a liking to you. @ofnifflersandkings

sweet talk – j. d. x reader // j. d. now spends every waking hour with you, and is surprised when you're the one to make the first move. @/ofnifflersandkings

yandere!j. d. x reader // j. d. kills your best friend but forces you to stay with him. @ongaku-ato-kakikomi

yandere!j. d. x reader // j. d.'s been lying to you, but once you find out, he doesn't let you break things off and takes desperate measures to ensure you can't move on to anyone else. @/ongaku-ato-kakikomi

life could be a dream – j. d. x reader // when jason "j.d." dean approaches you on a whim, you assume he's better than others make him out to be. it never crossed your mind that he was actually worse.

toxic love – j. d. x reader // in which j. d. 'loves' the you, so much so that he decides to blow up the school.

the other side of paradise – j. d. x reader // the adopted sibling of the school's newest asshole catches the eye of a psychopath. after he catches the eye of their sister, and ropes her into murder.

#heathers #jd x reader #jd fic #jason dean #heathers x reader #jason dean x reader

452 notes · View notes

sydsaint · 6 months ago

Text

Make fun of my big forehead man ONE MORE TIME!!!

Summary: With Rhea gone, TJD start to fall apart at the seams. Tired of taking Damian's abuse, JD decides that it's time for the Irish Ace to make his return to singles action. But JD isn't about to leave without his favorite girl.

"Crap." You grumble to yourself in the hotel room as you sift through your suitcase for your Judgement Day shirt. "Come on!" You grit your teeth. "It's got to be in here somewhere."

Across the room, JD finishes throwing his ring gear into his gym bag. He notices the distressed look on your face, so he walks over to you to ask what's got you looking so upset for.

"YN, love. What's got you all worked up?" JD asks you.

"I can't find my damned shirt!" You curse the air and shove your suitcase away from you.

You let out a frustrated sigh and run a hand through your hair.

"Alright, no need to take it out on the suitcase." JD chuckles to lighten the mood. "What's so special about this shirt you're looking for, anyway?" He asks you. "You know that you look good in pretty much anything, YN."

"Ugh, that's not the point!" You whine. "Damian has been up my ass about wearing Judgment Day merch to Raw." You explain. "I swear I packed the damn thing! But now I can't find it." Your voice cracks slightly due to your frustration.

Jordan rolls his eyes at the mention of Damian giving out more ridiculous orders to the team. Priest has been getting more and more authoritarian ever since he won his championship and Rhea had to leave due to her shoulder injury.

"Alright, just relax, love." JD walks back over to his suitcase laying open on the other side of the room. "Your suitcase might not survive another outburst." He jokes and pulls his Judgement Day shirt over his head.

JD tosses the shirt over to you and step forward to catch it. You watch him reach into his suitcase and pull out a different shirt to put on.

"Let Damian bitch at me for not wearing any merch today." JD offers as he pulls a plain purple shirt over his head.

"Thanks, Jordan." You crack a soft, thankful, smile.

You step into the bathroom with Jordan's shirt and the rest of your outfit for the night and get changed. You pull the shirt over your head in the bathroom and notice that it smells like Jordan. Which makes you smile to yourself.

When you come back out of the bathroom, JD is on his phone texting with Finn about the show. He looks up from his phone when he hears you come out of the bathroom and smiles at you.

"Like I said earlier." Jordan pockets his phone and gets to his feet. "You look great in just about anything, YN." He compliments you. "Damian and Dominick are already at the arena, and Finn is waiting for us in the lobby if you're ready to go." He adds.

"Yeah, just let me grab my bag." You nod and retrieve your bag from its spot on your bed. "And hey, thanks again for the shirt, Jordan. I don't know why I was freaking out so much about it." You thank him.

JD shrugs and gets the door for you. "Don't worry about it, YN." He assures you. "Happy to help."

You and JD meet Finn in the hotel lobby and the three of you head out to the arena for Raw. Once you make it to the arena, JD is quick to fall into a conversation with Dominick. You decide to take a minute to catch up with Finn while everyone waits for Damian to arrive back from wherever he's at.

"You ready for Raw, tonight? Finn?" You ask Balor casually. "You've got a match against Jey Uso, right?" You ask him.

"Yep." Finn nods. "I've gone up against Jey, before. It shouldn't be too much of an issue." He assures you. "How about you, YN. How's traveling with JD been?" He asks you. "The two of you getting along? It seems like you are. Especially since, and I mean no offense, but your shirt reeks of him, YN." Finn alludes to something or other involving you and JD.

You laugh at the way Finn maneuvers the conversation around the obvious accusation that he could be making. "Damian's been nagging me about wearing merch for Raw." You explain. "I forgot to pack my shirt, so Jordan lent me his. That's all."

"Oh." Finn replies. "Right, sorry, YN. I didn't mean to accuse you and JD of anything, you know?" He apologizes.

"It's okay, Finn." You laugh. "And to answer your other question, Jordan and I are getting along fine as travel partners." You assure him.

Finn nods and changes the subject to something else. Damian finally makes it back to the locker room right before Raw is set to start, and the mood in the locker room instantly changes when he arrives.

"Good, you're all here." Damian barges into the room, his voice booming as he slams the door behind him. "YN, I see you got the memo about your wardrobe." He comments on your shirt when his gaze happens to flit over to you. "And I see that JD did the opposite." He adds when he glances over at JD who's talking to Dominick.

JD rolls his eyes, but doesn't try and argue with Priest. Damian glosses over the schedule for Raw. He mentions Finn's match against Jey as well as his plans for a promo in the ring before the match.

"Alright, that's everything for tonight." Damian addresses everyone after he's done going over plans. "Y'all can do whatever you want until it's time to head out to the ring."

"How generous of you." You mumble to yourself, which earns some side-eye from Damian.

Damian turns his full attention on you, still siting next to Finn still. "You got something to say, YN?" He asks you.

"Nope. Nothing, boss." You reply dryly and rise from your seat.

Damian's gaze follows you as you walk past him and take a seat next to JD and Dominick. Damian stares at you for a moment, but eventually scoffs and walks off. Dominick heads out to go do something before it gets too late into the night, which leaves you with just JD to talk to.

"Some attitude he's got tonight." You whisper to Jordan with a sour expression.

"Got that right." JD agrees. "Who dies and made him boss anyway?" He adds.

Later into the night, it's almost time for Finn's match against Jey, so Damian rallies the troops and orders everyone out to the ring with him. You bring up the rear of the group with Jordan. Damian leads the pack and talks with Finn about making sure that he doesn't lose to Jey tonight.

"Is he really giving Finn the, 'you better not lose this.' talk, right now?" JD asks you quietly, so Dominick can't hear the two of you whispering.

"It sounds like it, yeah." You nod. "What the fuck is his problem tonight?" You wonder aloud. "I mean, Finn's been a champion way more times and in way more promotions than he ever has." You scoff.

JD nods in agreement, and you both glare over Dominick's shoulder at Damian. "And people like to say I've got a big head." He jokes with you.

You giggle and knock shoulders with JD playfully. "It's not that big." You laugh with him. "Just...larger than average. And it could be worse. You could have a big forehead and be ugly, right?" You add playfully.

"Well, we can't all be as effortlessly pretty as you, YN." Jordan chuckles. "But, I try."

You and Jordan laugh with one another, and for a moment you forget about Damian and his little ego trip.

Everyone files out to the ring and Damian gets a microphone from someone in the timekeepers area. With his microphone in hand, Damian makes his way to the middle of the ring and begins his speech.

You hang out in the corner of the ring with JD and Finn, and Dom is posted up in the other corner while Damian talks. Priest's speech eventually catches the attention of Jey, who was bound to head out to the ring sooner or later. But Jey doesn't come out to the ring alone. With him is Sami Zayn and Kevin Owens, who's visiting from Smackdown since you're in Canada for the week.

"Oh, great." You comment as Sami, Jey, and Kevin all file out to the ring. "He just had to run his mouth, didn't he?" You sigh.

Jey confronts Damian in the middle of the ring, still pissed off about JD and Dom helping Damian cheat to win at Backlash a couple of weeks ago. Sami and Kevin offer Jey support by keep an eye on you, JD, Dom, and Finn, on the other side of the ring.

Eventually, a fight does end up breaking out between the two groups in the ring. You do your best to stay out of the carnage, But it's a little difficult to stay out of the way when bodies are flying around everywhere with reckless abandon.

"Shit! Move, Damian!" You accidentally smack right into Damian on your journey to make it out of the ring.

Your hit knocks Priest off balance and allows Jey an opening to hit him with a pretty nasty super kick. You feel bad for causing it, but slip down to the floor anyway. JD pops up at your side a few seconds later after barreling through Kevin over near the corner of the ring.

"You alright, YN?" JD checks up on you as the chaos of the fight begins to dissipate.

"Yeah, I'm good, Jordan." You nod and head over to Finn as he rolls out of the ring as well.

Dominick joins your trio a few seconds later and everyone gets clear of the ring. Everyone except Damian. Priest remains in the ring and furiously tries another attempt at attacking Jey.

Jey backs off with regroups with Sami and Kevin, leaving Priest alone in the ring. Damian realizes he's alone and frantically starts looking around for his team. He turns around to find everyone waiting for him at the top of the ramp. You gesture for him to join you in a friendly manner, but Damian takes it as anything but a friendly gesture.

You and the group wait at the top of the ramp as Damian makes his way out of the ring. And Dominick is the first one to notice that he looks like he's fuming mad.

"What the hell was all that?!" Damian stomps up the ring and confronts everyone. "So you guys just leave me in the ring alone?" He glares at the group. "And you!" He directs his attention to you. "What the fuck happened in the ring? You tripped me right into Jey!"

"I was trying to get out of the way, Damian." You reply calmly. "It's not like I meant to trip you." You try and assure him that you meant no harm.

Damian rolls his eyes, anger rolling off him like heatwaves. "Right. I swear, Rhea leaves for a week and it's like the four of you turn into a bunch of idiots!" He huffs. "Did you all forget how to listen to simple directions?" He goes back to confronting everyone.

"And who died made you boss?" You reply sharply, not about to take this verbal abuse.

"Rhea did." Damian turns his angry eyes back on you.

You scoff and tsk at him. "The fuck she did." You protest. "Rhea didn't say shit about putting you in charge of anything, Priest! And I'm getting real tired of you bossing me around." You add.

"I'm the champion!" Damian points to the belt hanging off his shoulder. "So what I say goes. You don't like it? Then you can take your bad attitude and get lost." He glares down at you. "Rhea is plenty enough women for this group. We don't need another one."

Before your brain can register what you're doing, you raise a hand and smack Damian across the face. The sound echo's off the barricades either side of the ramp and you suddenly remember that everyone is still standing on the stage and not in the secluded backstage area. Meaning the whole WWE universe just saw you smack Priest across the face.

Damian's nostrils flare and he stares down at you with murder in his eyes. But you don't budge from your spot.

"She's right, Priest." JD speaks up from your side. "You're not our boss. And we're tired of you acting like you can order us around." He comes to your defense.

Damian's rage switches from being directed at you to JD. He towers over Mcdonagh with a locked jaw and glares at him. "Yeah? Well you can join her then." He growls at JD.

"Gladly." JD replies. "Finn, Dominick, don't let this bloke order you around like his lackies, mates." He gives a friendly warning to the remaining Judgment Day members. "Come on, YN. Let's get out of here."

You glance between Finn and Dominick, offering them each a sympathetic smile before you join JD. The two of you walk toward the curtain while the WWE crowd roars throughout the arena.

"You know that we're going to catch hell from Priest for this, right?" You laugh to yourself as you and JD step through the curtain. "And we aren't exactly popular in this locker room." You add.

"Eh." JD shrugs and grabs your hand hanging at your side. "I've got you, love. Nothing else I need." He grins at you.

You giggle and clutch at his hand in yours. "It might not be so bad then." You joke.

You know that being against Priest won't be an easy battle. But you're willing to take the fight head-on as long as JD has your back.

#wrestling #wwe #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #wwe fic #wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fanfic #wrestling fic #jd mcdonagh #jd mcdonagh x reader #the judgement day #judgement day #tjd #syd's wrestling fics #wwe imagine #wwe x reader #the judgment day x reader #the judgment day #judgment day

139 notes · View notes