#like almost brings a tear to my eye painful

[scoupsakakitty]

Hi!! I have an idea for Jeonghan. You know The8's song Cold love. (It's my favorite).

The idea is this. The reader has a crush on him, even tho there in the same group (pls idol au), But he's cold, and distant to her/them.

It can be either a fluffy or angsty ending, with her leaving the group of them ending up together.

The reader can be Gn, or female I don't mind any.

I Love your writing, it brings me comfort 🫶

Cold Love | idol!Jeonghan x 14thmember!Reader | angst, fluff

The sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in shades of orange and purple. The secluded cabin where Seventeen had gathered felt warm and lively, but to Y/N, it felt anything but.

She sat on the wooden deck, looking out at the calm lake that stretched before her. It was supposed to be a relaxing trip a short break before Jeonghan left for the military in a few months. Everyone had been excited about it, especially since they hadn’t had much downtime lately. But for Y/N, this trip had been nothing but painful.

She glanced back toward the large glass windows of the cabin. The rest of the group was inside, laughing and playing games, but her eyes were fixed on one person Jeonghan. He was sitting at the dining table, smiling at something Mingyu said. That smile was the reason she had fallen for him in the first place. It was soft, warm, and made her feel safe.

But lately, he hadn’t shown that side to her.

Not once.

Instead, he had been cold. Distant. Unkind.

Her chest tightened as she turned back toward the lake, hugging her knees. She wanted to believe there was a reason for his behavior some explanation that made sense but she was tired of waiting for answers.

“Y/N?”

She flinched at the sound of her name and quickly wiped at her eyes before turning to see Joshua approaching her.

“You okay?” he asked, crouching beside her.

“Yeah,” she lied.

Joshua raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you’ve been out here for almost an hour, and you missed dinner.”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“Not hungry, or avoiding someone?” Joshua���s voice was gentle, but his words hit her hard.

She didn’t answer.

“You know,” he said, sitting down next to her, “whatever’s going on between you and Jeonghan, you should talk to him about it. The tension’s so thick it’s making the rest of us uncomfortable.”

Y/N let out a humorless laugh. “There is no ‘me and Jeonghan.’ He made that very clear.”

Joshua hesitated before speaking again. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Then why does he act like I don’t exist?” Her voice cracked.

Joshua frowned but didn’t push any further. Instead, he stood and offered her a hand. “Come inside. It’s getting cold.”

She took his hand and let him pull her up, but her heart sank as she caught Jeonghan’s gaze through the window. For just a moment, something flashed in his eyes worry? Pain? But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened, and he looked away.

————————————————————————————-

Dinner had ended, and the group gathered in the living room for games. Y/N sat quietly in the corner, barely paying attention as the others laughed and teased each other. She tried to join in, but her mind kept drifting back to Jeonghan.

It wasn’t fair. She had poured her heart out to him months ago, told him how she felt. And he had rejected her not with words, but with silence and distance.

It hurt more than she ever thought it could.

“Y/N, it’s your turn,” Seungkwan said, snapping her out of her thoughts.

She blinked. “What?”

“We’re playing charades. Your turn.”

“Oh… okay.”

She stood awkwardly, trying to focus, but the pressure of everyone’s eyes on her and Jeonghan sitting just across the room made her panic.

“I can’t. Sorry.” She quickly sat down again, her cheeks burning.

“Are you okay?” Seungkwan asked, concerned.

“I’m fine,” she said, but the tears threatening to spill told a different story.

Jeonghan shifted in his seat, his fists clenched. He wanted to say something to do something but he couldn’t. The management’s warning echoed in his head. No relationships. No scandals. If he stepped out of line, she could be kicked out of the group.

But seeing her like this, breaking apart because of him, was unbearable.

“Y/N.” His voice was sharp.

She froze, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Can I talk to you? Outside?”

The room fell silent, everyone’s eyes darting between the two of them.

“No,” Y/N snapped.

Jeonghan flinched. “Y/N—”

“No!” She stood up, her voice rising. “You don’t get to do this! You don’t get to ignore me, push me away, and then suddenly decide you want to talk when it’s convenient for you!”

The other members stared in shock as her voice cracked with emotion.

“Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?” she cried. “You know how I feel, and you couldn’t even be kind to me. If you don’t like me, fine! But at least treat me like a human being!”

Jeonghan opened his mouth, but no words came out.

“Forget it,” Y/N said, her voice trembling. She turned and ran to her room, slamming the door behind her.

————————————————————————————-

The night was quiet, but Jeonghan couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as her words replayed in his head.

You don’t get to do this.

Do you have any idea how much you’ve hurt me?

If you don’t like me, fine!

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. He couldn’t let her believe that. He couldn’t let her go to sleep thinking she wasn’t loved because she was. More than anything.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he left his room and walked to hers.

He hesitated at the door, hearing her muffled sobs. His heart shattered.

Knock. Knock.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “It’s me.”

There was no response.

“Please,” he whispered. “Let me in.”

After a long pause, the door opened.

Her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked exhausted.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I need to explain,” he said. “Please.”

She stepped aside, and he walked in, closing the door behind him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

“I don’t hate you,” Jeonghan finally said. “I never have.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Then why?”

“Because I was scared.” His voice was raw. “The management they told me that if we got involved, they’d kick you out of the group. And I couldn’t risk that. Not for me, and not for you.”

Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “So instead, you decided to treat me like I didn’t matter?”

“I thought it would be easier,” he admitted. “I thought pushing you away would protect both of us. But all I’ve done is hurt you—and I hate myself for it.”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I always have.”

Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and kissed him.

Jeonghan froze, shocked, but when she pulled away, embarrassed, he caught her hand.

“Wait.”

He cupped her face and kissed her deeply, pouring everything he felt into that one moment.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

“We’ll figure this out,” he said. “Together.”

Tears streamed down her face, but this time, they were happy tears.

“Okay,” she whispered.

————————————————————————————-

Y/N sat nervously in the practice room, her hands clenched into fists as she faced Seungcheol. He looked at her like she had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“You want to what?” Seungcheol’s voice was sharp, but there was also concern in his eyes.

“I want to leave the group,” Y/N repeated, this time louder. Her voice still shook, but she forced herself to hold his gaze. “It’s the only way.”

“The only way for what?” he demanded, crossing his arms.

“For Jeonghan and me to be together,” she said softly, looking down.

Seungcheol froze. “…What?”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling her chest tighten. “The management said if we get into a relationship, I’ll be kicked out of the group. Not him. Me.”

Seungcheol stared at her, completely silent for a moment. Then he burst out, “And you just accepted that?!”

“What else am I supposed to do, Seungcheol?” she snapped, her voice breaking. “Let them ruin his career? Let them destroy everything he’s worked for? I can’t do that to him!”

“And you think he’d be okay with you giving up your career instead?” he shot back. “Do you think Jeonghan would ever forgive himself if you left because of him?”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out.

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “No. Absolutely not. You’re not leaving. We’re going to fix this.”

“How?”

“Simple,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “We’re going to the management, and we’re going to make it clear that this isn’t happening. You’re staying in Seventeen.”

———————————————————————————-

Y/N sat beside Seungcheol in the cold, sterile meeting room. Her palms were sweaty, and her heart pounded so loudly she was sure the managers could hear it.

Seungcheol, on the other hand, leaned back in his chair, completely unfazed.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” he said as soon as the managers sat down. “We need to talk about Y/N.”

One of the managers raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“This rule you’ve made,” Seungcheol said, his voice sharp. “The one where you’ll kick her out of the group if she dates Jeonghan. It’s ridiculous, and it’s not happening.”

The managers exchanged glances. “We’ve already discussed this with her.”

“And now you’re going to discuss it with me,” Seungcheol shot back. “You don’t get to ruin someone’s career because they fell in love.”

“This isn’t about punishment,” one manager said stiffly. “It’s about protecting the group’s reputation.”

“Reputation?” Seungcheol laughed bitterly. “What reputation? SEVENTEEN’s reputation isn’t built on scandals or dating bans. It’s built on talent, hard work, and loyalty. And you want to throw all of that away by forcing Y/N out?”

Another manager leaned forward. “This is standard in the industry—”

“I don’t care what’s standard,” Seungcheol interrupted. “This group isn’t like the others, and you know that. We’re a family. And you’re asking us to tear apart our family over something as human as love.”

“It’s a risk,” the manager argued.

“So what?” Seungcheol said, his voice rising. “Everything we do is a risk! Going on stage is a risk! Performing live is a risk! But we still do it because we believe in each other. And if you don’t believe in us if you don’t believe in Y/N and Jeonghan then maybe you’re the problem, not them.”

The room went silent.

Finally, one of the managers spoke, their tone colder than before. “If this relationship gets out to the public, there will be consequences. For both of them.”

Seungcheol’s jaw clenched. “Then we’ll handle it. But you’re not forcing her out of this group.”

The managers exchanged looks, clearly unhappy, but after a long pause, one of them sighed. “Fine. But it stays private. And if it ever becomes public, you all know what’s at stake.”

———————————————————————————-

Meanwhile—Dance Practice Room

Jeonghan wiped sweat from his forehead, looking around the room. Something felt… off.

“Where’s Y/N?” he asked, glancing at the others.

Joshua hesitated, then pulled him aside. “She’s with Seungcheol. At the company office.”

Jeonghan frowned. “Why?”

Joshua bit his lip. “…She’s asking to leave the group.”

Jeonghan froze. “What?”

“She said it’s because of you,” Joshua admitted softly. “Because of what the management said about you two.”

Jeonghan didn’t wait to hear more. He grabbed his jacket and bolted out of the practice room.

———————————————————————————-

Y/N and Seungcheol stepped out of the management’s office, the tension from their earlier discussion still lingering in the air. Y/N’s heart pounded, but this time, it wasn’t from fear. It was from relief.

It was over.

She could stay. She didn’t have to leave Seventeen. She and Jeonghan could be together as long as they kept it private.

But before she could fully process everything, Jeonghan’s voice echoed down the hallway.

“Y/N!”

She froze, her eyes widening as she turned to see him storming toward her.

His face was filled with panic and anger, and the moment he reached her, his voice was sharp. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Jeonghan—”

“You can’t leave the group!” he interrupted, his voice trembling. “Not because of me!”

Seungcheol raised his hands, trying to calm the situation. “I’ll give you two a moment,” he said, stepping back. He shot Y/N a reassuring look before walking away.

As soon as Seungcheol disappeared down the hall, Jeonghan turned back to Y/N, his eyes desperate.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why would you do this? Why would you throw away everything we’ve worked for?”

Y/N’s heart ached seeing the pain in his eyes. She reached out, but he stepped back, his fists clenched.

“Jeonghan, stop,” she said softly. “Listen to me.”

“How can I listen to you when you’re trying to leave?” His voice cracked, and for the first time, she saw the fear in his expression.

“I’m not leaving,” Y/N said quickly, grabbing his hands before he could pull away. “I’m staying.”

He froze. “What?”

She nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “Seungcheol and I talked to the management. We convinced them to let me stay. We can be together, but it has to be private.”

Jeonghan stared at her, completely stunned. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Relief washed over his face, but it was quickly replaced by frustration. “You should have told me.”

“I didn’t want you to worry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I thought this was the only way to protect you.”

“Protect me?” Jeonghan stepped closer, his voice softer now. “Y/N, do you really think I’d be okay with you giving up your dream for me? Do you know how much that would’ve destroyed me?”

Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jeonghan reached out, gently cupping her face. “We’ll figure things out together. You don’t have to fight this alone anymore, okay?”

Y/N nodded, leaning into his touch. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. For everything. For how I treated you before. For making you feel like you weren’t important to me.”

She shook her head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain again. I know why you did it.”

“But I shouldn’t have,” Jeonghan said firmly. “I should’ve trusted you. I should’ve fought for us from the start.”

Y/N opened her mouth to respond, but Jeonghan didn’t let her.

Instead, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

“You’re not leaving me,” he whispered. “Not now. Not ever.”

Y/N melted into his embrace, finally allowing herself to breathe.

“Never,” she whispered back.

————————————————————————————

The group had gathered back at the cabin after practice. Y/N and Jeonghan sat together in the corner, their hands intertwined under the table where no one could see.

Seungcheol watched them from across the room and smiled to himself.

“Thanks, hyung,” Jeonghan said quietly when he caught Seungcheol’s gaze.

Seungcheol just shrugged. “You owe me.”

Jeonghan grinned. “I know.”

Y/N squeezed Jeonghan’s hand, and he turned to her, his expression softening.

They still had a long road ahead of them, but for the first time, they felt ready to face it. Together.

[gojoidyll]

There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 12 | Jing Yuan

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, your own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

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“Good evening, princess.”

Without much time to relax or breathe when Blade left to go to the Emperor, another had entered the infirmary. You recognized him easily. He was the main physician that cared for people here. Luocha.

Bringing up the blankets close to your face as a sort of barrier between you and the man, you nodded to him, “h- hello… are you… that Emperor that that guard had mentioned?”

Luocha chuckled as he came to your bedside, “no, no. I’m a doctor, a healer of sorts. Now, princess, how are you feeling? Is there any pain anywhere?”

Taking a moment to think things over, you were glad that everything was working so well so far. Though, truthfully, you haven’t once talked to Luocha before, so you weren’t sure just how perceptive he was, so the amnesia act must go on.

“A little… mainly in my legs, back, and a dull throb in my head.”

Luocha nodded, “and can you remember anything?”

You shook your head, “I- I can’t,” for more of an effective you tried to think of something sad so your eyes could start watering, and just as the tears started to form Luocha was quick to try to comfort you which was surprising to say the least.

“Don’t cry, princess, we don’t have to talk about your lost memory, alright? Let’s focus on something else.”

You nodded and just as Luocha brought out a small handkerchief, probably to wipe your tears, but before he could hand it to you, the infirmary door opened again, and Blade stepped through… with the Emperor coming in right after.

“Why is she crying,” Blade asked.

Luocha bowed, “I’m afraid it’s my fault, I asked her if she could remember anything, and I guess all the stress has finally gotten to her. My apologies.”

Without a word, Jing Yuan stepped forward and took the handkerchief from Luocha’s hand, and when he walked over to you, you couldn’t deny the fear that strikes through your veins as you scooted away, your back hitting the headboard as Jing Yuan sat on the edge of the bed and reached for you.

But all you could see was the striking arch of his blade swinging down.

However, instead of feeling that cold, electrifying metal glide straight through your body like it was made of paper, you felt a warm, calloused hand gently cup your cheek. The handkerchief cloth then lightly being applied to your dampened skin.

You trembled within his hold as he wiped away your tears. A part of you still disbelieving as he gently cleaned you up. It was such a stark contrast to your other meetings with him.

Once your tears were dried, Jing Yuan tossed the handkerchief back to Luocha, “leave us.”

Bowing almost immediately, Luocha took his leave. Though, Blade hesitated for a moment.

“That goes for you as well, Blade.”

Blade only gave a stiff nod before leaving. Your mind was a bit confused at the interaction. Blade has never done that before. He was always quick to follow Jing Yuan’s orders after all.

When you and Jing Yuan were finally alone, you half expected him to tell you to drop the act, but the words never came. Instead, his steel-like focus was solely on you, and not once were you able to stop your shaking, trembling form because of it.

His hand that was cupping your cheek moved to gently caress your face before he let his palm fall away from you.

“Princess.”

“Y- yes,” your voice wobbled slightly.

“Do you know how I am?”

“The- the Emperor?”

He smiled at your answer, “and my name?”

You shook your head, “no,” that one word was a mere quiet whisper that fell from your lips. This was way different than before. Not once had Jing Yuan ever asked anyone to leave you two alone. There was always a third-party present.

“My name is Jing Yuan.”

You nodded.

“Do you know your name?”

“I don’t… everyone only calls me by that princess title.”

Jing Yuan chuckled softly at your response and told you what your name was, and before he could say anything else, you spoke first even though that same fear still coursed through you.

“Is it true?”

“What is?”

“That- that we’re supposed to be getting married to one another?”

He hummed at that question, “we are, yes. You’re my fiancé, in fact.”

His hands moved down to your own, his fingertips lightly brushing at your knuckles as he tried to coax you to let go of the blanket, and once you did, he let his fingers slip into your palm before intertwining both his and your fingers together.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t remember anything much less being your fiancé.”

“That’s alright, I’m sure your memory will come back in time.”

You panicked then, was he really dead set on this marriage then?! You didn’t let your inner turmoil show as you looked at your intertwined hands, “how did we end up together?”

“I met you at your father’s castle. The moment I saw you, I knew you were the one.”

You resisted the urge to pull your hand away from his.

“Did I tell you much about myself? Anything you can remember? I- I mean, if you want to tell me, of course. It’s just- it might help me remember,” you rambled a bit, your nerves quickly acting up, but Jing Yuan was quick to ease you, surprising as it sounds.

“I know that your favorite color is (color), and that you like to eat (favorite food),” he started to list off a few things, each detail surprising you more than before because… he was right on all of them, but you never told him any of this, so how-? How was it that he seemed to know you so well?!

And as your conversation with the Emperor continued, Luocha had returned at some point to prescribe you some sort of pain relief drink that you will need to take every morning and even said that you will be able to go back to your room. Which was a blessing, well, until Luocha left once more, and Jing Yuan stood up as well just as the infirmary door closed.

“Shall we?”

His hand was still intertwined with your own as you nodded. He was probably going to lead you back to your room, much to your relief. However, as you stood up the pain in your legs was way more than you previously thought as you left out a small cry of pain and stumbled forward.

Luckily, Jing Yuan had already caught you before you could fall face first to the floor, and before you could apologize, he had lifted you up causing a gasp to leave your lips as he moved to hold you in a bridal carry. Scrambling in his grasp, you hadn’t noticed that you had wrapped your arms around his neck until you turned your head to look at him, and not realizing that he was looking at you too, your lips had accidentally brushed against his own.

You reacted quickly as you pulled away, “I- I’m so sorry!”

And as you looked at him, it was like it took a moment for your words to register in his head as his eyes seemed to have a far away look in his eyes, but before you could say anything else, he smiled at you.

“You don’t need to apologize for something like that.”

You nodded as he fixed his hold on you and moved to exit the infirmary, and just as you were about to ask him if he wanted you to open the door for him, he had called out to Blade, and just as he did, the door opened. Blade seemingly had been guarding the infirmary this entire time.

“Come along.”

The walk to your room was silent and whatever you did, you just couldn’t get your body to relax within his hold. Your tension not going unnoticed by the Emperor, but luckily he didn’t say anything.

“Here we are.”

Looking towards the door and then back up at Jing Yuan’s face you asked, “do we… not sleep in the same room?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard, but he was quick to recover, “before we had agreed not to share a room until after we are married, however, maybe sleeping in the same room will hasten your memories to come back sooner rather than later.”

You were quick to shake your head as you ducked your chin down to avoid eye contact, “n- no, we can- we can wait until we’re married- if- if you still want to marry me.”

Having Blade open your bedroom door, Jing Yuan had walked in with you still in his arms. His steps easily carry you to your bed, but before he set you down, he had leaned into you. His lips pressing softly to your forehead causing you to freeze up again.

“Get some rest, I’ll see you at breakfast in the morning. Your maids will come assist you in getting ready tomorrow,” he said to you as he set you down.

“Al- alright, thank you Emper-,” before you could finish he had stopped you, his thumb pressing firmly against your lips.

“My name.”

Nodding to him, he had brought his hand away, “thank you…. Yuan.”

The shortening of his name seemed to catch him off guard again, but just as before his recovery was as swift as the wind, and he delivered his goodnight to you just as easily before leaving your room.

And once you were finally alone, you flopped back into your mattress. Jing Yuan was acting off, but you knew better. As long as you stayed on your toes and kept at it, you knew that you would be able to make it home.

“Blade.”

“Yes?”

“Has Dan Heng apprehended the maid responsible?”

“He has.”

“Good.”

“Do you want him to take care of her?”

“No, I’ll kill the maid myself.”

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[holylulusworld]

Roll the dice (1)

Summary: You’re in trouble, and it’s all your fault.

Pairing: Mobster!Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Warnings: mafia au, angst, mentions of criminal activities, mentions of sickness, mentions of stealing, scared reader, bruises, hand around throat (non-sexual)

Catch up here: Roll the dice (Prologue)

Holding your breath, you watch it land on… 3

“Three,” you murmur, scared to the bones. While Steve smirks darkly, you wring your hands. This can’t be good. Of course, it can’t. All your life, you never had luck in the game. Why change your bad luck now? “What does it mean?”

Steve crouches down to grab the dice. He chuckles as you try not to faint. His cheer presence is intimidating. Having him up close while he holds your life in his hands is terrifying.

“OH, you got lucky, doll,” he taunts. Steve grabs your hand to place the dice in the palm of your hand. “Three means roll the dice again.”

“Again—” you whimper. Rolling the dice once was scary, and you made peace with death, even embraced it with open arms to end this nightmare you’re living in. Rolling it again means doom. “No… please decide.”

“I don’t make the rules,” he lies while his smirk deepens. His cheeks dimple and he almost looks like a beautiful angel, if not for the dangerous glimmer in his ocean-blue eyes. “How about I explain what every number means before you roll the dice again?”

A question is not in his words. He will tell you what the numbers mean, whether you want it or not.

You nod the moment his features darken. “Yes. Please.” You’re surprised the words come out of your mouth at all. It was a struggle to bring yourself to speak to him.

“One means quick death.” You shudder at his happy smile. “Two means painful death.” You whimper as he cups your jaw to force you to look him in the eyes. “You already know what three means.”

Steve watches your eyes glistening with unshed tears. He grins like the devil as he leans closer, his nose brushing yours.

“Four means an eye for an eye. In your case, it means paying me back my money, but ten times the amount you stole from me.” He hums when you silently start to cry. “I like five very much. It means working for me for the rest of your life. You already know about six, too.”

None of the options are appealing to you. Steve lied. There’s not a chance you get to walk out of his office alive and unharmed. You’ll never roll a six.

“So, go ahead,” he purrs your name and points at your hand. “Roll the dice again.” Steve gets back up to sit back down on his armchair, smirking as you stare at him with teary eyes. “Now!” He growls as you hesitate.

“Okay,” you sniffle and drop the dice, not even looking at it. You hold your breath and close your eyes.

“Aw, you’re a lucky lady,” Steve whistles. “A three again. Wow! I don’t think anyone ever got it two times in a row.”

You shudder. A three means you must roll the dice again. For a third time, you grab the dice and throw it toward Steve’s feet. It’s all a game to him.

“Another three,” he laughs in your face. “Pick it back up, lucky doll. Maybe this time, you’ll get a six, huh?”

Gritting your teeth, you glare at Steve. He’s toying with you, and you hate that you’re too weak to fight him. Before he can get mad, you move toward the dice to roll it again. You watch it stop at three and sniffle.

“Again.” He says.

You roll the dice. Three.

“Again, doll.”

Three.

“And again.”

Three.

You scream and throw the dice against the wall. “Why don’t you just kill me? I know this dice is manipulated!”

“You accuse me of lying!” Steve rises from his seat to grab you by your throat. “I gave you the chance to save your life! You’re not only a thief but ungrateful too!”

“It only ever shows three!” You claw at his hand, trying to get it off your throat. “Three. Three. Three!”

Heat speckles all over your face and neck. Your body becomes heavy, and your eyes flutter shut. You try to fight the invisible power dragging you into darkness, but it's useless.

“Hmm…yeah. That’s much better, isn’t it? Letting me take control over your body, life, and mind. You never stood a chance, doll.” Steve presses a kiss to your trembling lips before your head lolls back. “Did you honestly believe I would let you walk out on me? Of course, the dice shows whatever I want.”

A few weeks earlier, the night you stole from Steve…

“Steve, I don’t know why you let her get away with it. Man, she didn’t even avoid the cameras,” Bucky grunts. Steve and he are watching you walk toward the back entrance, your bag filled with the money you stole from your boss. “Let me stop her.”

“No,” Steve smirks. “I want to know why she found the guts to steal from me. She was always a shy little mouse. I wonder what happened.”

“With all due respect, that’s just stupid,” Bucky huffs. He can’t believe his friend lets a random employee get away with stealing from him. “This could ruin your reputation.”

Steve chuckles. “Buck, she won’t get far. I told Sam to keep an eye on her, and Jensen is checking on her digital life. I’m still Steven Grant Rogers, not some inexperienced newbie. Likewise, I know what I’m doing.”

“You’re playing with fire, Steve.” The brunette can only watch you sneak out of the door, the money still in your bag.

Steve grins like the wolf he is and says, “I think it will be worth it, Buck. I haven’t had much fun lately. I’ll get me a sweet little mouse to toy with...”

Tags in reblog.

[slimybeth69]

Que Será, Será: Part 8

Rating: Explicit- Smut, violence, drinking/drug use. MDNI!! Summary: It's almost twenty years after some weird outbreak almost happened but the CDC took care of that...Now you're living in Austin, Texas as an adult.What happens when you meet Joel Miller who hasn't been hardened and ruined by twenty years of murder and loss? Warnings/Tags: DaddyDom!Joel/ you. no use of y/n. No physical description of the reader besides one tattoo. Reader has a background story. Drinking/drug use. Slow burn. Smut. Angst. Cheating. Graphic depictions of violence. Eventual loss of virginity. Use of nicknames/pet names (lil girl, baby girl.) DD/lg dynamics. BDSM play. Unbeta'ed. WIP. Cross-posting from my Ao3. Chapter Warnings: read at your own discretion- no warnings due to chapter spoilers.

Previously--

Joel doesn’t text you or call you for four days. You are fuming. So mad. Not sad anymore. Rage filled. But you only text him one thing on the fourth day and nothing else. 

Cool. 

And then you almost throw your phone against the wall but…you can’t afford a new phone and a laptop. Not even with Joel paying for the window. Your phone dings and it’s him. Your heart flutters until you open it. 

Sorry.

Currently-

Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool. Love that. Love all of this.

This is fucking wonderful.

You delete his text thread. You hesitate deleting the contact info because…that would be it. You don’t have any other way of contacting him unless you show up to his front door. You don’t delete it. You’ll hold on to it for a night you get real drunk and wanna make a fool of yourself. 

It’s another two weeks later and you’re at work, cashing people out when he comes through your line. You don’t even notice until he says something. You hadn’t even looked up.

“Hi.”

When you do look it feels like your heart is going to fall into your ass. 

“Hi.” It comes out of you so quiet and small. You’re so fucking scared for some reason. It feels like all the bones in your body have been turn to liquid.

“How y'been?” He asks and sounds shy. You shrug your shoulders and the anger returns. 

“Fine.” You snap softly. 

“Good.” Joel speaks softly to you but doesn’t say anything else. 

You cash him out and then he leaves. You’re so thankful that no one was behind him. You tell the person working next to you–with tears in your fucking eyes– that you need to go to the restroom and you’ll be right back. You spend ten minutes in there fucking crying. Heartbroken. 

Your co-worker– an older woman named Babs, comforts you gently when you come back teary eyed and red faced.

“You cryin’ over that mean lookin’ feller?” She asks quietly when no one else is around. You nod, but don’t start crying again. You can’t. You’ll have to leave if you start again. “Eh, you can do better.” She shrugs her shoulders.

It makes you feel worse because you don’t want ‘better’ you want Joel Miller. Wanted him so fucking badly it hurt everywhere. These last couple weeks have been nothing but pain and you can't even pinpoint it because it feels like it's overtaking your whole world.

You drive home and go straight to the whiskey cabinet. No fucking around tonight. You are drinking to be drunk. Drunk, drunk.

You change into something more comfortable, almost nothing— a little sundress because it’s hot. So fuckin’ hot. You bring your bong and bottle of whiskey outside with a can of Coke.

It’s happening: you’re getting over Joel Miller tonight. 

That bottle goes down…quicker than you expect it to, easier too. There wasn’t much left and…now it’s gone. So, you’re feeling better. Feeling not as sad. Not mad at all. Numb. Good. It’s good. Better than sad. Yes. Smoke weed. Get drunk. Be numb. The best way to handle your problems. 

It’s getting dark when your phone rings. You’re too drunk to care who it is. 

“Yessss?” You answer…very drunkenly.

“Y’expectin’ my call or somethin’?” Joel chuckles into the phone nervously. 

“Whaaaat?” You’re in shock. Stunned and still drunk. “Why’re y’callin’ m’fer?” You slur into the phone loudly. 

“You okay there, lil girl?” He asks, sounding worried about you and not nervous at all anymore.

“I’mm. Fiiiine.” You try to snap but it comes out long and drawn out, but annoyed. 

“Don’t sound fine… ” He speaks softly now. 

“Well why would I be? Huh? Huh?” You are angry again hearing his voice. “Jus’fuckin’ ‘banoned me? Fuuuck yooooou.” You are too drunk to be talking to him right now. You really should just go to bed. “I liked y-you ssoo muuuch. SOO much. I did.” You poke your chest like he can see you. “N’ y’fuckin’ leave.” You’re sad. Almost crying now. “Fuuck yoooou. I liked you!!!” 

“Can we talk?” He asks, sounding ashamed, not hearing or not caring that you’re hammered. 

“I’m lissstenin’.” You slur in a hiss. You’re pissed off. Drunk and angry.

“In person, stupid.” Joel chuckles into the phone. 

“M’not fuckin’ drivin’ nowhere. M’not that stupid!” You snap into the phone.

“M’out front. You don’ gotta go nowhere.” He whispers into the phone. You look at the back door of the house like you can see right through all the wood and drywall and plaster to try and see him. 

“Comin’.” You hang up on him and make your way to the front door. Joel is walking up to meet you as it opens. 

“Hey…” He says softly. 

“Fuuck. Yoou.” You teeter to one side but steady yourself. 

“You drinkin’?” Joel pinches his brows together softly. 

“Soooo much.” You glare at him like that’s supposed to bother him or make him feel some type of way. But it does. 

“Why?” He asks with a shrug on one shoulder. You haven’t invited him so he still on the porch. 

“Because.” You snap. ‘That’ss it.” You nod your head and blink for a long time. 

“You gon’ be okay?” Joel asks as you open your eyes. 

“Yesss.” You sigh at him.

“You want me t’go home? Delete yer’ number?” He asks quietly. “Want me t’ask y’again when yer’ sober?” He chuckles now but it doesn’t last long and he goes back to staring at you. You do not know. You want him to stay. But…why? He’s embarrassed of you. 

“I dunno.” You whisper up to him. 

“I’m sorry.” He shrugs his shoulders and tries to teach for you but you take a step back from him and scowl. “You hate me now?” Joel leans against the door frame and looks down at you sadly. 

“Y’hurt my feelin’s.” You grumble. “You're ‘sha–med of me.” You hiccup. Joel shakes his head. 

“No. I’m not.” He whispers. “I mean it. We can talk in the morning when yer’ sober. I’ll come back.” He nods his head and reaches for your hand.

You let him take it and he rubs his thumb across the back of your finger. “I wan’ you.” Your drunk heart and brain tell him what you want for you. “Real bad.” You nod at him.

“Yer’ so drunk, baby. Can I put ya t’bed?” Joel asks softly.

You keep nodding at him and he helps you back into the house and starts to lead you down to the basement.

“M’stuff… ” You point out to the back deck near the pool but Joel just walks you to the top of the stairs.

You take one stumbling step down before Joel wraps one arm around your waist, lifts you quickly and gets you downstairs himself, holding you facing out with your back against his chest.

You’re very concerned about your things outside though. “I got thingsss outssside.” You look up at him as he puts you into bed and pulls the blanket up over you. 

“I’ll go get ‘em.” He kisses the top of your head very softly and turns your fan on, turns the lights off and then you’re passed out.

It’s not a pretty morning. It hurts. The whiskey hurts you so bad. You don’t even want to open your eyes.

No. You cannot. You will die here in this bed in the basement. Die of sadness and loneliness, probably. You could weep from the pain and the heartbreak.

Agatha meows softly and jumps up on the bed behind you. You pspspspss her real good but she never comes. You roll over and then fall out of your bed quite literally. Jump out screaming, is more like it!

There is a man beside you– Joel Miller!? And he’s petting your cat!!

“What are you doing here?” You ask from the floor as Joel rolls over onto his back to look at you. 

“Want me t’go? I stayed in case ya got sick or whatever.” Joel shrugs his shoulders and sounds disappointed in your reaction to seeing him. 

“When did you get here? How did you get in?” You’re still on the floor and still so confused. Your head is pounding and you just wanna go get sick and crawl back into bed. 

“Last night. Showed up after y’started boozin’.” Joel explains and starts to get out of your bed. He has all of his clothes on except for his boots. “I’ll go. M’sorry fer’ jus’ showin’ up. Saw ya at the store yesterday n’ ya looked real nice. I been missin’ you. Wanted to talk if you’d listen…” Joel trails off as he stands at the end of your bed, towering over you still sitting on the floor. He extends his hand and helps you to your feet. 

“You– you don’t have to go.” You whisper softly. “I don’t want you to.”

Joel’s eyes light up and he takes a step closer to you. You might be sick. You put one hand over your mouth and dart into the bathroom. 

It's possible, by the power of Satan himself flowing through you that you are fine. You are going to be okay. You drink water and...actually just have to get into the shower.

It’s good there.

It feels so good to lay down, so you do, you lay down and curl up into a ball on the floor of the stand up shower for an embarrassingly long time.

All you can think about is what happened last night that your blacked-out brain cannot remember. Did you embarrass yourself? Did you do anything stupid that he can use against you in the future? Did you say that you loved him?

Ugh.

You're not sure Joel would tell you any of those things, even if they did happen.

When you stand up, things don't hurt as much, but you feel just as disgusting as you did when you got in, so you wash and scrub the evidence of the day before off and let it swirl around the drain and into the pipes to be gone forever.

You get out, and brush your teeth- that's what you needed more than anything.

When you come out you can feel his eyes on you immediately, but you don't look at him. You pull on a pair of panties with your towel still wrapped around you. You do the same thing with a new dress that barely touches any of your body when you put it on.

That's when you take off the towel and finish drying your hair.

“I’ll understand if y’dont wanna smoke…” Joel gives you a sad smile as he watches you from the couch.

It's so hard to be mad at him for ignoring you, and not giving you any explanation for why he didn't want to see you anymore when he's looking at you with his big, sad brown eyes.

“Why’d ya leave that day?” You ask softly, sitting yourself down on the couch with enough distance between you for a whole person to lay down.  

“You know. S’awkward. ” Joel shrugs his shoulders, his eyes not meeting yours anymore. “Made me feel weird– bad." Joel doesn’t sound mad when he says this, he sound almost regretful. "Felt like a fuckin' pervert."

Now you're scared of the reason he came over here.

“What changed?” You whisper.

Joel chuckles and turns his head to look at you. “I realized… I am. I wanna fuck th’shit out of your tight, young, lil virgin pussy… so god damn bad. I get so fuckin’ hard thinkin’ ‘bout it.” Joel growls the words to you quietly. “I think ‘bout watchin’ my hard cock slidin’ into yer’ lil hole fer’ the first time n’ I could fuckin’ bust right there.” His mouth is so tight when he speaks, like he's trying to hold the words back from slipping between his lips.

He's quickly closing the distance between you two on the couch, and it makes your heart race, and his words make your pussy clench around nothing.

“Oh.” 

You’re so wildly turned on by his words, he's barely said them and you're already dripping. Your stomach is fluttering so much you feel like you might actually be sick this time. There is pressure and also a weird weakness in your chest simultaneously, like it might cave in on itself. 

“That’s all ya want from me?” You murmur, staring at him as he inches himself closer to you. He shakes from side to side silently. “What else do you want then?” You close your eyes because he is so close, you know he’s going to kiss you and you know where. Under your right eye.

“All of you.” Joel breaths against your eyelid and it makes you shiver. “Everything. Whatever ya wanna fuckin’ give me. I don’ care. I’ll take it, n’ be your pervy old man.” Joel speaks quietly and softly and moves down your cheeks as he speaks until he’s to your lips. “I’ll take whatever y’give me. I want it.” Joel whisper against your lips before he kisses you. 

You lean back and let him climb between your legs and rest some of his weight on top of you. He doesn’t grind himself down into you like you so desperately want him to, he lays his hips gently onto yours and rests there as he kisses you deeply. One of his hands finds the side of your face and he cups, then slides up, carding his fingers through your hair as he tries to deepen the already intense kiss.

It’s so deep it feels like he’s trying to lick your throat, but… you’re right there trying to lick his– trying to crawl into each other's mouths. 

He moans quietly as your hands find his hair and hold him to you as your mouths do the opening and closing-thing, the desperate-thing. Wet kissing sounds, and both of your breathless, panting moans fill the room. 

“I need you.” You whisper, pulling his head away from you by his hair. He chuckles and tries to kiss you again but you don’t let him. 

“No.” He growls, and there is another attempt to kiss you, more forceful this time, but you grip his hair tightly and yank his head back, he groans when you do it but doesn’t stop grinning down at you or panting.

“Why not? Why are you dragging it out?” You’re almost angry about it but…how can you stay mad at him? He’s grinning down at you all stupid, with his chocolate brown eyes and his body is just so big on top of yours. So warm. He smells so fucking good. 

“Yer’ special, so it's gotta be special.” He pants and makes an attempt to pull free from your grasp in his hair but you don’t let go and he rolls his eyes and groans in frustration but it’s short lived when he looks back down at you. 

“I don’t want it to be a big thing?” You whisper, reminding him of why you hadn’t lost it yet. 

“Shhhh. You want it sooo fuckin’ bad. Right?” Joel speaks like he knows exactly what he’s talking about.

You nod.

“S’let me keep doin’ all this– all these fun n’ sexy things that make ya feel soooo good– they make ya feel good, right?” He questions you again and pauses with his eyebrows raised.

You nod again.

“Okay. Ya' were sooo nervous with e'ryone else 'cause ya weren't comfortable, right?"Joel is still talking like he is so smart and has all the answers.

You shrug your shoulders and nod. begrudgingly.

“M'gettin’ ya' there…” Joel nods his head. “Doin’ all this fun stuff…makin’ ya more n’ more comfortable— confident n’ how to use that sexy fuckin’ body ya got- I- need'ya a lil more comfortable ‘fore we go n’ take the plunge. ‘Kay? Sexy fuckin’ lil girl with the tightest fuckin’ pussy, that work fer’ you?”

You nod silently.

“‘Kay. Shut up n’ kiss me a lil ‘fore we smoke n’ relax a. You gotta work today?” He questions you.

You shake your head no.

“‘Kay. You still like me?” He gives you a crooked half smile.

You nod.

“‘Kay. So stop worryin’. Daddy’s gon’ take reeeeal good fuckin’ care of you.” He snaps his head forward slightly, in the process pulling his hair free from your grasp. “Ha!” Joel laughs in your face once and brings his lips to yours again and opens your mouth for you with his tongue, and it turns into who can kiss the wettest very quickly. 

When he finally pulls himself away, you're both panting as he rests his forehead against yours. Then he exhales loudly and quickly, then kisses you once more before he climbs off of you and goes back to the coffee table with weed and smoking paraphernalia on it.

You stare at him. 

Is he your boyfriend now? 

You replay the last ten minutes in your head and everything he said. It sounded…like he wanted to be your boyfriend. Kinda. Kinda sounds like he just wants to fuck you? You dunno. You’re too fucking scared to ask and look stupid. 

“What?” He asks when he feels you staring at him while he gets ready to smoke. 

“Nothing.” You snap and turn to face the TV. You put on the only thing you watch and Joel says…nothing. For a long time. You start from the first episode. He doesn’t talk for three and a half episodes of Jersey Shore before he turns to you. 

“What’re they doin’?” Joel asks with his eyes still partially looking at the TV. “What’s th’point of this show?” You snort and shake your head slowly. 

“There isn’t one. That’s why it’s amazing.” You turn back to the screen and enjoy your comfort show. So simple. So easy. Brain rotting. 

“Jus’...gettin’ drunk?” He doesn’t understand. 

“Yeah… they were doing a lot of coke too, but they didn't show all that.” You laugh and rub your feet along his thighs. He rubs your shins as you do that and cannot take his eyes off the TV. 

“That makes sense…” Joel trails off and goes quiet again. You flick your eyes to him intermediately to see if he’s enjoying himself. Never once does he look like he is. His nose is always wrinkled or his eyes are wide. Or he has no emotion about it at all but it’s been on for hours. Joel never complains. Once your headache is gone and now you are pandered by hunger…you turn the TV off and Joel’s head snaps to you. “What?” He wanted to keep watching, apparently. 

“I need food.” You groan and can’t fathom standing. 

“Wanna go somewhere? I can order us somethin’? I can…”

“Don’t say cook because I have no groceries.” 

“Do– do you wanna go get some?” Joel asks like you’ve been holding off on running errands to hang out with him. 

“No?” You’re so confused. 

“You don’t… need food here?” He has his brows pinched together like he doesn’t understand you. He doesn’t. Clearly. He has food in his fridge. 

“Uh… not really? I don’t cook for just myself. It all goes to waste. I eat out a lot. Order food…” You feel silly when you say it but it’s the truth. Go through all the bullshit of cooking a really good meal to sit alone and the leftovers never get touched? No. You don’t… not cook. Just…not all the time. Gotta have a craving for something from back home for you to want to cook. 

“Oh. Okay…” 

“Do you cook dinner every night? We ordered out when I stayed there..” You feel judged. 

“I cook more than I order out…” Joel might be judging you. 

“Well if you stick around maybe I’ll cook more!” You say it in annoyance of his judging eyes but then he smiles and snorts softly. 

“I ain’t goin’ nowhere. Gotta go to Mexico in six months but… I’m comin’ right back.” Joel smirks and wraps his hand around your ankle softly. 

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you … probably order food.” You stick your tongue out at him and he grips your ankle tighter. 

“Alright.” Joel sits up and pushes your feet off his knees gently. “Yer’ toooo fuckin’ comfortable ‘round me n' the way you talk to me?” Joel is slightly smirking when he says it but…he sounds kinda serious. “Gon’ teach you a lesson, lil girl. C’mere.” he sits up on the couch, pushes the coffee table away from his legs with his foot and pats his legs. You stand up and go to sit down but he stops you. “Oh no. Lay over top of ‘em.” He grins now. 

“What!” You take a step away from him but he has his hand on your wrist before you get too far. 

“Shut yer' fuckin' mouth n' get over here. Y’heard me. Y’wanna get spanked? Alright. Let’s go.” He nods to you over to him, pulling on your hand lightly. 

“When did I say I wanted to get spanked!?” You exclaim. This is exciting, sexy and also fucking terrifying. He was being so, so sweet a couple minutes ago and now he wants to spank you!

“I’m just gon’use my hand, baby… nothin’ crazy. No flogger, no whips.” He explains. He’s speaking like he’s trying to calm a rabid animal. Firm, but nice. 

“What the fuck is a flogger??!” You are now more terrified and a little less turned on but then you realize he said no. None of that. Just his hands… maybe. You still fight him a little. 

“That toy from that special video…” He teases and flicks his eyebrows up once. “Just using my hands today…” Joel looks so excited. 

“Your hands are so big and so strong!!” You are inching towards him though with shuffling feet. 

“I know, baby girl. It'll be okay,” Joel tugs on your hand and pulls you over his lap.

You’re staring at the black faux fur rug and wondering how you got here. You pray to Satan that you enjoy this and it’s not scary and doesn’t hurt too bad. Shit. Okay. You shiver as Joel lifts your sundress over your ass and halfway up your back. Then he shifts a bunch and leans over you partially.

“Now… I’m gon’ buy ya new ones… later today— I promise.” Joel explains but you’re confused about what he means until you hear the fabric ripping.

What is it with him and ruining your things???? He's tearing the underwear right off of you.

He doesn’t even take them all the way off– just rips them in the back right down the middle so he can have access to your bare ass. 

“Okay.” It comes out of your mouth as a whimper and you are trembling as he rubs his rough palm and pads of his fingers across both cheeks very gently. So slowly. You get goosebumps. Immediately. 

“Awwwhh. You kinda scared, lil baby?” Joel chuckles like this is so much fun for him. Scaring and teasing you. Making your heart race. It's good. So fucking good.

“Lil bit.” You mewl up to him. He laughs. Deeply. 

“Don’t be. It’s only gon’ hurt for a lil while…then Daddy makes everything better. S’how this works baby, ok?” He is being so patronizing the way he speaks-it’s fucking so hot for some reason. 

“Alright–”

And then your naked ass is greeted by his palm for the first time with real force behind it. It doesn’t knock the air out of you, not even a little, but it does sting, and it does make you hiss with clenched teeth. Then Joel's hand moves across your ass so softly, so lovingly. 

“Yer’ a good girl— you will be. Imma make you a fuckin' good girl.” Joel chuckles again softly as his hand rubs the sting out of your ass fat. It still burns a little but it’s nothing bad. You don’t hate it. “Now…do’ya know what good girls do?” So condescending. It drips out of his mouth as he talks to you. 

“What?” You purr to the floor as his fingers inch their way towards your slit. He brushes the tips of his fingers against your pussy and then leaves and goes back to rubbing your ass cheek. 

"They want more. Y’want more, Birdie-girl?”He purrs back down to you deeply, rumbling in his throat when he speaks. You nod silently. “Use that pretty fuckin’ voice you got then.” He snaps at you and grips one of your globes in his hands and jiggles it slowly. He groans happily at the sight of your body moving under his hand. 

“I want more.” You whine happily as his touch. 

“Jeesus. Okay. Listen t’me. Ya listenin'?" He confirms like you are not bent over his knees.

"Yes." 

"Good. Now shut th'fuck up n you listen good. You say: Can I have another–. N’ then you call me whatever you want. I don’ care…but you address me, ask for it, tell me whatcha want… n’ then say please..” Joel explains with a hint of annoyance in his tone and you roll your eyes. 

“Fine. Okay. Here, you ready?” You ask him, also sounding slightly annoyed. You don’t let him respond. “Can I please, please have one more, Old Man? I need it so bad. I want you to spank me… Daddy.” You lather it on for him and roll your eyes once again when you finish. Joel doesn’t say anything. His hand stays moving on your ass still. He just snickers to himself quietly. 

“You forget where the fuck yer’ layin’, y'fuckin brat?" He barks after a second. It's snapped out his mouth at you, and makes you jump. 

Your pussy is dripping. Why?? "Huh? 

"You forget what we’re fuckin' doin’? Who the fuck yer' talkin' to?” Now he is whispering, but it’s coming out of him growled and angry sounding. “Now…yer’ gon’ get a real one. That first one? Nothin’.” Joel sounds so upset--but, you think he likes this?

You dunno, not really.

Regardless, your heart is pounding, and now you’re fucking terrified. Youare so, so regretful. Why are you always being a sarcastic bitch all the time?! Shit. Shit. Fuck. He is still rubbing your ass cheek gently. 

“M'sorry, Daddy.” You whimper even though you mean to say it real strong, real powerful because you want him to know that you are really sorry.

But he chuckles at you and pinches your ass gently and his hand disappears.

Oh noo. This is gonna be so bad and you’re gonna hate it. Shit.

Then he’s going to hate you. 

“Awhhh, don’t be sorry, baby. I’m not mad.” He sounds nice again.

Like he isn’t gonna spank you again. Phew.

“I’m gon’ take you out today, shoppin’. Getchya some food. Coffee if yer’ cute lil ass wants one. If ya’ take this real good might even have a surprise for ya…” He doesn’t spank you but he’s waiting for something. You don’t know what to say. “I’ll do all that whichya anyway… but… I’d like t’spank ya real good first. Teach ya a lesson… if you’ll let me? Y'need it.” Joel is waiting for your consent. 

“And you won’t be mad if I said no?” You question him.

Joel gently– so very carefully and softly– presses his hand against your ass as he speaks comfortingly. “Never. I mean it. I like this, but y’don’t gotta. Doesn’t matter t’me. We can still go have fun n’ all do all that fun stuff anyway…” His voice is deep and even, calming and he means it. You can tell.

“Can I please have one more, Daddy, please? I’d really like you to spank me.” You are so nice. So nice and such a good girl about it-- genuinely.

He is happy with you! So happy!! He taps your ass twice gently and chuckles. “Yer’ fuckin’ great.” He chuckles a little harder and takes his place sitting straight up. “Now… it’s gon’ hurt baby. I’m sorry.” He warns you and now you’re fucking scared again. “Soon as I do it…Imma rub the sting out… n’ do something else fer’ ya, okay? But.. yer' gon' learn a lesson.” He gets your consent once more. 

“Okay.” You fuckin’ give it to him even though you are terrified because, guess what? You’re drenched. Dripping down your thighs. Soaked. You’re aching in a way you never knew your pussy could ache. It feels like your lips are on fire and they feel swollen and puffy. You wonder if he can see you looking like a desperate mess for him. Yearning for him so badly. 

Joel rubs your ass once more and then the warmth from him is gone. You wait and wonder what he’s going to say to you know to increase the anticipation but, those thoughts are all gone from your head when you hear a sharp crack from behind you and those thoughts are replaced with just blinding pain. Searing hot and focused all in the shape of Joel Miller's hand-print on your right butt cheek. Shit. That fuckin’ huuuurts . Tears come to your eyes before you really even feel the pain. The sound his hand made on you was so loud it scared the tears right into your eyes before the pain had anything to really grip onto. 

It’s gripping. Ooooh boy is it gripping. Joel’s hand rubs over the spot he just smacked and it…just keeps hurting. He is cooing to you though and the nice, and sexy things he says kinda make you feel a little better. And what he’s doing with his other hand makes you almost forget about the pain immediately. He pushes three fingers into you. Definitely more than you’ve had before. You’ve never felt so stretched and full. You can’t hold back your gasps and whimpers as he twists his fingers around inside you. 

“Yeahhh lil girl. Did so good. Didn’t even make a sound.” Joel praises you over and over. “So fuckn’ good. You did so good. I’m so fuckin’ impressed. Fuckin’ perfect.” He sounds genuine and also very excited. “You like all these fingers inside you?” Joel whispers. “Don’t forget.. I wanna hear you, lil girl.” He pushes his extremities deeper into you and continues to twist them in both directions. Stretching you.   

“Yesss...” You hiss loudly between clenched teeth. You shut your eyes as his fingers work in and out of your channel quickly. You gasp and moan softly at him inside you. His fingers are still thrusting, but also twisting inside you slowly as he pumps in and out of you. He fingers you gently for a moment, getting you used to the size and thickness of his extra finger. Once he feels less resistance and hears your whimpers turning to moan is when he starts to really thrust— pummel you with almost his whole hand it feels like.. “Oh god. Oohh fuuuck.” You groan and grip his shin and drop the other hand to the floor. “Oohhhh fuuuck, Daddy.” You moan loudly. Joel never stops, his fingers move so fast and he’s angling them down just a little to rub the pads of his fingers over your spot each time. 

“Who’s yer’ Daddy?” Joel growls down to you, the hand on your lower back sliding down to your left ass cheek to pull it apart. He spits directly onto your asshole and one rough calloused tip massages his saliva against it gently. There is no pressure against your second hole at all, just a gentle rubbing. 

“You are, old man. ” You cry out as he brings you closer to rapture and good blinding white lights behind your eyes. You want it so bad. “Please please make me come. I wanna gush on you so bad.” You’re begging so hastily. “ Pleasepleasplease .” It’s strained coming out of you. 

“Whenever you want, lil girl. Let go n’ gush all over. Make a mess. I love t'see it.” He’s speaking so encouragingly. “Just say my name when you come… like a good girl.” His fingers are going to send you there, it’s happening and he’s chuckling before you even do it. Your walls are clenching him– trying to keep him inside of you on that perfect little spot. You need just a little more. You clench your eyes now because you can– he can’t see you. 

You explode. The most powerful gush yet, maybe. You cannot say his name. You cannot even think of anything besides how to breathe. You’re also attempting to crawl off his lap like this isn’t the most incredible feeling you’ve ever experienced. Mind shattering. No white lights. It’s just silent in your head for thirty seconds and you are crying. Sobbing on his lap and you hope that everyone experiences bliss like that in their lives. 

Joel eases his fingers out of you and whistles. 

“You okay there?” He asks your sobbing, crumpled form on his lap. “It hurt? S’why yer’ cryin’?” He’s so nervous. This man probably feels like he is walking through a minefield when he is with you.

“N-N-No. It’s s-s-s-sooo good.” You stutter and then with much grace and much agility, you stand off his lap and stare at him. 

"Ohhhh lil crybaby likes getting finger fucked by Daddy? So good, it makes her cry?" He croons to you, chuckling. "I like makin' you cry like that. Gon don' do it more often." 

“You’ll do that every t-time you s-spank me?” You hold a pinky finger out to him like a literal child and he chuckles and hooks his pinky with yours. 

“Every time, lil girl. Let’s go get you a surprise.”

If Joel is going to do this kind of stuff with you when he’s done spanking you… you’ll let him do way worse. Soooo much worse. He gets you an overpriced iced coffee and doesn’t even bitch about it. You are bitching about how bad your ass hurts in the passenger seat though. So that’s probably why he doesn’t say anything. Then he takes you to the mall. A place you haven’t been in so long because you don’t really need to stop. You loved shopping in Jersey but… it doesn’t feel the same down here. Spending money doesn’t make you happy the way it used to. 

Watching Joel happily and willingly spend his money on you is making you happy though, and you never cared about this shit before. Honestly, none of the guys you ever talked to before could do this… just… treat you? All the time? You didn’t even really want him to spend his money on you. His time and him holding your hand around the mall was literally more than enough. So much more. 

“I like these.” Joel speaks very quietly and it almost doesn’t look like he’s talking at all.

“Do you even want to be in here? You can go look at whatever guys look at in the mall while I buy this stuff.” You whisper back to him, because you’re not trying to embarrass him in Victoria’s Secret. He does not look like he wants to be in here though. He actually looks like he might be blushing a little as he eyes people walking by— they’re not even paying attention to him. No one is looking at either of you. 

“I like bein’ involved.” Joel snaps softly and innocently. He is embarrassed though. 

“Did you never come in here with your ex or buy stuff for her?” You question back in a whisper. 

“No. I ain’t have money to do all this back then. Hell no. She didn’t fuckin’ deserve all this anyway.” He whispers directly into your ear so no one will hear that. 

“Okay!” You whisper. “Which ones did you like?” You look down and he has his finger already pointed at a black lace pair. “Is that your favorite color?” You ask softly and look up at him. He’s shaking his head no and then nods down back to the table of sexy underwear. Now he’s pointing to a cheeky cotton pair that are very plain but they're hunter green.

“That.” He says sharply but again, innocently. He’s on edge, poor old man. You grab both pairs he pointed out and go to walk away but he snatches you by the elbow and pulls you back. “Get more.” He urges and points to another pair. Hot pink. So pink and so bright. “Those.” He whispers again, directly into your ear. And then he’s pointing to all different colors and styles. You get six more pairs and then he’s pulling you further into the store…the sexy side of the store.

“You involved in the process for this too or this all me?” You smirk up at him and his fingers pinch at your side softly. 

“You liked that lil blue thang or…you want somethin’ else” Joel is still whispering but his eyebrows are raised curiously. 

“Well…it’s more for you—”

“Oh naw it isn’t… I want you t’feel pretty n’ sexy. Whatchya like? What makes y’feel sexy, lil girl?” His voice and breath in your ear makes you shiver. That lil sexy blue thang did make you feel sexy. It did. You grab something that is similar in black. The only other color they have is white and you… dunno. Don’t like it. 

“Okay.” You smile up at him very happily and hold all your things in your hand. Joel looks around briefly and points with just his finger– his hand is still down by his side when he points. 

“That one.” He whispers and you follow his gaze and then his fingers and he’s pointing to a white babydoll style corset top with a flowy tulle skirt– also white and very see through. It comes with a matching thong. Not something you would pick out…but he seems to like it so, you grab one and are done spending his money now. 

You think.

Joel is driving towards your house but then he turns left when he should turn right. You furrow your brows when he does that but he smirks like he know what he’s doing and where he is going. 

“What’re you up to?” You give him genuine confusion because he’s been so quiet since you left the mall. You kinda have too. You have an excuse though. You’re hungover and also, buttcheek. It still hurts. You might have to ice it. 

“Don’ worry ‘bout it.” Joel shakes his head at you, but he does offer you his big, perfect hand to hold. You accept it happily and just shut up. Happy to be here. Along for whatever he’s gotta do today. You have a little headache, but…it’ll be fine. You’ll nap when you get home.

“Whaddya gotta get here?” You ask nosily. What new electronic could he need. He had a giant fucking TV and a nice sound system at his house. A nice TV in his room too. He lifts his ass a little and reaches into his back pocket. Joel pulls out his wallet, opens it up and hands you his card. 

“Nothin’...but you do.” He narrows his eyes on yours and smirks. You pinch your brows together in confusion. 

“Huh? I dunno what you want in there. I’m not getting the wrong thing just for you to have to go in there with me, return what I got, and then pick out the right one. Come in.’ You hand his card back him but he doesn’t take it. 

“I’m gonna roll us a lil somethin’. I don’t need nothin’. Go get yer’self somethin’. You deserve it. I was an asshole.” He sighs loudly. “Should’a called you that night n’ told you how I was feelin’. N’ I didn’t. I wasn’t gonna call you again…” Joel admits quietly. “Then I saw ya at the store.. N’... I dunno…” He trails off and looks like he has more to say. But he just sucks his teeth and then nods his head towards the store. “Go get yer’ lil computer.” Joel leans in over the console and waits for you to lean in as well. 

“You sure?” You blink at him and he nods. 

“I am.” He is still waiting for you to kiss him. You lean forward and he tangles his fingers in your hair on either side of your head and holds you and inch away. Your eyes scan trace along each others faces for second before he speaks. “Claimin’ you right now. Don’t give yer’ number out ‘cause yer’ nervous that I don’t like ya. I do. Shut up. Go get yer’ computer… n’ then lets go relax a lil. You can give me a lil fashion show…then I wanna do somethin’ else witchya.” Joel grins. “Go.” 

You go to grab your purse because… you’re not going to use his card. You have money. More money now that he paid for you window to the truck. You’re not going to tell him that you’re going to pay. It’ll be a lil trick and then he can do nothing about it. Ha. You’ll already have the computer. And he will have his card back.

You open the door and Joel whistles sharply at you. Not a sexy whistle. An attention grabbing whistle. You snap your head to him and he has his hand out. You look down at it and then back up at him. 

“What?” You blink at him and his open, empty hand. 

“Wallet– leave the whole purse— you can take yer’ ID but, leave everything else.” Joel is smirking at you now. “I’m not that big n’ dumb.” 

“You don’t need to buy me a computer. You paid for my window. That’s enough.” You put his card back in his hand and he rolls his eyes and opens his door. 

“Let’s go. Makin’ it fuckin' difficult. Must wanna ‘nother fuckin' spankin’ on the other side when we get home.” Joel mumbles to himself but he doesn’t sound mad or anything. He’s teasing you. You’re learnin’ him. Figurin’ his scowling ass out. Kinda nice, actually. 

You are floating into the electronics store. Absolutely floating. He likes you? Claiming you? No one’s ever…claimed you before and it’s hot. So hot. Why is Joel so hot? It’s not fair. It really isn’t. Now he wants to buy you a new computer. He is holding your freaking hand again in public with so many people around. 

“Get whatever you want. I don’t care.” Joel mocks annoyance as you look for a computer but he squeezes your hand when he does it. You get the same one you had. It was perfect and you loved it and don’t need a different one. 

As soon as you get in the car and put your computer in the backseat you’re crawling into his lap over the console and straddling him. Kissing him, smothering him because he is perfect. Joel runs his hands along your back and ass and squeezes you. Deep kissing, such deep desperate kisses that flick and tease every inch of your mouth. They make you dizzy. 

Joel is the one to pull away but it’s so he can tilt your head to the side with his gentleness and kiss along your jaw and under your chin and down your neck. 

“Thank you.” You pant as he kisses down into your exposed cleavage as far as he can until your shirt and breasts won't let him. He groans in frustration and his hands leave your ass and he uses one to grab at the neckline of your shirt. He glances around in every direction and there’s no one around. A lot of cars but no bodies… yet. His fingers worm their way into your bra and then he pulls down and exposes you to him and anyone else in the parking lot who could possibly come out of a store and see this monstrosity. 

Neither of you care as he wraps his mouth around your hardening bud and nibbles down on it gently and looks up at you as you stare down at him. His tongue flicks at it between his teeth until he makes you moan– then he smirks and sucks it into his mouth as it ungulates the flat of his tongue along it slowly while applying suction. He makes you moan again. He does that until your hips start to move on his– your back accidentally presses into the horn on the steering wheel and honks loudly until you pull away. You both jump and then he pulls away from you with a loud, wet sucking sound. 

“Get offa me you horny Bird. Jeesus.” He lets your shirt go and is pushing you off his body and into your own seat. “Gonna get us arrested. Public indecency.” He’s smirking when he says it and also adjusting his jeans near his groin because he’s a lil tight down there now.

Back at the house Joel is sitting in just his boxers on the bed, smoking– which…sonofabitch it shouldn’t be hot, but it kind of is… A lot. A lot hot. Shit. You’re in the bathroom with all your new sexy panties but you’re not trying them on. No. You’re in that sexy black lace getup with a pair of black thigh highs that came with it and that fucking belt. This one took so long to get hooked into the god forsaken stockings. You’re fine now though– all hooked and strapped and tied in. He better not fucking rip this thing. 

You take a deep breath and open the door. Joel is waiting for you and he likes what he sees. He was already teasing himself through his boxers when you went into the bathroom and now as you’re walking out, Joel holds the joint between his lips so he can free himself from his boxers and wrap his fist around it. 

“Spin.” It’s a soft spoken demand while his fist tugs at his hardening length. You spin slowly with your hands held out at your waist. He rumbles in his throat as you do. “Now…face the other way n’ bed over.” You’re smirking stupidly as he pulls his fist away from his hand to noisily spit into his hand and then he palms it over the head of his cock before he starts to stroke himself. You’re watching with your mouth hanging open like an idiot. “You like when I do this, huh?” He strokes himself more dramatically as you watch and nod your head. “I’ll give ya a show. Turn around, lil girl. Lemme see that ass.” He sighs softly as he squeezes at the base and slowly moves his fist upwards. 

You wanna look at it. You don’t wanna turn around. But you are and you're bending at the waist with your legs together so he can see you through the lace. Joel hums happily and then, for some reason you spread your legs slightly and snake your hand up your middle from between your legs over the lace, and trace the outline of your cunt for him. He inhales sharply. 

“Get over here.” Joel growls at you and you skip to the bed and crawl in next to him but he holds his hand up to stop you. “Listen– you ready?” He smirks at you. “Lay with your head down there…” He points to the end of the bed near the corner. “N’ then put one leg here.” He points to his legs. “N’ the other right here.” Now he taps your shoulder. “I know that was a lot n’ yer’ all distracted.” He smirks as your eyes flash quickly between his talking face and him jerking his hard cock slowly– pacing himself. 

The position he wants you in leaves your lace covered pussy completely exposed to him but he’s not putting anything inside you. Joel just wants to touch your pussy through the lace. Right over the outside of it is gentle and sometimes his hand will rub your inner thigh. You’re up on your elbows watching him worship you. And he loves to talk. Loves to speak and make you hear him. He wants you to speak back to him when he prompts you. He's teaching you...

“Yer’ gonna ride this hard cock soon, you excited?” He growls as he rubs the pads of his fingers along the lace. You can feel the heat of him through the delicate, barely-there fabric. 

“Yes, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes at him and nod. He grunts soft and pushes his hips up into his fist. 

“Can’t wait to feel how fuckin’ tight you are, baby. Fuck.” Joel’s eyes flick between yours and what his hand is doing to your hidden cunt lips. “Yer’ gonna be s’fuckin’ tight.” You don’t know why he sounds angry…it doesn’t bother you anymore. It’s just…Joel. And that’s fine. He’s not angry at you. You know this now, so, you don’t care. 

“I can’t wait to feel you inside me– feel your big cock stretching me.” You purr to him and he moans softly. 

“Don’t I fuckin’ know it.” Joel holds up his fingers and they’re glistening. “Yer’ fuckin’ leakin’ like a slutty lil thing...but you ain't.” He chuckles and pushes his fingers back against your pussy. “S’fuckin’ hot. Put my hard cock in you while you wear this. Gonna make this my pussy soon. Claim it.” Joel says it like he’s thinking about doing it but he stays still and his hand just moves on him faster. “Say yer’ a good girl.” Joel whispers to you. 

“I’m a good girl, old man. You don’t think I am?” You pout at him and run two of your fingers over one of your nipples through the cup of the lace bra. “I’m a very good girl.” You bite your bottom lip now and try to hide a smirk as his body jerks softly to this statement and his hand pumps up and down on him with more meaning and now his hips are moving slightly as he touches himself listening to your voice. 

“Y’like t’be bad though, right?” Joel pushes down on your clit gently and smirks. You nod and sigh softly. 

“I love bein’ bad with you, Mr. Miller.” You coo to him. “Love when you touch me n’ make me say naughty things.” You whisper it now and Joel is watching your mouth move, rubbing his fingers gently against your bundle over the lace. He wants to come, maybe needs to. He’s doing everything to himself and you just get to watch? “I love looking at your hard cock.” You mewl to him and his stomach clenches softly. 

“Don’t stop. K-Keep talkin’.” He stammers over his pleasure and it’s immaculate watching his strong arms flex as he strokes himself vigorously. "How bad, baby?" His body is twitching and clenching uncontrollably and now his hand grips at the meat on your inner thigh in not the most flattering way, but he loves it. “S–so fuckin’ soft.” 

“You like my soft skin, Daddy?” You purr and put one hand over your pussy and mimic what he had been doing, rubbing just around the outside. “You excited to come in my soft, tight pussy, old man?” You grin as he groans while you speak. Then Joel paints his chest and stomach with ropes of white. He groans loudly and deeply through his orgasm, puffing air out of flared nostrils heavily as he milks his cock slowly, the almost purple tip of him disappears within his fist and he covers his palm and fingers in his release. He drags his fist back down the length, smearing it down his shaft as he continues to thrust through the release. 

“Fuck.” He spits it out and lets his head fall back against the pillows he set up for himself. “Holy fuck.” His eyes are closed and he’s breathing so heavily. 

“Does… okay… be honest with me.” You ask with all of your breath, because you didn’t just come. He is sitting there with his eyes closed, listening to fast talk with his own release on his hand, stomach and chest. “Does it feel better when you do that…or when I’m on top of you?” You stare at him awaiting a response. 

“Uh.. I dunno. Feels… uh…different.” Joel answers in between deep breathing. 

“Like a better different or a weird different?” You ask casually, tipping your head from one side to the other. 

“Not weird different. Not better either.” Joel shakes his head but his eyes are still closed. “Stronger.” Joel says after a minute. 

“When you do it.” You make a statement because it is not a question. He came… so hard when he did that to himself. He didn’t come that hard the two times you did what you do on him— the moving and grinding. 

“Uh.. yeah. Kinda.” Joel isn’t looking at you. “S’not a bad thing—”

“I didn’t say it was!” You exclaim. “I’d just rather see you come like that.” You nod your head even though he isn’t looking at you. “Fuckin’ hiding it in your boxers. Lemme see that shit.”

"Yer' gonna let me come inside you?" Joel flicks his eyebrows up. "Really make that pussy mine when I fuck you? Or jus' talkin'?" Joel asks with his eyes still closed. You don't respond. Not with words.

You sit up and take his hand in yours and drag your tongue along the back of his and and run it between his fingers. This makes him open his eyes. Now he’s smirking watching your tongue clean up every drop he spilled. Off his soft stomach and his strong and broad chest. 

You’re going to do this. You’re right here and it's going to happen. Okay. 

You lean forward and Joel is waiting. He’s right there, leaning in to kiss you. Once your lips touch, he opens his mouth and parts your lips with his. It’s messy and starts to drip down out of the corners of your mouth as he swirls his tongue around with yours. His release and your saliva mixture coating each other's tongues. You feel it dripping down your chin and your neck as he deepens the kiss and you pass what you had just licked off of him…back to him. He is huffing through his nose heavily while you do this.

It is really fucking hot and messy. Sticky. Without breaking the kiss, Joel moves to hover over you, laying you back down on the bed and now with gravity on his side, he transfers it all back to you. He pulls away and looks down at you, his lips are shiny and wet-- sticky.

“Swallow it.” He stares down at you as he licks his bottom lip. You do and watch as leans into you and now with your empty mouth you can kiss and lick and suck any access off of him. “Good fuckin’ girl. Perfect.”

THIS IS MY WARNING TO ALL OF YOU INVESTED RIGHT NOW: I WRITE MEN GOOD, I DON'T ALWAYS WRITE GOOD MEN, OKAY?

That being said, Joel isn't really a bad guy-- just doesn't fuckin' know. Okay? Is he a little toxic? Sure. Is that not great? SURE.

Do I love it!? HELL YES.

tag list: @immyowndefender @korikolove @untamedheart81 @fanficlover1414, @creepycorbeaux @ohmillerbaby @rosebuds-and-moonlight @harriedandharassed (you'll have to read the other chapters, but I'm tagging you anyway)

[cravinganotherworld]

Amorous - Chapter 2, Part 2. Frontman/ Fem! reader

Chapter 2, Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/cravinganotherworld/772200596177666048/amorous-chapter-2-part-1-frontman-x-fem?source=share

As you return from the second game you can't help but let guilt overtake you, your heart breaking the more you think of how you failed until Young il convinces you otherwise.

WARNINGS: Mention of cancer and illness, Y/N blaming herself, soft frontman.

NOTES - Chapter 3 may or may not be out later tonight, if not tonight 100% tomorrow.

Wordcount - 1k

Walking into the dormitory felt like a death march, no one spoke except the few murmurs of players amongst themselves as they watched your team walk through the doors. You felt a sense of guilt in your mind, why couldn’t you hit the stone, why weren’t you good enough? You could’ve killed your team…they could’ve been dead because of you. You wrap your arms around yourself and silently part from your team, walking across to your bed. You sit down and bring your knees to your chest, resting your cheek on them as you look to the side. Player 007 and player 149 sit together whispering under their breaths, you overhear player 149.

“If you leave here without me, I know you’ll be fine, but if I left without you….” Your heart strings tear as you hear her confession. They are clearly mother and son, you couldn’t imagine the pain if one of them had to leave without the other. Your mind wanders to your grandfather, it hurts that you can’t see him until you leave this dreaded place, IF you leave this place. You just hope he can hold on that long, you know he is strong, you wished you were as strong as him but alas your emotions and your heart get the better of you. After the last games you fight your heart with your head, you knew it to be logical to leave and find the money some other way but something was keeping you here…or someone. You mind began to wander, images of Young Il tying the rope on the spinning top infiltrate your mind, His veins so prominent, his grip so gentle yet tight at the same time, you wander what they’d feel like around you. As the thought enters your mind your face flushed a deep shade of red, yet a smile made its way onto your face.

Your mind continues to wander, so far that you almost don’t feel the tap on your shoulder. You shake your head and look up meeting the very eyes you had pictured not a minute before. Your cheek flush a deep Scarlett as your eyes connect.

“Are you okay? You’ve been by yourself for a while” your heartbeat quickens.

“I…I am sorry” you speak quietly tilting your head down to face your lap. Concerned, Young Il sits in front of you and takes your hands in his.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, hey look at me” you ignore his request letting your tears fall freely. You feel him shift slightly as he brings his hand to wipe your tears away, letting his hand rest on your cheek. “Look at me” he whispers, his thumb stroking your cheek as more tears fall. Using all of your courage you tilt your head to look up at him, seeing nothing but sadness in his eyes. “you have nothing to be sorry for, we survived, we made –“

“but what If we didn’t…?” you speak so quietly he almost doesn’t hear. “we’d all be dead and it’d be my fault” you whisper, sniffling as you bring your arm up to wipe away a few tears.

“No, no one is blaming you” you scoff and shake your head at him, your gaze moves to the group of players you had played the games with, all of them shooting glances in your direction. Suddenly you feel both of Young ils hands on your face, pulling your attention back to him.

“Hey” he speaks now with a firm but caring tone “nobody is blaming you, if you don’t believe me come and sit with us, they will happily welcome you in” his hands leave your cheeks as his arms return to his side, aiding in him rising off of your bed. He reaches out his hand to you waiting for you to take it. Gently you placed your hand in his wiping your cheek dry as you get up, yet young Il doesn’t move. He stands looking at you, your hand in his as you look back up at him taking in his every feature, from his dimples to the way his eyebrows furrow when a thought comes into his mind. You watch as he reaches up with his other hand and tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear, smiling in satisfaction when you lean slightly into his touch. “You’re too beautiful to let sadness ruin you” he whispers running his hand across your cheek and turning away from you to walk back towards the group still grasping your hand. As you reach, the group they all look up at you.

“You all remember y/n right?” Young Il asked. The group nodded and happily motioned for you to join them. You feel Young Ils grip on your hand loosen as he lets go, pushing you gently towards an empty space at the top of the stairs. You take your seat with him following suit, your thighs brushing together but neither of you making the effort to separate them.

“So, y/n, why are you here?” Dae-Ho asks. You smile at him and reply

“My grandfather, he is all I have left in this world. My parents abandoned me when I was a child so my grandfather is all I’ve known, last year he was diagnosed with cancer…” you stop as your stomach drops the more you explain. “I will do anything I can to pay for his treatment and save him” you finish with a shaky breath. Dae-Ho looks at you with sympathy in his eyes.

“A noble reason indeed, I am sure he’d be proud of you” Gi-Hun speaks You smile at him, the thought of making your grandfather proud is one that sticks in your mind every day. Suddenly a loud buzz echoes through the dormitory and pink guards begin to flood in, wheeling through the voting podium. Whilst the rest of your team stand and make their way to the centre of the room you sat still raking through your mind about what to do. Your head is telling you to leave, to be with your grandfather but your heart…your heart yearns to stay.

[tomandgeriatric]

TMI but I have a super painful zit right on my buttcheek and it hurts every time I sit down. End it all pls

[tonycries]

The Family Matter?!

Synopsis. Babyfevér - it’s never felt so good.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, breéding, mentions of kids/ marriage, a LOT of creampíes, Gojo’s powers, cúmplay (like a lot), spítting, overstím, exhíbitionism (Geto’s), chokíng Nanami, pússy-slappíng, proposals, rúts (Choso), bíting, true form! Sukuna, overspill, dp, bondagé, mentions of dàddy kínk, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. To the one anon that wanted this - how did you read my mind?? Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Santa, baby…

“B-but- Christmas isn’t for another few months, Toji—”

Now, Toji has to admit - that broken, honeyed-out little drag of his name is enough to crack even that tough demeanor of his - just a bit. And it’s all he can do to calm down the raging twitch of his buried cock, driving it deeper and deeper against your mushy g-spot to shut up those dangerous moans of yours. 

“B-b-but-” You’re flinching when his deep, baritone voice pitches dramatically high to mock your own, a large palm coming down to give your poor clit a branding smack! “-but, you think that’s gonna stop me, ma?”

Stupidly, you’re whirling your dazed eyes over your shoulder to catch his, only for the calloused pads of his fingers to swiftly force your face back down. 

“Not me, you don’t get to hah- look at me just yet, doll.” Toji grits out from behind you, feverish puffs of breath sending goosebumps down your spine. Down to where your puffy cunt was just bulging with all long, solid inches of his swollen, overworked cock. Sloppy. Overspilling. “Not until you’re giving me another brat by Christmas.” 

A sob wrenches out of you when Toji jostles his sharp hips against yours. Harder, until you could feel every minute smack of his still-full, sensitive balls, every slosh of his syrupy sticky cum coating your walls from earlier. 

“Look.” 

You’re shaking your head in almost-bratty protest, the fat of your ass still pushing and pulling against his rugged thrusts. You feel like you could go insane if you saw any more. Thighs twitching to a shy close, “Ngh- can’t s’too- too much.”

This only pulls out a displeased growl from your pussydrunk boyfriend, rasping out a warning. “No fuck-  don’t you fucking dare-” Big, beefy hands wrench your legs even farther apart to admire the mess he’s made, bruising where he holds them unable to escape. “Don’t you even think of it, woman.”

It’s accompanied by another harsh slap! on your puffed-up clit, this time harder than the last. Shocking you to your heated core until you’re seeing stars behind your eyes, already-ruined cunt just clenching in painful pleasure. 

He laughs - laughs, “Instead of squeezin’ the fucking soul outta me, look here at how you’re wastin’ my cum. How can I make you a momma in time like this, huh?” 

You’re blinking away those big, fat globs of tears to finally spy back down again at your drooling cunt. Swollen folds spread shamefully, gaping. Every slam of his hips makes you gush down his achy shaft with a gloss of your sweet sweet juice and his own cum. It splays in a creamy little puddle at your silken sheets, clinging to your bodies like a second, sloppy skin. “Y-you’re so filthy, Toji.”

But Toji couldn’t bring himself to be disgusted - not one bit. In fact, he could feel the tip of his angry head growing even fatter, expanding to meld its way deep into your elastic walls.

“Filthy, huh?” he chuckles so darkly. “Got such a mouth on ya, can already tell you’re gonna be a ah- strict momma.” His fingers are prying your jaw to sag open, whispering so slow and syrupy along your open mouth, “Well, let me tell you a little secret, ma. Doesn’t matter what you call me now, because in about nine months you’ll be calling me something else.”

“And what would- mmpf!” Oh, for how much he loved your sharp mouth, he sure was well and fully intent on shutting you up. Toji’s hitting his cock at the back of your pussy, just mashing deep into your g-spot in sinful sync. Over and over. “-and what would that be?”

Another finalizing smack to your pulsing clit, so smug and messy. He tilts his head to that growing pool below you, splurging farther and farther with each decisive, feral ram. “Your baby daddy, that’s what.” 

As if on cue, you’re cumming - you can’t even remember which saccharine sweet high of the night, but all you know is Toji’s gifting your gummy cunt with a few bullying kisses on your ravaged g-spot. Rough, lingering clashes of his weepy tip on your ravaged g-spot, sending your toes curling, white-hot shocks of pleasure. Again and again and again-

“Fuck- fuuuck yeah take it.” he’s grunting out hoarsely, hips stuttering and so so feral. Barely having the sanity to pull out in his jagged half-thrusts, splitting you apart on all his weighty length to cum inside you - deep.

Painting each and every inch of your heavenly cunt that could be reached with coat after coat of velvety white - all the way from where he was gliding his fat tip across your cervix, down, down, down to your sensitive spots, your sopping wide opening. “Want- need it so bad. Need ya to make me a daddy again. So fuckin’ bad you have no idea- you’d be fuckin’ scared.”

Those mean fingers smushing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout dance down to gather the dredges of his own cum, oozing out of the corners of your slit in a milky white sheen. Still rutting into you, he suckles on them languidly like his favorite candy, “Mmpf- as sweet as ever, doll.”

“Y-you’re so fuckin’ mean, Toji-” your jaw slacks open at his lewd actions. “Our kid better not get such an- hah- an awful personality.”

That makes him pause - it makes him pull away his digits, glistening and connected with stringy ropes of the mess he’s made. Grinning for just  a split-second before shoving the entire length of his fingers into your plush mouth. 

Toji huffs cockily, the rounded tips of his fingers swirl around and around your lolling tongue, addicting you onto the slighty-salted taste. “Our daughter will be lucky to hngh- get my personality n’ your pretty looks.” And you’re barely even lucid when he’s whispering into your sweat-sheened forehead, “So you better give me good news for Christmas this year, ma.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - “Take it, like a good lil’ wife.”

Your mouth is sagging open at Nanami’s uncharacteristically gritted words. So hoarse, pained - like they were dragged out of his raggedly heaving chest with each bullying ram of his hips. 

It was barely midway into the evening, and you had no clue how you ended up like this. How those fleeting little titters during your romantic at-home dinner date about kids wound up with Nanami splayed on his broad back on the soft silken sheets. Sculpted abs curving into your back when he nuzzles your neck, plowing his furiously hard cock in his favorite mean full nelson.

“Ha- you’re being so-” you’re gasping out in a wet stutter, ass grinding back onto those neat lanes of blond at his thick base. He’s spearheading you so- “-so mean, Ken.”

“Am, I?” he’s purring, a low rumbling growl from the bottom of his chest. “Well, I might be the stricter parent, that’s right.”

Rolled-up sleeves graze against your heated skin, and you could feel every ridge of the veins along his forearms when he spreads your dangling legs even wider. Jutting his hips so deeply upwards to bow your body to the throbbing curve of his dick. “But, I apologize, darling.” Neat rows of his pearly white teeth sink down on your earlobe, “Feel free to do something- anything about it. Because m’afraid I won’t be able to stop any time soon.”

It was a promise - just the clingy feeling of your walls molding and wetting according to his very shape has him losing his mind. His sanity.

Choking back a long, drawn-out groan when two thick fingers slide down to roll over your puffy clit, “Fuuuck, my love, you’re so- hngh perfect like this.” The bed creaks in protest when his powerful thighs arch even higher upwards, all those hours at the gym paying off when every frenzied mash into the bulging treasure of your g-spot makes your mouth water. He breathes into the intimate crook of your neck, “Though, I bet you’d look even prettier as a momma, right?”

Somehow, that makes your face burn more than being split apart on his relentless cock has. 

“Oh- shit.” you whine, fucking your hips back in a sloppy little staccato. Reaching your trembly arm around his strong neck, your fingers find his favorite speckled yellow tie. Yanking until Nanami’s stern lips in a syrupy sweet kiss. “Really wan’ you to hah- breed me, Ken.”

“Fuck- Oh yeah?” he gasps. And if you didn’t know any better then you’d have said that that came out as a fucking whine. The ever-stoic Nanami Kento crumbling bit by bit with each rummaging thrust to shape your gummy walls. “Then why’d it fuck- take so long. Fuck, I’ve been dreaming of this since the ah- day I met you, my girl.”

Sharp hips dig into the plush of your ass with each pivot, it’s bouncing you back and forth along his slobbering cock. So rough. So tall and angry, you’re hit with a steaming hot gush of milky precum every time Nanami’s sliding out of you up to his thick, girthy tip. 

“Been thinking about you and I- and a little one. A few, actually. One blonde with your eyes, the other two with mine and your gorgeous smile.” That sweet little admission has your twitchy fingers subconsciously dragging at the heavy fabric of his tie. Tight around Nanami’s straining neck, making his head light and cock twitch wildly to draw little patterns on your cervix. “Fuck! Fuck no- keep pullin’ like that, darling.” 

You could feel his raw length rub against sensitive sports you never even knew felt good, in sync with that wandering free-hand of his. Now dancing upwards to glide his touchy thumb over your bouncing tits. “K-Ken, m’so close.”

“How pretty these would look all full of milk, darling.” he muses, sounding more like he’s speaking to himself than anything. Your knees are buckling now, cunt eagerly taking in every powerfully pressurized thrust of his. But Nanami hasn’t had enough of his fill, feeling a burning trail down your arching body. Down the valley of your breasts, your stomach, “And here- where m’gonna fuck-” He’s cutting himself up as his hips slam up into you like with a mind of their own, “-fill you up, make you a momma. Oh, you’d be the best momma. The best.”

He’s fucking you so rough now - so jagged that you’re white-knuckling his tie, reeling him in so close. “And you’d- fuck m’gonna-” you’re sobbing now, over those drawled-out squelches from your velvety cunt. “You’d be the best da-”

You can’t finish your sentence - you couldn’t, because with a few more practiced strokes, you’re cumming all over Nanami’s massive cock. Feeling your elastic walls try to suck him up so hard you wondered whether it didn’t hurt. 

But it didn’t - it felt so sinfully good, in fact, that it was only a matter of a few blissful seconds before you’re being filled up with thick globs of his seed. Drooling out of you with each creamy rut into you, your gaping entrance only takes more. Still pounding into you, bottoming out - yet still pushing to give you everything he had to give.

“Sh-shit.” Nanami marvels at the silky ribbons of cum being stuffed inside, the way it slews up with your honeyed slick to form a glistening gloss down both your fronts. “Wait- oh, wait.” Nanami’s trembling cock spurs out a few more overflowing shots of seed at the very thought of what he was about to do. Still stuffed in, he’s reaching over to rustle through the pockets of his dress pants scattered mere inches away from the two of your slick, convulsing bodies on the bed.

You’re jolting when you feel something cold and metallic slide around your left ring finger, “Didn’t think I’d let you be the mother of my kids without a ring, did you, my wife?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - Escape?

“Gorgeous…” Geto’s sultry, slow whisper sends goosebumps running down every inch of your skin. And it’s so soothing - so gentle, and yet- “-doesn’t matter how much you tug, these things won’t let you escape, m’kay?”

A wrenching sob rips from your hoarse throat, and all you can manage to do is tug on those tight, hot-pink handcuffs around your wrists. Pulling to prop your fucked-out body against the very top of his luxurious futon, “S-Sugu, you’re so mean.” Your wide eyes scan the pristine tatami room at his shrine, “Anyone could walk in-”

“And yet you’re still being such a slut, my girl.” He flashes you a rosy red grin, so blindingly pretty that it makes your cunt throb. “Still waiting f’me to breed your pretty pussy. Which would it be? The fifth now?”

Geto doesn’t even have to finish the sentence before you’re abruptly sitting upright, bottom lip wobbling with need. Your swollen pussy is just weeping beads of his cum at this point, sobbing down where he was still buried so eagerly inside your gummy walls. Your thighs shaky in- fear? Anticipation? The need for more? 

“Ah ah-” you feel two soft little smacks to the side of your cheek. “Don’t zone out on me just yet, gorgeous. S’this hah- boring for you?” And despite all the pleading shakes of your head, he only plows on, “Aww, what a shame. Guess I just hafta spice things up-”

It’s all the warning you’re getting - barely even - before your poor, weepy cunt is back to being just split apart on his fat head. Not even being eased into it, no care or concern for those overstimulated spasms when he stuffs you full. 

“F-fuck-” your eyes are shooting open - when did they even close? - at the sound of nearby footsteps in the hallway behind those sliding doors. Very nearby. “I swear someone’s gonna catch us, Sugu-”

The only sound that rings throughout his humid, heady room is your wet gag - muffled around the pale, slender fingers of his being shoved between your kiss-bitten lips. All you can register are the soft pads of his digits pressing down on the back of your taste buds and the unforgiving little pulses of his prominent veins dragging against your gummy walls. 

Leaning down - until he’s so dangerously close, until you could count every long, dark lash on his eyelids, every flex of his muscles - slosh of his syrupy sweet inside you - as he sets a languid, lazy pace. “If someone catches us then I will hngh- jus’ keep going, do not test me, pretty girl.”

The other of his splayed out fingers are drawing methodical, dizzying circles on the very tip of your sensitive clit. Matching his teasing place, every grazing nudge of his leaky tip coating your bruising g-spot. 

“Haven’t I already told ya not to start things you c-can’t finish?” Geto’s husky voice is talking you through every clingy thrust. Falling from his pretty lips with each deep snap, fucking you into the drenched futon leisurely like some cocksleeve. “N’ what did you do, hm?”

You couldn’t answer if you wanted to - because Geto’s fingers were still firmly swiping around your tongue. Murmuring, “Exactly that. Just had to make that fuckin’ hah- stupid little joke about me not being able to handle another daughter, huh?”

“Mmpf- hngh Sugur-” you try to moan out at a low thump! outside, but he’s shushing you pliantly quiet with a ragged pump into your womb. Making you gush velvety ribbons of his previous cum.

“Heh, think this cunt actually wants to get out of this without being bred?” It was true, your painted-white walls were just clinging elastically to Geto’s shaft every time he drove into you, sucking up every bit of him like you’re trying to milk out something delicious. Again. 

“And guess what?” he’s so crazed now, eyes glowing with a dark delight. Hips pistoning into yours with fearsome accuracy to smash over and over into the bullseye of your sensitive spot. Sloppier. The shuffling outside getting louder. So unfairly good that you’re barely registering his next words, “M’jus’ gonna breed this slutty pussy until you give me another. Until everyone knows you’re my slut.”

It only takes one, two, three more drilling clashes with your g-spot for you to fall apart once more. 

Your own orgasm bursts out of you. Squirting in glistening dredges again and again until it’s just a few fatiguing shocks of pleasure that have you heaving for air, whining Geto’s name like a mantra. The overstimulation too much, his twitching cock too big - over and over-

“F-fuuuuck- squirting all over, y’made such a mess.” Geto’s moan is so pornographic when that angry divot at his flushed head explodes with spurts of thick hot cum. So addictively sweltering against your plush walls, it floods into your womb, down your thighs - to your lungs it almost feels like. “Gonna give me another daughter? Yeah?” He breathes, head thrown back while he stuffs you too-full, until he could see the seeping white on your creamy cunt in his glassy peripheral vision. And he still isn’t done cumming - thinning out to mere sticky wisps. “Gonna make you so full- so swollen. Until everyone looks at you and knows what I did- how I defiled you. They’ll look at you and see me. Me, me, me, me-”

There’s such an animalistic cadence in the way he’s rutting into you, pushing you further and further up those drenched sheets. Just dragging your body forwards with one strong arm around your handcuffs when his sheer volume gets too much that you’re trying to pathetically escape. 

Thump!

In a split-second, Geto’s grabbing at a hidden dagger from underneath his robes. Throwing - dead straight through the paper doors - only for a loud thud! to echo from outside. “Bet the scum outside don’t even need to hear the pregnancy announcement, huh?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - My strange addiction

Oh, there’s nothing you loved more than Choso losing control - around the time of year when the weather grows a little warmer, when your sweet boyfriend becomes a little more restless. Those dark, dewy eyes of his turning black with something primal, desperate. 

Ingrained in his blood to breed you. To do nothing but breed you. 

Like right now. 

“Oh?” you’re purring with a coy bat of your lashes, looking over your shoulder to where he was looming. Flushed, gulping, absolutely drunken off your heady scent. “On your rut again, Cho?”

And that makes his entire body jolt, as if zapped by a sudden wave of electricity. Large, trembly hands fist your thin shirt to pin you down like some ragdoll onto the cool kitchen counter. Breath hitching, such a pained grunt leaves him at the sound of his name leaving those pretty lips of yours. 

Almost guiltily, he’s baring a wet gasp, “Y-yes. Saw you makin’  ah- makin’ us dinner in the kitchen and-” It’s like he hasn’t even realized what he was doing, slapping his raw cock against your drooling slit with each word. Smack! Smack! Smack! “-and- I just thought about how- just needed to…”

But alas, Choso doesn’t get to finish a single thought - because you’re stepping up onto your tip-toes - ever-so-slightly. Feeding your needy cunt with just the round girth of his very tip.

“Just needed to what, Cho?” you hum, quirking a devilish brow his way, holding back a keen at the sheer stretch of him around your sopping entrance. “Or do you wanna stop?”

Fuck, Choso swears he could feel his overworked balls squeeze so painfully at the very thought. “No-”  he’s hissing, glassy gaze widening almost comically. “No no no no no- please no. please, please this is all I want.” 

With a sultry giggle, you reach behind to pull him roughly by his soft strands. Choso’s grunting out hoarsely, letting himself be dragged to clash his lips against your bruised ones in such a sloppy kiss. All tongue and teeth, he drinks you in like a man depraved. “All you ever want is to just hah- fuck me in this kitchen, Cho?”

It’s so cute the way he’s sputtering dazedly into your sagging mouth, such a sweet whiny cry of, “Yes but no- fuck, I jus’ wanna–” The slow drag of his heavy tongue coats the crook of your neck in his saliva, hammering his swollen cock upwards until he was practically lifting you off the ground with sheer inhuman force. “Jus’ wanna breed you full, baby. Breed this pretty pussy like m’meant to.”

It’s with an almost-animalistic type of worship that Choso’s just ramming the rest of his thick cock into you until he’s spearheading straight into your spongy g-spot, weighty balls - painful, and ready for breeding - smacking against your ass. Addicted. 

“O-oh, fuck–” you can’t stop your honeyed gasps. “You’re s-so big- so hard even after just this morning? What a naughty boy.” 

Just slamming you down onto the cool marble,“Fuck- fuck fuck y’know what I imagined when I hah- saw you in the kitchen?” Such throaty groans drag along with each and every plunge into your slobbering pussy, Choso was always so talkative when he was like this. Slurring out a mile a minute, “Saw my pretty wife, the pretty mother of my kids.”

And you knew what he was going to say, but that doesn’t stop you from milking him so tight, velvety walls contracting in a way that almost made it difficult to maintain his sloppy staccato. Back arching into such a slutty bow to drag even needier down his drilling length

But your beloved boyfriend still wasn’t done, kissing away hotly at the corner of your mouth. “N’ s’not jus’ the hngh- rut talking either. Fuuuuck-” All six feet of his muscled body pins you to the counter, and distinctly, you could feel him scramble desperately to buck up a knee to angle his hips even deeper. “Saw you makin’ breakfast before school, and I’m- hngh- and I’m getting the kids ready - a boy and a girl, both as gorgeous as you.”

“Y-yeah?” Is all you can breathe out, “What- hngh- what else?”

You didn’t expect his humorless chuckle - broken, and a few pitches higher than normal. “What else?” His eyes are absolutely crazed now, and he’s biting down on your pouty lower lip. “Oh what didn’t I see?” 

Bowing till you could feel every ripple of his abs against your back. Every slow tremor of his glossy head nudging past your defenses, hitting deep at the bottom of your g-spot. It takes a few more sloppy pumps for you to realize that Choso’s still speaking. 

“Saw the wedding- saw the first birth, the way I cried-” The way he was crying now, ragged, overstimulated tears dripping down his pretty cheeks. Panting out wetly, “-what a great momma you are, the best. The way I help you hngh- milk these p-pretty tits when it’s too much. But my most favorite of all-”

You don’t hear the rest - and he doesn’t tell you, because he’s too busy cumming. Cumming and cumming so much that Choso thinks he can’t stop, swollen base rummaging deep inside to plug up those thick ropes of hot seed inside. It was impossible that he hadn’t achieved his dream with this. 

It’s bloating you up, too much. Spilling out of those little gaps at the dips and ridges of his twitchy cock that your inner thighs cover in a clingy white sheen. 

Drawn on instinct, you can only scream when Choso’s sharp canines bite down on the sensitive spot at your neck. Hard enough to draw blood - and, if you two were in any better state of mind, you’d have noticed that he did draw blood. 

A thin saturation of heady red coating his devilish grin, delicate strings of spit still connect to the mating mark. “-my favorite was when we made another.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - DOUBLE STUFFED!

“One more.”

“Kuna-”

“One more.”

When all you’re getting is that leeringly dangerous grin - the very same one he gifts any weak curses just about to be killed at his feet - you know there’s no way you’re getting out of this. Either you take it - or he makes you. 

Gliding your palms across Sukuna’s bulging pecs, your trembly legs twitch atop his muscled thighs. Gingerly jutting along where your poor cunt was being split apart on his twin bulgingly hard cocks. Up and down up and down up and-

“S’too much-” you’re whining, feeling the gush of his sticky cum coat down your thighs. Oozing out of your bloated cunt with every syrupy sweet bounce of his ravaging cocks. “I- not enough space-”

Any you were about to stupidly babble out is cut off when Sukuna wraps five thick digits around your exposed neck, intentionally dipping his sharp nails to leave branding little divots right about your racing pulse. A warning. A punishment. “Did I tell ya to keep runnin’ that hah- mouth, brat?” he spits, waiting for you to shake your head deliriously “no” before grinning. “Then why am I hearing so much t-talking n’ not enough of this slutty lil’ cunt of yours taking one more? You hear that?” 

All that was ringing in your ears was the honeyed echoes of squelches from below, smacking and slapping in sync with your pathetic movement. 

“Exactly.” Sukuna’s snapping you out of your thoughts, one hand resting at the glistening plush of your hips, the other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you just slobber down his angry, red shafts. Glossing over him all the way from those fat tips to the creamy ring around his base. “Wastin’ too much of my hngh- cum with yer talkin’, brat. How are ya gonna have time to carry my seed?”

And he’s so large - so strong. Not even breaking a sweat when he’s getting up from his decadent throne with you boneless in his arms, still stuffing your cunt full with all greedy inches of both cocks. 

“O-oh, fuck, Kuna!” you’re squealing when gravity pulls you down until you could feel the scratch of his pink happy trail against the sensitively grazed areas of your skin. The dizzying push of two matchingly massive girths stretching your gummy walls to its limits. Your nails draw jagged red line down his tan skin, trying to keep just an ounce of your sanity together, “Fuck you’re in so hngh- deep.”

“Easy on the back there.” Sukuna’s rolling his eyes, but he can’t deny the way his heart clenches at the way you’re so fucked-out and easily sliding down his cock like some pretty sex toy. Whimpering about some baby names.

Not like it mattered, anyway. He’d name the little devilspawn whatever you wanted - after fighting about it for the fun of it. Heh, he always has been soft on you, huh?

All it takes is one hand holding you up, another to toy with the sensitive nub of your clit. Rolling and teasing you even deeper into his arms while another still rests firmly around your throat. 

The remaining hand? At Sukuna’s favorite place cupping your teary cheek, gliding away those big fat tears with the cure of his soft thumb, “Shh shhh, you can take it. You’re my pretty lil’ queen, right?”

Even his mind a hot melted mess on your dripping cunt. Just fucking into you ruthlessly, up, up, up till he was bulging at the very back of your cunt. One fat tip firmly kissing your g-spot, the other gliding in a silky smooth cadence against your poor cervix.

Matching veins rubbing matching sensitive spots, rendering you so awfully dumb on his cocks. Mixing with the hypnotic splattering of his seed against the velvet of your walls, it’s impossible to not feel like you’re about to fucking burst. 

Intertwining your fingers with his much longer ones on your face, you’re dragging them to rest at that palpable little nudge along the middle of your stomach. Pressing down to make him feel where he was buried deep, hiccuping lewdly, “You’re right here, Kuna. S’gonna be- hngh! impossible to not give you an heir.”

An heir. 

And fuck he couldn’t take it anymore - if anything even fucking heard about this, they’d faint. 

Because with a shuddering gasp, the king of curses was just dragging your weight down his cocks - over and over - to gloss your insides with each new coat of the thick, syrupy cum weeping out of his angry heads. So overfilled, but still greedily swallowing everything Sukuna gives. 

“Fuck-.” With an angrily strained growl, Sukuna only speeds up his motions on your clit. Methodical. Urgent, even. Still fucking him seed deeper to smash his quivering tips at your g-spot. Both - two divots pressurizing you at the same time. “How dare you make me cum first, woman. Think you’re soo fucking funny, huh? Better give me hundreds of lil’ hellspawn to make up for it.”

“N-noo-” you croon, but that limp little curl of your lips at the abundance of seed seeping out of you gives you away. It was so unlike him - so startling to spy the blushing rouge at his ears, the way his fat balls smack and only squeeze harder when you milk every drop. So hot, and splattering right down both of your legs, forming a creamy puddle at his floor. “I didn’t-”

You don’t finish your sentence, you can’t. Because with all of his brute strength, Sukuna is just wrenching that orgasm from your grasp - fucking you over and over through your high. 

The puddle only grows wider. And there’s no warning before he spits, once. Twice. Right onto the middle of the overwhelmed taste-buds on your tongue, gently shutting your mouth with one hand. The other spreading your puffy pussy lips to let you drool a glossy coat of cum down his front. Making a mess.

“S’inauspicious, y’know. Having the momma cum first-” He’s gruffing, sure you were still crashing into wave after wave of pleasure to even hear his whines. “-so why don’t you give me one more?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Meet the Gojos

“Toru- we’ll get caught.”

“Shut up- fuck- shut up.” Gojo’s face was ashen, grinning so dangerously at the sight of you completely and utterly bound into that obscene mating press he loved so much. Your pretty pussy at the perfect angle for him to hammer his achy cock so thoroughly into you. “S’not what this cute cunt is sayin’ though, sweetheart.”

Fuck, if you were in any better state of mind, you’d have smacked him maybe. But you knew right by the glowingly amused tinty in his blue eyes that he was waiting for that to happen - goading even. 

You’re whining hotly, fingernails digging sharply into the winding wooden desk rested cool beneath your skin. “The- the elders are about to have a- hngh! meeting in here soon and-”

Gojo’s lips curl  when your breath hitches, feeding you each and every one of his merciless inches over and over- “Well then it’s damn good that they’ve been bugging me for an heir, dontcha think~?” 

You’re letting your drooling maw fall slack in disbelief - only to create the perfect opening for your boyfriend to catch you into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. Spitting out little profanities with each harsh push of his fat gliding tip across the slippery slopes of your walls. “Heh, always so fuuuck- cute when you’re fucked dumb on my cock.” he’s chuckling, mouth looser than usual with the way the tight channel of your cunt is sucking out every one of his honest thoughts - his soul. “But ya needa get more firm, I’m gonna be the fun parent.”

It takes another harsh snap! of those toned hips bruising against your ass for you to jump back into your heady reality. 

“T-Toru…” you’re murmuring, but it comes out so much more breathless than you wanted. Catching on to that syrupy, fucked-out tone of yours, Gojo takes the opportunity to ram his swollen length even meaner into your slobbering cunt. Wringing out your narrow hole to mold around the exact shape of his massive dick. “We- ngh! We’ve got to set an example.”

You feel the fat girth of his shaft grow two sizes even bigger at your scolding. Bulging those two prominent veins down the middle to imprint onto your gummy walls. The roaming point of his glossed-over head pressing straight onto your g-spot, making you writhe underneath him. Bucking up for more more more-

A pale, splayed-out palm slams! down onto the creaky mahogany right beside your head, and when you’re batting your dazed gaze up you see-

Oh. 

Oh fuck - forget setting an example, you were about to be made one. 

Because Gojo’s blue irises were sparking with tiny rods of lightning, teeth bared in such an amusedly feral grin that it made your cunt ache. 

“Fuck-” even his voice sounded deeper - raspier, cracking ever-so-slightly with need near the end. “Fuck, you can’t talk shit to me about ‘setting examples’ when you get so fuckin’ wet just because I play a little rough.”

Playing a little rough was an understatement - and both of you knew it. Because if Gojo was simply toying with your sanity before, then he was well and fully intent on breaking it right now. Right along with your poor pussy with those bludgeoning, harsh thrusts you were being gifted with.

The expansion of his weighty cock has you squealing with each powerful slam, “Fuck- fuck you little-”

“Hunk? Absolute catch?” he grins, voice dropping to a low husky drawl. A slick little trail of drool dips down the corner of his mouth already with every cracking beg and plea, followed by a series of lingering grinds - not even thrusts, just slow, shallow swerves to feel you tighten wetly around his hot shaft. The lights flicker above, “Father of your kids?” 

That makes you wrack in a sinful shudder, words tumbling out before your syrupy sweet brain could compute them, “You’d make a- a good daddy, Toru.”

Crack! 

It’s happening in a split-second - a stuttering gasp catches in Gojo’s throat, those baby blue eyes going wide. Glowing. In the distance, your popping ears catch the sharp shattering of that prized vase in the corner of the room. 

But right now it felt like you were the one about to break - because ribbons and ribbons of Gojo’s hot, potent seed were knocking on the door to your womb. Splurging in thick dredges to stuff you full from the inside out. 

“Fuck- fuck, you evil evil woman.” Gojo breathes out, the only thing he could seem to do at this very moment. When the tethering clenches of his balls have tapered out, he’s pulling out to smack! the length of his throbbing, red shaft on your clit. Mouth hanging open at the way just buckets of his own cum gush out of your tight hole. “Shit- m’gonna breed this cute cunt. Gonna fill her up until you’re so round and swollen.” he’s babbling, gliding pale fingers across the sloshing cum now seeping onto the desk to shove it back inside. 

“Fuuuck- m’gonna breed her till she hah- doesn’t know what it’s like to not be stuffed full. Until you’re giving me a cute lil’ blue-eyed baby.” Crackling with jujutsu energy, he’s smack down on your puffy cunt - hard! “Until m’not the strongest. Not even second- or third or fourth or fifth-” kissing your pouty lips in addicted little pecks. “-no. S’gonna be my- our kids. All ours.”

“Ngh! Toru–” you’re whining, only taking another few messy swivels on your cunt before you cum. And you swear, the lights go out at this very moment - the only thing you can see being Gojo’s flickers of purple jujutsu and his gleamingly white grin.

He smacks another hand down on that wooden meeting desk - the now broken desk, standing wearily on only three legs - and the puddle of cum seeping below you. “Think we’ll be excused from the meeting? Because m’not done with you just yet, ma.”

A/N. Yuh I had two Kendrick references I apologize (I don’t).

Plagiarism not authorized.

[mostly-imagines]

The Alchemy vol. I

jason todd x fem!reader

aka the progression of your relationship with the red hood

vol II

warnings: slow burn, mentions of attempted sa for reader, depictions of blood and injury, mentions of standard gotham violence

Dear fuck, he’s as heavy as he looks.

You use all of your weight to pull him backwards towards the couch, almost giving up when you realized you’d have to lift him up off the ground to actually get on it.

Getting him through the window was enough of a hassle, challenging the difficulty of the decision to bring him in here at all. 

Thankfully you don’t have to think too hard on it because you feel his body stiffen up suddenly. He jolts upright, though clearly pained to do so, hand flying to the gun holster on his side.

You take a step back, hands out in front of you. “Hey, it’s alright.”

“Who are you?” His voice is interrogative. 

You put your hands down, “You’re the one who passed out on my balcony, I think if anyone gets to ask that question it’s me.”

He stares at you, white lenses bearing into your soul.

Okay, yeah. You tell him your name. He doesn’t move. “You just looked like you needed some help..”

His posture loosens a bit, and his hand finally leaves the holster.

He glances down at his abdomen, a sizable tear in his suit and a nearly alarming amount of blood. “You got any bandages?”

“Uh, I—yeah, yeah, I do.” You dart down the hall into the bathroom, shuffling through your first aid kid. You toss a few wraps into your arms, along with some antiseptic spray you suspect he’ll need. You grab your hand towel and get it wet under warm water. 

When you return, he’s moved himself onto the sofa, lifting his shirt up to assess the damage. You round the couch, seeing more blood than you’d have hoped for.

“Can I?” You ask, motioning to his injury. 

He looks up at you for a long moment. He nods.

You kneel down in front of him and replace his hand in lifting up the shirt. It’s a cut, it doesn’t look terribly deep, but still not shallow enough that he could just leave it.

You take the rag and dab it around the wound, trying to clean up the blood as much as possible without making contact with it.

He’s very still as you work, and you get the strong impression he’s watching you carefully.

You grab the antiseptic spray, shaking it. “This’ll sting.”

He grunts.

You apply the antiseptic thoroughly and he doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t move his gaze from you for a second.

You unwrap one of the bandages and place it on firmly, making sure there’s no bleedthrough.

And not that you particularly want to be thinking about this right now, but the man is noticeably ripped. Stacked like a house of cards.

You rip away your gaze and stand up, hands on your hips, taking a deep breath. You look at him—at his helmet.

You don’t know how you can tell, but he’s studying you. Trying to get a read on you, maybe. Regardless, you’re eager to escape the gaze.

You shovel the remainder of your supplies back into your arms and bring them back to the bathroom, calling out, “I didn’t take off your helmet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

There’s a short beat. 

“Do I seem like someone that worries often?” 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door. 

You look at him. “You seem like someone that doesn’t worry enough.”

He snorts. “You’re not far off.”

You make your way back once you’re done, looking at the disregarded meal you’d been interrupted from. “I have pasta if you…eat.”

“I do.”

“I can go in the other room if you—”

He clicks the lock on his helmet, taking it off. He’s left with a second mask underneath, covering his eyes and nose. His dark hair sticks up from the helmet, a white streak poking out in the front. He looks younger than you would’ve expected. Cuter, if his jaw is anything to go by.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Okay then.

You grab a second plate out of the cabinet and scoop on the rest of the pasta from the pan.

You hand him the plate, avoiding standing too close. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

You turn back around as casually as possible after hearing the name, wanting to avoid letting your face give anything away.

This guy kills people, right?

You sit down in the armchair across from the couch, spooling the pasta on and off the fork. He doesn’t show the same hesitation in dining away that you do—you guess fighting crime would require some calorie exchange.

“You a nurse?” He asks after a few minutes. 

The question takes you by surprise. You hadn’t taken him as a small talk kind of person. “Huh? Oh, no, I’ve just taken a few first aid courses and stuff.”

He gives a short hum, thoughtful.

“What?”

“You’re good.” Hardly.

“I didn’t really do anything.”

“You did enough.” He says, not leaving much room for argument.

He stands up at once, walking past you to the kitchen. Your gaze follows him silently. He puts his empty plate in the sink and returns to the edge of the living room.

He looks at you once more and pops his helmet back on followed by the click of the lock.

“I’ll see ya.” He says shortly, before ducking out the window.

You’re left alone, sitting in your armchair, plate of cold pasta forgotten on your lap.

That could’ve gone very badly. Maybe not your most thought-through decision to literally drag the Red Hood into your apartment, but hey. Maybe you’re exercising your ability to be an upstanding, helpful person. Or maybe you were just hoping to prevent a vigilante being found dead on your fire escape.

Regardless, you close the window after him, leaving it unlocked. Just in case.

You wake in the middle of the night to the sounds of footsteps in your living room. You shoot upright, immediately spotting the lamp light flooding in from under your door.

Creeping to a stand, you grab the baseball bat next to your bed and slowly walk to the door.

You creep the door open as quietly as possible, inching out half a step at a time. A nearby creak on your floorboards had you swinging blindly, only to have your bat get stopped midair. You look up to see Mr. Hood himself, blocking the blow of your hit with his hand. 

“Wow. You and a bat against Gotham, huh, sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” You let go of the bat and drown your face in your hands. “What is wrong with you?”

“Apparently that I don’t carry enough baseball bats with me.” He says coolly, inspecting your bat. Though he’s got to admit, your bat is probably a hell of a lot more useful than his. 

You drop your arms at your side. “If I’d known bringing you into my apartment one time was going to be considered a free pass forever, I might’ve thought twice.”

“If I’d known I was going to nearly be concussed with a baseball bat, I might’ve too.” Barely. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re still half asleep and it was not a very good swing.

He looks at you straight on for the first time. His helmet quickly drifts down and back up to your face just as fast.

You look down. T-Shirt, underwear, and…no that’s it. Not…ideal. You pull down on the unfortunately not at all oversized shirt, wanting to creep back into your room.

He turns his back, allowing you to do just that and scramble for some shorts to throw on. 

“Very gentlemanly of you.” You call out from your room, “And only thirty seconds after breaking into my apartment.”

“Okay, one, I’ve been here longer than that. In a non creepy way.”

“Right.”

“And two, I didn’t break anything. You live in the middle of Gotham and don’t lock your window?”

You reemerge in the doorway, “I live on the eighth floor.” 

He turns around to face you again, helmet in his hands. “Didn’t stop me.” No it did not. 

“Mm. So are you here specifically to judge my home security or was there something you needed?”

He takes a deep breath, “Actually yeah. I just need a place to rest for a minute.” 

“Rest from what?”

A series of gunshots echo from down the street.

“Next question.”

Concise.

You and Hood sit on the couch in the dark, per his insistence, because for some godforsaken reason, you have no curtains. It takes a few minutes for the silence to dissipate into forced conversation, which takes a few more minutes to fade into actual conversation.

“Can I be honest with you?” You ask him.

“Does it matter how I answer?”

“I don’t understand how you’re not dead.” You poke your head up, turning to him. “Are you human?”

He cranes his neck to look out the window, “Maybe getting shot at isn’t the worst thing that could happen tonight…”

You roll your eyes with a smile that you’re glad is hidden by the darkness. “Oh, fuck off.”

“You don’t have much in terms of self-preservation skills, do you?”

You ignore him as to not acknowledge that he’s probably right and roll through to your next curiosity, “Who the hell was shooting at you anyways?” Though, you don’t really expect an answer.

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t matter. They got ‘til sunrise anyway.”

You tilt your head, “‘Til sunri—” oh. Yeah. Come to think of it, he does have two guns on him right now. At least that you can see. You squint blankly at the wall, “You know, I’m placing a lot of trust in the hope that you’re not just as bad as those guys.”

“Yes you are.” He nods, not doing anything to convince you that he is in fact a good guy. He hasn’t tried to harm you in any way though, so you guess that’s a good sign.

You tilt your head at him. “Do you get paid to do this?” 

“I’m pretty sure there’s a lot of people who would pay me not to do this.” 

You nod solemnly, mouth turned into an exaggerated frown. “So you have a day job?”

He looks over at you, “Do you always ask this many questions?”

“Are you always so dodgy about answering them?” You shoot back. If you’d thought for .5 seconds longer on that, you might not have said anything. But you feel comfortable here, in your apartment with a man whose face you’ve never seen, name you don’t know, and always has at least two loaded guns on him.

He huffs out a laugh, “Yeah. I am.” He looks over at you. “You live here by yourself?”

You look around at the empty apartment before turning back to him, “Seems that way.”

He shrugs, “Boyfriend could be out or something.”

“Well most people are asleep at one in the morning. Like I was. Remember that?”

“No.”

You sigh, curling up into a ball on your end of the couch, resting your chin on your knees. You’re quiet for a minute before piping up, “Do people actually break into apartments on high floors a lot?”

“Stupid people.” He pauses, looking over at the frown on your face. “Look, I’m in the neighborhood a lot. If I see somebody climbing your fire escape I’ll shoot them.”

You let a little smile out, “I’m thinking there’s other steps you could take before you get to that point.”

“If you want to waste time.” His gaze doubles back at you, “That was a joke, by the way.”

You bark out a tired laugh, “Yeah, I picked up on that, thanks.”

He removes his eyes from you, fixing on a set of pictures you have hanging on the wall.

Your eyes flutter and you move to rest your head on the arm of the couch. “Is this going to be a regular thing then?”

“You could lock your window.”

“Living on the eighth floor didn’t stop you, I can’t imagine a shitty lock will do much more.”

“If you don’t want me here, I won’t be here.” He says gruffly.

“If I don’t want you here, I’ll let you know.” You mumble, eyes closing.

You can barely make out a laugh from him, “Good to know.”

You’re not quite sure how much time goes by when he leaves, but you have a pretty strong feeling you’d fallen asleep. Your main indicator was feeling the blanket draped nicely over you that you could’ve sworn was on the chair across the room.

Maybe it’s ten o’clock at night and you’re sat on your kitchen floor, bawling your eyes out. Maybe you’re going to have to quit your job. Or maybe you’ll have to face a lawsuit. Maybe this is the worst day in the history of time. Maybe it’s about to get worse. 

The sound of your living room window sliding open has you startling into a rush, body panicking as if you’ve done something wrong and desperately need to cover the evidence. The past few weeks of sporadic visits leaves no question about who it is, and you just hope the kitchen island in front of you will be enough to convince Hood that you’re not in and he’ll leave.

But because today is today, that’s not how it goes down.

You can vaguely make out the sound of his footsteps approaching, a courtesy that you’re sure he incorporated on purpose.

“Oh fuck…” you mutter to yourself, wiping your eyes.

He rounds the counter, looking down at you. “Wha—what’s wrong?”

“Fuck. Nothing.” You say, standing up and adjusting your clothes. “Are you hurt?” He better fucking not be at only ten.

“No, I—why are you on the floor?” 

You roll your eyes, “I live alone, forgive me for assuming I would be given the privilege to cry on the floor in private.”

“Did something happen?” You’re trying really hard not to call him an idiot. 

You raise your eyebrows, giving a light nod. “Uh, yeah, I’d say so.”

He shifts in his stance, “Do I need to talk to someone?”

You scoff, knowing damn well his version of ‘talk to someone’ does not include talking to someone. “Why are you even here so early?” 

“Wanted to stop by before I went out.” he says quietly.

You’re about to snap something at him again, but the burning in your eyes takes immediate priority. You wrap your arms around your middle and try to calm yourself down, with very little success. The tears fall easily and your shoulders start shaking as you look at the floor, letting the melancholy take over. 

It feels like much longer than it probably was, but sometime after the first few tears fall he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. This only makes you cry harder, sobbing against his armor. Your arms stay wrapped around your center, while his hands remain completely still against your back, though firm. You don’t realize it immediately, but he’s holding a good portion of your weight up, you’d for sure collapse onto the floor otherwise. You kind of wish you would. Sitting on the floor felt nice, maybe falling down on it will feel even better.

You slowly start to regain your breathing, the well in your eyes drying up again. He waits for you to stop completely and slowly pulls back from you, hands momentarily still wavering next to you like he’s ready to catch you.

It takes you a minute to notice, but his helmet is locked on to the finger-shaped bruises on your forearm. You awkwardly move your opposite arm to cover them, looking around your apartment with nothing to search for.  

He’s quiet for a long while, clearly thinking hard. “What happened?”

You sniffle, “Some asshole at my job.”

“Some asshole?” He doesn’t believe you. Rightfully so, but he has no business being able to tell that you’re lying about one single word in that sentence.  

“My boss. Was very intent on successfully hitting on me.” You exhale deeply, “His approach could use some work though, if I’m honest.”

His posture remains statue-like. “Where do you work?”

You look at him straight on for the first time that night, “What does that matter?”

“I’ll take care of it.” He says simply.

You wave him off, “It’s fine.”

He waits a moment before letting you know, “I’m being polite by asking, I’m going to find out either way.”

You plop back down on the kitchen floor, knees to chest. “Well, then do it the hard way.”

About ten seconds of him staring down at you in silence go by, before he sits down next to you. It’s a bit funny how he tries to shrink himself down next to you, you’re assuming because he doesn’t want you to get panicked again because this massive stranger is sitting next to you in your kitchen in the dead of night.  

You don’t look at him as he clicks his helmet off and sets it on the other side of him. It’s quiet for another minute when he holds his gloved hand out to you, and you’re not quite sure how you know what he wants, but you do. You place your bruised arm in his hand, letting him gently pull it closer to him and scan over it. 

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” 

Again, you don’t know how, but you can tell he’s asking how far things went. “I started screaming and it freaked him out. He let me go.” you say numbly. 

You can see him nod out of the corner of your eye, bits of red making their way into your peripheral despite the discarded helmet. You turn slowly to look at him, finding him looking at you already.  

His face is more covered than it had been the first night, the same black mask covers his eyes but the lower half of his face is also hidden by a red mouthpiece. You’re in the lamp light and closer to him than you had been before and you’re counting out specks of green in his blue eyes. He lets you, to your surprise, and when you run out of emerald hues you take focus on his thick, dark eyelashes. Your gaze moves back ever so slightly to make eye contact with him and you tear your eyes away, zeroing in on the kitchen tiles. 

You sigh contemplatively, “I’m worried if you kill my boss it’ll be traced back to me and I’ll get pinned for it.”

He doesn’t laugh. But your delivery was a little dry in the wrong way so really it was on you.

“I’m not going to kill him.” he tells you, “I wouldn’t gamble with my pied-a-terre like that.”

Your head falls back, hitting the drawer behind you with a light thud. “Then why waste your time at all?” Maybe you should slow down with the snide comments.

He wants to, but he doesn’t call out the implied self-slighting in your words. “Maybe it’s a ‘me’ thing but I don’t particularly like men that hurt women.”

You let out a dry laugh. “In Gotham, it just might be.”

He sits with you on the linoleum tile of your kitchen until your eyes start to droop and he lightly corrals you to your bedroom before taking his exit through the window. You told him multiple times that he could go and you were fine, but he insisted that nothing important was happening in the city that time of night. You didn’t quite believe him though, because it was past midnight by the time he’d headed out.  

When you showed up to work the following day your boss wasn’t there. Wasn’t there the day after either. Or the day after. He didn’t make an appearance again until the following Monday. And when he did show face, he did so with a neck brace and a cast on his leg. But once more, he absolutely refused to make eye contact or speak to any of the female employees. It actually became a whole thing when he wouldn’t give instructions or feedback to any of you, and insisted on having his secretary replaced with a man, who he then used as a middle man to speak to all of the women for him. HR got involved three times in the span of the next five days, and by the Monday after, he’d been fired.

So to recap: yes, no, no, undecided, and hard no. 

Maybe you’re really starting to like this Red Hood guy.

Hard yes.

You’re slightly on guard upon hearing a clattering on the balcony, though if the past few weeks have been any indicator, you’re not in much danger.

Your posture slumps as you peer around the hallway corner, “Oh, it’s you.”

“Good to see you too.” he grumbles, dropping onto the floor.

“Well, I have to imagine I’m a step up from the last person you saw.” You say, looking him up and down, seeing what sure as hell looks like a gunshot wound on his chest armor. “What happened to you? The Mad Hatter uses guns now?”

He groans, “Ah, I said something about him being a heartless fuck, and I guess he took it personally.”

You sigh, “Jesus Christ, Hood.”

He waves you off, “It’s not that big of a deal.” 

You scoff, “He tried to shoot you in the heart.”

“Yeah, well, he missed.” He grumbles, adjusting his position on the couch. 

You exhale sharply, “How do you know?”

“How do I know?” He tilts his helmet at you, exasperated. 

You throw your arms up at your side, “I don’t know! I’m not equipped for this scenario.”

He huffs, “Look, it’s fine, it hit my armor. It’ll probably just be a bad bruise.”

“Probably?”

“I don’t think there’s blood. Could you…” he vaguely gestures to his torso, but it's enough for you to get the hint.

You shake the panic out of your head, “Yeah, yeah, of course.”

You help him shrug off his jacket as he strips off his armor, and you lift his shirt up as slowly as you can in case the injury is worse than he thinks.

You’re not shocked to see that he has scars, that’s kind of a given in his line of work. What you are shocked to see is one very long scar that lines directly up the center of his body. It’s a deep scar, too.

And, oh. The long scar extends further, splitting off into a fork at his collar. That’s—oh. Oh. Oh. That is an autopsy scar. 

You’re not sure what to do. You’ve never seen a living person with an autopsy scar—though you have to imagine neither have most people.

He clearly does not want to talk about it and you’re happy to let him keep the skeleton in the closet.

You avert your gaze back over to his diaphragm at the area of reddened skin.

“There’s no blood, but…” You inspect it a bit closer, “I think there’s going to be a bad bruise. You might end up with bruising on your ribs, you need to get that looked at.”

“I am.” He says shortly.

You stand up straight, dropping your shoulders. “By someone who went to medical school. Or has taken more than one anatomy class in their life.” 

He yanks down his shirt, standing, apparently too quickly, and wobbling. You catch his arm as he sways, attempting to steady him. “You should sit down.”

“Need to go back out.” He grunts, trying to pull away from you with little force.

“To get killed? ‘Cause you’re going the right way about it.” 

He tilts his head at you like he’s daring you to be so bold again. At least that's what it felt like. You sigh, gesturing to the couch, “Sit down.”

You didn’t expect it to work but he does as told.

You look around, unsure of what to do next. “Do you need ice?”

“What?”

“You’re hurt.” You say slower. “Do you need ice?”

He falters for a second, “No, it’s—no.” A couple beats pass before he adds, “Thanks, sweetheart.” 

It’s impossible not to notice that he’s staring at you. You feel hot under his gaze, not knowing what to do with yourself. You clear your throat, telling him to hang on for a second. 

You call out behind you as you walk to the kitchen, “Take your helmet off, it’s rude.” You grab the painkillers from their new easily-accessible place on the kitchen counter and grab a water bottle from the fridge.

It was a joke but when you come back his helmet is off and he’s just wearing his domino eye mask. His hair is extra tousled, the white streak barely visible in the mess of loose curls. You toss the bottle of meds at him, followed by the capped bottle of water. He catches them easily, downing more than he probably should have but he got shot tonight so you figure you’ll give him a break about it.    

You plop down on the couch next to him, honestly closer than you’d meant to. Your knees and shoulders lightly brush against one anothers, though neither of you make any moves to scoot over. 

You both look straight ahead at the wall, simmering in the amity. “So did somebody else deal with the Hatter or when you get shot do you just bounce back like a T-1000?”

He scoffs, “No, getting shot at is a bit of an inconvenience for me.”

“Wrong line of work.”

He cocks an eyebrow, “You’re telling me.”

You turn your head to him, “Why do you do it then?” 

He looks back at you earnestly. “Someone has to.” 

“Someone does.”

He tenses up a bit at that, breaking eye contact. “Not well enough.” 

Your head slowly lulls and drops into a rest on his shoulder, causing him to stiffen up a bit more before almost completely relaxing.

“So violence is the answer to violence?” you ask, not argumentative, just genuinely musing. 

Hood sighs, “Half-assed reform programs didn’t do anything, shitty ‘crisis interventions’ didn’t do anything, the cops sure as hell don’t do anything.” He shrugs under you. “You run out of options eventually.”

“And that’s why you took it upon yourself to intervene?”

“Mm. ‘When reason fails, the devil helps.’” He says, quite melodramatically, in your opinion.

“I-Is that—” you squint, shooting off of his shoulder to look him in the eye. “You spend your nights getting in street fights and shootouts and you spend your days reading Crime and Punishment of all things?” You gawk at him, “That explains a lot about your disposition.”

He shrugs with a shake of his head. “It’s a rough world. Can’t afford to be reading about Hogwarts.”

You pause, combing through your next words, “‘Man only likes to count his troubles; he doesn’t calculate his happiness.’”

His eyes crinkle under his mask as he smiles, clearly pleasantly surprised that you know your shit. “Touché.”

You grin back, pleased with yourself. 

There’s a brief recession where your smiles both get caught in the flicker between on and off, where your eyes take the opportunity to scan over each other’s faces. 

You realize that this may be the first time you’ve seen him properly smile and it’s so magnetizing. So much so that you don’t realize you’re staring at his lips until your eyes snap back up to his and find that his are on yours.

His eyes don’t leave yours as he nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It does just enough to break the trance, giving you the cue to rest your head on him again. This time you allow more of your weight to lean against him and he actually seems relaxed for once.

 You glance at the clock on the wall without moving and realize it’s almost four in the morning. “I’m tired, Hood.” you mumble into his shirt.

“You don’t—” he falters for a moment, “You don’t have to call me that.”

You squint at him, “What should I call you then?”

He’s quiet for a moment. “J.”

“J?” you whisper, like it’s a grave secret. You guess it kind of is.

He nods.

“Okay.” Your cheek flattens against his shoulder. “J.” 

You nearly think you’re imagining it when you feel him rest his head against yours.

“You don’t know how to protect yourself?”

You roll your eyes at him, “You saw the way I swung at you with the baseball bat, what do you think?”

It’s only just after sunset, you could still see some purple-pink hues in the sky if you looked out the window. He’s started showing up before patrol some nights, saying he felt bad about waking you up at 3 am multiple times a week. So now, he mostly only drops in late if he’s a manageable amount of injured.

You stand in the middle of your living room together, after you’d made a joke about needing him as a bodyguard in Gotham. As it turns out, that was a one way street to him finding out that you’re useless in a fight.

“I was hoping you were having an off night because you just woke up, but now I'm concerned.” He says, grimacing.

You shrug, “I carry pepper spray.” 

He grumbles, displeased. “Put your hands up.”

You drop your head to the side and glower at him, “Really?”

He raises his eyebrows at you. Just do it. 

Alright, you’ll humor him. You put your fists up and he holds his hands open in front of you in kind. You throw a light punch.

“Come on, put your weight behind it.”

You do, hitting his hand harder. “Hood—”

He tilts his head forward at that, looking at you through his brows.

You inhale impatiently, “J, Why do we have to do this? I don’t have any illusions that I could knock you out and I can’t imagine you do either.” 

He shakes his head, “It’s not about knocking someone out, it’s about defending yourself. Gonna be a hell of a lot harder to hurt you if you’re throwing punches. Harder.”

You give a raised hum, “Not if they have a gun…”

“Well, we’ll work on that too.”

You groan, throwing a half-assed hit. “Where’d you learn to fight?” You ask before throwing another.

“Turn your body into it.” He corrects. “My, uh, my dad taught me.”

You hum, hitting him again. “Are you guys close?”

“You’re being nosy again.” He grunts amidst a hit.

“You’re being evasive again.” You shoot back.  

He drops his hands, taking your wrists in his, “Here, put your hands in front of your face when you shoot so you can block counters.” He tells you, adjusting your stance accordingly.

You make a face, “I’m confused, am I fighting a mugger or a kickboxer?”  

He ignores you, moving his hands around to give you different angles to hit at. 

You go at it for a few minutes, taking his critiques with reluctant concedence. “Alright, that’s good.” He says, relaxing his body.

You perk up, “We’re done?” 

“No,” he shuts you down before asking earnestly, “Do you trust me?”

Your brain hadn’t even fully processed the question before you nod, mumbling a ‘yes’. He takes a measured step closer to you, watching carefully for your reaction. You almost back up in surprise, angling your head up further to look at him properly. You give no objection, so he continues, “I want you to try to get me on the ground.”

You let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-scoff. “You’re twice my size.”      

He sighs, looking at you somberly. “Sweetheart, odds are you’re not going to be evenly matched against someone that wants to hurt you. You get ‘em on the ground ‘n you have the upper hand or it’ll give you time to get away.”

You throw your hands up at your sides, “I don’t—” You huff, “Fine, okay.” You try to trip him by sliding your leg behind his and kicking, but he blocks you expertly.

You, against better judgment, shove your shoulder into his side, though it does nothing to phase him, let alone knock him down. 

“You gotta get more creative than that.” He chastises with a tut. 

In response, you take a step back to reassess the situation. You try to maintain a poker face as you strategize in your head. You make a dive for his legs, wrapping your arms around the back of his legs and pulling hard to make him lose balance. You’re sure if he were actually trying for a damn you would immediately be done for afterwards, but it does make him wobble. You then throw all of your weight against him, pushing him backwards and causing him to hit the floor with a thud.

He probably allowed for gravity to come to your aid, but he lands on his back all the same. You land half on him, half on the carpet, your hand resting on his chest. He looks up at you nodding, “Good. That was good, sweetheart.”

You smile, quite proud of yourself, and start to stand up when he hooks his arm around the back of your knee and pulls you to the ground too, switching places with you. You hit the ground gently with a sigh, “Really?”

He has one hand rested next to your head to balance him in his place above you. He smirks down at you and lets a tussle of white hair hang over his forehead. “Can’t be getting cocky, sweetheart.”

You laugh sourly, “Coming from you?” 

You quickly push at the bend of his arm and use the distraction to adjust your position to wrap your legs around his center and push your arm against his chest in an attempt to rotate him off of you.

He counters you by pushing your shoulder down, holding you down to the floor. His opposite hand flies to pull your forearm away from his chest, pinning it next to your head, careful to avoid your hair. He moves so quickly that you have half a mind to think he acted on pure instinct. That, and the look on his face when the dust settles says that he hadn’t intended for you to end up in this position. 

Your legs are still wrapped around him and you’re too frozen in the moment to make any changes. He’s in no more of a rush to move, large frame towering over you. You feel his touch stutter against your shoulder, his eyes flickering across your face.

You gaze up at him, taking in the soft look in his eyes behind the mask. You think you can see more green than you did before. You unwrap your legs from around his waist and slowly start to sit up. He releases your wrist and eases the pressure on your shoulder. He leans back half as quickly as you move forward, stopping when you’re propped up on your elbows.

Your faces are only a few inches apart and it feels like your only option is to look down at his lips. You have a feeling he’s doing the same to you. The adrenaline of the hassle has long since faded but the rhythm in both of your chests remains quick.

He leans forward so barely, but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. “J…” you say breathily, not sure what implication you’re aiming for.

He stills and this time you’re sure he’s looking at your lips. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to come back to himself and inches his face away from yours slowly. 

You let the hold in your breath release, disappointed more than anything. He eases off the floor to a stand and holds his hand out to help you up too. You take it with more of a frown than you’d meant to let out and rise to your feet.

“Let’s, uh…” He looks at the ground before taking a step back and putting his hands up again. “Let’s try some combos.”

You blink up at him for a second before raising your hands too.  

Alright, one step at a time.   

vol II

[hyunebunx]

⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 ⏖ ' late night moments with skz !

⁺ 𖹭 . genre: this is just sleepy fluff <3 some of the boys get kind of emotional.

⁺ 𖹭 . a/n: happy binnie day!! <3 to this day, these are some of my favorite hcs i've ever written so i hope you enjoy! (early morning moments with them right here <3)

𝜗୧ chan 𝜗୧ - 2:34 am

“Do you think Berry misses me sometimes?” He mumbles into your lap, voice full of sleep as you gently massage his scalp. Looking down at him, your eyes soften when he hugs your middle and hides his face in your stomach which prompts your other hand to begin tracing his features softly.

“Of course, she does, baby.” Chan almost purrs in response and your heart melts at the sight, managing to contain the sudden urge to squish his cheeks together. “Remember how excited she was the last time you visited? She was jumping, running around you and never left your side the whole time you were there.”

A moment passes and then two with no response from your boyfriend and that’s when you realize, by his even breathing, that he finally fell asleep.

You smile and lean down to plant a sweet kiss on his forehead, whispering a sincere I love you in his ear, not stopping your massage.

Sleeps like this, in your lap, until you’re sure he’s asleep for good before you slowly move him into a more comfortable position and wrap his whole body in a blanket burrito.

𝜗୧ minho 𝜗୧ - 11:59 pm

“Hug me, I’m cold!”

You hear him groan before he turns over to face you, grumbling under his breath as he envelopes your body in a big hug and begins to squeeze the life out of you. All out of love, of course.

“Better now?” “Minho, I can’t breathe!”

Doesn’t let go but does tilt your head up to look into your eyes and the love you see as you stare back almost has you in tears. A sleepy smile makes its way onto his lips and that’s when you manage to loosen his grip by wiggling into his arms, wasting no time as you begin to plant open-mouthed kisses all over his face.

His smile widens until giggles escape him, loving the way your lips feel on his skin as he lets you do whatever you want until you’re satisfied. When you finally reach his lips but don’t linger for as long as he’d like, instead kissing them repeatedly while also giggling, he takes matters into his own hands and kisses you deeply while still keeping the initial softness of your previous ones.

𝜗୧ changbin 𝜗୧ - 3:47 am

You toss and turn in the sheets for what feels like the millionth time before finally giving up with a frustrated sigh. “Binnie, I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” The response comes instantly and you sit up on your elbows to find him staring at the ceiling, visibly exhausted. You frown, scooting closer to hug him by the middle and rest your chin on his chest.

“Everything okay?”

Your soft voice prompts him to let it all out, to rant about work and his daily struggles at a fast pace that you can barely keep up with. When his voice quivers, you look up and plant comforting kisses on his neck and jaw, one hand gently massaging his chest through his nightshirt.

When he’s done and his speech slows down, Changbin moves to hide his face in your hair, muscular arms wrapping around your body to bring you closer, almost like he wanted to morph your bodies together. Being one with the love of your life sounded great right now – to be able to take all of his pain and discomfort so that he’ll always be happy and healthy was something you dreamt about often. Unfortunately, until that was possible, you hoped from the bottom of your heart that what you’re able to do right now is enough.

𝜗୧ hyunjin 𝜗୧ - 1:08 am

“Forget worms, would you still love me if I was a deadly shark?”

Hyunjin looks up from his phone, flabbergasted, just to find you already looking at him. He’s silent, waiting for you to elaborate but when you don’t, he sighs and gives in. “Darling, what the hell are you talking about?”

You roll your eyes, cuddling closer as you place your head in the crock of his neck to inhale his comforting scent. His arms pull you closer instantly, phone long forgotten. “This hypothetical situation, Jinnie, is critical for our relationship. Please take it seriously.”

Is confused the whole time as you ramble on and on about your ‘hypothetical situation’ that at some point, having had enough, he just turns his back to you and gets comfortable on his other side.

When you follow him and throw a leg over his body, continuing on while drawing patterns onto his back, he swiftly turns around to hover over you, pinning you to the mattress. Your eyes meet and for a second, you think he’s going to kiss you until your dream is shattered as he begins tickling you mercilessly instead. A tickle war starts that leaves you both breathless and laughing well into the night.

𝜗୧ jisung 𝜗୧ - 1:56 am

“When you’re away and I miss you, I spray this pillow with your cologne and cuddle it as I would cuddle you.”

Jisung’s eyes widen slightly as you speak against his lips, the lingering sadness in your tone pulling at his heartstrings in an unpleasant way. You’re face to face, staring lovingly at each other while talking in hushed voices about everything that comes to mind.

He knows that at this time during the night, he gets all soft and mushy but he wasn’t expecting to cry this soon. You were so good to him, his own angel on earth that would wait for him for as long as it was needed. You deserved so much better.

Gently cupping your cheek, you lean into his touch and close your eyes in contentment, and he bites his tongue to stop himself from crying. “I’m sorry, baby.”

His voice is shaky so without a word, you cuddle closer, burying your head in his chest and holding him tighter while also kissing his covered chest. “Sorry? Sorry for what? Don’t be silly, Ji. Your love makes all this waiting around worth it every single time.”

𝜗୧ felix 𝜗୧ - 4:02 am

“Wait, what? She said that to you?” Felix asks, voice loud in disbelief as the hand that was combing through your hair stops momentarily.

You nod, looking up at him from where you’re resting your head, on his abs, the bare skin warm and soft under your touch. “Yes! I have receipts, hold on.”

As you scramble out of bed to get your phone from where it's charging, Felix can’t help but smile as his eyes are completely focused on you and nothing else. He always thought you were the most beautiful like this – bare-faced, with your hair slightly messy and missing that furrow between your brows that appeared during the day.

Vulnerable and oh-so cuddly during the late hours of the night, and early hours of the morning you sometimes spent with him, talking, kissing and laughing until the sun rose again to announce another new day.

When you came back to bed, Felix was resting with his back against the headboard and the position allowed him to pull you flush against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as you showed him your phone. It was the domesticity he always craved for which he hoped would never end. That you and him like this never ended.

𝜗୧ seungmin 𝜗୧ - 12:32 am

Taking another peek at the bedside clock, you can’t help but sigh as the red digits glare at you, almost mockingly. You’ve been in bed for hours now and you’re still as awake as you were back then too. It was infuriating, and you were this close to actually crying in frustration.

Almost as if sensing your low mood, Seungmin turns on his side to face you. “Everything okay?”

You shake your head and bury your head in the warm pillow. “I can’t sleep, Minnie. Will you sing to me, please?”

His arms come around you to bring your back to his chest, successfully luring you into being the little spoon, which to be honest, you didn’t mind one bit right now. He places a kiss on your cheek, and with one hand softly massaging your hip, he starts humming. Not a lullaby, but one of the group’s title tracks.

When you glare at him over your shoulder, he grins and stifles a chuckle before starting to sing a proper lullaby. Just as suspected – his dreamy voice does have magical powers and you’re asleep in less than five minutes. Or maybe it's the way he holds you so closely and the occasional kiss on the top of your head that does the trick. Either way, you have to let Felix know asap. He owes you 20$.

𝜗୧ jeongin 𝜗୧ - 11:45 pm

“Blanket thief.” He complains, however, there’s no real malice in his tone as you roll around into a blanket burrito and leave him completely exposed to all the monsters that come out at night, laughing loudly.

You don’t see him, but he rolls his eyes, trying to appear annoyed as he hides his growing smile. “Come here, baby, let’s share.”

When you shake your head no, still giggling in your pillow, Jeongin takes matters into his own hands, literally, and lifts you up by the waist to trap you into his tight embrace, which causes you to shriek and laugh again. He soon joins in and your laughter fills the tiny room as you begin wrestling for the blanket.

“Come on, be reasonable, there’s enough blanket for the both of us.” “No.” “Y/n.” “But Jeongin, the monsters – “ ,“I’ll beat them up! Now, come here!”

Somehow, he manages to convince you to share and you fall asleep cuddling while watching youtube videos, with his soft voice whispering sweet nothings into your ear. But during the night, he still ends up uncovered and because he’s petty, he pretends to fall out of bed and says that the monsters got to him because of you and your selfish nature he can’t help but still love so much!

[julymusings]

dark chocolate cherry

i want to bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.

or; your boyfriend shows up when you just want some alone time [3.2k]

jason todd x fem!reader; reader gets her period and describes painful symptoms; just fluff; jason "words don't come easy so here's acts of service" todd this is earlier in the relationship which is why he's still a little shy but she knows he's red hood? idk man. i was just going with it; can you guess what inspired this? (everything is awful)

The day started at 2 AM when you woke to shooting pains in your abdomen and blood everywhere. It continued until 2:45 while you cleaned yourself, changed clothes, put on a fresh pad, took some painkillers, and changed the sheets. It paused for about an hour until you woke up again at 4:00, courtesy of Gotham’s patented night-life that had taught you to completely tune out the sound of police sirens. Tonight, however, they weren’t tuning out.

The sirens quieted at 4:10, by which angry tears collected in the corners of your eyes as you flopped around in bed in an attempt to get comfortable. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong; the pillow was too hard, the blanket was too scratchy, the position hurt your arm.

From 4:11 to 4:12, you screamed into your pillow.

By 4:15 you had settled in front of the TV with a bowl of dry cereal (it took everything in you not to cry over the lack of milk in your fridge), a heating pad, and your favorite comfort show queued up.

At 8 AM you managed to drag yourself to work, where you half-assed the day’s tasks, took a 15-minute break to cry in your car, then dipped out a half-hour early.

Now, at 5 PM on a Friday evening, you’re curled into the fetal position in front of your TV with your comfort show resumed and your trusty heating pad cranked to the highest setting. Prepared to spend the entire night here, you already changed into pajamas and kept a couple blankets within reach. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, and you stretch to reach it, careful not to lose your comfortable position or roll off the couch.

Jason About to leave Be there in 20

You groan out loud. You want to throw your phone across the room, but decide against it because no amount of hormones from hell are worth six hundred dollars. You’re still angry, though, for being so stupid as to forget about the date you had planned for tonight. Scrolling up to earlier messages, you see another text from today wishing you a good morning and telling you he was excited to see you tonight. But, too down to bother checking any messages today, you had missed it.

You I can’t tonight anymore I’m sorry I don’t feel great

After hitting send, you place your phone on the ground, not even having the energy to reach for the coffee table again. Or the energy to lift your arm back up, apparently, given how it hangs limply over the edge of the couch. You feel guilty about cancelling, but you are in no state to go out tonight. You’re used to the symptoms of your period hitting so hard. As much as you and Jason care about each other, you’re not sure you’re ready for him to see you like this. You’ve managed to plan your relationship around your hormone cycle so far, but today it came early.

Your phone’s buzzing is muffled by the rug, and you almost don’t hear it. Jason’s photo is displayed on the screen.

Your hanging hand clicks ‘answer’ and puts it on speaker so you can take the call without moving from how you're curled up.

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine, I just don’t feel up for going out tonight. I’d rather stay home.”

“Did something happen?”

“No, I just got my period so I’m not really in the mood.”

“Okay, we can stay in tonight. What do you feel like eating? I can pick something up.”

“No, Jason…I want to stay home alone tonight.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line.

“Okay…did I do something?” His voice comes out a little smaller.

“No, you’re fine, I promise. I just don’t feel like seeing anyone right now.”

“…Not even me?”

Your hand presses against your temples to soothe the building tension headache. The self-doubt in his tone brings the anguish of the entire day bubbling up your throat. You feel like the worst person in the world. Exactly how you don’t want him to see you.

“Jason…it’s not you. I just…I feel like shit right now, honestly. Everything hurts, I’m miserable and sad and angry at everything, I’m breaking out all over.” You feel yourself welling up at all these little stresses coming out. “I’m craving everything but feel too sick to eat anything…I feel pretty disgusting right now, and frankly, I don’t want you to see me like this.” You finish your rant with a sniffle. You wipe your nose, trying to hold back the sob that’s threatening to break through. But at his silence, your worst, most improbable fears claw their way to the surface: he hates you now. You scared him away. You exhale heavily into your sleeve as more tears spill.

The phone is quiet for a long moment.  Then; “I could never find you disgusting,” he says, gently. “But if that’s what you want, then we’ll reschedule.”

“Thank you. And sorry.”

He speaks with a tone you can’t quite parse. “Don’t apologize. Just feel better.”

-

-

-

It’s one hour after your phone call, and at the first knock, you know who it is. Who else could it be? With that soft, somewhat hesitant, one-knuckle rap on the door. Only one person knocks on your door like that.

“Jason, I told you not to come here,” you say a little more cutting than you intend to, but your back and shoulders feel like they’re about to snap under a phantom pressure and the frustration of your request being outright ignored leaves a burning bitterness that channels itself into a violent wrenching open of the door.

He jumps a little at the abruptness of your greeting. One look at your face and he visibly deflates.

“I’m sorry…I know you said not to come, but…” his gaze casts downward to his hands. You follow; he’s clutching a reusable grocery bag. Peeking out of the top is a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. The ice cream carton’s condensation seeped through a small patch of the cloth bag and dripped onto the other items; a bushel of greens, among some other fruits and vegetables, as well as a parcel of brown paper that was fastened closed with a twine string. You return your gaze to his face.

“I think—” he cuts himself off, free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Then he drops his hand and sighs. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. You told me not to come here and I ignored you, but I thought…” he trails off, probably hoping you’ll say something so he can gauge your reaction.

You just stare at him.

He shifts his weight back and forth. His hand twitches.

“Okay, yeah, I’ll—”

Then, you burst into tears.

Jason’s eyes widen. He reaches out to touch you, then stops himself. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, this was stupid. Please stop crying, I’m so sorry—” He’s panicked, trying to calm you down with apologies and soothing assurances that he will leave immediately and never go against your wishes again. All the while you stand in the doorway, blubbering like a toddler with a skinned knee, new tears forming faster than you can wipe the old ones away.

He once again raises a hand towards you, before it stutters, then clenches into a fist as if it takes all his strength to fight against the instinct to be close to you, fighting against the string that tethers him to you. He drags his hand down his face, then it falls back to his side.

“Okay, I—I’m leaving now. I’m leaving. Do you…want this?” He holds the bag out to you.

With it now in front of you, its further contents are visible. You manage to tamp down your tears enough to get a few words out.

“Did you—hic—buy me groceries?”

“Yeah…” There’s a wince in his tone, as if he’s only now realizing that his gesture is not translating as he intended.

You look back up at him with pursed lips and knitted brows, sniffling. Sure, the ice cream you can understand, but…you have no idea what to make of the rest.

The bag drops back to his side. “I figured…it’s just— it’s the stuff that you’re supposed to—” He strokes his palm over his mouth, eyes screwing shut for a moment. He huffs at himself, then continues. “I mean I’m sure you already know all of this, so maybe you already have all these things, and now I’m realizing how unnecessary all this was, and I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“Jason,” you say. Your upset has since been overshadowed by something else, though you can’t tell what it is. And your crying has stopped, but its lingering effects have you feeling congested and a little foggy. You’re half expecting this to be a fever dream that you’re moments away from waking up from in a cold sweat.

“—because obviously you know what helps you feel better much more than I do—”

“Jason.”

“And you— yeah?” His eyes are a little harried when they find yours again. But off your tired and still-confused look, he gets the message and collects himself.

“Right, yeah, I just thought that…maybe I could bring you some of the stuff with all those minerals that are supposed to help women when they’re…menstruating.” He briefly breaks eye contact at the end of his sentence, red rouge creeping up his neck.

You can’t help it; you start to giggle. You can’t remember the last time you heard a man use the term ‘menstruating’ in a non-medical context. And the fact that he’s so shy about it— upset as you may be (though not at him), there’s no denying how adorable your boyfriend is. His head shoots back to you as your laughter intensifies. He blushes harder.

“It’s not that funny,” he mutters.

You step away from the door, finally closing the space between you, and wrap your arms around his torso. Your head nestles into his chest. He gently drops the grocery bag on the ground and reciprocates your hug. He rests his chin on your head, which fits perfectly under his. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. You breathe him in.

“Sorry I’m such a mess,” you murmur into his shirt.

He breathes into your hair. “You have nothing to apologize for. And you’re not a mess.”

You look up, chin resting in the space between his collarbones. He looks down at you with a small smile, but some wariness is still etched into his features. Fear of unwittingly upsetting you again. He brings up a hand to push some hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. His hand remains there, toying with the hair that falls below your shoulder.

"Thank you for the food,” you whisper. The moment feels too intimate to speak any other way.

“I’m sorry for not listening to you. I just…” He imitates your quietness, like his admission is also too vulnerable to say loudly. “I really wanted to see you. And I hated the idea of you feeling bad about yourself, or being in pain. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Your eyes feel wet again. The first instinct is to hide your face, maybe press it to his chest once more. But, for some reason, you don’t. You want him to see you like this, messy and emotional and upset. You want him to see every part of you, and you want to see every part of him, the good and the bad.

“You didn’t.” A tear slips past the effort to keep it at bay. He shows no reaction to it, eyes never leaving yours, other than a quick swiping away with his thumb. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before. That’s why I was crying. Not because you showed up.”

“That doesn’t seem right. This is nothing. You deserve even more.”

With no words to fully, adequately communicate the blooming in your chest, you stand on your toes, reaching up to him for a kiss. But given his stature, your lips only reach his chin and brush over its underside.

At your quiet whine, he chuckles and leans down to meet you in the middle. The kiss is soft; filled with the innocence of fresh blossoms in the spring, and the sweetness of its borne fruit.

You pull away when a vicious cramp roots you back to the present. Your limps tighten around Jason with a groan.

“I need to go back inside. I’ve been away from my heating pad for too long.”

His shoulders sag when you step away from him. “Oh, um…do you still…want me to leave?”

With a simple exhale of humorous disbelief, you grasp his hand in yours and tug him to your front door. He’s like an excited puppy, eyes brightened and perking up as he grabs the grocery bag and happily trails after you.

He goes straight to the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the counter for you to settle into, then sets the bag on the counter. The ice cream carton has dampened most of the cloth by now, and likely the rest of its contents, but rather than attending to the groceries, his first action is retrieving your heating pad from where it rests on the couch. He unplugs it from the wall outlet and brings it to you. You curl up on the chair with it pressed flat against your lower stomach. It only takes a minute for the pressure in your hips to abate.

Then he moves to the groceries. The ice cream immediately goes in the freezer, and he unloads what’s remaining onto the counter, one by one, and you take note of each item. There’s spinach, carrots, apples, oranges, dark chocolate, some kind of meat wrapped in brown paper, and, strangely enough, an entire block of cheese.

You give him a quizzical look, picking it up to read the label. “You got me…cheddar cheese?”

He retrieves a cutting board and knife from its spot next to the sink, then takes the cheese from you. “Good for certain symptoms.” He slices open the plastic wrapping and cuts out some cubes with skilled efficiency. He does the same with an apple. “They all are,” he says, referring to his entire haul. He completes the makeshift charcuterie board with a couple squares of dark chocolate and slides it across the counter.

You look down at the cutting board, thinking about everything he’s done for you; everything you never even had to ask for. The words sit on your tongue, encaged by your clenched teeth; an admission that coils itself around your spine and squeezes tight, restricts your breathing and pumps your heart at thrice its speed. But you feel yourself welling up again, and the first bout of tears already exhausted you so much that all you can manage is, “I don’t know what to do with all this. I don’t have the energy to make anything good.”

But he just smiles and says, “That’s what I’m here for, honey. Can I make you something?”

You nod. He gets to work. The immediacy of his actions, how he takes no time to decide on a dish or find a recipe, makes you think his previously stated intentions of ‘just dropping this off’ were less genuine than he lead you to believe. Nevertheless, you munch on the snacks he laid out for you and watch him work. The cheese and apples are a surprisingly cohesive combination, the meshing of sweet crispiness and savory creaminess eliciting a contented sigh from you. You try to ignore the way Jason smirks in the corner of your periphery. The chocolate is incredible, yet unfamiliar. You read the label on the packaging: 80% Dark Chocolate with Cherry and Almond Filling. Even if you hadn’t tasted it yet, the quality of the packaging itself would have been enough to let you know that this chocolate is extremely high-quality. Like, special-order-from-Europe quality. Not stop-at-the-grocery-store-on-the-way-home quality.

“Where is this from? Did you buy this today?” You ask him through a mouthful of the rich, melting chocolate.

He doesn’t look up from the carrots he’s dicing. “Uh…no.”

Anyone else would attribute his avoidance of eye-contact to standard kitchen-knife caution. You are not anyone else. You could blindfold him, spin him around ten times, put a sharp knife in his hand, and he could still pull off a perfect julienne. You look closer. His cheeks are dusted with pink.

You let out a laugh. “Jason, you’re not embarrassed about liking fancy chocolate, are you?”

“No! Not at all,” he says, ceasing his chopping. He looks up, but not quite at you.

“Then?”

“‘Then’ what?” He asks.

“Then why are you being so shifty right now?” You try to catch his gaze.

“I’m not!” He defends. “It’s just chocolate! Do you like it? I’ll bring you more.” He’s stealthy with the way he avoids your eyes; you almost can’t notice how hard he’s trying not to make eye contact.

“Jason!” You reach across the counter, having to rise off the chair slightly, and take his face in your hands, making him look at you. When he does, he wears a sheepish smile.

“It’s…” His removes your hands from his face, holding them in his. He mumbles something, turning his head to the side. But you catch the tail end of it, a goading grin already creeping up your face.

“What was that?” You tilt your ear towards him, exaggerating the action.

“It’s Bruce’s.” He, in turn, exaggerates the enunciation, rolling his eyes at your simpering. “I…found it. In his pantry one day. And I liked it, so I took it. And then I…kept taking it. Every time I visited.”

You pout teasingly. “And you’re ashamed to admit that you think he has good taste in something?”

He doesn’t say anything, only hiding his face in his shoulder. You pull on your intertwined hands and he gets the message, skirting around the kitchen counter to come closer.

“You are so adorable, you know that?” You say. You reach up and pinch his cheeks. He swats your hands away, but there’s no mistaking his broad, childish grin for anything but affection.

He breaks off another square from the chocolate bar and holds it to your lips. You bite off a small portion, then push it back to him. He takes the remaining piece in his mouth and his eyes close for a brief moment as he savors the sweet, tart, and nutty flavors. You simply watch, entranced by him. Then, he kisses you. You lean into it, hands sliding up his shirt to grip the fabric and bring him even closer. His hold finds your waist.

He tastes like cherries and dark chocolate.

He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead on yours, and you want to tell him that. That, and so much more. But from the look on his face, the way his eyes find yours and the tips of his ears have a similar heat to the one in your chest, you can tell he already knows.

when it comes to jason's post-pit-repressed-teenager characterization (aka despite being older he's still as inexperienced and confused and insecure about the world outside of vigilantism and w/ women as a 15 y/o would be) (aka my favorite characterization tee hee), i think that he's mature about periods, knows they're normal and not gross or shameful etc, but still gets shy about saying the actual word, for no other reason than the 'shy around women' part always makes me giggle

also bruce is keeping the chocolate stocked specifically because he knows jason likes it and will keep taking it because he loves his son even if his son doesn't love him (he does he's just in his angsty teen 'i hate this family you don't understand me' phase rn)

divider is from here

quote at the beginning is pablo neruda <3

[monstersholygrail]

Demon Priest knows you hate to beg, and he’d never be one to make you do so. No, not his blessing. His gift. His everything. He lives to serve you. Whatever you ask for he will acquire without hesitation. But that doesn’t mean he can’t make you admit how badly you need him in other ways.

He bends you over the alter, the church empty. But Demon Priest would worship you in front of the masses if only you’d let him. He rubs his cock along your dripping slit, mixing his precum with your slick. Your pussy throbs, senses tingling. He’s so close to where you need him most.

“Put in—hmm— put it in,” you moan, hips wiggling against his. His cock catches onto your entrance and you suck in a harsh breath. He chuckles lowly in your ear.

“Oh, you want something? Tell me what you want, precious dove,” he rasps, his voice sending sparks that go straight to your core. A long whine leaves you.

“You know what.”

“But I wanna hear you say it, my love. What would you like me to stuff inside you,” he starts, his voice turning into a rough growls as his claws dig into your hips.

A high pitched mewl tears from your throat and echos off the empty church walls. No one but him and God there to witness such a blessed sound.

“Your cock!” You shout in desperation, pussy clenching around the bit of his tip pressed against you.

“How bad you want it?” He asks darkly as he starts to push in.

You let out a long moan, pushing back to help suck in his cock but his claws keep you in your place. You’re stuck going at his pace and he goes as slow as he seems bearable. The warmth of your slick walls proving relief for the stinging pain in his feet.

“S-sooo bad,” you whine, feeling the way your body slowly stretches around his girth, accommodating such a dizzying size. Every vein brushes along your depths and your body pulses with need.

Demon Priest huffs out a growl with every breath as your tightness nearly suffocates him. He leans over you, his frame swallowing your plump body, surrounding you with him and only him. His hot breath fans your ear and you clench around him, only serving to make him snarl at you.

“Now what would you like? You know I live to serve my God,” he says, voice sounding more demonic by the second.

“M-move.”

“Move?” He asks, his voice almost playful as he starts pulling out of you. You immediately whine in protest, core clenching around him to keep him trapped inside. Demon Priest lightly scrapes along your belly to restrain himself, his jaw clenching.

“Fuck me, please!” You cry out and Demon Priest roars, slamming his cock inside you at full force.

A massive claw reaches and brings your head down onto the alter. Keeping you positioned perfectly for him as Demon Priest brutally fucks up into your sopping cunt. From your place on your alter you can only just see his true demonic form and your pussy ripples along his length, making his thrusts grow even rougher as he splits you open on his cock.

“As you so command, little dove,” he says deeply through broken moans.

His eyes flash and you know you’ve unleashed something within him that you can’t contain. At least not until he’s forced a few dozen orgasms out of your ruined pussy.

But it’s alright. There isn’t another service until next Sunday. And Demon Priest is going to take advantage of every second he has alone with you inside this holy sanctum, and yours.

[diorchids]

size kink, luke castellan.

cw: size kink, piv, slight breeding kink, swearing, & more

luke castellan who has the worst size kink.

he would wrap his toned arm around your body while you talked to other campers, softly rutting his cock against you.

he would softly guide your legs apart, practically salivating as your glistening cunt was revealed to him.

the way your glossy eyes would bounce back and forth from his fat cock inside of you to his face full of desperation made him want to fuck his babies into you. your eyes rolled out copious amounts of tears to cope with the pain of his thick cock practically ripping through your tightness.

his large hands knead your breasts, sucking and licking your nipple. he loved how big his hands were on your bouncing breasts, whispering every night how much he loved cumming all over them.

you writhed and mewled under the assault of your wet, sweet, tight cunt. "stretchin' me out real good, lukey?" you tried to talk to him, but you stuttered and blabbered as he dumbed you down with his aggressive thrusts in and out of your little cunt.

he would plant his large hands on your stomach, seeing his fat cock bulge up into your tummy. "look a'that, got my cock all in you,” he groaned, “takin’ me so good, lettin’ me fuck my cock in your—pussy..” as he played with your puffy clit.

he tapped your chin, wordlessly telling you to kiss him. a clammy hand softly gripped your neck, practically wrapping around it completely before you pathetically lifted your head to bring your slick lips to his mouth. he was impatient, pursing his lips before kissing you harshly.

your salty tears roll down onto your collarbones, running down your chest as he thrust roughly, pressing his hand on your lower stomach. you could never get used to his cock, always mewling and crying when he forced it into your hole.

you looked so small underneath him, hands shaking and trembling when you tried to hold his face. “so small, baby,” he practically moaned. he loves your size and how small you are compared to him, yet how much of his cock you could take.

he pushed himself into you occasionally, not wanting to hurt you. you were practically being ripped open each time he thrusts into you.

“‘s like that, take all of it. so good, fuckin’ you so good, hm?” you nodded dumbly. drool pooling in the corners of your mouth, trying to speak but only letting out incoherent noises and cries.

“lu—mmh, g’cum…” you said, practically seizing under his flesh.

his hands roamed over your body, cupping your breasts and tweaking your nipples. he loved how sensitive you were to his touch, always twitching and writhing to accommodate the overwhelming feeling of warmth all over you.

feeling you tighten around him only served to make him go even harder. his pace quickened, his hips slamming into yours in a primal rhythm. the head of his cock, thick and unyielding, repeatedly poked up in your tummy.

“pretty baby—can’t take it no more?” he taunted you, sloppily kissing your face when you arched your back off the bed.

the sound of your flesh slapping together filled the room as luke continued to take you with rough, hungry strokes. his cock was a blur of thick, veiny flesh as it plunged in and out of your tight pussy, stretching you to the limits. it hurt so badly, but you just had to cum.

a thick white ring formed on the base of his cock, serving as proof of your arousal. he cooed in your ear, “doin’ so good, cum f’me.”

and that you did.

he held your waist in his hands, holding you in place while you thrashed and cried, your tummy releasing the burning knot in it.

he didn’t stop thrusting, he still wasn’t done. feeling you reach climax only fueled his lust. he groaned low in his throat, his hips pistoning faster and harder still.

the thick head of his cock almost pressed deep against your cervix, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your small body. “couldn’t take it, no? pretty pussy feelin’ so good.”

his hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you down against his relentless assault. he loved you more than anything, but you both loved how he treated you; fucking you dumb, forcing his fat cock into you.

“mmmh, s’ good,” you cried out, the corners of your mouth twitching with satisfaction while your juices coated his cock in your stickiness. he loved seeing your cunt react to him, serving as a lubricant for him to slide in easier.

he bit his lip and tightened his hold on your hips, thrusting hard and deep into you once more. "'s it, baby," he groaned as his cock jerked violently, sending streams of hot cum flooding into your tight, hungry cunt. “takin’—me so good.”

you eventually got up and felt his warm cum dripping down your inner thighs while he slipped his big shirt on you.

[pepperyduck]

porcelain. toji f.

a/n: nsfw, angst?????? idk what this is really, just me yapping, very unhealthy boyfriend behaviors from toji, toji pushes ur buttons & makes you snap, DACRYPHILIA!!!!!, p in v. 18+ mdni.

toji's always treated you as what he calls you; a doll.

no, he's never been the type to treat anyone delicately, but then there was you.

to him, you were but a fragile flower, asking to be crushed. toji's hurt a lot of people in his life. he would never hurt you. he never reciprocates the kindness of others, usually, but he couldn't help but treat you with the same love and respect you showed him.

he knows the real you.

toji knows that even among the most precious, delicate dolls, their porcelain skin will begin to crack if you play with them too much. he understands that under your angel-like persona, there's something much darker.

he sees the abyss of emotions inside of you, when you begin to crack.

he's too rough with you on purpose. because he wants that monster inside of you to come out. to be shown to him, what you really are. and it's all for his own pleasure. just for him to break you.

he wants you to snap at him so he can treat you accordingly. and he's so happy when your tired of your buttons being pushed, in his own twisted way.

"fuck off, toji!" with a hard push to his chest was all it took to make him happy. it gave him an excuse to not treat you like a doll anymore, toss you around a little bit. make you cry.

as crazy and sick as he was, you enjoyed it even more.

not even thirty minutes after your action of defiance, he had you laid out under him, eyes glossy with tears while he slowly stuffed you with his cock. toji's lips twitched in a sadistic grin as you allowed the tears to flow, all while staring dangerously into his eyes.

"y'er gonna break my heart, doll," toji groans. "cryin' like a baby all 'cus you feel bad, aww." he's cooing and it's doing nothing but pissing you off; but the drag of his length against the soft walls of your cunt melt the anger away.

"shut up, toji," you grumble, blinking your eyes to clear them so you can get a good look of the condescending man above you.

yet as he hears your snappy words, toji rams his hips into you one good time, bouncing your soft body against the sheets of his bed. you're sure that singular stroke bruised your cervix. the sudden jolt of pleasure that courses through your body brings you to reality quickly.

please.

toji's change in demeanor towards you is slow at first. he's always been so careful. so gentle. all to not hurt you. right now, though, he needs it.

please, baby.

another particularly harsh thrust makes your eyes widen and you panic. you look into toji's eyes, but it's almost as if he isn't even there. his eyes are low, dark and filled with hunger. and anger and sadness, and pain. that same mess of emotions hidden under your sensitive shell is staring you right in the eyes. empty, like a doll.

"toji?" you squeak, earning another stab of toji's cock into your gushing cunt, "toji!"

"i'm 'ere, doll," toji says, though it seems a bit untrue, and his pace quickens too fast, right before your eyes. he's losing himself in his mind and in the feeling of how tightly you squeeze around him when you panic.

break for me. please.

he's begging.

toji can feel how badly you want it, how much you want him to lose control over you. his porcelain doll.

he knows that underneath your glass skin, you're just like him.

he knows it.

[jaysng]

post arguement — yang jungown

PAIRING. husband!jungwon, preg!wife!reader

GENRE. angst, fluff

WORD CNT. 695

NOTE. sorry i haven’t been posting and haven’t replied to anyone in a while, life has been tough and i hope you understand. also been messing with the themes lately. don’t know what looks good. trying.

you woke up in bed, warmth enveloping you in a way that felt both familiar and surprising. your eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the soft blur of the room. the last thing you remembered was curling up on the couch, raw from the argument with jungwon.

the silence of that moment had been heavy, charged with words that couldn’t be unsaid. you had fallen asleep with tear-streaked cheeks and the ache of his voice replaying in your head, cutting deeper each time.

but now, here you were, back in your shared bed. your fingers brushed the comforter, trying to piece together how you’d gotten there. a slight shift behind you made your heart stutter; jungwon was close, his arm resting lightly around your waist, cautious.

his breath was warm against your back, slow but uneven, as if he’d been awake for a while.

the faint nausea that lingered in the mornings pulled at you, a reminder that this moment wasn’t just yours. the baby growing inside you made everything sharper, more fragile.

last night’s argument had felt even more painful because of it, and the guilt weighed heavily on you now.

jungwon’s arm tightened slightly, and you felt him press his forehead gently against your shoulder. the quiet stretched on, the tension humming between you like a current. he took a shaky breath, breaking the silence.

“i’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, almost breaking. it caught you off-guard; jungwon was rarely this raw, this unguarded. “i shouldn’t have let you sleep out there. i shouldn’t have said anything that made you feel like you had to.”

the sincerity, the guilt in his tone, cracked something open inside you. you didn’t turn to face him, not yet. it felt safer to speak without looking into his eyes. “i shouldn’t have said what i did either,” you whispered, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “but it hurt, jungwon.”

his hand moved from your waist to rest on your arm, tentative, as if afraid you’d pull away. “i know,” he admitted, his voice so quiet it almost disappeared. “i was so caught up in being right, in feeling frustrated… i didn’t think about you. about us.”

you felt his breath hitch, and it only deepened the ache in your chest. “and when i saw you on the couch, curled up like that… it felt like everything shattered.”

you finally turned, shifting to face him. jungwon’s eyes were red-rimmed, guilt swimming in their depths. you could see how much he’d carried through the night, how it weighed on him now. “did you stay up?” you asked, noticing the exhaustion etched across his features.

he nodded, a rueful smile touching his lips for a fleeting moment. “i couldn’t sleep. i kept thinking about how wrong it was, having you out there. and with the baby… i couldn’t let it stay that way.”

your eyes filled with tears, and you blinked them back, not wanting to let the moment spiral into more sadness. “thank you for bringing me back,” you said softly, fingers brushing against his. “i didn’t realize…”

“you shouldn’t have had to,” he said, voice steadying but still thick with emotion. “you’re my everything. both of you are.” he hesitated, eyes searching yours as if he needed to find a sign of forgiveness. “i know saying sorry isn’t enough. but i need you to know that i’m here. i’m here, and i’ll be better.”

the sincerity in his voice, the guilt that laced every word, made your heart clench. you reached for his hand, intertwining your fingers. “i know,” you whispered, feeling the first hint of relief loosen the knot in your chest. “we’ll figure it out. together.”

jungwon’s eyes softened, and he exhaled, as if releasing a breath he’d been holding all night. he leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, the touch warm and reassuring. “together,” he echoed, the word carrying a promise that filled the space between you with something tender, something healing.

it wasn’t perfect, and maybe it wouldn’t be for a while. but as he pulled you closer, careful and loving, you felt that for now, it was enough.

do not copy or repost — @/jaysng

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　THE FARRAR ELEMENTARY SCHOOL IS ALIVE

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: When Sam and Colby bring the Sturniolo Triplets and Y/N, a medium and Matt's girlfriend, to investigate the Farrar Elementary School, they expect only to discover more about its history, but, instead, meet something far darker.

WARNING: Demon apparition, ghost talk, paranormal experiences.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This can be read as a part 2 of my work 'Medium Girl' with Matt Sturniolo.

A/N³: Happy Halloween, guys! 🩷

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The lightheartedness grew inside the vast gym when Sam, Colby, Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N stepped inside of it. The eerie silence of the halls felt distant now, replaced by the echoing laughter and jokes bouncing off the gym's high walls. It was open, empty, and slightly less oppressive than the narrow corridors they'd been walking through. Their cameras' flashlights created stark beams that cut through the heavy dark, bouncing playfully as they pointed at the distant walls and items scattered across the yellowish floor.

"That is terrifying." Chris joked, pointing to a shadowy open doorway at the far end of the gym. His tone was playful, but the door itself seemed to swallow the light, almost absorbing it into an impenetrable black void.

Colby quickly looked over at Chris with a knowing expression, pointing the camera lans at him.

"That is the Boiler Room." He said in a tone both informative and slightly excited.

"That's not an inviting room at all whatsoever." Chris muttered, laughing, his voice betraying more nervous excitement than genuine fear.

As the group chuckled and commented about it, inching forward, Y/N’s laughter faded as her gaze locked onto the entrance. She felt a wave of something cold and clammy wrap around her, more powerful than the draft in the building.

Being a medium, she was no stranger to spiritual energy, but this... this felt different.

Her chest tightened as chills skittered up her spine, her heart hammering faster the longer she stared into the doorway. The energy was thick, almost tangible, pressing down on her like a weight. It was dark, heavy, and so deeply embedded in the space that she could almost taste it on the air; a mix of anger, pain, and a bitterness that sent icy needles racing through her veins.

Matt, standing near her since the moment they entered the school, quickly noticed her shift in demeanor, his brows knitted in concern.

"Hey, you okay?"

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze from the doorway to look at him, finding comfort in the middle of ocean blue eyes.

"Yeah... Yeah, there’s just... something wrong in there." She murmured, her voice tight. "It doesn’t feel right."

Colby, overhearing, chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, it’s messed up in there." He admitted, shrugging. "We've been in there once before, but if any of you guys want to go, take the camera and look around."

The words hung heavily in the air, a silent challenge.

Nick and Chris immediately pointed at Matt. They both stepped back, dramatically widening their arms to clear a path to the door, their mischievous smirks only amplifying the tension.

"I mean, we all know who the bravest ones here are." Sam teased from behind them, laughing after receiving an "obviously" look from Nick.

Matt flashed a wide, determined grin, meeting Y/N’s eyes with a spark of excitement. After The Driskell Hotel, he discovered that he loved the thrill of these investigations, and with Y/N there, he almost felt invincible. Y/N’s stomach twisted with a mix of fear and anticipation, but she forced herself to shrug, flashing a nonchalant smile in return.

"Guess we’re doing this." She said, her voice more confident than she felt.

Matt took the camera from Colby, giving a quick smirk to the others.

"I feel like there can’t be anything." He joked, his voice steady, earning whoops and cheers from the guys. Together, he and Y/N led the way, with Chris and Nick following close behind.

As they stepped through the doorway into the Boiler Room, the energy shifted drastically. The air was thick, almost suffocating, clinging to their skin like invisible cobwebs. The once-bright beams of the camera’s flashlight seemed to dim as if the darkness here was absorbing the light itself, drinking it up and leaving nothing but a faint glow around them.

Every step Y/N took felt like wading through tar. Her limbs grew heavy, and with each inhale, it was as though she was breathing in the sorrow, anger, and fear that had seeped into the very concrete walls of the room. Her skin prickled, her head was starting to hurt, and a low hum of energy reverberated through her bones, vibrating up her spine and making her feel unsteady on her feet. Matt was ahead, filming with an almost oblivious bravery, but her steps slowed as they entered deeper into the room.

Pain. A pulse of it shot through her, raw and piercing, making her gasp and clench her hands by her sides as if she could wring it out of her body, her heartbeat echoing on her ears. She tried to keep her expression steady, not wanting to alarm the others, but Matt glanced over his shoulder at her, noticing her pale face and furrowed brow.

She shook her head at his questioning eyes, letting him keep walking ahead of her, allowing him, Chris, and Nick to venture toward the back of the room, where another open doorway beckoned, leading into an even darker, more enclosed space.

"Oh my God, it's bigger than I thought-" Matt started excitedly, being interrupted by a scared Nick.

"Matt! Don't say 'Oh my God' like that!"

Y/N stayed close to the entrance, her gaze fixed on the doorway ahead, the corner of her lips lifting slightly with the brother’s bickering. Something felt profoundly wrong in there, and every instinct in her body screamed for her to turn back, to leave the darkness to its own devices.

She took a step forward right after Chris, but the energy hit her like a physical blow. She stumbled, her legs unsteady as she caught herself against the doorframe. Noticing her falter, Chris immediately turned, his concern flaring.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, you okay?" He asked, reaching to steady her, his hand grasping her arm. But Y/N didn’t hear him, nor did she feel his touch. She was already slipping away, pulled into a vision so intense it drowned out reality.

She was now surrounded by towering flames that crackled with a furious intensity. They licked up the walls around her, swallowing everything in a bright, blistering heat. Through the blaze, a young woman appeared, engulfed in flames, her face twisted in agonizing terror. The woman’s scream sliced through the air; a raw, primal sound unlike anything Y/N had ever heard before. Instinctively, her hands flew up to her ears, desperately trying to block out the agonizing cry. It was a cry of pure pain and desperation, the kind that lingered, sinking into the skin and soul.

Then, she saw him. A tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows behind the woman, his face obscured by the darkness but his presence unmistakably menacing. He loomed over her, radiating a sick, cold satisfaction as the woman screamed, flames rising higher around them. Y/N could feel it, all the malice rolling off the man, thick and suffocating, causing her to gulp, her eyes widening in terror when the man's eyes flickered from the woman to hers.

He couldn't see her, could he?

As the flickering of a lightning, three distinct figures appeared behind the man before vanishing completely, and just as suddenly as it began, the vision ended, leaving Y/N cold, breathless, and disoriented, the horrifying images imprinted in her mind.

Her surroundings snapped back into focus, the dimly lit Boiler Room reappearing around her in hazy fragments. She gasped, struggling to ground herself, her eyes searching around the room frantically, but as her vision cleared, her stomach twisted with a sickening dread. There, in the center of the second room, right in between the other two doorways, crouched a figure that defied anything she’d ever encountered, even in her darkest visions.

This wasn’t a spirit; she could feel the difference. The creature hunched low, its bony hands splayed across the grimy floor, its body twisted and contorted, as if barely contained within the physical plane. Shadows clung to its grotesque form, an aura of darkness so thick it devoured any light that dared come near. Its mottled skin was stretched and scarred, warped with unnatural shapes, as though stitched together from nightmares.

And then, she saw its eyes; deep, glowing red, like embers of molten rage, burning into her with a cruel, penetrating awareness. Those eyes locked onto her, narrowing with a sinister recognition. It knew she could see it, sense it, and understand the threat it posed. The fury in its gaze was suffocating, an anger so intense it filled the room, pressing down on her, trapping her in place.

Before she could gather herself, a voice oozed into her mind, cold and sharp as a dagger, each word dripping with malice. "Don’t tell anyone."

The command reverberated through her skull, a dark echo that chilled her to her core. She felt her heart hammering, her pulse quickening as a frigid terror clawed its way up her spine. The demon remained crouched, but its body tensed, coiled like a predator about to strike.

A whimper scaped from Y/N's throat when it began to inch forward, its gaze never wavering, as if relishing the fear it instilled with each calculated, crawling step.

"Y/N?" Matt’s voice was distant, but it cut through the fog of terror consuming her. She couldn’t respond, frozen in place as the demon drew nearer, dragging itself across the dirty ground, echoing with a disgusting sound of skin pressing against pebbles, her mind trapped in the paralyzing scene.

"What's happening? Why is she looking like that?" Chris's voice sounded muffled, dripping with anxiety, worry, and fear, his hand still holding her arms.

"Baby?" This time, Matt’s voice was sharper, laced with urgency. She felt a shift as he tossed the camera to Nick, then rushed to her side. His presence was solid, grounding, and he wrapped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her close as he tried to get her attention while shielding her from whatever it was that she was seeing. "Hey, babe, are you okay? What’s wrong?"

She could barely hear him, his words muffled, distant. Her legs wobbled, feeling like they might give out at any second, and Matt held her tighter, his warmth battling the unnatural chill that had invaded her body, her skin feeling as cold as the winter.

"Y/N, hey, look at me. Can you hear me?" His tone was steady, doing a great job at hiding the extreme fear that he felt, his hands cradling her face as he searched her eyes for any sign of recognition.

But she couldn’t answer, couldn’t focus. The demon’s furious glare was seared into her vision, its whispered threat echoing in her mind as a thick, oppressive darkness continued to drag her deeper into its depths.

Matt drew a sharp breath, his grip tightening around Y/N as he glanced over his shoulder at his brothers.

"We need to get out of here. Now." His tone was rough, leaving no room for argument.

The severity in his voice snapped them out of their stunned state, and they exchanged a quick look before following the couple to the exit door of the Boiler Room. Their footsteps echoed, tense and hurried, with Nick and Chris casting anxious glances behind them as if hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever had gripped Y/N so tightly, Chris's hand searching desperately for Nick's arm, trying to find comfort.

As they stepped outside the oppressive confines of the room, an almost immediate sense of relief washed over them. The chill that had settled into Y/N’s bones began to ease, and her tense posture softened as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted. She inhaled deeply, her body leaning heavily into Matt’s, letting his steady presence anchor her back to reality. Her scared eyes moved frantically, searching over her shoulders as if waiting for it to follow them, but she only met darkness.

"Shh, you're okay now. I'm right here with you." Matt kept whispered sweet nothings against Y/N's head, gently forcing her to look away from the room, pressing her face against his own shoulder, her hair tickling his chin in a comforting way.

Sam and Colby, who had been standing by, initially cheered at their bravery but quickly went quiet when they noticed the disturbed expressions on everyone’s faces.

Sam stepped forward, worry etched across his features.

"Hey, you guys okay?" He asked, his tone low and concerned.

Matt opened his mouth, his protective instincts kicking in while his arms seemed to wrap around Y/N's body tighter.

"We should give her a second. She just needs a bit to calm down-"

"No." Y/N interrupted, her voice weak but firm. She shook her head, a determined glint in her eyes as she steadied herself, her cold hands finding his biceps, squeezing his hoodie-covered skin in reassurance. "They have to know."

Colby nodded, quickly understanding the weight of what she was about to say. He took the camera from Nick, aiming it at her as he stepped closer, Sam following behind.

Chris and Nick quickly gathered around the couple, assuming protective instances, waiting, their faces a mixture of curiosity and seriousness as Y/N prepared to explain, eyes frantically looking behind their backs every second, the feeling of being watched seeming to grow more intense.

"I... I saw something." She began, her voice a touch unsteady but gathering strength as she continued. "When I looked at that room, there was this... this intense heat, and suddenly, it was like I was somewhere else entirely. I saw flames, a massive fire that seemed to consume everything around it. And in the middle of it all was a young woman, burning alive."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she closed her eyes, trying to shake the haunting image that had imprinted itself in her mind. A warm spread around her left shoulder, and she quickly recognized Nick's comforting touch.

"She was screaming, and it wasn’t like any scream I’ve ever heard before." Y/N continued, her face pale as she relived the vision. "It was pure agony... and then, there was a man behind her, just standing there, watching her burn. He was tall, menacing, and I knew, somehow, that he was the one who did this to her. He for sure worked here back in the day, I just knew it, and he killed her, and he was enjoying it." She paused, her voice barely a whisper. "And then, right before the vision ended, I saw three male figures behind him. I thought it was over, but when I looked up, there was something else in the room with us."

"The janitor, the principal, and the librarian." Sam muttered, furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes meeting Colby's dark ones, which held the same realization look.

The rest of the group was silent, hanging onto every word as Y/N’s gaze darkened, her eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance, Matt's firm hands around her hips keeping her grounded.

"It was a very dark creature, obviously a demon." She whispered. "Big, twisted, and so... so angry. Its skin was... I can’t even describe it. It was unnatural, almost as if it was pulled together from different things, and its eyes... they were red, glowing, and it was looking right at me." Her voice wavered as she continued, a tremor of fear slipping through. "It knew I could see it, and it was furious. And then... I heard a voice. In my head. It told me that I couldn't tell you about it."

A shiver ran through the group, everyone exchanging wary glances, trying to process the weight of what she was saying. Y/N took a shaky breath, her eyes flicking up to meet theirs.

"It started coming toward me, crawling like a snake, and that’s when Matt got to me. But... the warning felt like more than just a threat. It’s like it didn’t want us to have this information. It didn’t want us to know what happened here... This is all way darker than you guys expected."

Colby, his brow furrowed in thought, broke the silence.

"Wait, why wouldn’t it want us to know?"

Y/N hesitated, piecing together the fragments of knowledge she had gathered over years of honing her abilities.

"When it comes to entities like this, especially ones tied to a place or a tragedy... they draw power from secrecy, from fear. If we know what it is, what it’s done, it gives us the upper hand. And even more so if we learn its name."

Sam’s eyes widened, realization dawning on him as his gaze traveled from her to Colby and then back again.

"So, if we know its name, it becomes weaker?"

Y/N nodded slowly.

"Yes. Kind of. Names are powerful, especially with entities like that. It’s a way of binding it, of taking control. And right now, it knows we’re at an advantage. I just... I just have to figure out its name."

[rubys-domain]

listening to imperfect love always gets me a little emo