#my thoughts are too loud for me to lay down

[virtual-bunny]

“ HEY NERDY BOY ! ”

random headcannons about nerdjo because he turns me on

pairings: nerd! gojo x chubby fem! reader

WARNINGS: SMUT but not too detailed, some body image issues, probably some writing errors :3

a/n: i might come back every now and then if a new idea pops up in my head hehe

ARTIST CREDS: @/N06ARA ON TWITTER

✧ nerdjo who can almost cry over how beautiful he thinks you are

✧ nerdjo who stammers over his words when you wear shorts that squeeze your thighs just right

✧ nerdjo who clings onto your body and inhales your scent and gets a boner instantly as he grips your love handles

✧ nerdjo who slouches so you can give him a kiss, his glasses slidding down his nose bridge as your lips touch his cheeks, his cheek warm from him being flustered, and when you pull away, nerdjo’s eyes are almost crossed eyed as he sighs deeply

✧ nerdjo who uses your tummy as a stress ball when you sit next to him while he does his physics homework

✧ nerdjo who lays on your tummy as you play with his hair while he sleeps, saliva spilling from the side of his mouth

✧ nerdjo whose so head over heels for you that he begs you to let him carry your books and backpack so he can trail behind you to see the way your ass and thighs jiggle

✧ nerdjo who helps you with your homework and pinches your cheek, side or thighs whenever you get something wrong

✧ nerdjo who holds onto your stomach when you’re riding him, his face flushed and glasses crooked as he looks up at you with drunken eyes

✧ nerdjo who stumbles to catch up to you because he was too caught up watching you walk infront of him

✧ nerdjo who rolls his eyes when his jock friend geto teases him when he sees that gojo isn’t paying attention to lecture “she’s got you wrapped around her finger doesn’t she?” “wrapped around her thighs” nerdjo sighs without a second thought

✧ nerdjo who likes to put his hands around your tummy and gently squeeze it whenever you two are watching tv and you’re sitting between his legs

✧ nerdjo who fivershly pumps his cock at the thought of your round body jiggling when you ride him, or when you laugh, or when you walk

✧ nerdjo who makes snarky comments at you when you try to show him that “you’re way smarter than he is”

✧ nerdjo who reads out his physics notebook out loud just to make you mad because you hate physics

✧ nerdjo who goes all red whenever he brings you gifts on his way to your dorm

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t like going outside and rather stay home watching Teen Titans but still does because he knows you like to go out on dates

✧ nerdjo who used to bite his pencils out of habit but now bites your chubby hands if you’re sitting next to him as he does his homework or helps you with yours

✧ nerdjo who has to assure you he loves you and thinks your as beautiful as “The Euler-Lagrange Equation” (you have no idea what this means)

✧ nerdjo who puts his hands under your stomach, thighs and boobs to keep them warm

✧ nerdjo who bores you to death as he talk about quantum physics but you don’t say anything because you find it cute the way he sometimes spits by accident when he rambled and how his glasses slowly fall when’s he’s making movements as he talks

✧ nerdjo who likes to prove you wrong whenever you try to be a “smarty pants”

✧ nerdjo who softens when you go up to him while he was working on a project and tell him you’re worried about him because he looks like he hasn’t slept in three days

✧ nerdjo who mutters to himself in class when a stupid frat guy tries to answer the professors question, obviously saying the wrong answer but clearly only doing it to get laughs out of everyone. “what an idiot.” gojo grits to himself

✧ nerdjo who looks seriously shocked when he’s helping you with your homework and you get the wrong answer even though the right answer is CLEARLY right in front of your eyes “love… you seriously don’t know the answer…?”

✧ nerdjo who spends HOURS in the library to a room all by himself, books, papers, pens and pencils all scattered around the table while trying to get his work done, his hair messy and eyebrows furrowed, but when you text him saying you were gonna drop off food for him, his whole demeanor turns soft and giddy thinking about how he’s gonna be able to see you

✧ nerdjo who if he’s not doing homework or reading, is playing or watching digimon in your dorm, explaining everything he possibly can so you can catch up to the lore (you stopped listening a long time ago)

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t really talk much in class but when he does, the professors have to cut him off because gojo can talk for HOURS

✧ nerdjo who makes you sit on his lap as he codes on his computer

✧ nerdjo who can solve a rubix cube in a minute and always does when you ask him to (for your own entertainment)

✧ nerdjo whos into physics and computer science

✧ nerdjo who awkwardly puts his hand around your shoulder when the two of you are walking back to your dorm (he nearly trips)

✧ nerdjo who when you tell him a fun science fact, crosses his arms, leans back on the couch and goes “well ACTUALY-“ it’s too late to stop him, he’s already yapping to you on how the fact is wrong

✧ nerdjo who starts looking stupid now because you two have a class together when the new semester started and he can’t concentrate at all because he’s too concentrated looking at YOU

✧ nerdjo who tries to be freaky by putting his shaky hand on your upper thigh but you smack it away and he gives you a sad puppy look as he fixes his glasses, you swear you could see tears forming in his eyes

✧ nerdjo who runs to you when he finishes a prototype for whatever sciencey class he has and with full confidence says “you’re looking at the new science prodigy babe!” “uh huh” you say

✧ nerdjo who goes to the library again to study, he’s so stressed but he’s glad you came along, that’s until you went under the desk he was sitting at, undoing his belt and pulling down his pants and boxers JUST barely, hes literally gripping onto the table, face flushed hair messy crooked glasses and chest heaving trying so hard not to make it obvious you have his dick in your mouth

✧ nerdjo who makes you tag along with him to the nearest store to get the newest Digimon cards

✧ nerdjo who makes you gasp when you turn around for one second and look back to see him fighting a literal ten year old for a box set of Digimon cards

✧ nerdjo who doesn’t show you memes, but shows you reddit posts that you have no interest in looking at

✧ nerdjo who makes you sit on his face, but not to eat you out, but so your thighs can squish his face. he says that “it de-stresses him” and when you go to complain he says “it’s scientifically proven that it does”

✧ nerdjo who SOMETIMES is a cocky asshole in class, and when an acquaintance of yours who’s also in gojos’s class tells you how much of an asshole your boyfriend is, you straighten nerdjo up by riding his face nonstop to the point he’s crying because HE’S not getting any action

✧ nerdjo who you convince that overstimulating him will “de-stress him” and “make him focus better” so when you tied him up in your bed with a vibrator wrapped on the head of his cock, he’s whining, crying, squirming, eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head and pleading you to “let him do anything to you” (when you finally let him cum he tells you the next day that his focus is 97.56% better than it was the day before)

✧ nerdjo who’s so competitive when the two of you play video games he forgets you’re his GIRLFRIEND and is brutal with the insults when you loose

✧ nerdjo who’s actually really strong and likes to carry you around your dorm or outside when the two of you go for a walk. and even though you’re protesting and telling him you “don’t wanna hurt him” all nerdjo says is “just cause i’m smart doesn’t mean i’m not strong”

✧ nerdjo who likes to suck your clit while gripping your tummy

✧ nerdjo who likes to grip your fupa cause he’s weird like that

✧ nerdjo who ANALYZES your pussy and your actions whenever he’s fingering you or fucking you so he can make you feel better for the next time you two fuck (you always have a stronger orgasam each time after the other)

✧ nerdjo who bites his nails and gets told off by you (he immediately begs for your forgiveness)

✧ nerdjo who kisses your tummy whenever he lays down on your lap and turns his head so he’s looking up at you and says “you’re the most angelic thing i’ve ever seen, you know that?” he sighs contently while pushing his glasses up and giving you the stupidest toothy smile

[metaphorfordeath]

Anti-Psychotic

A person living with schizophrenia finds that their delusions may have more basis in reality than they thought. Originally published in the Fall/Winter II issue of Diet Milk Magazine, available here. Content warnings for depiction of psychosis, violence, ableist language.

No one is watching me.

Julie has me write that down at our session. She never listens to me. She says, it can be comforting to realize that people don’t think of you as much as you think they do. I know this already. She asks, what evidence do you have that you are being watched? I say there isn’t any. Just a feeling. She writes something down, and asks about my meds again. 

So fucking patronizing. Of course I take them. I have taken mine like clockwork, every day, for five years. Maybe I missed a few days, but who doesn’t forget sometimes. My meds are cleat spikes jabbing into the earth. Helping me keep my footing. Making sure I don’t slip.

Last week I started getting the prickle again. Like fingers up my back. Someone standing behind me, breathing. I live alone. When I felt it, I wasn’t scared at first. These things happen sometimes. I’ve been around the block. The prickle and I are old friends, practically. When it finds me, I have ways to forget it. 

I drew the blinds, which helped a bit. I had a drink—nobody's perfect—but the prickle didn’t dull. So I peeked through the shades at the street below. Normal street stuff. The sun was setting, painting the world in shades of fire. Cars went by, all the usuals. Some kids were yelling in a driveway. A wasp tapped at my window, wiggling its feelers at me. No obvious source for the prickle. So, probably nothing. For the rest of the evening I puttered, read my book, ate some frozen nothing heated in the microwave, and took my meds. The prickle was temporary, I told myself as I lay down to sleep, the usual fog settling over me in a cool, clammy layer. No one was watching me. No one ever is.

That was a week ago. It’s only gotten worse since then. The prickle turned into a terrified stomach ache that kept me up for nights and nights. I called in sick to group, told Cheryl the caseworker that I have the flu. She sounded alarmed, but she’s only worried because of what happened to Devin.

Devin was like me: good at meds, good at therapy. We were friends, in a psycho kind of way. A few weeks ago, Devin started to get bad. Stopped showing up to group, didn’t even call. I haven’t seen him in a while, even when I went looking for him in his usual bad places. I miss him. I told Cheryl not to worry. I’m steady, just sick. I’ll see her again soon. 

I keep taking my meds, but they aren’t helping like they should. The fog I count on to sleep is thin, or missing. Something scrabbles at my skin from underneath, and I keep catching myself scratching little bits off of me. When I lay down, a low, neutral voice whispers nonsense at me through the pillow I clamp over my head. I can’t shower; that’s when the prickle gets stronger. Someone standing on the other side of the shower curtain, someone looking down at me through the water stain on the ceiling. I hiss and babble out loud just to hear myself talk, to shut up the voices that aren’t mine. I get sicker by the day.

By now I haven’t been outside in over a week, but my meds are ready to pick up. I don’t want to miss a dose, so I put on shoes and the big jacket that makes me feel safe, and I go outside. Birds leer at me from the tops of buildings. Walking in the opposite direction, an old lady frowns at me.

“Hmph, same to you,” she snaps.

My stomach lurches, but I don’t say anything, just keep walking. I hadn’t spoken. Had I? 

The drug store is brightly lit. It hurts to be inside. Too many things to look at. Faces on packaging look strange now. Confrontational. Interrogative. But at least they look like faces. When I look at anyone real, their features shift. Static snow eats at the air around their heads in a halo. It frightens me, so I keep my eyes on my shoes. The pharmacy tech who’s always there gets the packet for me, rings it up.

“Any questions about your medication?” he asks. I shake my head, pay with a card. He has glasses that give his face a sort of stability, so I look at it. His eyes are brown, beard gray, no hair on his head. He smiles at me. “Have a nice day, miss.”

“You too,” I mutter.

And then I go home, have to stop myself from running for safety. The walk is twenty minutes each way; harrowing, the passing cars huge and hungry, huffing and snorting at me. The prickle is more than a prickle by now. It feels like someone is pulling out the hairs on the back of my neck, one by one. My heart thuds against my ribs so hard that I’m afraid it will burst out, plop on the sidewalk and keep throbbing without me. The paper bag with my pills turns damp and tattered in my sweaty hand. 

And getting home doesn’t even help this time.

Julie says too much TV can be a trigger for me, but I start leaving it on all the time. Noise beats silence, any day. No empty spaces that need filling. I can’t watch sitcoms or anything fictional, so I tune it to the news. The news is always. Steady, real, factual. There’s a story about a body they found by the freeway. Pushed out of a moving car. No one knows or cares who it was. There’s a picture of the scene, taped up yellow and covered in those little numbers that say where a bit of evidence is. A tattered jacket lays in a ditch, dark with blood. 

I stand and race to the bathroom, cool porcelain against my hands, bile and nothing coming up as sweat pours down my back. My head pounds, edges of my vision sparkling. I can only see the jacket. Not dirty or bloody or ruined but the way it used to look. Devin’s jacket.

Something is horribly wrong. Men-in-black wrong. The-end-is-nigh wrong. 

The prickle wasn’t imagination. It was intuition. 

Someone got Devin. Who else did they get before him?

---

The next week, I force myself to go to group. I need to see faces. See who else is there, or not. Cheryl picks me up for these, since I don’t drive. I’m sicker than I can remember being, and try to remember to ask Julie about my dose on Tuesday. I sit silently in the passenger seat, feeling Cheryl’s eyes on me. Caseworkers all have the same eyes.

“Feeling alright today, X?” 

My name isn’t the name she calls me. You don’t need to know it.

“Fine,” I say, pinching my hands between my knees. They shake if I don’t. “Still getting over that flu.”

“Sorry to hear that,” she says. Her sedan has beige fabric seats. The passenger seat is dark, stained with sweat and whatever else from all the people she’s ferried around. A vanilla air freshener dangles from the rear view mirror.

Someone shouts in my ear, so close I feel a little blast of hot breath on my neck, and I flinch. Cheryl looks at me suddenly.

“Everything okay?”

She didn’t hear that. “Yeah. Sorry. Weird itch.”

“Hmm.” 

Group is fine. It’s usually fine. I don’t say much this time, just look around at everyone in their folding chairs. Their faces are wrong. It makes me nauseous to look, but I look anyway. I need to see who isn’t here.

There are no empty chairs, but there are fewer. One or two down from usual. All the other regulars are here, picking at their skin or looking at the clock or chewing their hair. I glance across the room and for a second I think I see Devin, sitting in his old coat. But when I look again, it’s just Tom. I almost hoped.

When it’s over, there’s bad coffee to drink. I suck on a red straw and let the bitter taste anchor me to my tongue. I inhabit my body, touch my fingers to the side of my face to know that it and my fingers exist. Sufficiently convinced of my realness, I go to Amber, our de facto leader.

She’s drinking water from a bottle with cucumber slices in it, cloudy with pulp and seeds. Ectoplasmic. It makes my stomach turn.

“Amber,” I say. My voice feels far away. She looks at me, expectant. “I missed last week. Have you seen Greg, or Mariah?”

“Oh, no, I haven’t. Greg was here last week, but I haven’t seen Mariah since like, last month. Why?”

“Just wondering.”

A crinkle appears between her eyebrows. I focus on that, since the rest of her features won’t stay put. “You’re worried because of what happened to Devin?”

“I think Devin is dead.” There is a sudden hush as other people in my vicinity overhear. “I saw his jacket. On the news.”

Cheryl appears beside me. “X, would you like to talk in the hallway?” 

She pulls me out before I can answer. “Have you been feeling alright?” she asks again. “Taking your medication?”

“Yes,” I say, a little forcefully. She clicks her tongue.

“Really? Because if you need to move up your next appointment, I can make some arrangements for you.”

Despite the fact that I do want to move my appointment up, her tone hits a button in my brain and my face turns red. “No,” I say. “I’ll wait until the next one. I’m fine. I just need to know what’s happening.” A rancid taste creeps up the back of my throat. “Where are people going?”

“Honey, everyone’s here that needs to be here.”

“No—that’s not right. I need to know.” 

I can tell from the way she moves that she thinks I’m getting agitated. She doesn’t understand what I’m saying. “People call in sick sometimes. You did, just last week. Mariah was having issues sticking with the program, so we’re working something out. No one’s gone.”

“Devin is gone. Devin is dead. He’s dead and no one knows it.”

Cheryl comes closer, her voice so low and venomous that it starts to meld with the others. “I’m going to give Dr. Bern a call and try to get you in with her sooner than Tuesday. If you can’t keep up with your regimen, we’ll have to consider another in-patient stay.”

Anger chokes me until my vision goes white. “Okay,” is all I can manage. I have some unsavory thoughts, which I won’t repeat to you now.

“Good,” says Cheryl, holding my leash. “Let’s get you home.”

I don’t sleep. I don’t even try. Someone is watching me. I think about Devin, the last time we spoke before he was gone. He got paranoid, too. He jabbered sometimes, when we would see each other. The same face, he said, with glass eyes. Looking at him. Following him. He said his pills were replaced, his furniture moved, nothing looked the same as he’d left it. No one listens to me, he said. I’m scared, he said. I’m scared of what will happen next.

“I’m scared, too,” I say to no one. A chorus laughs at me. 

---

“So,” says Julie. “Cheryl told me you’ve been having some trouble sticking to your medication.”

“I stick to it,” I say, and set the pill bottle on the desk in front of her. “Count them and tell me I’m not.”

She doesn’t move to count them. I’d hoped at least that she would humor me. “It sounds like some of your persecutory thoughts are returning. Tell me about what you’re worried about.”

“I saw on the news that they found someone’s body in a ditch off the interstate. They showed pictures. I think the body was Devin.”

“Devin from your group?” I nod. “We actually just heard from him last week. His brother answered when we called his phone. Devin is currently in a private rehabilitation clinic in Cincinnati. He’s alright, X.”

A numb feeling falls over me all at once, like a sheet. Something crawls up my thigh and disappears into a deep hole in my flesh. “Oh.”

“Amber talked to us, too. She said you asked her about Greg and Mariah’s absences this week?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I followed up on those for you, too. Greg had an accident at home and was in the emergency room during your meeting time this week. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to reach Mariah personally, but her father informed me over the phone that her family has pulled her out of the program. She won’t be returning.” Julie leans across her desk. “X, can you please look at me?”

I look at her. Her face is twisted, like a mask, papier mâché, drooping strips of plaster bandage. The static threatens to consume her, and me.

“I’m going to increase your dose to eighty milligrams. For now you can take two of what you have at the usual time, but I’m sending in a new prescription to the pharmacy.” She scrawls something on a pad at hand, and I take the opportunity to look away. “I’ll see you again this time next week, okay? And if anything’s the matter, you can call the nurse’s hotline. We’ll take care of you.” She hands me the script. 

“Thank you,” I say, and then someone brings me home. I am silent for the drive. Thinking.

Wasn’t Devin an only child?

I start doubling my dose. The fog doesn’t come. The prickle intensifies into ceaseless paranoia. I check the window locks three times a day to make sure, even though I live on the third floor. Chair under the doorknob, empty bottles stacked on it so I’ll hear if someone comes. I can’t stop thinking about Devin, and the others. Were they all really fine? Was this just a breakthrough-breakdown, pills ceasing their function and leaving me alone, spiraling? 

I hadn’t tried calling Devin in weeks. He didn’t pick up the first few times, and anyone in that state doesn’t usually want to talk anyhow. But Julie said someone answered when they called. Maybe they would answer for me.

The phone buzzes. Surging forward and receding, like a tide. Devin could be there on the other end. Getting better. Being cared for. I close my eyes and wait to hear his voicemail, or something else.

Click. “Hello?”

The voice startles me so much I can’t speak. A stranger.

“Hello?” says the phone. “Who is this?”

“Um,” I say suddenly, “Devin?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the voice says. “Devin isn’t here right now. May I ask who’s calling?”

“I’m—his friend. X,” I clarify. My voice is not of me. “Can I talk to him soon?”

“No, unfortunately he can’t talk. But I’ll let him know you called, he’ll be happy to hear people are checking up on him.”

“What’s—who are you?”

“I’m Eric, Devin’s brother. I’m taking good care of him, miss. Have a nice day.” 

The call ends. Something in my stomach shrivels. I run to the bathroom, but there’s nothing to bring up. I don’t know why that voice scared me so much. Why had I thought Devin was an only child? He hadn’t mentioned his family—maybe I’d just assumed, or forgotten if he’d said. Of course he had a brother. He was alright. They all were, now.

---

Days pass. Bugs make their homes in me. My medication runs out, the new pills ready for pickup. I’d rather die than set foot outside. But I need my stability. I steel myself to leave, and exit my apartment into the world. 

Everyone looks at me. They all want to hurt me. A car drives slowly past me and I try not to look at the people inside. My head hurts. It’s hard to see where I’m going, but I go.

The drug store is bigger than it was last time. Brighter. Angrier. People avoid me as I shuffle towards the pharmacy counter. The pharmacist who’s always there smiles at me again.

“Do you have any questions about your medication?”

I shake my head, fumbling for my card. He’s staring at me through his glasses.

“Do you need me to call someone for you?”

His voice makes me want to puke. I shake my head again, take the pills and make for the door. A crowd of voices shout at me as I stagger out into the air. I miss the way things were. My cleats don’t fit anymore. I tear the bag open, pop the lid off the bottle and shake a pill into my mouth, force it down dry and sticky and hope it does its job. My mouth is sweet where it lingered. It didn’t used to be so sweet.

There is a dull shock of understanding that blooms at the edge of my mind. The prickle rises on the back of my neck, and I look over my shoulder again. The pharmacist is looking at me from his position behind the counter. His face ringed in static. He waves at me. And I take off running.

There is no one I can call. No one who will listen. There are only doors that will slam in my face, white speckle tile and fluorescent lights and needles. He knows that. He knew it for Devin, too. He knew it for the rest of them. The wind in my face feels like fingers grasping at me, tugging at my hair, slowing me down. I race home, up the stairs and lock the door, brace it with furniture and then I sit on the floor and cry and cry. They’re laughing at me. Trading whispers. Look how stupid. Look how gullible. Go on and cry, crybaby. 

So I do. It’s all I have left.

The next time it’s group, I don’t come to the door. Cheryl calls me, but I don’t answer. There will be a wellness check if I don’t come. I want them to, now. When her calls finally stop piling up, I wait fifteen minutes, then step outside. I leave my door open, leave what I can to show that I am gone. I leave the pills out, and the script. Crush a few with my heel for good measure. I hope they can put the pieces together.

It’s dark, cool. It reminds me of the fog, makes me wish I could sleep. Eyes follow me through the evening. Headlights burn me as cars move past. I walk slowly in my big jacket, letting myself be watched. Letting the prickle come up my neck, creep over my scalp, trickle down over my face until it covers me in a thin layer and I prickle all over. The prickle and I are old friends. It tells me when to be afraid.

Then there are headlights at my back that don’t go away. The growl of an engine crashes into me. I stop walking, and someone gets out. I don’t turn to look. I can’t stand to look at faces anymore. Suddenly, I have a funny thought. Maybe I do have some questions about my medication, after all.

Something whistles through the air above my head, and the world disappears.

When I wake up later, I’m not sure if I have. There are stars. It smells like gasoline, copper and dirt. My jacket is gone. My mouth is gone, too. My hands. You’re caught, someone says in my ear, you let it happen. With my eyes, which I still have, I look across the floor. It hurts to look. There’s blood under me, sticky black. The prickle is gone. I discovered its source.

I’m alone for a long time. It’s hard to say how much. I realize that there’s a door behind me when it opens. Light falls across the floor, yellow tractor beam coming to take me away. I long to be weightless, but the earth won’t let me. Then the pharmacist who is always there puts his shoe against my face and turns me over. He doesn’t speak. He crouches down and looks into my eyes like he is trying to take something from me. Then he takes the tape off my mouth.

All I do at first is scream. It's all my body knows how to do. He sits and watches me. When I can see his mouth, it’s smiling, and I realize he likes it when I scream. So as soon as I can, I stop. Silence rushes back into the gaps, roaring in my ears.

“Good girl,” he says when I am quiet. His voice is a distorted growl, infrasound, rattling my eardrums. “Aren’t you such a good girl?”

I think about his throat in my teeth. I think about his blood on my face. For a moment it feels like I am lunging for him, jabbing thumbs into soft and fragile places. But he still has my hands, turning numb and purple at the small of my back. So I sit up as much as I can and spit at the floor near his feet. Faster than my eyes can track, he lurches forward. Fist in my hair, hauling me up to hip height.

He looks into my face with his glass eyes. His mouth is monstrous, all his white teeth sharp in a thicket of gray.

“I’ve been watching you,” he says. 

I know this already. There is nothing satisfying in the confirmation of it. 

He is not the man in black I always pictured. He could be anybody.

“Think of this as a favor I’m doing you.”

Then he hits me again. And other things.

When I’m alone, voices chatter in my ears. No one is coming, they say, you are alone. They will not find you. You and the ditch will be friends soon. So you amounted to this—better than nothing, we suppose. I shush them, rock myself against the cement floor and hum and think about grass, and birds. I try not to leave myself room to cry. I don’t want him to have the satisfaction.

A thousand years go by. Outside the room, there are voices. Not any of mine. His, and others. They start loud, and get quiet. His voice goes away completely. Doors open, distant, then closer. Light falls over my body again, and I feel the weightlessness. Real this time. My hands come back to me, but I can’t move them. There are faces, more than I’ve seen in a while. They scare me, but I can’t run, so I try not to look. Except at his. They take me past him, and I look. Through his glasses I see his eyes, still trying to take something from me. He has, by now. But not what he wanted.

I sleep for a long time, and when I wake up, the world is the way I remember it. My feet on the ground, cleats and all, not slipping. When I’m well enough they bring me to identify Devin’s body, since he didn’t really have a brother after all. They find Mariah’s, too. Greg really was in the emergency room, turns out. But there are others. Too many to think of.

Cheryl changes careers afterwards. Probably for the best. I find this out when she drives me to group the first time after I get out of the hospital. She doesn’t look at me much, but when she does, I can see her eyes are different. Not caseworker eyes anymore.

“Lauren is going to be taking over your case starting next week,” she says after a long silence. “So this will be the last time I see you.” I can tell she’s trying not to cry.

“Okay,” I say. 

She never apologizes. No one does. They all say they’re sorry for what happened to me, but that isn’t the same thing. People who don’t listen never think to apologize for it. They think they were listening all along.

Things are mostly the same as before, except I get my pills mailed to me now. And I think about Devin a lot. When I pour myself a drink, I pour one for him too and pretend he’s with me. I don’t have any pictures, so mostly I think about his voice. The last time we ever spoke, he told me, no one listens to me, X. 

What I said then was, I know the feeling, man.

But now I just tell him I’m sorry.

[staylovesmiley]

Sometimes I hate the way my mind works. Makes it so hard to go through with my day like a normal person!

So, you are in a poly relationship with Skz. Tonight you are spending with Seungmin. And you feel somewhat bold! You ask him to try anal for the first time. You were toying with the idea in your mind for weeks so you had already bought various sizes and designs of butt plus. You bring them to him and ask him to prep you. You lay across his thighs, your black laced panties already soaked. He takes some time to spank your plump flesh when suddenly he rips the material (leaving the pieces on you because ain't no one have time to throw them away), he spits on his fingers and smears it to your pretty little hole. He uses his tongue occasionally to prep you better. A couple of minutes later he slowly inserts a finger, your weak voice moaning his name. After he is satisfied he tries another finger and there is when your fist tightens around his pants. Feeling you relaxing further, he opens the box of goodies you brought him earlier. Firstly he grabs the lube, pouring a good amount to your tight hole. His hand finds a diamond plug and gently lodges it in you. You whine, a noise between pleasure and pain. With the diamond in you he goes on to spank you again. When you are once again red and flustered, he pulls the little plug out, grabbing a slightly bigger one. Spiting on it he sinks it slowly to the perfect gap he already created. But, turns out this one is a vibrating one. After it's all the way in, he snatches the controller and starts to gently teasing you going from the lower mode to the hardest. You moan and try to stop yourself by biting down to the sheets. Somewhere down the line you feel him pulling it out and getting up. He places you to the bed, ass up and cheek in your pillow. You can hear him unclasp his belt and there is where the tip of his leaky dick is in you. Steady and while talking you sweetly through it, he starts pushing further and further in. Your pussy wet like you never felt before. With hazy eyes and sweat all over you, you see someone slowly walking to where you were layed almost unconscious. A familiar voice hits your ears and you feel a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Lix.....?"

You just mumble

"I am here princess" He gets a hold of one of your hands "You look so pretty, baby. You can do it! Just breath and relax. And maybe tomorrow in our own night we could try this pretty tail you've bought too"

With Felix holding you and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, with your hair stuck around your face in various forms and your temperature almost feverish, with the pain driving you crazy transforming to pleasure like you've never experienced before, Seungmin now starts to fully thrust in and out your abused ass. The Aussie's hand now between your thighs drawing circles around your clothes up to the point you come undone with a loud scream and squirt, for what it feels, gallons.

"There you go, angel" The younger man whispers leaving a kiss upon your ass

Let me tell you this is the first thing I saw when I woke up and I literally had to do a double take- ngl anal isn’t exactly my thing to be on the receiving end of but I gotta commend your dedication for writing out a whole fic in my asks like seriously (also couldn’t help but think of the collision universe while reading thing since Star lives with Minnie and Lix- just food for thought to those who read the series lol)

[sassenach77yle]

Outlander 7x16 "A Hundred Thousand Angels"

I COULDN’T GO to sleep. I’d given Fanny her tea, provided her with suitable cloths—not at all to my surprise, she already knew how to use them—and talked gently to her, careful not to raise any more of her personal ghosts. When Fanny had come to us, Jamie and I had agreed that we wouldn’t try to question her about any of the bits of memory she dropped aloud—like the bad men on the ship and what had happened to Spotty the dog—unless she seemed to want to talk about them. I thought she would, sooner or later. Bree and Roger had agreed as well, though I could see how curious Brianna was. Fanny had mentioned Jane now and then, offhandedly, but in a way designed—I thought—to keep a sense of her sister alive. Seeing her distress tonight, though … Jane was much closer to her than I’d thought. And now that I’d seen Jane’s face … I couldn’t forget it. Knowing only what I did know about the girls’ lives in the brothel in Philadelphia was upsetting; I really hadn’t wanted to find out how they’d come there. I still didn’t … but I couldn’t keep the worm of speculation at bay; it had burrowed into my brain and was squirming busily through my thoughts, killing sleep. Bad men on a ship. A dog thrown into the sea. A pet dog? A family—if Fanny and Jane had been with their parents on a ship that encountered pirates … or even a wicked captain, like Stephen Bonnet

… I felt the hairs rise on my forearms at thought of him, but with remembered anger, not fear. Someone like him could easily have taken a look at the two lovely young girls and decided that their parents could be dispensed with. Faith. Our mother, Fanny had said. I’d looked more than once at the miniature in the locket—but it was too small to show anything more than a young woman with dark hair, maybe naturally curly, maybe curled and dressed in the fashion of the times. No. It can’t be. I rolled over for the dozenth time, settling on my stomach and burying my face in the pillow, in hopes of losing myself in the scent of clean linen and goose down. “It can’t be what, Sassenach?” Jamie’s voice spoke in my ear, sleepily resigned. “And if it can’t, can it not wait ’til dawn?” I rolled onto my side in a rustle of bedding, facing him. “I’m sorry,” I said, and touched him apologetically. His hand took mine automatically, warm and firm.

“I didn’t realize I’d said it out loud. I was … just thinking about Fanny’s locket.” Faith. “Ach,” he said, and stretched himself a little, groaning. “Ye mean the name. Faith?” “Well … yes. I mean—it can’t possibly … have anything to do with …” “It’s no an uncommon name, Sassenach.”

His thumb rubbed gently over my knuckles. “Of course ye’d … feel it. I did, too.” “Did you?” I said softly. I cleared my throat a little. “I—I don’t really do it anymore, but for a time, just—just every now and then—I’d think of her, of our Faith—out of nowhere. I’d imagine I could feel her near me.” “Imagine what she might look like—grown?” His voice was soft, too. “I did that, sometimes. In prison, mostly; too much time to think, in the nights. Alone.” I made a small sound and hitched closer, laying my head in the curve of his shoulder, and his arm came round me. We lay still, silent, listening to the night and the house around us. Full of our family—but with one small angel hovering in the calm sweet air, peaceful as rising smoke. “The locket,” I said at last. “It can’t possibly have anything whatever to do with—” “No, it can’t,” he said, a cautious note in his voice. “But what are ye thinking, Sassenach? Because ye’re no thinking what ye just said, and I ken that fine.” That was true, and a spasm of guilt at being found out tightened my body. “It can’t be,” I said, and swallowed. “It’s only …” My words died away and his hand rubbed between my shoulder blades.

“Well, ye’d best tell me, Sassenach,” he said. “Nay matter how foolish it is, neither one of us will sleep until ye do.” “Well … you know what Roger told me, about the doctor he met in the Highlands, and the blue light?” “I do. What—” “Roger asked me if I’d ever seen blue light like that—when I was healing people.” The hand on my back stilled. “Have ye?” He sounded guarded, though I didn’t know whether he was afraid of finding out something he didn’t want to know, or just finding out that I was losing my mind. “No,” I said. “Or not—well, no. But … I have seen it. Felt it. Twice. Just a flash, when Malva’s baby died.” Died in my hands, covered with his mother’s blood. “But when Faith was born, when I was so ill. I was dying—really dying, I felt it—and Master Raymond came.” “Ye told me that much,” he said. “Is there more?” “I don’t know,” I said honestly. “But this is what I thought happened.” And I told him, about seeing my bones glow blue through the flesh of my arms, the feeling of the light spreading through my body and the infection dying, leaving me limp, but whole and healing. “So … um … I know this is nothing but pure fantasy, the sort of thing you think in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep …” He made a low noise, indicating that I should stop apologizing and get on with it. So I took a deep breath and did, whispering the words into his chest. “Master Raymond was there. What if—if he found … Faith … and was able to … somehow bring her … back?” Dead silence. I swallowed and went on. “People … aren’t always dead, even though it looks like it. Look at old Mrs. Wilson! Every doctor knows—or has heard—about people who’ve been declared dead and wake up later in the morgue.” “Or in a coffin.” He sounded grim, and a shudder went over me. “Aye, I’ve heard stories like that. But—a wee babe and one born too soon—how—” “I don’t know how!” I burst out. “I said it’s complete fantasy, it can’t be true! But—but—” My throat thickened and my voice squeaked. “But ye wish it were?” His hand cupped the back of my head and his voice was quiet again. “Aye. But … if it was, mo chridhe, why would he not have told ye? Ye saw him again, no? After he’d healed ye, I mean.” “Yes.” I shuddered, momentarily feeling the King of France’s Star Chamber close around me, the smell of the King’s perfume, of dragon’s blood and wine in the air—and two men before me, awaiting my sentence of death.

“Yes, I know. But—when the Comte died, Raymond was banished, and they took him away. He couldn’t have told me then, and he might not have been able to come back before we left Paris.” It sounded insane, even to me. But I could—just—see it: Master Raymond, stealing out of L��Hôpital des Anges after leaving me, perhaps ducking aside to avoid notice, hiding in the place where the nuns had, perhaps, laid Faith on a shelf, wrapped in her swaddling clothes. He would have known her, as he’d known me … Everyone has a color about them, he said simply. All around them, like a cloud. Yours is blue, madonna. Like the Virgin’s cloak. Like my own. One of his. The thought came out of nowhere, and I stiffened. “Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.” What if—all right, I was insane, but too late for that to make a difference. “What if he—if I, we—what if Master Raymond is—was—somehow related to me?” Jamie said nothing, but I felt his hand move, under my hair. His middle finger folded down and the outer ones stood up straight, making the sign of the horns, against evil. “And what if he’s not?” he said dryly. He rolled me off him and turned toward me so we were face-to-face. The darkness was slowly fading and I could see his face, drawn with tiredness, touched with sorrow and tenderness, but still determined. “Even if everything ye’ve made yourself think was somehow true—and it’s not, Sassenach; ye ken it’s not—but if it were somehow true, it wouldna make any difference. The woman in Frances’s locket is dead now, and so is our Faith.” His words touched the raw place in my heart, and I nodded, tears welling. “I know,” I whispered. “I know, too,” he whispered, and held me while I wept.

24 Alarms by Night~GO TELL THE BEES THAT I AM GONE

[angelackless]

YOU MAKE ME WANNA MAKE YOU FALL IN LOVE

Dean Winchester x reader

reader has a praise kink and Dean feeds into it.

warnings: 18+, smut

this is my first time writing smut, so i'm so sorry if it's not the best!!

DEAN NOTICED HOW YOU ALWAYS SEEMED TO BLUSH MORE WHEN HE JUST SIMPLY PRAISED YOU, sure you blushed when he called you pretty or gorgeous too, or when he was pleasing you under the table and you had to act like nothing is happening, but the minute he called you a good girl?you were gone.

At first he didn't thought much of it, all girls get a little shy when they're called a good girl, right?but when you managed to blush when he told you that you did a good job, even if it wasn't after he rocked your whole world, he started to do it almost every day, soft words whispered into your ear about how proud he is of you after you did anything, and it was just the start, he wanted to do it in bed too, to see you fall apart not only because of his cock,but because of his words too.

So one day, when it was just the two of you in the bunker, he decided to act on it, to make you feel so good that you can only think about him for the rest of the day.

Dean found you in the library as you sat at the table, crouching over books and underlining things in it "alright, you're taking a break" he walked behind you "you have been in here for atleast a hour"

"I'm fine, i'm not tired" you mumbled not even looking up from the book, Dean shaked his head sighing and closed the book in front of you

"come on, don't you wanna be a good girl for me,hm?" He raised an eyebrow, his hand caressed your arm as he looked down at you, you felt your cheek flush, your breathing hitch and to be honest, you would do anything at this point to get him call you a good girl. You gave a weak nod in response, his hand sneaked up to your neck, giving it a squeeze "words, angel, I need words" he said in a low voice "do you want to be a good girl for me?"

"yes" you managed to say it out loud

"good, good girl" he smirked and grabbed your hand pulling you up from the chair "come, I wanna make sure you know how much I appraciate you being obedient" he pulled you into your shared bedroom guiding you to lay down on the bed.

"You're just gonna lay here and take it, alright?" He undid your pants and pulled it down "oh, wow.. you're even wearing lace?is it my lucky day,baby?" He run his fingers up and down on your inner thigh, getting closer and closer to where you need him the most, but never touching it

"please, Dean" you let out a needy whine to which he chuckled

"please, what angel?do you want me to touch you?stop teasing you and get to the point?" He asked smirking "which one is it?"

"I need you to touch me" you answered looking up at him, your chest rised and fell rapidly, you were getting more and more worked up by every passing second

"just because you asked so nicely" Dean said as he pulled down your panties, he put two of his fingers close to your mouth "suck" he ordered, and your lips wrapped around it, sucking it like it was an entirely different thing. He maintained eye contact with you, while his free hand caressed your side in a soothing manner. After he decided that his fingers now was wet enough, he bringed his hand down to your core, slowly rubbing it

"Fuck, angel you're so wet" he growled, your quiet, needy moans filled the bathroom "beg, beg for more baby, come on, I know you want it, tell me how much you do"

"please Dean, I need to feel you inside me, please" your voice came out shaky, filled with undeniable need, Dean wasted no time inserting two of his fingers inside you, pumping it in a slow pace

"good girl, such a good girl" he smirked "you're so hot angel" he bent down, leaving kisses and hickeys on your neck while he quickened his pace, you were getting louder, and he loved it, he loved how you were gripping onto the bed sheets like that's the only thing keeping you together at the minute, he picked up his pace once again, not stopping for a minute.

"Are you close,baby?hm?" He looked down into your eyes "you're gonna be a good girl and come for me?"

"yes,yes" you nodded your head, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge

"let go for me, angel" he said "be a good girl and come for me" his words was the last thing you needed, you came on his fingers in seconds, he pulled his fingers out of you, and laid down beside you pulling you close to his chest.

He wrapped his arm around you, caressing your back as you calmed down

"i'm so proud of you baby" he kissed your temple "so proud"

[croxxbow13]

The Sweet One

Warnings: language, mentions of violence and mild adult thoughts.

Takes place during Alexandria era. Just some musings as you’re trying to adjust to this new, impossible way of life… and trying to make sense of Daryl’s intoxicating presence.

A/N: Honestly, I’m not sure what this is. I just opened my notes app and just started putting words down. Will do a part 2 if theres any interest.

Please be gentle with me, its my first time.

It’d been three weeks since our group had stumbled into the walls of Alexandria, dirty, dehydrated and half starved.

Everyone had done the best they could to settle in, though it still felt like most of us were still holding our breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Places like this didn’t exist anymore.

At least, not for long.

We all slept in the same house, hell the same room for the first few nights, not wanting to let our guard down. The floor a patchwork of arms and legs and blankets, while the beds lay empty in their vaulted ceiling bedrooms.

After the things we’d experienced on the road, how could we not? Cannibals, rapist, psychopaths that tried to take us down, slaughtering their whole communities in the process without so much as a flicker of remorse.

I remember one night on the road, everyone sitting around the fire, Daryl said that the world really hadn’t changed all that much. People had always been shit. Now they were just more open about it. There was no reason they could see to keep those terrible things inside.

No reason to fear hell when we’re already there.

And now, to look into these strange smiling faces offering promises of food, walls, shelter… hot showers?

I stuck close to Carol for a while, trying to keep a low profile, putting on a nice face, but all the while keeping my ears tuned to the low whispers, the quiet conversations in adjoining rooms, listening, waiting for someone to slip up. To show the other side of the coin, but they never did.

It didn’t take long working in the small confines of the kitchen and pantry to feel like the walls were closing in on me. The daily droning of bored housewives going on about their ridiculous reasons to be at odds with their husbands, or gossiping about this person or that person… cackling together like a bunch of restless hens.

It reminded me too much of the old world. And I’d rather use an ice pick as a q-tip.

But thankfully, after some convincing - and maybe a little bit of begging - Aaron finally agreed to let me help with scavenging. He said that he, Daryl, Glenn and a few of the Alexandrians were going to be checking out a warehouse tomorrow a few towns over. Something about an old cargo depot.

I couldn’t give a shit less, as long as it gets me outside these walls for a little while.

I never thought it would be hard to transition back into some semblance of normalcy… but I feel like we’re all just kind of playing house. The people in this community have just as many dirty secrets as the people out there. The only difference is theirs is hidden behind neatly manicured hedges and eggshell tinted semi-gloss paint.

-

I’m sitting on the steps of Carol’s house when she returns home from another’s day work.

I say Carol’s house, but I guess it’s also mine and also Daryl’s. Though I’m pretty sure his residence here was just a given whereas I actually asked Carol if she minded that I stayed here.

Rick and Michonne have their whole family dynamic thing going on with Carl and Judith, so I would just feel like a fifth wheel.

Abraham and Rosita had room… but after being on the road with them and realizing how obnoxiously loud they are during sex… and don’t even get me started with fucking Eugene. I swear to God, when he starts rambling off at the mouth with his overinflated self importance. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve imagined cutting off that ratty ass mullet and gagging him with it. My luck though that would just add more material to his mental spank bank that he would recall as he’s beatin’ one out watching his compadres going at it.

I hate that I think about these things, and I hate that I have a vivid imagination because I immediately feel the bile rise in my throat, taste the acidic disgust on the back of my tongue.

I must’ve made a face because Carol stops and looks at me before she makes it to the steps.

“Well I’m glad to see you too.” She says, fighting back a sarcastic laugh.

I shake my head, trying to be reassuring while I’m still fighting the churn of my stomach.

“I’m sorry, just been a long day.” I say, giving her a lopsided smile. She puts a steadying hand on my knee as she swings around and takes the space on the step beside me.

She unbuttons her muted green sweater, or should I say her chosen costume of the day, and pushes up the sleeves. Usually she waits until she’s made it into the front door before she goes through her “becoming Carol” ritual that Daryl and I tease her about most nights.

We give her shit, but I gotta give it to her. She’s smart.

Seeing her now, It’s crazy to think of the transformation she’s undergone since I first met her back at the quarry. Back then she was so… small. And quiet. And just scared all the time. And I get it. Being beaten day in and day out by the person who should be your biggest sense of security will do that to you. Hell, the end of the world was probably the best thing that ever happened to her.

Daryl, too. Granted, he doesn’t talk much about his life before. But from witnessing his toxic ass relationship with his brother, I can only imagine that home for him was never really much of a home. And I’ve seen the scars. At least some of them. He didn’t get those from learning to ride a bike.

Dad was probably a drinker with no outlet for his anger. And Merle was probably old enough and big enough to at least get away from him eventually. I don’t know how much younger Daryl is, or was than Merle. But if I had to guess there was probably a solid 10 years that Daryl would’ve had to fend for himself. And Merle said it…

He was always the sweet one, my baby brother…

It’d made me so angry how he had said it so condescendingly. Like it was something to be shameful about. Like it was a weakness that should be hidden away. Because “real” men don’t show emotion.

Fuck him. I’ve literally watched Daryl rip out vocal cords with his bare fucking hands. And his arms… jesus christ, his arms.

Apparently I just sighed because now Carol has turned her attention towards me again. I clear my throat brushing non-existent dirt off the knees of my jeans.

“Want me to start on dinner?” I ask her, hoping the flush I feel creeping up my neck isn’t obvious.

She gives me a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“It’s ok, I ate a little something before I left work. Daryl might be hungry when he gets in though, if you’re wanting to make something. I think we’ve still got stuff for some spaghetti.”

And then as if conjured up from the depths, Daryl turns onto the street from the way of the front gate, the sounds of his boots thudding lightly against the pavement.

Daryl didn’t walk, it was more a saunter if anything. That one hand always gripping the strap of his crossbow that laid across his chest, the other swinging by his side, always a little wider than necessary.

I wonder sometimes if he’s aware of how much space he takes up at any given moment. Though I could never bring myself to ask him, because then he’d want to know what I meant. And I had no intention of letting him know how small he made rooms feel when I’m in one with him.

He’d probably take it the wrong way and go brood in the woods for a few days.

That sweet baby brother.

I’m self admittedly pretty terrible at recognizing when someone’s flirting with me.

But Daryl… Daryl. Fucking. Dixon. Takes the cake with that one.

At times I wonder if he’s actually had any kind of intimate interaction whatsoever. And, oh to have been a fly on the wall…

Doesn’t mean I can’t try though, right?

I mean, it can’t be completely one sided. I’ve caught him stealing glances when he thinks he’s out of my line of sight. I mean, christ, we live in the same house together.

And god so help me, for as long as I live I will never forget the look on his face when I came out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel because he’d come back from a run early. I had my face down, trying to towel dry the rest of my hair and he rounded the corner as I was stepping into the hallway and I basically face planted his chest. It took him about three syllables worth of his sentence, his hands gripping my arms to keep me from stumbling backwards, before he realized that that single layer of cotton that hit just a little too high on my thighs was the only thing saving us from an even more awkward situation.

His eyes went wide as he’d snatched his hands away like he’d been burned. And the color that immediately flushed his cheeks made me want to sink my teeth into the vein that pulsed too quickly in the side of his throat as he dropped his head and retreated out the front door.

Damn… Im starting to sound like one of them.

“Perfect timing! Your ears must’ve been burning!” Carol’s chipper tone pulls me once again from my thoughts, though this time it’s not as welcome. Daryl’s boots scuff against the sidewalk as he comes to a stop in front of us.

“What d’ya mean?” He says, his voice gruff as his gaze bounces between the two of us. I’m still fighting off visuals of lips and teeth and tongues, so I just raise my eyebrows and shake my head, doing my best to avoid meeting his eyes.

“We were talking about dinner, you hungry?” Thanks, Carol.

Daryl shakes his head and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “Nah. Not really.”

“Alright, well I’m going to go shower, that way you can get yours whenever you get ready.” Carol stood and turned for the door, giving me a small pat on the shoulder as she crossed the porch and disappeared into the house.

I looked at him then, and thankfully his attention was somewhere down the street.

The sharp orange streaks of light from the setting sun highlighted the beads of sweat on his brow, and judging by the dirt that clung to his arms and clothes, they’d had an eventful day.

Good. He always seemed to be in a better mood those days.

He was chewing on his bottom lip, as he always did when he was working a thought over in his mind. And I figure its as good a time as any to snap him out of it. Before he turns and I’m just staring at him like a fucking weirdo.

“Aaron’s letting me come with you guys tomorrow. Said that it’d be a good time for me to come along and see how you guys work together.”

He nodded slowly before he turned his eyes to me. “Yeah, he told me.” He slid his crossbow over his head and leaned it against the step railings before sitting down on the landing next to me.

And true enough, it now felt half the size as when Carol was sitting there.

“It’ll be good for ya,” he said, pulling at a string that hung loose on his glove. “Get out there an outta here for a while.” As he said it, his eyes scanned the other houses in the neighborhood… still looking for the cracks. For the slip of the stage props.

Maybe we’re not so different.

My eyes follow his gaze. And when I speak, it’s lower… only meant for us.

“You’re still looking for it too.” I say. It’s not a question. He turns his head and looks at me now. The dirt smudge across his cheek brings out the blue in his eyes.

His response is more of a grunt than a word. He wants to know what I’m talking about. Even though he already knows what I’m talking about. He just wants to hear me say it.

“You’re looking for the strings. For the wizard behind the curtain. This place can’t be as perfect as it looks from the outside. There’s something… there’s gotta be.”

He slowly nods and I know that he’s starting to realize the same thing…

Maybe we’re not so different.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon. I can only tell because that first faintly cool breeze that precedes the darkness is creeping between the houses now. And thanks to it, I’m now aware of the heat I feel radiating off of him. I didn’t realize that my arm was that close to his. Even through his jeans I can feel the warmth of his legs on the steps beside mine.

Why are my fucking ears hot?

And why do I have to fight the urge to lean over and lick the sweat off his neck.

Can you imagine the look on his face?

Stop. Stop.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I need to get up and go inside before I embarrass myself and just have to go knock on the door of the love nest and ask if I can big spoon Eugene.

Fuck that.

And then he bumps his shoulder against mine and suddenly I have no escape plan. I actually don’t plan on going anywhere. I actually would probably have to be pried off this step.

“Come on, we’ve got an early day tomorrow.” He says, and I can feel the words vibrate through my chest. He stands and grabs his crossbow, but he doesn’t sling it across his back like he usually does. He just holds it by his side, stretching out his other hand to offer me help up.

Sweet little baby brother

Naturally I go against my better judgment. Of course I do. I reach up and grab his hand and with little effort, he hauls me up and I’m now even more aware of how effortless he could just pick me up and snap me in half.

Or pin me against a wall.

Stop.

We’re toe to toe, though on different steps, which only adds to the way he’s towering over me. But I can feel his warmth. I can smell the sweet tanginess of his sweat that’s saturated his shirt. The earthy smell of the dirt.

He takes a step back, which part of me is thankful for. As I should be.

I know that if I ever genuinely made a pass at him. And it wasn’t reciprocated, things would probably never be the same between us. I wouldn’t be able to look at him. And he would probably never put himself in a position to be within arms reach of me again. Be it from fear or embarrassment or just the typical, awkward Daryl.

And I don’t want that.

But god damned, I want him.

Tomorrow is going to be a long day.

[faesvorite]

┆ souls bound within reach. ★ ₊ ˚⟡ 

ᐟ𝜗𝜚‎₊༉⋆ a sylusmc story by faesvorite.

“These are the hands that once thrusted a sword upon my chest,” Sylus murmurs with such reverence as he leans into your palms. Turning his head slightly, he places his lips against your soft hand and takes a playful nibble on your skin. “And yet, these hands have also saved a damned soul like mine to be bound to yours.” a story in which your reoccurring dreams have finally led you back to Sylus's arms.

[notes: this is my first time ever posting here on Tumblr in a long while. very self indulgent. follow me on Twitter / X as well @faesvorite]

The wind whipped through your hair as you glance down the skyline of the N109 Zone. Standing at the very top of one of its many towers, you look around to the mess of bodies laying around the concrete roofing. As you stand by the edge of the tower's top floor, lost in thought with a recurring dream that seems to be more like reality, it was immediately snapped as you hear loud grunts behind you. Falling like flies, bodies thud down the concrete surface as you feel a familiar presence in the vicinity.

“Looks like the trash still needs to be taken care of, sweetie.” Your ears perked as you recognized that very familiar voice. Turning your head, you lock eyes with the leader of Onichynus. Sylus. Not too far behind him are the loyal twins— Luke and Kieran. The twins seem to follow his every move and every command. No surprise there that they’d be present, but you were hoping to have Sylus come alone. 

“Take care of this mess,” Sylus says with a snap of his fingers. A red string of energy manifesting around some bodies and piling them to the side as he approaches you. His eyes gleam as he stares at yours. “I can’t afford to waste anymore time not spent with a certain someone who seems to demand my attention right now.” 

You scoff. Here he goes again with the dramatics. Crossing your arms, you step off the ledge and meet Sylus’s steps halfway. “For the record,” You say as you glance up at him. “I am not demanding your attention. You invited me, and I happened to be free and wanted to chat.”

“I parked downstairs.” He says nonchalantly as he steps towards you, a hand now outstretched to your view. “Unless you want to dilly dally longer, then we should start heading out.”

———

Taking Sylus’s hand, he immediately envelops you in a comforting red mist. Sooner than you would even realize, you’ve both managed to arrive downstairs to where his motorbike was parked. Quickly tossing you your helmet, Sylus chuckles as you catch it with ease. 

“Come on,” He says smoothly as he starts the motor engine. Glancing at you, you could practically see that cocky smirk matched with that all-knowing gleam of his eyes underneath the visor of his helmet. “You’re in a rush.” You say as you place your helmet on and climb behind Sylus, wrapping your arms around his waist. Once you secure yourself embracing Sylus, he revs the engine, the powerful motorbike roaring to life beneath you. The city's ruined skyline blurred as you sped through the desolate streets of N109 Zone, a stark reminder of the world that once was. "You know me too well, sweetheart," Sylus shouted over the wind, his voice tinged with amusement. "But I'm not the only one with secrets, am I?"

You tighten your grip around his waist, feeling the warmth of his body through his leather jacket. Remaining silent, you take the time to ponder to yourself. There’s a reason why you wanted to talk to Sylus alone. Maybe he has the answers to the recurring nightmares you’ve been having recently. You must press on. There it goes again, echoing in your head as the wind whips through your ears. With a sigh, you take in a deep breath and focus on what’s important right now.

As you weaved through abandoned vehicles and debris, you couldn't help but wonder where Sylus was taking you.  "Somewhere special," he replied cryptically, as if sensing your curiosity through his leather jacket. "A place where we can talk without prying ears."

The motorbike suddenly veered off the main road, taking a hidden path that led deeper into the ruined side roads. You held on tighter as Sylus navigated the treacherous terrain with expert precision. After what seemed like an eternity, he finally slowed down, coming to a stop in front of a river looking over what seems to be Linkon City. 

Wait a minute, this place looks familiar. 

Sylus killed the engine and removed his helmet, revealing his piercing eyes and that infuriatingly handsome smirk. "We're here," he announces, offering his hand to help you off the bike. As you take off your own helmet, you survey the area. You were right. This was the place where you both enjoyed each other’s company, watching fireworks in the snow after releasing the injured dove you spotted.

“Surprised?” Sylus says with a chuckle. “I had an inkling that you wanted to be somewhere else.” 

You nod, his fingers still lingering over yours. You shudder, releasing a chilly breath as the wind seems to howl even more. Noticing this rather new side of yours, Sylus takes off his leather jacket and places it on top of your shoulders. “For a hunter to come unprepared, my.. That sounds rather troublesome. Aren’t you lucky for me to be such a benevolent host?”

With a laugh, you pull his leather jacket closer to your frame. It smells like him— a mix of gin fizz lingering and the husk scent of citrus dancing around with earthy undertones. Very on brand. “Maybe I am lucky,” You murmur softly as you glance back at him. Sylus matches you laugh, amused at your rather innocent antics. 

There’s a pause between you both as you gaze at one another. It’s beginning to become like that night once more as the snow falls slowly on your heads. As you and Sylus stood under the falling snow, you felt a sudden urge to share (quite bluntly) your own troubles. Sensing your worries, Sylus raises an eyebrow. “What’s wrong? I can always be an ear for you if needed.” 

Smiling at him, you now feel even stronger to share the recurring dreams that had been haunting you for a while now. Lingering mixed voices seem to echo in your head once more. Replaying like a broken record that you cannot seem to shake off. You must press on… I curse your soul... to never fade away. You'll always be tied to me. Forever.

“Sylus,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "actually, there's something I need to tell you as to why I asked to see you." Taking a deep breath to gather your courage, you resume your train of thought. "I've been having these dreams... vivid ones. They feel more like memories than fantasies. And they're always about... us."

Sylus's eyebrows raise slightly, but he remains silent, encouraging you to continue. 

“In those dreams… I can’t explain it, but it sounds like those fairy tales you would tell me about a dragon.” You let out a smile, recalling your dreams of a dragon flying you up in the sky and the sounds of laughter filling your ears. “A dragon, and instead of a princess… there was someone else. A girl. She was a damsel, but never in distress… and together, they were happy.”

You notice Sylus's breath catch, but you proceed to tell what you’ve been experiencing, the words tumbling on without restraint as if you were being possessed. “They were an unlikely pair at first, but they taught each other more of one another. How to live, how to laugh, and how to love.” You feel your eyes become teary before continuing the last part. “And she lost her dragon in the end. The dragon that she loved so much and taught how to be human.” 

“And that was… us.” Your eyes meet Sylus’s soft gaze, a moment of realization now striking you as you feel your heart— the aether core searching for Sylus’s. His eyes search yours, gleaming in the night light, before releasing a huff. He remains quiet for a moment, before taking a steady step towards you to cup your cheeks and wipe away any tears threatening to fall. His hands, calloused and cold, felt warm against your cheek. Normally you would have pulled away, but you didn’t. It’s like your heart wanted this. Wanted Sylus to be this close.

Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. "I never thought you'd be the one to bring this up," he said softly. Your heart raced. "You mean...?"

“I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart.” He says softly, barely above a whisper.  "I've had those dreams too long ago. I was just waiting for you to finally realize it, to realize how we’re the same and how we’re both true kindred spirits.” 

Sylus takes your hands in his, before placing them up to his cheek.

“These are the hands that once thrusted a sword upon my chest,” Sylus murmurs with such reverence as he leans into your palms. Turning his head slightly, he places his lips against your soft hand and takes a playful nibble on your skin. “And yet, these hands have also saved a damned soul like mine to be bound to yours.”

He looks back up at you, his lips still on your hand before releasing it with a soft pop. “I’d be glad to have our souls bound to each other, my sorceress.”

As Sylus leaned in, closing the distance between you, you realized that this confession was just the beginning. And with a new beginning, you both seal it with a soft kiss.

[ragnarockz]

Gonna answer the other ask numbers that were not sent to me!

4. Dom, sub, or switch?

Both Agnes and Vidal are switches. I feel like that's only right. There's so much to explore with their power dynamics that it would be a shame to have one ONLY a dom and the other ONLY a sub. LET THEM EXPLORE! LET THEM PLAY!

5. Do they kiss with tongue?

I feel like Vidal does more than Agnes 👀 And I think it stems from Agnes not wanting to 'scare away' Vidal or make it seem like she's being this aggressive partner (but Vidal loooooves it when Agnes initiates kisses with tongue; doesn't happen often but it becomes more and more frequent)

6. What was their first time having sex like?

Vidal getting under Agnes' skin and Agnes realizing she's both super turned on and annoyed by Vidal so...I mean hey, might as well fuck it out 🤷🏻‍♀️ But it was super intimate and of course, it felt like that had done it all before (I think a lot of muscle memory comes back to Agnes being under the spell; little bits of Agatha poke through and remind Agnes of what she likes/dislikes/what Vidal/Rio likes/dislikes). There's some surprises or lapses in that deep seated memory but for the most part, very hot, very physical. Not as rough but bordering it; trying to see where they can push boundaries with each other

7. Who was their first kiss with?

I mean, it would have been Agatha and Rio waaaaaaay back ago so, each other 🥺

9. How often do they masturbate?

Agnes: Every fucking day, it not multiple times a day. She will literally just take off to go touch herself. I feel like she's very in tune with her body and listens to it; she doesn't really deny herself much of anything

Vidal: Often but not as often as Agnes. I feel like, she likes having Agnes actually around or in the room; she likes making Agnes watch 😈

11. How do they handle aftercare?

Agnes: The SOFTEST MOST CARING MOTHERFUCKER OUT HERE. Will literally pamper Vidal to death (hehe); her sweetness will kill you! Makes sure Vidal has everything she needs - reminds her to do all the important things (pee/drink water/sleep). And will just cover her in the softest kisses; super soft massages. Words of affirmation.

Vidal: I feel like Agnes craves physical touch after so, Agent Vidal would just wrap her arms around Agnes, holds her, cradles her head and strokes her hair. Agnes likes to lay her head down on Vidal's chest, stomach, lap. HOLD HER; PLEASE!

12. What is their biggest turn off?

Agnes: Being too rigid with the power dynamic - you gotta let her come back and leave on that one. Don't keep a too long or too short of a leash because she needs room to play with being in control and allowing Vidal to take over at the same time

Vidal: Being purposefully ignored/denied/or even like, Agnes not remembering something she said she liked/disliked. She likes to be heard and listened. She likes someone who can pay attention and retain information (but Agnes is a natural at that so, Vidal doesn't have to worry too much)

13. What do they think about when they masturbate?

Each other omg. Are you kidding me? Or even like, certain things they've said to one another while they were flirting/making out/fucking. A lot snaps back from previous experiences between them and they can both relay on that to get them off. I think Agnes likes to imagine words/audio cues more and Vidal likes to imagine visual cues.

15. Are they loud/vocal in bed?

Agnes more than Vidal. Agnes likes the audio cues, even if they're from herself (does she turn herself on with how loud she gets? duh). But Vidal will play into that, too 👀 She knows what Agnes likes to hear and at what pitch and when; it drives Agnes insane

17. What is the worst sex they've ever had?

Are these two even fucking other people? I don't think so; at least not in my hc. 'Worst' is probably like, if they got too drunk and thought it was a good idea to fuck around and before you know it, one of them is rushing to the bathroom to puke. I feel like that would suck but it's not a deal breaker of them never fucking again 😂 That just means the other gets to baby and take care of whoever was sick 🥺

19. Do they enjoy bondage?

Vidal more than Agnes 👀 Agnes sometimes reminds me of a flighty or caged animal; she needs to be let 'loose' and not so much tied down to one spot for too long. But Vidal has no problem with it; she has the patience of a saint and being tied to one place, one position doesn't bother her as much (it also allows a chance for Agnes to be fully in control and that also turns Vidal on)

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 20- The Storm After the Calm

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: if my tits don't grow in the next year someone is dying, and it won’t be me. Also, can't let people be happy for too long. I have to get my fill of angst and drama like the filthy little addict I am. Enjoy.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

A pleasant, light breeze blows through the open windows. Cooling the sweat on Valeria's forehead. Your warm body splays over hers, an arm slung over her side. One of her hands rests on your lower back, the other under her head. That's how she's been laying for the last five minutes since waking up. Valeria doesn't get to relish in these domestic moments very often, so she wants to enjoy them while they last.

She runs her hand back and forth over your back while she watches you sleep. Getting the woman she's been pining after for months feels so much better than she thought it would. Hyper voices float up from downstairs, disturbing the peace. Grating laughter reaches her ears, and yours as you begin to stir. The blanket covering the window turns the warm sunlight green when it washes over the room. Still, despite the dimmed lighting you squint and mutter. You push off of Valeria and adjust your tank top, an action that Valeria watches intently.

You yawn, and stretch, and get off the mattress. Searching around for some pants. She allows her gaze to roam over your backside appreciatively.

"What time is it?" You ask tiredly. 

Valeria feels along the floor for her phone and checks. "12:40PM." She replies. You hum in acknowledgment. Valeria watches you for a few more seconds before forcing herself out of bed. Her back and hips ache in protest. Making her wince. She scavenges her own clothes and dresses herself, following you out of the room.

You avoid the creaky floorboards like a wraith while Valeria walks over them without care. Downstairs in the living room, Mark and Alain are posted up on the couch, game controllers in hand. Valeria plops down beside Alain and watches blankly, still in the process of waking up. The guys' yelping and heckling is too loud and abrasive to Valeria's tired ears, but she doesn't snap at them to be quiet.

Mark loses whatever game they were playing and tosses his controller to the floor. He turns to Valeria.

"Morning." He says. "Sleep well?"

"Sure." She nods boredly. 

Mark pauses and unsuccessfully suppresses an amused smile. "Didn't sound like it last night." He says. 

It takes Valeria a few moments to process his words. She gives him a warning look.

"Mind your business." She says harshly.

"What didn't sound like it?" You ask, walking into the living room with a glass of water. 

"Never mind." Mark shakes his head. You sit down at the foot of the couch, kicking a few empty cans out of the way.

"By the way, what are we doing when we actually find this guy? Doug?" You ask, looking at Valeria. "Are we going to kill him?"

Mark raises his hands.

"You are own your own with that, I ain't trying to catch no murder charge." 

"We could get him to work for us." You suggest, looking around for agreement. Rick, who was propped up in the corner scoffs at you.

"That's a dumb fucking plan." He says harshly. Sounding almost angry that you even suggested it. Even Valeria, who is usually angry and judgmental is surprised by the pure dislike in his voice.

You swivel your head to look at him, shoulders tensed defensively.

"It was a suggestion, asshole." You snipe back. "If you think it's stupid then why don't you contribute to the conversation?"

"I will, but I don't think you should." He says. "Just because you cook good meth doesn't mean you have strategic intelligence. Or regular intelligence for that matter. You're not better than the rest of us just because you cook, the average junkie can make decent meth."

Everyone stares at you and Rick, unsure of how to tread these grounds.

"Woah, lets calm down yeah? No need to get so spiteful." Mark chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

Neither you nor Rick seem to hear him or care. 

"Genuinely what the hell is your problem?" You snap. "You're always giving me evil eyes and dogging on me, what did I do?"

"Are you serious?" He replies angrily. Aggressively approaching. Valeria sits up slightly. Deciding to let things unfold on their own but ready to step in should he become violent with you. "You ghosted my sister out of nowhere, do you know how hurt she was about that?" Valeria frowns, starting to feel nervous about where this may be going.

"What are you talking about?" You ask, bewildered. Beside her, Valeria hears Alain open a canned drink.

Hurt and anger take turns in Rick's eyes.

"Corra." He says, the words making Valeria's blood freeze. You laugh but it's clear you aren't happy. She watches you stand, rigid with anger.

"Your sister asked me out as a joke." You tell him, voice full of rage. Valeria calms herself, there's no getting out of this now. 

Rick furrows his brows. "What the fuck are you talking about? No she didn't." He denies. "She had to hype herself up just to approach you. She was so excited when you agreed to a date that she wouldn't shut the hell up about it." Rick's voice catches. 

You go silent. Everyone seems to go silent. even that stupid, loud clock seems quieter.

"She didn't understand why you suddenly went so cold. My last memories with my sister before she was shipped off to here, before she died, are her feeling inadequate and stupid. Fuck you for making her feel that way. You never deserved Corra." He continues hatefully.

"There was no bet?" You say, sounding upset. You look at Valeria, then Alain. "There was no bet?" Alain shakes his head.

"Not that I know of." He says casually. Your brows are furrowed, distress written across your face. Valeria rubs her jaw, frowning and meeting your gaze when you look at her.

The look you give her makes her skin crawl uncomfortably. Like little mites are crawling all over her, only a shower won't get rid of the feeling. You look hurt, angry, betrayed. You seem to lose all confidence.

"I'm going for a walk." You say flatly. Getting up and walking to the front door and exiting swiftly. Valeria sighs and runs her hands over her face. Not looking forward to dealing with you when you come back. She feels heavily annoyed by the situation. She's starting to learn to not be excited about the good things in life. Because every time something good happens some divine force sees fit to rip it from her hands.

The atmosphere in the house for the next few hours is heavy and oppressive. The longer you're gone the more restless Valeria finds herself feeling. She wants you back so she can resolve this as fast as possible. Rick also seems to be hiding away and sulking, having blown all his energy on bitching you out.

Later that night she gives up on waiting for your return. Your prolonged absence, especially now that it's getting dark in a different city, is starting to worry her but she trusts you to take care of yourself. Though when she's almost over the edge and about to go out searching for you, the front door opens, and you walk in. Not looking at anyone. The others avoid looking at you too, but not Valeria. She stares at you as you walk to the stairs and disappear to the upper level of the house.

She gives you a little space before getting up and seeking you out. Hoping to have a talk with you. The door is closed, and she opens it without knocking. Disgruntled to find you shuffling blankets in the closet. One of the pillows from the bed beside you.

"What are you doing?" She asks, frowning at you.

You stop but don't look her way, frustrating her. "I'm making myself a bed." You mutter, resuming your carefully blanket setup. 

"You already have a bed." Valeria replies flatly, a hint of annoyance dripping from her words.

The floors creak as she walks to the mattress and sits down.

"One for myself." You say.

"I know you're upset but this is a little petty don't you think?" She tells you, trying to talk you out of it. You going out of your way to make yourself separate sleeping arrangements actually hurts her a little. You stop, shoulders tense.

"You're still doing it." You growl angrily. "You're still downplaying my feelings." You whip around to face her, properly angry with her. "It doesn't matter if the reason I'm upset is valid or not, I'm still upset. And actually, I'm very fucking valid. Was there ever a bet, Valeria?" You ask her. Silently waiting for her reply.

She can see in your eyes that you're hoping she says yes. That she at least thought there was, or that Rick lied or didn't know. Valeria is tempted to lie. Spinning a good one on the spot is something she's got quite good at, but for some reason, she also has the desire to give you honesty.

"... No." She replies quietly. "There was no bet."

Your trust in her shatters. She watches in real time as your anger flickers out into smoldering hurt. You shake your head. "I can't believe you did this."

Valeria frowns at your words, hands clenching up fistfuls of blanket in her hands. "Why not?" She asks, voice hardening. "You've worked with me long enough to know I'm not a good person. I've told you I'm not a good person. I am selfish and will do what's needed to get what I want, and I wanted you." She says.

You laugh.

"Are you kidding me?" You snap. "Is that you're go-to response for everything, 'I'm a bad person'? You could at least apologize to me!"

Valeria shrugs uncomfortably, like a chastised child trying to play it cool. "Why would I? It was the best thing for both of us, Corra could never be enough for you." She says dryly.

"Maybe she would've, instead she died thinking I hated her!" You say angrily, your voice cracking at the last part. "I know you certainly aren't good enough for me." You tell her coldly. You rise to your feet and storm out of the room, leaving your words echoing behind you.

Valeria tries to tell herself that it doesn't matter. She's not built for healthy, honest, long-lasting relationships and since she knew this would happen eventually, she's not that upset. But she is. She is upset by it. Telling herself isn't enough anymore. It doesn't stop the ache in her chest or the anger in her heart. Funnily enough, she thinks she may be angrier at herself then you.

[witchofawoman]

LATE NIGHTS ⋆｡°✩

5. Storm ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

featuring : jj maybank x kook!reader

summary : After last night’s tension with JJ and Rafe, you just wanted to disappear, but Rafe demanded you to come to a party, which you couldn't afford to refuse even though that's all your heart wanted as you knew how bad it would be for you...

words count : 2.5k

warnings : drug and alcohol usage, angst, violence, addiction, cheating, etc.

a/n : This is the 5th part of the serie !! Enjoy <3

That morning, you felt sick to your stomach. Sarah had gone to take a shower, but you sat on your bed, staring at Rafe’s text. The sight of it alone was enough to make you nauseous. It made you feel miserable, but you couldn’t afford to refuse his invitation. So, with a shaky hand, you texted him back a simple “ok.”

You were stressed. For once, Rafe would actually be with you at the party. He wouldn’t be off in some room with another girl. No, this time, he’d be right next to you, watching your every move. The thought of it was unbearable. And as if things couldn’t get any worse, JJ was going to be there too.

You stayed on your bed, lost in thought, until Sarah emerged from the bathroom.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” she asked. Her hair was damp, her usual outfit thrown together with practiced ease. Her lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes gave her away it was like she was in a rush.

Before you could answer, a loud honking interrupted you. Frowning, you walked to the window and peeked out. John B’s van was parked outside, and his friends were piled in, waiting.

You shot Sarah a confused look, but she quickly held up a hand to cut you off. “I’ll explain later, but I have to go now. Please grab my stuff and bring it tonight, okay? Love you!”

Before you could even process what was happening, she was gone.

“Uh… okay,” you muttered to yourself. Your head spun. What was going on?

The day was suffocating, the hours crawling by with cruel deliberation. You couldn’t bring yourself to move, not even to grab a drink or smoke by the window. Your body felt heavy, weighed down by dread, your mind spinning in loops you couldn’t break. All you could do was lay in bed, staring blankly at the screen, movies flickering without meaning.

By the time 5 p.m. rolled around, the walls felt like they were closing in. You had no choice—you had to get up, had to move.

Dragging yourself to the mirror, you barely recognized your own reflection. Your skin was dull, your eyes sunken with exhaustion. You couldn’t care enough to pick a real outfit, so you grabbed the first thing your hand landed on: denim shorts and a white bikini top. You smeared on some makeup, shaky hands smudging the eyeliner, but you didn’t bother fixing it.

The phone buzzed violently on your nightstand, dragging you out of your spiral. You stared at the screen for a moment, your heart sinking when you saw his name. You didn’t want to answer—but you knew he wouldn’t stop. With a deep breath, you pressed the green button.

“Rafe,” you said, your voice flat.

“Where the fuck are you?” His voice was already sharp, cutting through you like glass.

“At home,” you replied, trying to keep your tone even.

“You were supposed to be here already.”

“You were supposed to pick me up,” you said, the exhaustion creeping into your words.

There was a pause on the line, followed by the sound of him sniffing. It made your stomach churn.

“Do you think I have time to play chauffeur, Y/N?” His voice was low now, edged with something darker. “Jesus Christ, you can’t do anything for yourself, can you?”

“Are you seriously doing this right now? You’re the one who forgot—”

“Don’t fucking start with me,” he snapped, his voice rising. “You love this, don’t you? Acting like a victim all the time. Like I’m the bad guy. Guess what, love? You are the problem. You’re pathetic.”

You blinked, your breath hitching.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” you whispered, anger and hurt mixing into something volatile.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” he snarled. “Do you think anyone else would put up with your shit? Your little tantrums, your moods? Nobody cares about you, Y/N. Not Sarah, not those Pogues, and sure as hell not me if you keep acting like this.”

“Then leave!” you shouted, your voice breaking. “If I’m so goddamn unbearable, leave!”

There was another sniff on the other end of the line, followed by a humorless laugh.

“Oh, I will, love. But not before you drag your sorry ass here. And don’t you dare try anything tonight, or we’re done. You hear me? Done.”

“I—” you started, but the line went dead.

You stared at your phone, your chest heaving, the words you couldn’t say burning in your throat. 

 It coursed through you, a fiery rush that burned away everything else. Grabbing your bottle of pills, a few joints, and your car keys, you stormed out.

By the time you got to the party, the music was thumping, and the house was packed. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to see Rafe, didn’t want to see anyone. Slipping through the chaos, you headed upstairs.

It was Lucy’s house. You knew it well, knew the quiet spots but most of all knew how to disappear. The upstairs bathroom was perfect. Locking the door behind you, you dumped the pills onto the counter, crushed them into neat lines, and inhaled. The burn hit hard, sharp and immediate, but the numbness came quicker. Your heart raced, your mind blurred.

The bathroom door burst open so hard it slammed against the wall, making you flinch.

“Hey.”

The voice was familiar, but you were too dazed to place it. Blinking, you turned—and the sight of JJ standing in the doorway hit you like a bucket of ice water.

“JJ,” you breathed, your voice shaky.

“What the fuck are you doing?” His eyes were sharp

You wiped at your nose, trying to compose yourself. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” He stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Yeah, sure. Nothing looks a lot like snorting shit alone in a bathroom at a party.”

You crossed your arms, meeting his glare with defiance. “What are you even doing here, JJ?”

“Looking for beer, not a breakdown,” he shot back. “But I guess you’d call this fate, huh?”

You scoffed, leaning against the sink. “Oh, spare me the lecture.”

“I’m not lecturing you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. “I’m just wondering how someone who acts so untouchable is actually this fucking reckless.”

You stiffened, the words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. “What do you care?”

“I don’t,” he snapped, but his eyes betrayed him. “I mean—fuck, Y/N. Do you have any idea what you’re doing to yourself? Or is this just another game to you?”

“Don’t act like you know me,” you said, stepping closer. “You don’t. You never did.”

“Oh, I know you,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. “I know you push people away before they can hurt you. I know you can’t stand being vulnerable for even a second because you think it makes you weak. But you know what’s really weak, Y/N? This. Hiding in a bathroom, getting high like that’s gonna fix anything.”

His words hung in the air, heavy and stinging. But instead of retreating, you closed the gap between you, your faces now inches apart.

“Am I weak, JJ?” you whispered, your voice soft but laced with challenge. “Or are you just scared of me?”

His breath hitched, his eyes flicking to your lips for the briefest moment.

“Scared of you?” he said, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “You wish.”

Your lips curved into a faint smirk, but before either of you could say anything else, the moment shattered.

“Little bitch, you are, Y/N.”

Rafe’s voice cut through the air like a whip, and JJ stepped back, his expression hardening as Rafe stormed in.

“What, Rafe? I’m the bitch here?” you said, your voice sharp, not even turning to look at him as you wiped at your nose again.

He didn’t answer, and didn't waste time. He grabbed your arm and spun you around, slamming you back against the wall. His hand gripped your waist hard enough to bruise, his face inches from yours.

“Look at me,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. “What the fuck were you doing with that Pogue?”

“Do you need to know every move I make?” you snapped, meeting his glare head-on.

“Yes,” he spat, his grip tightening. “Because you’re mine. Do you hear me? You’re fucking mine.”

“I’m not yours, Rafe!” you screamed, shoving at his chest. “I’m not your property, and you don’t get to control me!”

His eyes darkened, his face twisting in fury. “You’re gonna regret saying that.”

“Fuck you,” you shot back, your voice trembling with rage. “This is the end, Rafe. Never talk to me again. Go back to your little flings and hope they’re stupid enough to put up with your bullshit.”

“You don’t get to leave me,” he snarled, but you were already shoving past him, slamming the door behind you as you disappeared into the chaos of the party.

a/n : I know it's been a while since I haven't posted but I'm trying my best I promise, love you !!

[like and follow !!]

Taglist : @immyowndefender @imsiriuslyreal @yvesoull1 @yesshewrites1

[lyraa-kill]

Sick and Twisted Bastard

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 l Chapter 5

Tags: Stalker Simon "Ghost" Riley, Trans John “Soap" MacTavish, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Bottom John "Soap" MacTavish, Dom Simon “Ghost" Riley, Sub John "Soap" MacTavish, Stalking, Consensual Non-Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, johnny can't make himself cum, Kidnapping, Knives, John is okay with Simon's stalking, John is a little freak too, Voyeurism, Hidden Cameras, Bondage, Vaginal Sex, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Spanking, Painplay, Internalized Transphobia, Self-Harm, Murder, They really match each others freak, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Biting, pussy slapping, Face Slapping, Blood, Choking

——

John is disoriented when he wakes up, his head pounding. He lays there for a few moments, drifting somewhere between consciousness and unconsciousness, aware of himself but also not aware. As he slowly becomes more and more awake, the pounding ceasing, he begins to remember.

But… no, that can’t be right. It can’t be. He was just dreaming. He had to be. Weird fuckin’ dream though, but with the way John’s dreams have been heading lately, he’s not surprised.

He was just dreaming of Simon showing up at his house in the middle of the night and putting a rag over his mouth.

Wasn’t he?

It’s then that he notices a strange weight on his chest. His eyes flutter open, the first thing they see being a mop of blonde hair. Then, he notices that this isn’t his bed. Isn’t his room, even. He tries to move his arms so he can sit up, but then he finds he can’t move them.

John is wide awake now, his eyes snapping fully open and looking around the room in panic. He looks above him, seeing his hands are chained to a thick, sturdy metal bedframe. He yanks against his restraints, but it’s no use. The chain linking his hands together is thick, the cuffs around his wrists tight. He’s not going anywhere.

He looks back down at the man sleeping on his chest. Is that… Simon? John hasn’t ever seen his face, doesn’t know what he looks like besides his eyes, mouth, and chin, but he… his dream. It wasn’t a dream, was it? Simon kidnapped him. And now here he was, asleep on top of his restrained form wearing nothing but his fucking underwear.

Even worse, Simon is fucking handsome . So much better than the face he conjured up in his mind for him. It makes Johnny’s heart pound, his mind swoon. He pushes these thoughts from his mind. He can’t dwell on that right now.

“Wake up!” John shouts, yanking at his cuffs so the metal clangs together and makes a loud banging sound, “God damnit you sick and twisted fuckin’ bastard, wake the FUCK UP!”

Simon groggily lifts his head up, squinting at John. That fucker just smiles and lays his head back down. “‘M still tired, Johnny. Gi’ me five, yeah?”

John shifts his lower body and starts to kick Simon incessantly. “What the FUCK did you do? WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?!”

Moving to sit up now, Simon looks annoyed and slightly pissed. “D’ya have to yell so early in the morning? Can’t we just go back to sleep, baby?”

John looks at him with a look of wild, angry confusion. The fantasy he had in his head of when Simon called him that for the first time was nothing like this.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” John laughs, fury dripping from his voice, “I guess I’ll just wait to get angry over the fact YOU KIDNAPPED ME! What the FUCK, Ghost!”

Smiling, Simon reaches a hand out and cups Johnny’s cheek, rubbing the space beneath his eye just as he did the night before, when John was sleeping. “This is for the best, Johnny. I had to do this, yeah? You were so miserable, crying to yourself every night. Hurting yourself. I can’t let my perfect little boy feel that way. You’ll be happier here, with me looking after you, keeping you safe. Don’t you agree?”

John isn’t sure his body is capable of feeling any more emotions all at once than he’s feeling right now. Anger, confusion, shock, fear… and he doesn’t want to admit it, but a little flattered and happy as well. It’s all mudding up his mind, making him unable to think clearly. He can’t even get his words out. He just looks at Simon like a deer caught in headlights.

Simon runs his hand down Johnny’s face, over his neck, across his chest, down his torso, resting on his waist. “Been watching you. All the time, Johnny. All the time . I’ve been watching you so much, I think I know you better than you know yourself.” He trails his hand back up, then down, caressing John’s golden skin. “I know you cry every night. Know you hit yourself, cut yourself where you think no one can see it. But I see it, I see it all . I know you’re miserable, feeling worthless all the time. Scared. Not able to trust people, let them get close. You’re scared they’ll treat you just how your father did, right? Hit you, degrade you, abuse you…”

How- how does Simon know all this? He’s never told anyone these feelings before, never let anyone see or even know about the cuts on his thighs. Never confided in anyone about what his dad did to him, what the kids at school did. What did Simon do ?

“It’s gonna be alright, baby. I got you now, yeah? I’ll keep you safe. I won’t let anyone get close enough to hurt you ever again. I’ll make all those bad feelings go away for you, but I couldn’t do that when we were on base. I could barely keep you safe, let alone make you feel better, help you heal. That’s why I had to take you here. This is our home now, okay? A home just for you and me. It’s only goin’ to be us here, forever . You want that, don’t you Johnny?”

John shakes his head. “You- You can’t just- You can’t just decide that shit for me, L.T! I’m a grown man and I get to decide what I do and if something’s making me unhappy or not! God, I can’t- I can’t BELIEVE you!”

He’s thought about it before. About Simon whisking him away from that life, taking him somewhere nice and safe, a place where he’s not on edge all the time. A place he can finally relax, where he can figure out who John MacTavish is without the interference of what his father, his mother, the government, is telling him who John MacTavish should be. But, fuck- in his dreams it was his choice when he got to leave, for how long, how . Simon took that autonomy away from him, just like his decisions were taken away from him when he was growing up.

Simon sighs. He wraps his arms around Johnny’s middle, pulling him close. John doesn’t bother to stop him, telling himself that it’s pointless, but deep down it’s because he wants Simon to hold him. Fuck, he’s so angry at him right now, so upset, but all he wants is comfort from the man, the very thing making him upset. He’s fucking sick.

“I’m sorry baby,” Simon says into John’s chest, “I know it’s wrong. I know that I’m a horrible person for this. I just- this was the only way. Confessing to you, building a relationship with you, discussing how to leave for some place better… it would’ve taken too long. Something might’ve happened to you during all that, and I couldn’t let that happen. I had to take you.” Simon takes a deep breath in, his voice shaky with nervousness as he prepares to say the three words he’s been longing, yearning to say for months. “I love you. I love you so much, Johnny. I couldn’t let you be miserable anymore. I had to bring you here, where you can be all mine, where I can make you safe and happy.” He looks up at John through his blonde eyelashes. “Do you hear me, Johnny? Ya listening? I love you .”

John sucks his breath in and bites his lip. Fuck. He’s been waiting for Simon to say those words for ages, dreaming about it late at night when he cries, when he smiles and laughs, when he has his fingers buried in himself.

Maybe he’s insane, but he understands. He can almost perfectly see Simon’s train of thought. The feeling of wanting to do anything you can to make the one you love happy, even if they think they don’t want it. The feeling of knowing better, exactly how to care for someone else if they would just let you. He knows how Simon feels, because he’s felt the same way. He always felt the man was too strung up, too tense, too on edge all the damn time. He wished he could do more for him, take him somewhere nice where he could relax. Where he didn’t have to be this weapon called Ghost, where he could be Simon. And John didn’t have to be Soap, he could be Johnny. Simon’s Johnny.

But- fuck. This is a hell of a way of going about it.

John closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in, then sighs. “Fuck, I’ve thought about us getting together, leaving the military, getting a home of our own. I just… fuck, this is all so sudden. It’s fucking crazy, you know that right? It’s fucking mental . This ain’t normal, Ghost. It’s not healthy.”

Simon shakes his head, burying it deeper into Johnny’s chest, breathing in his scent. “I’m not a normal man, you know this. Everything I did, this is my love for you. Everything I do is only because I love you so much, Johnny. I just don’t want you to be taken from me, like… like everything else. Can you forgive me? I- I just love you so much. Please forgive me.” His voice breaks towards the end.

Simon’s heart is cracking a little bit at the idea that he’s making his Johnny, his world, unhappy. The monster inside him is clawing at his insides, wanting him to destroy, to hurt, to kill , do anything that will take his pain and self-loathing out of himself, turn it into something physical he can crush and make go away.

John’s heart is breaking a bit too. Simon sounds so broken and helpless, like a hurt little kid. He doesn’t know what happened to him, why he’s so dark and twisted, why he never lets anyone get close. But he wants to know. He wants to know Simon , not Ghost, and make all his pain go away. Maybe he’s more like his lieutenant than he thought.

He really does love him. He really, truly does.

“Fuck…” John sighs, “‘Course I can. I love you too, you know? I understand. I’m angry at you, but I’ll be able to forgive you. Ya know I can’t stay mad at ya L.T.”

Simon finally releases the tears he’s been holding back. He feels like he’s been waiting his whole life to hear those words from John. For barely a second, he can feel the creature inside him start to fade, leaving only Simon Riley left. For just a second.

“Say it again, please,” Simon stammers.

“I love you, Simon.” John says, “I love you so much, Simon Riley. I may be pissed as all hell right now, but I love ya. I’ll say it as many times as you want.”

He’ll be able to forgive him. One day he knows he’ll enjoy living here, not dealing with a care in the world. He’ll probably even thank Simon for doing this, doing what was right even if it hurt a little bit at first.

Maybe he’s also a little sick and twisted. Sure, kidnapping him was a little crazy. But John is a little crazy too.

Simon cries into Johnny’s chest for a little bit, keeping the man in a tight bear grip like he’s afraid of him slipping away.

John wishes he could comfort him, run a soothing hand down his back or in his hair, but he’s still bound. Instead, he just tilts his head down and presses his forehead against Simon’s hair, whispering to him that it’s alright, that he’s not a bad person, that his Johnny loves him back.

After a while, Simon tilts his head up. Tears still cling to his eyelashes, but he’s stopped crying. As he looks up at John, he smiles. John smiles back. Simon slowly moves their faces closer, their lips brushing against each other. John’s breath hitches, and his eyes flutter shut as he gets rid of the remaining distance between them and connects their lips.

The kiss is slow at first, barely any movement between them. Steadily, it picks up the pace, until they’re kissing softly, lips and the occasional tongue brushing together. Simon grips onto Johnny’s waist and deepens it, shoves his tongue into John’s mouth and kisses him with passion, fury.

Simon break them apart, mumbling into John’s lips, “Let me show you how much I love you, baby.”

John’s eyebrows furrow. “Whaddya mean, Simon?”

Simon climbs on top of Johnny and straddles his hips, his very erect package straining through the fabric of his boxers. John’s eyes go wide.

“Simon, I- I don’t know if that’s a good idea right now, I don’t- I don’t wanna do that just yet, yeah? We will, I promise, just not now, ‘kay?”

John is a virgin. He was always too scared, too ashamed to try and have sex. Not that he ever had the opportunity. No one up until Simon had seen him that way. He doesn’t want to do something to frightening right now, he wants to cuddle with Simon and be domestic, give it some time to get himself completely comfortable before they have sex.

Simon shakes his head. “I’ve been waiting for so long Johnny. I need this. I know you do too. I know you haven’t been able to make yourself cum, know how pent up you are. I’ll fix it. I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

Fuck , just how much does Simon know?!

He snickers. “I know so much about you baby. I watched you every night you thought you were alone in your room, touching yourself. Ravaging yourself for hours, breaking into tears eventually because you couldn’t cum.” He smiles even wider as John’s shocked expression. “That teddy bear I gave you was special, baby. It had a camera in there, so I could watch you when you were in your room. And you were such a good boy, aiming it right at your bed. Gave me such a good view.”

John’s blood runs cold. Simon had seen that? Fuck, fuck… icy panic runs through him. This isn’t normal. This isn’t healthy, isn’t right, isn’t something a normal person does when they’re in love. He was wrong before. He shouldn’t entertain this, he should push his feelings for Simon down and run for the fucking hills. What kind of man is Simon that he’s willing to rape someone he claims to love even though they’re begging him not to? This isn’t love. It isn’t. It can’t be. He needs to get out of here.

But he can’t. He can’t run, can’t even defend himself, and he’s about to get raped because of it. He could deal with the kidnapping, recognize that he probably needed it somehow, but not this. He doesn’t need this. This is Simon being purely selfish.

“Simon, fuck, we can talk about this, okay? Don’t… don’t do this just yet. I’m not ready.”

Simon shakes his head. “I know you are, Johnny. You can’t lie to me. I won’t fuck you yet, but I have to show you just how much I care. I have to show you just how much I want you. You’ll forgive me right?”

John shakes his head, “Simon, please -”

Simon leans over John’s form and crashes their lips together, one of his hands harshly gripping Johnny’s face to keep him still. This kiss isn’t soft and sweet like it was before, it’s harsh, violent even. John doesn’t like it. He wants it to stop.

He bites down hard on Simon’s lip, but it doesn’t faze the man at all. He bites down even harder, the taste of blood coating his mouth, and still Simon doesn’t stop.

Instead, that sick and twisted bastard smiles as he pulls away. “I know you like it rough, baby,” he says, his voice a grumbly, icy chill, “I like it that way too.”

John’s body is flung into panic mode now, and he’s kicking and twisting, screaming, trying to do anything to get Simon to stop. He can’t believe this is happening, no, it can’t be. This can’t be real. He’ll wake up in his bed in his apartment soon, and mutter to himself about what a weird dream he had. This can’t be about to happen to him.

Simon presses down on John’s body, crushing him, forcing him to still. He furrows his brows and leans over Johnny again, grabbing something from the nightstand. Two more cuffs.

Fuck, Johnny knows what that’s going to be used for. He tries to fight back, kick before he knows he won’t be able to, but Simon is quick and strong, gripping his ankle and quickly fastening it to one of the bedposts. The other one is strung up soon enough, his body now only capable of twitching and squirming, no major movement.

Tears are running down John’s face now. “Simon, I don’t want this! Are you listening to me? I don’t fucking want this! You’re hurting me!”

Simon snaps his gaze to John’s crying face. “‘M not hurting you, Johnny. I would never do that. I’m helping you, okay? I’m making you feel good. You’ll realize that soon.”

He grabs the crotch hole in John’s boxers and rips, his underwear turning to shreds and being flung from his body. Any resistance John shows is barely noticeable.

Simon gently runs his hands up and down Johnny’s sides, gently massaging him. His hands then make their way between John’s legs, feeling up his cock, his slicked up hole.

He smiles. “You’re so wet for me baby. I thought you said you didn’t want this?”

John shakes his head, screwing his eyes shut. Why is his body betraying him? He really doesn’t want this, would give anything for it to stop, but his body won’t listen. He can feel himself getting more aroused as Simon keeps touching him, his cock starting to throb and slick pouring out of his cunt.

Does he… does he actually want this? No. No- he doesn’t. He doesn’t . But if he doesn’t, then… why does it feel so good?

Simon keeps up with his teasing, his thumb circling his throbbing cock as two fingers circle around the entrance of his hole, threatening to plunge inside. John bites his lip to hold back his noises, not wanting to encourage Simon any further.

Simon is smiling to himself. He knew his Johnny was lying to him. His boy wants him so bad that he’s shaking and holding back his noises after only a few teasing touches. He slips a finger inside, relishing in the way John lightly gasps as he does so, his eyes snapping open.

“How long has it been since you last came, baby?” Simon asks, his voice deep and rumbly, more like the monster inside than himself.

John shakes his head, refusing to answer. Simon sighs. His boy is going to need some encouragement.

“I said,” he growls, roughly pinching Johnny’s cock between his thumb and forefinger, “How long has it been since you came, Johnny?”

John gasps in pain, electric shocks coursing through his body. “Fuck- Simon- fuck, shit- Oh- fuck fuck fuck-”

“Tell me and I’ll stop, baby.”

“I don’t know!” John shouts, “Months! It’s been- fuck- a while!”

Simon stops, his gentle and loving touches coming back. He tuts. “That’s no good. I gotta take care of you, make sure you’re satisfied, not all pent up and frustrated. I’m just taking care of you baby, can’t you see that?”

John breathes rapidly, the aftershocks of the pain still coursing through his body, mixing in with the pleasure he’s now being given. Simon dips two fingers in him, gently digging their way deeper and deeper and prodding at all the sensitive spots inside him.

Johnny isn’t sure why he hasn’t been able to cum. He’s tried, really he has. He fingered himself for hours, rode a dildo for an obscene amount of time, used a fully charged vibrator until it died. He just can’t quite make himself tip over the edge.

Maybe it’s because he was thinking of Simon every time, the way he would look on top of him, thrusting into him without mercy. Choking him, spitting on him, tugging at his hair, biting, hitting, slapping, fucking him. Maybe his body knew that it wasn’t enough, that he needed his Simon. That Simon is the only one that can make him feel good.

Maybe his body already knew that he belonged to Simon, and was just waiting for his mind to realize it.

Simon picks up his pace now, thrusting his fingers in and out as he prods at Johnny’s gspot. He smiles as he watches his boy come undone beneath him, so much sweeter than he thought it would be.

“You don’t have to be ashamed for wanting me, Johnny, for wanting this,” Simon softly says, “There’s no reason to be ashamed. You can be honest with yourself.”

John can’t say anything back, can only nod as he throws his head back in a silent scream. Fuck, he is ashamed, really doesn’t want this still, but it feels so good and he’s been waiting for this for fucking months. He’s been waiting to feel Simon’s fingers since the day he met him and saw how large his hands were.

Even though Simon is doing this to him, John still trusts him. He knows now he’s only doing this because he loves him so much, cares for him more than anyone else ever has. He’s the only one that’s ever felt that way towards Johnny.

Simon would never hurt him, right? That’s why he brought him here, to this place. To keep him safe. To care for him, love him, dote on him, in a way nobody else has. Maybe John should just give in, finally admit to himself just how much he likes this, beg Simon to keep going until he finally cums. There’s no reason to be ashamed over wanting the man he loves to make him feel good, yeah?

Simon isn’t being selfish or cruel. He’s helping Johnny. He’s giving him what he needs, even though Johnny thought he didn’t.

Johnny bites his lip and mumbles something.

“What is it, baby?” Simon says, not slowing his pace to let Johnny get his words out clearly.

“P-please, make me cum, Simon,” Johnny begs, trying to spread his legs even wider.

Simon smiles, wicked and dark. “I knew you’d come around, baby. Fuck, that makes me so happy.” He quickens to a brutal pace now, absolutely tearing Johnny up. “I’ll make you cum, baby, don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.”

Only a few seconds later and Johnny is moaning so loud it’s a scream, letting loose a string of curses and Scottish nonsense Simon doesn’t understand. Johnny squirts so hard it splatters against the wall, drenching Simon’s face, torso, and arm completely.

“There you go, baby,” Simon praises as he helps Johnny through his orgasm, “Knew ya could do it. Goooood fucking boy.”

Johnny sinks into the bed, his eyes half-lidded, a goofy smile on his face as he looks up at Simon.

He can’t believe he thought he didn’t want that.

Simon smiles at Johnny, then leans down and gives him a soft yet fierce kiss on his plush lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up and get some breakfast in you, sweet boy.”

Johnny cocks his head. “What about you, Simon? I can make you cum too.”

Simon shakes his head. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me baby.”

Simon unlocks Johnny, massages his sore ankles and wrists, then picks him up and carries him to the bathroom to run him a nice hot bath.

[ridingthatd]

'𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐒`

'needy jjk!man × fem!reader`

`filthy, dirty, kinky'

dominate, submissive, size kink, underwear sniffing kink, fat cock, breeding, knotting, nipple play, degrading kink, cummin in pants, etc...

you're a filthy slut aren't you? there's no point of denying it anymore. no point of feeling confused and frustrated one why you're such a perverted dirty whore, on why your pussy is always begging for cock, on why your mind is corrupted with lewd dirty thoughts that can't be said out loud.

you finally realized that you're just a pathetic needy slut who needs a fat cock to turn her insides into mush from rutting into her cervix. who needs her dirty fantasies to be true. and you have finally met someone who can turn them into reality. someone's who's just as needy and pathetic as you.

"aw does my sweet baby wants me to suck on his little hard nipples? hm?" you coo at your boyfriend, who has a whiney frown on his face. his mouth falls open as he whines giving you a full view of his wet tongue that you wanna suck on.

"tch, i told you to stop calling me that" he huffs out embarrassed at how turned on he is by your words. you chuckle before squeezing one of his nipples into your mouth while you pinch the other between your fingers. he immediately gasp at the contact of your wet warm tongue sucking hard on his tender nipple.

his fat cock was so hard in his boxers, you can see the outline of his dick leaking and twitching, like it wants to jump free out of his now tight boxers; how cute. you can feel your boyfriends steamy breath fanning against your face.

you don't even have to open your eyes to know what face he has on right now, you already know his eyes would into the back of his head, mouth half opened as drool runs down his pink lips. grunting and huffing like a dog in heat.

your boyfriend was a big guy, he was never the type of guy that you would expect to be a manwhore. but look at him now, all whiney and needy as you grind your hand against his hard on.

he beg you to slip your hand inside- he wants to feel your warm hands on his leaking fat cock, sloppily stroking it but instead you tell him you won't touch his cock unless he squirt his warm seeds, filling his underwear with hot cum.

and that's exactly what he does, it only took you a couple of strokes through the fabric while you suck on his nipple to get him cumming hard in his boxer. he lay down trembling, while he watch you through heavy eyelid stripping him from his boxers.

taking it in your hand just for your tongue to peak out and nastly lick the cum that's on the boxer. he groan watching you. but you don't stop there, you take the boxer and place it on your dripping pussy. grinding the boiling cum filled fabric against your pussy, coating your needy cunt with his seeds.

you start humping his underwear, eyes rolling behind your skull at the feeling of the rough fabric against your clit and the warmess of his cum grinding against your pussy. "you fucking dirty whore" your boyfriend growls out as he watches you, causing you to whimper loudly at his comment.

"yea? you want to be talked to like a dumb fuckmutt? pathetic slut" he finally breaks as he shoved you under him. finally getting you under him, seeing you break and try to hang onto whatever consciousness you had before his cock turned your insides into mush from rutting constant cervix kisses into your greedy cunt.

shushing your cries when you claim it's too much. pinning you deeper under him. finally settling down after rounds of abusing your cunt. just to pin you under his huge weight and hold you like a stuffed animal on his cock. letting you whine and squirm at the fullness in your belly from holding all of the constant loads he has rutted back inside until your pussy stop and just accept it....

[hellokittyish]

part one here.

★ thinking about mutual masturbation on facetime with ex!satoru which starts off with you just staring at him in some sort of daze, wondering what on earth possessed you to pick up the call in the first place. this is a mistake, you know that... so why aren't you hanging up already?

but before you can dwell too long on the answer to that question, your train of thought is rudely interrupted by a particularly loud moan echoing through the speaker.

“mmh… you actually didn’t decline for once," the white-haired menace gasps out, the slick sounds of his hand gliding up and down his cock only picking up in volume as he lays eyes on you. “shit— you don't know how much i've missed seein’ that pretty face of yours, baby.”

“you’re so shameless, satoru.” you mutter, lacing your tone with as much disdain as you can muster; but the way your own hand somehow snakes its way beneath the waistband of your sweatpants and into your panties tells an entirely different tale of how this whole situation is really making you feel.

“yeah,” he muses in an unapologetic hum, making a show of tilting the camera down to give you a better view of where he's currently thumbing his leaky, blushing tip. “but… ah— so are you, otherwise you would’ve blocked my new number the second i sent you that dick pic.”

“w-well how do you know i wasn't about to press the block button right when you called me and i accidentally clicked accept instead?” you shoot back through teeth which are clenched partly in annoyance and partly in an effort to hold back letting your own pleasure show on your face.

“nah, don’t give me that bullshit,” satoru snorts amusedly, leaning in closer to the screen and tilting his head to the side, snowy lashes fluttering seductively as his bright eyes stare knowingly into yours. “if you’re not enjoying this, then i want you to show me that your hands aren’t in your pants right now rubbing that pretty little pussy.”

shit. of course he'd be able to see through you that easily — he is your ex, after all. but no... you can’t let him win just yet. so, as subtly as possible, you pull your hand from your panties and hold it up to the phone screen, hoping against hope that the darkness of your room hides the wetness of your palm.

“hah. nice try, baby,” he drawls smugly, smiling so wide now that both of his annoyingly cute dimples are on full display; and it’s deliberate, too. he knows full well they were always your weakness. “...but i can see your sweet juices coating those cute fingers from here.”

and he knows he has you right where he wants you when you still don't hang up the call like you both know you should, instead just shoving your hand right back into your panties and rubbing messy circles over your clit while keeping direct eye-contact with him — trying to beat him at his own game, are you? oh, how he's missed you.

so he picks up the pace of his jostling fist around his cock, candy-pink lower lip caught between his pearly teeth as he tries to catch even a small glimpse of your bare skin through the screen; and god, only you could make him act this pathetic, this desperate. "fuck... please, pretty, y'gotta give me something to work with here. h-how about you pull your top up just a little for toru, hm?"

and you've already let this escalate too far to back out now, so you decide to throw caution to the wind and tug at the edge of your oversized tee just enough so that your bare tits spring free, courtesy to your preference for not wearing a bra around your apartment.

"o-oh, just look at those. i missed my girls s'much. bet you wish they were in my mouth right now, huh?" satoru rasps out, balls tightening to an almost painful degree as he reaches down to pay the heavy, neglected sacs some attention by gently fondling them.

and you, having finally caved and slid a finger into your fluttering hole, can only respond with a soft whine as you reach up to knead a breast with your free hand, the image of his skilled mouth suckling on them like he always used to making your much-too-empty cunt clench around your digit with need.

and that singular sweet, sweet sound from your lips that he's been deprived of hearing for months is all it takes for him to finally bust a load all over his chest and hand, goopy white streaks tainting his previously unmarred pale skin as his entire body trembles with a pleasure only you can give him.

and when he eventually manages to compose himself enough to glance back down at the facetime and realize that you're still trying to reach your own climax, your meek little fingers clearly not enough to finish the job, satoru has the absolute audacity to lean right in close to the screen and mutter out a cheeky…

“hey, if y'want me to come over and help you with that then all you gotta do is agree to get back together with me, baby.”

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[gojoscinnamonroll]

mdni under the cut •

best friend! sukuna who sneaks into your room through your window uninvited as you’re watching some random comedy show in the middle of the night to “hang out”.

(well.. actually, he isn’t your best friend. he’s really your boyfriend, but your parents don’t approve of your relationship with him, so you have to keep things secret.)

best friend! sukuna who scares you by slamming your window open and jumping in with a “what’s up idiot” as you jolted in your bed and gave him a piercing glare.

“sukuna! what on earth are you doing!!” exasperating and clutching your chest as if you were about to have a heart attack. “if my parents hear or see you here, its game over for the both of us.”

best friend! sukuna who honestly does not care because you’re his girlfriend so he will simply come see you whenever he pleases. and in this time of the night, he needs you right now. “oh nothing too crazy” he looks at his nails with a teasing smirk, “just wanted to see how my little brat is doing that’s all.” as he walks over to your plushie filled, silk, comfy bed and takes a seat.

best friend! sukuna who pretends to be interested in whatever show you’re currently watching as he slides his huge and veiny hands up your thighs and into your pajama shorts.

you began protesting, “kuna, we could be caught this isn’t a good i-“ your breath hitched as he starts rubbing circles with his thumb over your clit.

“lock the door then girl.” rolling his eyes.

best friend! sukuna who pushes your shorts to the side, revealing your pretty puffy folds to his enamored eyes and licks a long stripe down your slit, making you slightly whimper— teasing you with his tongue and middle finger until he softly grabs you by the ankles and tells you to get face down ass up for him.

best friend! sukuna who pumps his thick cock a few times before slowly pushing himself into your sopping wet cunt and letting out a low groan. he’s thrusting in and out of you being careful at first, so that your parents don’t suspect anything, but the way you were gripping around his monstrous dick had him going insane and began fucking into you deeper, teasing your g-spot.

“su- mmph fuck!” becoming cock drunk off of him, tongue lolling out, eyes rolling into the back of your head. and your sly little boyfriend — best friend knowing what exactly you like and how to make you feel good, kept thrusting all the way into you to make you moan as loud as you can on purpose then taunting you, “shhh, you wouldn’t your father to know his sweet little girl is getting her guts rearranged by the boy she’s not supposed to be messing around with, now would you?” devilish grin creeping onto his lips.

best friend! sukuna who’s favorite thing is fucking you dumb on his cock to the point you’re seeing white and can’t conjecture a single thought, but still littering sweet praises in your ear such as, “you’re such a good girl, taking this dick mhm”, “fuck! you’re so tight for me.” “you feel so good gripping around me like that.”

best friend! sukuna who shoots ropes of hot cum into you just as you come undone on him still inside of you, legs beginning to shake. “oh hoho, silly girl… i’m not done with you just yet.” laying you down on your back to stuff his mess back into you with his still hardened length.

best friend! sukuna who loves fucking you full of his seed as he looks into your eyes while he’s on top and cupping your cheeks as lewd noises come from beneath you both.

best friend! sukuna who milks you of everything you got, on the brink of crying from overstimulation and how hard you were about to orgasm. “c- i’m gonna cummmm ‘kuna!”

best friend! sukuna who licks the shell of your ear and leave open mouthed kisses on your jaw as he tells you to let go and cum all over his cock like the filthy slut good girl that you are.

best friend! sukuna who cleans you up with a towel he got from your closet and leaves sweet, loving kisses on your temples as you two cuddle and fall asleep together in each other’s arms in your bed.

best friend! sukuna who wakes up at 6am to leave before your parents wake up and gives you a goodbye/good morning kiss before he exits through your window.

best friend! sukuna and you who thought you two were slick and pretty sure that your parents wouldn’t suspect anything ever happened the previous night.

until you walk into the kitchen for breakfast to your parents asking what all the noise was coming from your room last night and asking where the marks on your neck came from.

oops…

likes + reblogs appreciated <3 please don't steal/copy/modify my works!

[fict1onallyobsessed]

OKAY OKAY COULD YOU PLEASE WRITE SMTH ABOUT SEVIKA PROTECING READER BECAUSE OF SOMETHING LIKE HERE ON THIS PIC SHE PROTECTS JINX AND ISHA??

im sorry if i wrote something wrong but english is not my first language😭🙏

OF COURSE !!!!!!! I have an idea for this...

I got a little carried away and gave you more LOL sorry

Sevika x Fem!Reader

She grabbed you before you could process the fan being turned on. Thankfully, you weren't too far from the table that protected you both, otherwise you would have been swept with the air flow violently.

Your side hurt. The shot Caitlyn took must have not only pierced your skin but the force broke your rib too. Whatever the gun was made of was strong enough to go through the stone pillar behind you partially as well.

Safe to say it hurt as fuck.

You clutched your side and winced as Sevika crouched with you in front of her, the stone table keeping you sat up, but barely. Sevika's new metal arm grabbed onto the table and kept her put, the other going to hold your side with you.

You weren't sure whether your adrenaline was keeping you lucid or if the shot wasn't truly that bad. Regardless, you didn't want to hang around much longer.

You looked up at your girlfriend, head slightly bouncing off the stone behind you as you rested it. She looked worried, and although nothing but pain was filling your sense, you found the energy to sigh and show her a small smile.

Her hair was flying around with the wind, her face showing slight worry and mostly focus as she tried to keep you both behind the table.

"You'll be fine." She mouthed, and you couldn't do much more but nod. You trusted her. You believed her...but the blood slowly seeping through the cracks of your fingers, and onto her hand covering yours, it was looking more like you were not going to be fine.

The wind seemed everlasting and the longer you sat there, waiting for it to stop, the dizzier you became.

You wanted to see Sevika's face for as long as you could. Taking in her scowl of concentration, the barely noticeable glint of nervousness in her eye when she met yours, the shiny scar across her cheek.

You thought she was leaning down to get out of the wind more, but instead she leaned down to your ear and spoke through the loud fan.

"Don't look at me like that." She spoke it as a command as her hand squeezed your bleeding side.

"Like what?" You scoffed quietly, immediately feeling the burn in your rib.

"Like you're about to say goodbye. You're fine."

You hummed and looked back up at her when she pulled away, leaving no room for discussion.

She was so gorgeous, holding you, protecting you, as if you were about to disappear any minute.

Your head spun so much you didn't even notice the fan turn off. Sevika lifted you off the ground and instructed Jinx, who was also carrying a girl, where to go. It all came out as muffled to you though, as the blood loss slowly stared winning, and you passed out.

When you woke up, the first thing you saw was two heads looking down at you. Jinx's braids tickled your nose, while the other girls hair wasn't even long enough to reach her eyebrows. You groaned, immediately going in to hold your side as a reflex to find it bandaged.

"I told you to let her rest." Sevika's voice rung out in a disappointed tone as she walked in with a bunch of fresh bandages in her hand. Presumably for you.

You were in Silco's office, laid down on his sofa. The table was covered with medical supplies, alcohol bottles and jinx's crafts, but your eyes ended up laying upon Sevika. Her worried expression had you worried.

"How are you feeling?" Sevika asked, looking down at you as she put the obnoxious amount of wraps on the table.

"Trust you to get shot." Jinx scoffed playfully as she stared down at you, knowing damn well that bullet was meant for her. "Took it like a champ though!"

You chuckled back and attempted to sit up, but Sevika was faster and pushed you back down, shaking her head.

"I'm fine." You spoke, but Sevika wouldn't relent. She kept you laying down as she changed your bandages carefully. Your eyes fell from Sevika onto the little girl who was still staring down at you. "Who would have thought Jinx took in a stray. What's your name?"

"Her name is Isha. She's sticking around." Jinx replied matter-of-factly, a small smirk on her face as she said it. It made you giggle a bit.

"Alright, out." Sevika stood up from crouching beside you as she finished your bandages. Jinx took Isha and left, excited to show her some of her trinkets to get her mind off of...recent events. "She needs to rest."

"I'm alright." You spoke, reaching out for Sevika's hand to help you up. "How bad was it?"

"Bad enough to have me worried." She sighed, sitting beside you and letting you lean on her.

"Sorry." You sighed back, almost identically. "And you know, thank you."

She wrapped her hand around your shoulders and kissed the top of your head.

"Anytime."

[readwritealldayallnight]

When Gaz walks into the bases common room, his goal for making his third cup of tea of the day is diverted when he catches sight of Soap’s expression across the room.

The Scot looks absolutely befuddled, eyes wide and sitting slack-jawed across from his Lieutenant. Gaz walks over to the men, catching the very end of Ghost telling his companion to ‘piss off’.

“Alright?” He asks the lads, raising a brow in question.

“Ye oughta hear the shite LT’s tryin’ to convince me of over here!” Soap is all too eager to inform his friend. Ghost grunts, leaning further back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and rolling his eyes as far back as he can, as if to tell the Sergeant in front of him ‘this is why I don’t tell you anything’.

Because that’s almost exactly what Ghost is thinking at that moment. He’d just entered the common room when he’d spotted the back of an all too familiar head, fiddling and distracted with the microwave.

When he’d walked up behind the younger man and echoed his call sign out in greeting, his mask hid the smug smirk that appeared at the jump Soap gave, uttering a loud “Shit!” in surprise.

Soap went on to complain about how he was apparently attempting to jumpstart his heart, drawling on about how the Lieutenant was always sneaking up on people like this, moving quiet as a Ghost.

“My missus says the same thing.” The masked man had mentioned casually, as if his chest hadn’t automatically puffed out in pride, standing up a little straighter at the mention of his girl.

“She says you’re too quiet? Aye, LT, think a lot o’ couples have complaints of the sorts in bed ya see-”

“Shut it, you prick.” Ghost quickly shut him down, ending that line of thought. “She says I walk too quietly in the flat. Accidentally scaring her all the time, poor thing.”

At that, Soap’s eyebrows had shot sky high, keen to hear more about the big bad Ghost’s life of apparent domestic bliss, turning him into an absolute sap.

Ghost wouldn’t normally volunteer information about his personal life. But he just loves you so much. And now that he’s not only thinking about you because he is all the time, but also talking about you, his mouth didn’t seem to want to stop talking about you.

“She put her foot down with me recently.” He’d added with a deep chuckle.

“She did what?” Soap had asked bewildered.

“She called it ‘putting her foot down’. I walked up behind her when she was doin’ dishes. Poor bird didn’t hear me and dropped somethin’.”

“Oh, no! Simon! That’s my favourite mug!!” You’d cried out, watching your most treasured ceramic shattering on the tile floor of the kitchen, spreading every which way across the room.

“M’sorry lovie. Didn’t mean to scare ya.” He’d sheepishly responded, reaching to turn off the running faucet. He’d grabbed the dish towel and gave it to you to dry your hands, lifted you by the waist and set you on the counter with ease, not wanting you to get hurt with your bare feet. He’d turned, already in search of a broom and dust pan.

“Again. You mean I’m sorry for scaring you again.” You had corrected him, narrowing your eyes. “I can’t take it anymore Simon. You don’t need to be stealthy at home, my love, you can make noise when you walk. In fact I need you to make noise when you walk at home!”

Simon had nodded along, diligently sweeping up every piece of your ruined mug.

“I’ll try harder sweetheart. I promise.” He’d offered, dumping the remnants into the bin before he’d walked up to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist as yours slid around his shoulders.

The very next weekend he’d taken you to a local pottery painting class to make up for the lost mug, as well as you telling him off (because yeah, that was what Simon considered you putting your foot down with him, and he never wanted it to happen again if he could help it).

Ghost finds himself grinning further under his mask at the memory however, of how cute you looked as you tried to raise your voice at him, laying down the law in your shared home.

“And so what’d ya tell her?” Soap asked, curious to know how his Lieutenant had reacted, but more so if the man would even reply or rather would tell him to fuck off.

“I didn’t tell her anythin’.” Simon had uttered. “Did as my missus asked me to do, and that was the end of the story. Well, s’pose I did I tell her I’d look into mug making classes or whatever.”

“…”

“You what?!”