#now months and months later i tried to fact-check this. and i did not find that pdf again

[sweetshuga]

𝑴𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒎𝒆 ✧ 𝑪.𝑺 [+𝟏𝟖]

ⓘ 𝑺𝑴𝑼𝑻! ⋆ cursing ⋆ bsf!chris ⋆ pet names ⋆ Chris gets hard and tries (but fails) to hide it ⋆ backshots ⋆ degradation kink ⋆ dirty talk ⋆ spanking ⋆ (slight) manhandling ⋆ rough sex ⋆ creampie + more.

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒕... Your boyfriend broke up with you before you could show him the new lingerie you bought so Chris, your best friend, agreed to let you model for him.

You had just finished unpacking all the things you had bought from the intimate apparel shop you frequented. You were ecstatic to model the sexy pieces for your boyfriend of 2 months.

A smile plastered on your face when you saw your phone light up with a few notifications from your boyfriend, Jesse. You quickly took your phone from the nightstand and opened your messages to check what he had sent.

Your smile faltered almost immediately when you saw the messages. You could not believe your eyes.

"Hey, uh, I know we were supposed to meet up later today, but I don’t think this is working out. Let’s break up."

Did this guy just break up with you? Over text?

You groaned in annoyance as you threw your phone on your bed after replying with a simple "Okay". You plopped down beside your phone, face down and sprawled out. "And I had just bought new lingerie too… Asshole." You muttered into the bed, but before you could sulk any more, you suddenly sat upright, having remembered something.

"I can just model it for Chris, he’ll be fine with it… right?" You asked yourself, a hint of uncertainty creeping into your mind.

You weren’t sure if Chris would be up for it. It was something rather intimate, after all. "Only one way to find out." You mumbled to yourself as you took your phone from the bed beside you and clicked on Chris’ contact and pressed call, putting your phone up to your ear with bated breath as you waited for him to pick up.

On the third ring, a raspy voice picked up the call. "Hey, what’s up?" Chris mumbled, yawning afterwards — making it clear that he was woken up by your call. "Sorry if I woke you up, but um… Can I come over?" "Come over? Now? Why?" You looked at the digital clock on your nightstand beside your bed, seeing that it was in fact a bit late.

"It’s only 8 pm? Anyway, about the ‘why’ question... Jesse just broke up with me over text and I was gonna model some lingerie for him, but because of us breaking up I don’t have anyone to model it for-" "Fine, just shut up and come over." Chris interrupted you mid-sentence, not wanting to hear you ramble on about yet another breakup after just waking up.

You felt a sense of relief, hiding it with a scoff. "Changed your mind quickly huh? Whatever, I’ll be there in 10, don’t go back to sleep dumbass." You ended the call after hearing him chuckle and mumble a playful "yes ma’am."

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

You arrived at the triplets place, watching as Chris laid lazily on the couch, covered in a fluffy blanket. "At least you’re awake, but uh, where are Nick and Matt?" You asked, setting your bag – full of lingerie – down on the couch beside his head, making him look up at you.

"They’re out." Chris stated, ignoring your sarcastic comment. "Well, go on — model for me." He crossed his arms, still laying on the couch.

You rolled your eyes, mumbling about him being demanding as you rummaged through the bag and took out a light pink set — lacy, sheer lingerie. Chris’ eyes widened by a fraction as he took in the sheer fabric in your hands before you sauntered into the bathroom to change.

A few minutes went by and you emerged from the bathroom with the lingerie set on, your arms and hands covering the sheer parts. Chris had sat up while you were in the bathroom, his breath hitching softly when he took in your lingerie-clad body.

"Well, um, here’s this." You mumbled, suddenly feeling shy about how little the bra and underwear covered. "Um, that’s-that’s something." Chris stammered, silently trying to will his dick to behave as he adjusted his position, his eyes shamelessly tracing over your curves before snapping back up to your face.

"I’ll try the next one on." You quickly grabbed another pair and scurried off to the bathroom, but not before Chris caught a glimpse of your nipples through the sheer bra as you took your hands away from your chest to grab the next lingerie.

Damn, you were trying to kill him, weren’t you?

𓆩♡𓆪

You came out of the bathroom with a navy set on, modest and cute but also adorned with lace on the edges — adding a hint of allure. "Wow, this one’s really cute." Chris breathed out, trying to keep his voice steady and eyes on your face.

You hadn’t noticed it yet, but he was getting a full on hard-on just from you modelling the lingeries. His chest heaved slightly due to his breathing getting more and more ragged.

"Yeah? Right? I like this one the most." You grinned, feeling less shy as you took the next pair, a longer peach colored sheer top with matching sheer thong.

Damnit.

Chris was helpless as he watched you go back into the bathroom with the see through fabrics in hand, knowing he was probably going to get blue balls at this rate from the sexy shit you were modeling for him. He cursed under his breath and adjusted himself before you finished changing, making sure that the blanket covered his lower half well.

You came back into the living room with the set on, the flowy fabric of the top only making your body look mouth-watering, and the thong left little to the imagination.

Chris nearly groaned out loud at the sight, his dick twitching in his sweats before he quickly tried to remind himself that you were his best friend. Well, safe to say that his dick had other ideas — clearly.

"What do you think? I really like this one, it’s comfortable." You absentmindedly rubbed the soft fabric of the sheer top between your thumb and index finger, looking down at it.

"Yeah… it looks good — really good..." He mumbled, almost like he was in a trance as his eyes slowly raked over your body in an appraising way that you seemed to – surprisingly and naïvely – not have noticed yet.

𓆩♡𓆪

You were now standing a few feet away from Chris with the last pieces on, which was a three set lingerie. Red lace bra and underwear with a matching sheer robe that fell down just around mid-thigh.

Chris was sooo close to losing it.

He shifted in his seat and that’s when you finally noticed the tent on the blanket around his crotch area — you knew immediately what it was. A gasp fell from your lips, catching Chris off guard and making him look at you with a shameful look, probably having noticed from your expression and reaction that you’ve seen his boner.

"Are you…" You trailed off, not sure if you should say the word or not. Your eyes darted down to the bulge again before snapping back up to his face, watching as he slowly nodded his head. "I know-I know what you’re thinking and I know I’m not supposed to be reacting this way given our friendship… but I just can’t help it when you’re standing in front of me practically naked."

"So you’re blaming it all on me?" You huffed jokingly to see his reaction. Chris immediately shut himself up, his eyes widening as he realised how his words could be misinterpreted. "N-no, of course not!" He quickly denied, slowly standing up and towering over you.

"That’s not what I meant, c’mon… are you serious?" Chris groaned in annoyance, although his expression bordered on pleading. You burst out laughing, obviously amused at your own little stunt. "I’m just fucking with you, but seriously though, you’re hard just from me modeling those?" You questioned between giggles, gesturing vaguely at the pile of lingerie on the couch.

Chris sighed, his embarrassment eating him alive. "Fuck you." He mumbled, glaring down at your giggly figure, watching as your chest rose and fell, shaking slightly with your giggles. He swallowed thickly, feeling his dick throb with need.

He needed you so damn badly.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Your hands scrambled for purchase on the bed as Chris’ hips slammed against your ass with loud slaps, making your body jerk forward with each thrust.

Lewd, wet squelches could be heard from his cock ramming into your – absolutely wet – cunt over and over again.

"Haahh…" Chris breathed out, grunting as he fucked you into oblivion. "Can’t fuckin’ believe I hadn’t done this sooner, y’feel sooo good." He chuckled breathlessly, his hand coming down hard on your reddened ass before sinking his fingers in the supple flesh.

Your gummy walls squeezed his shaft when he slammed into your sweet spot and a loud moan of his name was muffled by him pushing your face into his pillow. "Here?" He slammed into that spot again, but with more precision this time, causing your body to jolt due to the sudden pleasure.

"Feels good huh?" He taunted, knowing you were too pleasure-drunk to think clearly. A smirk creeped onto his face as he kept your head firmly on the bed, arching your back sharply as he kept pounding into your sweet spot.

You were seeing stars.

"Fucking slut, and to think you said shit about me being like your older brother, ha!" He huffed out an amused laugh. "Best friends my ass, you can’t even stay coherent while being fucked by your best friend huh?" He mocked, his pace not faltering one bit.

His dirty words along with the taunts only made your mind blank with pleasure, your orgasm approaching terrifyingly quickly.

A few more brutal thrusts and you were cumming hard.

You cried out in pleasure and your inner walls milked his cock, fluttering rhythmically as your pussy tried to greedily pull him in deeper.

Your orgasm triggered his own.

The feeling of your pussy contracting around his length was too much for him and he came with a loud groan, burying his face in your hair as he bottomed out in you — his warm seed filling you deep inside. His hips jerked against your ass with each spurt of cum.

"Fuuuck, I might get addicted." Chris murmured into your hair.

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𝒆𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉 𝒊𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒖𝒂𝒈𝒆.ᐟ | 𝒘𝒄 – 𝟏.𝟔 𝒌 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 @nickgurl4life (sorry for taking so long TT)

[yuujispunches]

Babysitting emergency ~ R.S.

Pairing: Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

Summary: Sukuna is in charge of babysitting his little nephew for an evening, should be easy enough right? Turns out it isn’t so he finds himself knocking at his annoying neighbour’s door.

CW (content warning): cuteness overload, modern AU (no curses), ooc Sukuna (he’s kinda nice), Sukuna is an architect for literally mo reason, some light cursing.

AN: This is way too long because I got too into it hahahah but I think really like how this turned out 🤍 English isn’t my first language so I’m sorry if there’re any mistakes. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! :)

Requests are open so feel free to send yours! (you can check the list of character I write for on my pinned post)

Masterlist

There were very few things that could rattle Sukuna Ryomen. Earthquakes, client meltdowns, the occasional burst pipe on-site, those were all things he could handle effortlessly. But standing in his living room in a faded black hoodie, sweatpants, and socks that hadn’t matched since 9 a.m., he was definitely rattled.

The source of his current crisis was none other than a pink-haired five-year-old named Yuji, his nephew.

The kid was adorable. When he was asleep. Awake? He was a human pinball, a juice-powered chaos gremlin with endless questions and zero fear.

“Uncle Suku, can I feed the fish again?” Yuji called, already climbing onto the kitchen counter.

“We don’t have a fish!” Sukuna snapped, catching a juice box midair. “That’s my garlic press!”

Yuji grinned, completely unbothered, as he jumped down and ran in circles around the coffee table, dragging what used to be a potted plant behind him like a leash.

It was only noon.

Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose. His sister had begged him, really begged him, to babysit while she and her husband attended a last-minute emergency at her office. He’d said yes because he was a responsible adult with a flexible work-from-home schedule and because, well, he wasn’t heartless.

But this? This was slowly turning into a war of attrition.

He tried distracting Yuji with cartoons. Didn’t work. Tried coloring. Yuji drew on the wall. Tried snacks. The living room now smelled like stale applesauce and childhood regrets.

Sukuna’s eye twitched as a toy firetruck zipped past him and hit the front door.

He needed backup. But not just any backup. His neighbor. He stared at the wall separating his apartment from hers.

You’d lived next door for about six months. Too cheerful. Too nosy. Always humming in the hallways and leaving little potted plants outside your door like this was some rom-com set instead of a downtown apartment building.

And you loved to get on his nerves.

Whenever he bumped into you in the hallway, it was like sparring with a cartoon character. You smiled too much. Talked too much. You once called his very expensive minimalist furniture “cold serial killer chic” and he still hadn’t forgiven you.

But Yuji liked you. A lot. And right now? Sukuna was desperate.

With a long-suffering sigh, he knocked on your door. It opened a few seconds later, revealing you in leggings, a hoodie, and fuzzy socks. You were holding a mug that said BITE ME in cheerful bubble letters.

Your eyes widened. “Well, well. If it isn’t Mr. Brooding himself. Need to borrow a cup of angst?”

“Help me.” Sukuna said flatly.

You blinked. “Sorry, come again?”

He cleared his throat. “I said… Help. Me.” He said it like the mere act of those words leaving his lips physically hurt him. It probably did in fact.

You leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. “Did you swallow a thumbtack, or did you actually just ask me for help?”

“Yuji.” He said simply, gesturing behind him. A loud crash followed.

Your smile widened. “Say no more.”

——————————————————————————

Fifteen minutes later, you were in his apartment, crouched on the carpet, helping Yuji build a pillow fort. The kid had immediately latched onto you like a magnet, and you? You looked completely at ease.

Sukuna watched, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

“Okay, Yuji, your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to guard this pillow castle from the evil broccoli overlords.”

“Broccoli is gross!” Yuji shouted.

“Exactly!” You said solemnly. “They must be stopped.”

Yuji saluted you. “Yes, General!”

Sukuna felt like he’d stepped into an alternate universe. One were his heart did weird things when he saw you laughing at something his little nephew did. He wasn’t handling it well.

“How do you do that?” He asked finally.

You didn’t even look up. “Do what?”

“That. Handle him like you’re some sort of… tiny human whisperer.”

You shrugged. “It’s not that hard. He just wants to play. And not be barked at like he’s a military recruit.”

Sukuna scowled. “I wasn’t… Okay, maybe a little. But in my defense, he colored on my tax documents.”

You laughed. “Honestly? That’s kind of iconic.”

He groaned. “Of course you’d say that.”

Yuji popped up from behind the couch. “Uncle Suku, can she stay forever?”

He sputtered. “No.”

“Yes.” you said at the same time.

Yuji laughed, then returned to his fort.

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Thanks for stepping in.”

You waved him off. “I love this stuff. Chaos is my natural habitat.”

“I can tell.” He muttered, eyeing the glitter stuck to your sleeve.

You grinned. “Admit it. You’re relieved I came over.”

He looked away. “I… You’re not entirely useless, I guess.”

“A glowing review.” You said. “Should I write that on my resume?”

You ended up staying all afternoon. Sukuna tried to pretend he was annoyed by it, but the truth was… the apartment felt lighter with you in it. Your laughter made Yuji light up. Your presence calmed the room. You even helped him clean up after Yuji crashed for a nap on the couch, completely worn out from fort-building and broccoli slaying.

“You want tea?” He asked, half-grumbling.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you offering because you’re being polite, or because you’ve realized I’m delightful?”

He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m offering because you stopped him from destroying my apartment and my will to live. Tea is the least I can do.”

“Romantic.” You said dryly. “But sure.”

He handed you a mug and sat across from you at the table, eyes half-lidded, arms folded.

The silence was surprisingly… comfortable.

“I still don’t get why you hate me.” You said after a moment.

“I don’t hate you.”

“You kind of do.” You smirked.

He exhaled. “You’re loud.”

“And?”

“Too cheerful.”

“And?”

“You rearranged the mailboxes that one time.”

You laughed. “Because they were in the wrong order. You’re such a Virgo.”

“I’m a Scorpio.”

“That tracks too.”

He gave you a look, but the edge in his eyes was softened by something else. Amusement?

“Okay.” You said, sipping your tea. “Let’s lay it out. You’re grumpy and tense. I’m sunshine and rainbows. Opposites attract.”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” You said with a shrug. “Is it working?”

Sukuna opened his mouth, then shut it. For the first time in years Ryomen Sukuna had been rendered speechless. The silence stretched for a bit.

Then he stood and walked to the sink, muttering, “You’re insufferable.”

You smiled behind your mug. Because you knew that in Sukuna language that wasn’t a no.

——————————————————————————

You came over again the next weekend.

This time, Sukuna asked. Not begged. Not pleaded. Just a text that read:

You busy? Yuji’s back. Bring sugar.

You arrived ten minutes later with cupcakes and a grin.

Over the next few weeks, it became a pattern. Sukuna watched Yuji during the day. You popped over to help when you could. The three of you became an oddly functional little trio.

You learned that Sukuna was surprisingly good at drawing. That he secretly loved cooking shows. That he kept extra fuzzy blankets but pretended they were for guests.

He learned that you used sarcasm as a shield. That your last relationship ended because someone told you to “stop being so much.” That you secretly worried you were too loud for quiet people like him.

He told you, one night while Yuji was snoring in the other room “You’re not too much. People just suck.”

You smiled so hard it hurt.

He noticed. He was utterly screwed.

——————————————————————————

The day it all changed, Yuji had just left with his mom, and the apartment was quiet again. You were helping Sukuna pack away the last of the kid’s toys.

You held up a plastic lightsaber. “I’m keeping this.”

“You literally didn’t buy it.”

“I earned it with emotional labor.”

Sukuna smirked. “You’re ridiculous.”

You put the lightsaber down and looked at him.

He was closer than you thought. Still in his black hoodie, hair a little messy, he had red finger paint smudged on his left cheek and his eyes were dark and unreadable.

“I like you, you know?” You said softly.

He didn’t respond right away. Then he stepped forward. His hand found your waist.

And just like that he kissed you.

It was warm and slow and soft in a way that made your heart ache. No snark. No banter. Just the press of his lips on yours and the quiet hum of understanding between two people who had somehow, impossibly, become each other’s favorite chaos. When he pulled back, you blinked in shock, your heart almost beating out of your chest.

“Wow.” You whispered. “That was…”

“I should’ve done that weeks ago.” He said.

You smiled. “You absolutely should’ve.”

He hesitated, only for a moment, just enough to make you squirm a bit. “Wanna go out sometime? Like, a real date. No Legos involved.”

You looped your arms around his neck. “Only if you promise to let me win at Mario Kart.”

“Not a chance.”

“Then I’m in.” You beamed at him.

——————————————————————————

The first date was his idea. Which, honestly? Surprised both of you.

It started with a knock on your door, three days after the kiss. You opened it expecting mail or a neighbor with a Wi-Fi emergency. Instead, there was Sukuna, in a navy-blue jacket, holding a small paper bag and looking like he’d spent twenty minutes pacing before mustering the courage to ring your bell.

He cleared his throat. “Put on shoes. I’m taking you somewhere.”

You blinked. “Wow. So romantic. You didn’t even offer me a rose or tell me to pack a bag for a mysterious getaway.”

“I brought food.” He held up the bag like it was a peace treaty.

“What is it?”

“Gyoza from that place you like. The one with the sarcastic waiter.”

You smiled, grabbing your coat. “You’re lucky I’m easy.”

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “That’s debatable”, but his ears were pink.

——————————————————————————

The date started at a park. Sukuna led you to a quiet, tree-lined path, where you sat on a bench under the soft glow of streetlamps. The weather was cool, the sky cloudy, and for some reason, it felt oddly cinematic.

“You brought me to a park?” You teased. “What are we, eighty?”

“I considered a rooftop, but someone’s afraid of pigeons.”

“I was attacked once.” You said firmly. “They’re sky rats.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and handed you the gyoza bag. “Eat before you get even more dramatic.”

You bit into a dumpling, humming contentedly. “You know, I never expected you to be the ‘pack a picnic and stroll through the park’ kind of guy.”

“I’m not. But you like this kind of stuff.”

You paused mid-chew. He kept looking straight ahead, refusing to meet your eyes.

“You remembered I like this?”

He shrugged. “You talk a lot. Stuff sticks.”

Your chest tightened with that stupid, fluttery ache that happened every time he did something unexpectedly sweet.

And of course, being you, you couldn’t help but push a little. “So… is this your idea of boyfriend material?”

He gave you a dry look. “Don’t push it.”

“I dunno…” You teased, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully. “I might have to make you a Pinterest board.”

“If you do, I’ll set your phone on fire.”

You giggled, and for the first time that evening, he smiled. A real one. Small, lopsided, and rare as hell.

You didn't kiss that night. You both kind of wanted to, but something about it felt too… gentle. Like rushing would break it.

So instead, you walked home with him in silence, hands brushing occasionally. When you reached your door, he said, “Same time next week?”

You grinned. “Only if you bring dessert.”

——————————————————————————

By the third date, he was holding your hand.

By the fourth, he’d let you see his apartment’s second bedroom, the one filled with sketchbooks and drafting tables and old, half-finished models of buildings.

He told you, without looking at you. “I used to want to design theaters.”

You sat beside him on the floor, tracing your fingers over the paper. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “Money. Clients want modern. Steel and glass. Emotionless. Easy to clean.”

You whispered, “But you wanted magic.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you, and said quietly. “Still do.”

That was the night he kissed you again. Not a maybe-kiss, not a I’ve-wanted-to-do-this-for-weeks kiss.

It was a you matter to me kiss.

And that’s when it started.

——————————————————————————

The relationship, if you could even call it that at first, was chaotic.

You were still neighbors. Still bickered like you were trying to win a verbal UFC match. But now he’d kiss you when you were mid-rant. Now you’d steal his hoodies like it was your God-given right. Now you sat on his kitchen counter and kicked your feet while he cooked, and he let you eat the last dumpling without pretending to fight you for it.

Yuji figured it out before either of you said anything.

One Saturday morning, while you were helping him build a pillow fort version 3.0, he looked up and said, “Are you Uncle Suku’s girlfriend now?”

You blinked. “Uh…”

Sukuna, from the other side of the room, said “Yuji.” In almost a warning tone.

“What?” The kid said, frowning. “She’s here all the time. And you kiss. That’s what girlfriends do.”

You covered your face with a pillow.

Sukuna walked over, ruffled Yuji’s hair, and said, “You’re too observant for your own good.”

Yuji beamed. “Does that mean I can call her Auntie?”

“No- ” You and Sukuna said at the same time.

Yuji pouted. “Lame.”

——————————————————————————

It was bumpy, of course. Sukuna didn’t exactly slide into domesticity. The first time you left your hairbrush in his bathroom, he stared at it like it was a live grenade.

“You’re moving in?”

You blinked. “It’s a brush, not a lease agreement.”

“I’m just saying, that’s how it starts. First the brush. Then you’re here every night. Then I wake up and there’s throw pillows on my bed.”

“God forbid you experience lumbar support.”

Eventually, though, he got used to it. You being there. Your humming in the morning. Your socks in his drawer. The way you curled up on his couch and tucked your feet under his thigh like you belonged there.

One night, after too much wine and too many old horror movies, you looked at him,flushed and sleepy, and said, “I think I’m in love with you.”

He froze.

You panicked. “I mean, not like in love in love. Not in a weird way. Just, like, casual love. Like a chill-”

He kissed you. Long. Firm. No hesitation.

When he pulled back, he said “I love you too. Ever since you knocked on my door with a batch of welcome cupcakes.”

You blinked. “You don’t say anything for ten minutes and then just- ?!”

“I was trying not to freak out, okay?” He snapped. “You caught me off guard.”

You snorted. “You? Mr. Stoic? Freaked out?”

He grumbled. “Shut up.”

But you didn’t.

You laughed, leaned into his chest, and said once again “I love you.”

And this time, he whispered it back immediately.

——————————————————————————

Dating Sukuna was like learning a new language.

He didn’t always say the right things. Sometimes he snapped when he meant to ask. Sometimes he shut down when he should’ve opened up. But he showed love in small, quiet gestures.

A thermos of your favorite tea on his counter when you were sick. An extra key on your keyring that you definitely hadn’t put there. A grumble of “Don’t be late” when you had a big meeting.

And you? You loved out loud. Sticky notes on his mirror. Spontaneous takeout at midnight. Kisses on the back of his neck while he worked on new sketches.

You argued, of course. Loudly. Often. Once about the right way to fold towels. Another time about whether Die Hard was a Christmas movie, which, by the way, you won. Once about the color of a shower curtain.

But the make-ups were always worth it.

Sometimes that meant soft apologies whispered under the covers. Sometimes it meant passionate, desperate kisses against the kitchen counter.

Sometimes it meant cuddling on the couch with Yuji between you, asleep, while the TV played forgotten cartoons in the background.

——————————————————————————

One night, months into the chaos, you were curled up on Sukuna’s bed, flipping through one of his sketchbooks. He was brushing his teeth, hair damp from the shower, wearing the gray sweatpants that absolutely should’ve been illegal.

You held up a sketch of a tiny theater with stained glass windows and velvet curtains.

“I love this one.”

He spat into the sink. “Old. From college.”

“Why didn’t you build it?”

He shrugged. “Too sentimental. No one wants that crap.”

You hesitated. “I do.”

He glanced at you in the mirror.

You closed the book. “I want all your sentimental crap. All of it. The weird sketches. The hoodie you never wear but won’t throw away. The grumpy texts. The yelling. The quiet. I want all of it.”

He turned. You waited.

Then, softly, he said, “You already have it.”

You smiled. “Even the hoodie?”

“Especially the hoodie.”

You laughed, and he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his chest.

——————————————————————————

Six months after the first kiss, you officially moved in. Not all at once, it started with your toiletries, then your sweaters, then somehow your cat, who terrorised Sukuna for the first week.

The building super made a joke about it one day in the hallway.“You two finally caved, huh?”

Sukuna just smirked, one hand on your lower back.

“Better than her breaking into my apartment every other night.”

You elbowed him. “I never broke in.”

“You climbed through the fire escape.”

“Once!”

“You brought tacos.” He conceded. “So I let it slide.”

——————————————————————————

One morning, while brushing your teeth beside him, you looked at him in the mirror and said, “You know I love you, right?”

He met your eyes. “I know.”

“And you… love me too?”

He leaned down, kissed your toothpaste-foamed cheek, and said “Unfortunately.”

You grinned.

It wasn’t perfect. But it was yours.

A slow-burn romance with yelling and laughter and pizza stains. A relationship built on bickering and babysitting and the most unhinged five-year-old matchmaker alive.

And somehow, against all odds? It worked.

——————————————————————————

You two had decided to keep your relationship to yourselves for a while, not that you were ashamed of it because you weren’t in the slightest. You just wanted to enjoy the peace and quiet of living in your own little bubble, but given that there was a five-years-old that was the embodiment of ADHD that knew… the secret was meant to come out rather sooner than later.

It happened at a family barbecue. A simple, innocent Sunday afternoon.

Sukuna’s sister had invited him, meaning, both of you to her house just outside the city because she wanted to thank you for “Not allowing her brother to throw Yuki out of the window”. It was a yearly tradition: kids running around, way too much food, and at least one uncle getting into an argument about lawn maintenance.

You didn’t expect much. Just decent grilled corn, a slightly-overcooked burger, and maybe a chance to mess with Sukuna’s head by being overly charming to his extended family.

You didn’t expect Yuji to completely detonate your secret relationship like a tiny pink-haired grenade.

——————————————————————————

“I told you.” Sukuna muttered as you got out of the car. “My family is nosy.”

You slipped on your sunglasses. “And I told you: I’m adorable. They’ll love me.”

He gave you a deadpan look. “You stole my last piece of cheesecake last night.”

“And yet you still let me wear your hoodie this morning. That’s love, baby.”

He made a noise that could’ve been a scoff or a suppressed laugh. You counted it as a win either way.

You walked into the backyard hand-in-hand, a detail you both completely forgot until it was too late. Music was playing, kids were screaming, and the smell of charcoal filled the air.

Sukuna’s sister came over first, grinning. “There he is! The brooding menace himself.” She said as she hugged the brooding tattooed man next to you. “And his emotional support ray of sunshine.” She beamed at you, as she embraced you.

She laughed as hugged you both. “It’s about time you brought her around again. Yuji hasn’t shut up about her.”

“Of course not.” You said. “I’m his favorite adult.”

“Excuse me?” Sukuna said.

“I don’t make him eat vegetables.”

“You bribed him with marshmallows to get him to brush his teeth.”

“And it worked, didn’t it?”

Sukuna muttered something about bad influences and childhood cavities, but his hand didn’t leave your lower back the whole time.

You tried to play it cool. Smile. Be casual. Only… it was hard to stay subtle when Yuji was running toward you at full speed, arms wide.

“AUNTIEEEE!”

Sukuna flinched like he’d been hit.

You bent down to scoop Yuji into a hug. “There’s my favorite little chaos goblin!”

“I missed you!” He said. “Uncle Suku was so boring last week. He wouldn’t let me use the hose indoors.”

“Because I’m not a psychopath.”

You whispered to Yuji “We’ll stage a mutiny later.”

He giggled and kissed your cheek loudly.

That was strike one.

——————————————————————————

Strike two came later when one of Sukuna’s cousins, a tall guy with a man bun and too many opinions about kombucha asked. “So, what’s your deal with the grump here? Just friends?”

You opened your mouth, ready to deflect with your usual “I’m his handler” joke, but Yuji beat you to it.

“They kiss a lot!” Exclaimed proudly, licking a popsicle. “Like, a lot a lot. I saw them one time on the couch and Uncle Suku said I had to pretend I didn’t.”

Dead silence. You blinked. Sukuna blinked.

The cousin blinked and grinned. “Ohhhh.”

You covered your face.

——————————————————————————

Strike three came barely a minute later when Yuji, still unaware of the social nuke he’d dropped, said to Sukuna’s mom, loudly. “Uncle Suku said he’s gonna marry her one day but he’s being a big chicken about it.”

Sukuna choked on his beer. You very, very calmly set down your lemonade before you dropped it.

Yuji looked up at his grandmother innocently. “Right, Ba-chan? He said he was gonna do it soon. With a ring and everything. Like on TV.”

The silence was now legendary. Sukuna’s mother turned slowly to her eldest son.

He coughed, red-faced, and muttered “Kids say weird things.”

“Oh no.” You said, barely holding back laughter. “Let’s hear more about this ring, chicken man.”

“I’m going to exile him.” Sukuna growled. “I swear to God.”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t bring it up again that night.

He was flustered enough. You could tell by how much he was cleaning. Sukuna never cleaned while angry, only while thinking. While trying to process. And judging by how many times he rearranged his spice rack, he was practically having an existential crisis.

So you let it go, for about a week at least. Until you noticed him acting… weirder than usual.

You’d wake up and find him staring at you like he was trying to memorize every freckle on your face. He kept checking his coat pockets, muttering under his breath. He googled “best restaurants with rooftop views near me” and pretended he didn’t. He even said “I love you” first one night and then acted like he hadn’t.

You were no genius, but you could put two and two together. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Because this? Watching him unravel like a tightly wound spool of sarcasm and anxiety? This was fun.

——————————————————————————

The night it finally happened, he invited you to dinner. Which wasn’t weird. Except he was nervous. Weirdly nervous.

“You okay?” You asked, brushing lint off his shirt as he fiddled with his keys.

“Fine.”

“You look like you’re about to testify in court.”

He scowled. “Just get in the car.”

He took you to a rooftop restaurant overlooking the city. Very fancy. Very romantic. Very not Sukuna.

You raised an eyebrow. “Wow. Trying to get laid or trying to hide a body?”

“Shut up.”

The dinner was good. The wine was better. And you were just starting to feel that warm, fizzy buzz when Sukuna reached into his coat pocket.

Paused. Frowned. Checked the other pocket. Then the inside. Then his wallet.

“Everything okay?” You asked, eyeing him as if he had just grown a second head.

“I… I forgot something.”

You tilted your head. “What’d you forget?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he stood up so abruptly he knocked his chair into a waiter. Then he mumbled “Be right back” and practically sprinted down the stairs.

You stared after him.

Okay you thought to yourself, So either he’s proposing or he just remembered he left the oven on.

——————————————————————————

Ten minutes later, he came back, flushed and out of breath, holding…

A tiny, slightly crumpled black velvet box.

You blinked. He sat down, still panting.

“Had to run to the car.” He muttered. “Was in the glovebox. Under your fuzzy socks.”

You stared at him. Then at the box. Then back at him.

“You kept a ring next to my socks?”

“I panicked!”

You covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

He exhaled and pushed the box toward you, not opening it, not kneeling, just sliding it across the table like it was a cursed artifact.

“I was gonna do this right.” He said. “Fireworks. String lights. Maybe a cat in a tux.”

“A cat in a- ”

“But then Yuji opened his gob, and you started looking at me like you knew, and I started panicking every time you reached for a coffee mug like you might find it by accident- ”

You opened the box. Simple. Silver band. A small, round-cut diamond in a vintage setting. Elegant. Understated. So you.

You looked up, eyes glossy. “You picked this?”

He shrugged. “You said you liked rings that look like heirlooms. You were half-asleep. Probably don’t even remember saying it.”

Your chest ached. You stood, walked around the table, and sat on his lap, not caring that half the restaurant was now watching.

“You’re a mess.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“And you’re a menace.” He said. “I think I’m about to have a heart attack, so can you please just put me out of my misery?”

“You didn’t actually ask, you know.”

He rolled his eyes. “Will you marry me, even though I’m emotionally stunted and allergic to sentiment?”

You grinned. “Absolutely.”

He kissed you. Not gentle, not shy, but completely, hopelessly yours.

Applause broke out from a nearby table.

You flipped them off without breaking the kiss.

——————————————————————————

You didn’t tell Yuji until a week later.

He was on your shared couch, watching cartoons, shoveling goldfish crackers into his mouth. You sat beside him. Sukuna stood behind the couch, arms crossed, trying not to smile.

“Hey, champ.” You said. “Guess what?”

Yuji looked at you.

“We’re getting married.”

Yuji gasped. Loudly.

Then jumped up and screamed. “I WIN! I WIN! I TOLD YOU!”

You blinked. “Told who what?”

He pointed at Sukuna. “He said he wasn’t gonna do it until next year. But I said he was a big chicken and he was gonna do it this month! I win!”

Sukuna stared at his nephew like he was an ancient demon haunting his bloodline.

“Did you bet on my proposal timeline?” You asked.

Yuji looked smug. “I also bet with Ba-chan. She owes me ice cream.”

You howled with laughter.

Sukuna groaned. “Why do I feel like I’m being outsmarted by a five-year-old?”

You leaned into him, kissing his cheek. “Because you are.”

Neither of you would change a thing.

Tags: @noooo-onee @suna-yoshihara @hawkwithsocks @pickledsoda

Taglist is open so let me know if you want to be added for future works! :)

[krilati]

Tim, who is not Robin, but still feral

Okay, let's say Tim's parents decide that even if their child doesn't need a nanny, they want someone to check on their son's well-being. So Tim is required to go to the doctor once a week. And after he tried to bribe his first one to just tell his parents everything was fine. Janette decided it would be someone else each time.

Tim gets a car once a week that picks him up to see a doctor he doesn't know.

That way he doesn't have time to search for dirt, and he can't bribe anyone, since everyone is more afraid of his mother than of him.

So after Nightwing turned Tim down (Dick later claimed the boy was black-haired and blue-eyed, but since he was often hallucinating Jason at the time, even he wasn't sure). The guy realized he couldn't go to Batman and insist on being Robin. The first fracture (which is 100% likely to happen in the early days of jumping on roofs and kicking angry adults) and the doctor would hand him over to his parents.

So Tim came up with a Plan.

Batman was angry, for a month now someone, every patrol, has been standing up for criminals. If he's lucky, he manages to land 5 hits (dude, your 1 hit can put a person in the hospital, Tim just has short legs, he still needs to run to the edge of the necessary roof) when someone distracts him.

Last time, they poured a bucket of paint on his head, it became almost impossible to see through the mask. Another time, they shot paintballs at his head until he left.

There was another memorable incident when something small landed on his head, and the next moment he was attacked by bats.

But today he finally cornered the attacker, it was a child whose face was hidden behind a mask that completely covered his face, and his hair was hidden behind a hood. He slowly approached the boy, he needed to find out who he worked for. Who decided that they had the right to interfere with him punishing criminals.

Only when Batman grabbed the attacker by the shoulder he felt dizzy and then everything around him went dark. Tim quietly patted himself on the head for the backup plan of the backup plan.

After waking up, Batman did not feel calmer, on the contrary, this meeting ignited even more rage in him.

How dare this child run around Gotham so carefree when his son was killed, how dare he protect criminals when one of them killed his son, how dare he..

That day, a file on a new criminal with high priority appeared on the Batcomputer, Alfred only reproachfully pursed his lips.

By the time Red Hood escaped from Talia (Yes, he escaped here, I don't know for sure, but I think Talia was pitting Jason against Tim to ensure her son had direct access to Bruce's legacy). Batman and Tim's confrontations became legendary.

Tim even had his own name and merchandise! Several names, actually, he was called Gotham's Whisperer, the Soul of Shadow, or Little Shadow. And in various Gotham stores you could find little figurines of him with various weapons that he demonstrated during this time.

Nightwing adored the little guy, although he had never met him in person. In fact, no one except Bruce had ever encountered the kid. And although Oracle never officially supported the boy, she never warned Batman if she saw a small dark silhouette through the cameras. Although Dick really wanted to know where the kid got the sniper rifle with tranquilizers, or how he hacked the Batmobile to put a sleeping Bruce in it and send him to the Cave, or how he got so many incriminating photos of Batman that he scattered all over the city when Batman didn't take one of his threats seriously.

Simply put, Nightwing was a fan, and had wanted the kid's autograph ever since the kid evacuated an entire alley, including Bruce, by playing the sound of a pack of rabid dogs approaching.

Batman, though he had passed the peak of his rage, still made Gotham afraid if he was spotted patrolling alone.

Red Hood was furious, not only did his father not have the courage to avenge him, but he also dared to splash out his aggression on anyone who was not breathing smoothly on HIS Alley of Crime.

[tobyfier]

Can you do a doppelgänger M!reader? Reader is a doppelgänger who manages to move into the apartment complex and readers original plan was to k!ll everyone the moment he was let in but the moment he’s allowed in he sees Francis just trying to get to his apartment and reader becomes immediately infatuated with him, he then has a change of plans. His new plan is to get Francis’s attention anyway possible.

This can be smut or not doesn’t matter you do whatever you want with this, this just came off the top of my head and I just need more milkman fics 😿😿

I’m inlove with a monster.

;Male reader

Genre: Fluff to smut

Warning: NSFW AT THE END!!! Bottom reader,Handjobs(receiving),creampie,make out session,overstimulation

A/n: Technically this isn’t my first time writing smut..however it has been a while since I wrote one, I’m just hoping it won’t look too cringy; as for the minors..I can’t exactly stop you from reading this, you guys are just growing people who’s going through puberty, I’ve been through that before. Now I will discourage minors who are BELOW 13 years old.

This doorman is taking a bit longer than usual to be honest. They seem to be double checking everything, did they figure it out or something? My heart stopped when I saw them reach for the phone ‘Fuck, I didn’t think of that.’ I didn’t break out of character just yet, there’s a possibility that the real one isn’t home. They waited and waited until they put the phone down. They stared at me for a while, cold sweat started to run down my neck before they smiled and pressed a button

“Alright, looks like you’re good to go!” I sighed from relief and nodded at them before going inside the building, I grinned to how naive the doorman is because of their mistake, they put everyone’s lives at risk, oh I can’t wait-…whoa..

3rd POV

M/n honestly felt like the world stopped moving when he say a guy infront of him struggling to open his door, he didn’t know who that guy or what his name is but all he knows is that he’s pretty charming. Once the man shut his door only then M/n snapped out of his trance, a slight blush covering his face. Trying to figure out what the hell just happened to him, it all felt so new to him and so unfamiliar. But nonetheless he didn’t dislike the feeling, he wanted more in fact..

‘New purpose, I’m gonna try and get as close with that mine and find out what this feeling is.’ M/n thought before going downstairs to ask for a spare key because he doesn’t have a key to his new house

Every single day M/n would try and greet Francis, to try and strike a conversation with him.

“Hey Francis, buddy ol pal, how you doing?” M/n greeted him, trying to act as normal and formal as possible but failing to do so.

“I’m doing fine, how about you mr. Moo juice?” Francis responded smiling a bit at the nickname he gave for M/n.

“It was one time!” M/n’s face burned from embarrassment, as a way to talk to Francis he tried ordering some milk from him when he stumbled on his words, calling milk ‘Moo juice’ by mistake.

“Well I’m sorry but it’s pretty much I possible for me to get that memory out of my head, it’s too funny!” Francis giggled, M/n could listen to him giggle every single day and will not get tired of hearing it

“Well-I still remember the time when you accidentally barged into my apartment thinking it was yours because you were drunk!” Now it was Francis turn to get embarrassed

“Well you can’t exactly blame a drunk man for it, I would barely comprehend what happened then!” Francis laughed before putting on his hat “I’d love to chat with you more but I still have to go to work. I’ll talk to you later, see you!” He greeted him goodbye and went down the hall to the elevator

2nd POV

You sighed, already missing his presence greatly. During the past few months you grew to be comfortable living in the apartments, forming friendship with the other neighbors most especially Francis, obviously. After some time you learned that the original you was actually a writer..a bit boring but you tried writing a few times and slowly you grew to like it.

Sometimes you wondered whether the original you and Francis ever talked to eachother, but from how shy and quiet he was during the first few conversations maybe not as close. Every single conversation,exchange of greetings,waves,or any interaction with him, you cherished every single one of them. With a help of a neighbor whom you call a friend named Mia, told you that it might be a crush or infatuation. And although it’s not really viewed as a good thing to date the same gender in public, you could care less about what other people think. You only cared about Francis view on it, I mean he has an ex wife and literally has a child. It’s impossible for him to like you back..

Atleast that’s what you hoped, you hoped this time you were wrong.

Timeskip

Francis’ POV

I sighed at the tiring day, driving house to house and city to city was really tiring. All I wanted was to go back to my apartment and rest..if not maybe chat with M/n again. He’s a really nice and fun person to be with, his energy was never really overwhelming and he’s the perfect person to talk to whenever I’m tired but also want someone to talk to. His stories are so interesting to listen to, especially the forbidden love ones.

If I had to be honest, I never thought him and I were gonna get close. After the “moo juice” incident, we started talking more. I hope I get to talk to him soon, for now I have to focus on delivering this milk trays. I looked back to see how much I have to deliver and saw that there was still a lot, he sighed “This is gonna take a while..”

.

.

.

.

I groaned, finally done delivering the milk and stumbled upon the elevator, pressing the 3rd button and waiting for it to close. I took off my hat and started fanning myself, hoping it will cool me off from the tiring job. I sighed in relief once I heard the elevator ring and walked out of the elevator to M/n’s apartment, knocking a few times before waiting.

M/n’s POV

I yawned tiredly, I just woke up from a nap because someone knocked on the door. Being a different species has it’s perks, one being having heightened hearing. I opened the door not caring if it was a Doppel or not, if it was then I could handle it anyway, I’m one myself..what I didn’t expect was a tired milkman collapsing on me like a drunken man.

“Bloody hell-you scared me!” I wrapped my arm on his torso and carried him to my couch, I tried walking away to get something when he suddenly pulled me into the couch, trapping me below him “Uhm..Francis buddy, let me go. I’m gonna get some pillows for you.”

“No..stay here, I’ll just use you as my pillow..” he mumbled, hugging me tighter. It’s adorable seeing him in such state, it reminded me of the time he got drunk

“You’re Lucky You’re adorable..” i mumbled suddenly, not even thinking of my words, I slapped my hand over my mouth. Francis tensed and looked at me

“You find me adorable?” He asked, he doesn’t sound disgusted nor angry, actually he sounds shock and intrigue

“Uh yeah, I do actually..” What the fuck am I saying, he might think I’m weird now!

“..I’m glad you think of me that way too..” he said before laying his head on my chest..wait what.

“Hold on what-you cant just say that so suddenly!” I said sitting up straight so he won’t fall asleep on me

“Why not? You said it first.” He replied, my face burned from embarrassment

“I mean yeah but I didn’t expect you to think I’m cute..” I said blushing a bit

“Why not? I mean sometimes you act like a dog, obedient and gets excited when it comes to certain things. Especially when you’re talking about your new story. Everything about you is cute.” He said, not minding the effects of what his words did to me, bastard even smirked.

“Stop it, you’re saying things out of the blue!” I yelled, hiding my face from him, but my heart stopped when I heard what he said next

“Not to mention when you’re so tired, you don’t notice the little horns sticking out of your head.” I stopped for a moment and slowly looked at him, does he..I quickly grabbed his wrists and pinned him in the couch

“When did you know about me.” I asked sternly, although I liked him, I didn’t wanna go back to the d.d.d’s. No, i already had a good life and I won’t let it go away.

“The first week after we talked.” How is he so calm about this? I mean a doppelgänger pinning him to the couch, potentially getting eaten? “I already know you won’t hurt nor eat me, you love me too much for you to do that.”

“Well I uh..true..” I replied, loosening my grip on his wrists, in return he slipped his hand out and slowly he sat up

“See, I knew you love me..” he said soothingly while rubbing my head, like a dog..I sighed

“You didn’t even tell me?..” I asked, I’m a bit suprised how he’s handling this situation so calmly

“I always rub your head like this and it just goes away.” He said before pulling his hand back “see? It’s gone.”

“IT WAS THERE AGAIN?!” I yelled, he chuckled

“So uh..what are we now?..” he asked, I tilted my head in confusion

“Are we-I mean can you-do you wanna be together?..” he asked in a low voice, I was silent for a moment before quickly hugging him

“You don’t know how happy I am for you to tell that you actually like me back, even after knowing I’m not even the original M/n..” I hugged him tighter, I felt his arms wrap around my lower back and buried his face on my hair

“If I had to be honest, I prefer you over the original..and don’t think I haven’t noticed you.” He said giggling a bit, I was confused on what he meant by that “I can always see glancing at me from a far,from how your mood drastically changes depending if I’m in the room or not,and don’t get me started with those lovable dork eyes of yours with the mention of my name. And Mia ratted you out.”

“She what?!” I yelled, I groaned loudly and slapped a hand on my face, I means it’s expected..this is Mia we’re talking about, she literally told me all of the gossip when we first talked..

“Can I kiss you?” He asked, I looked at him with wide eyes, is it just me or is he getting bolder? “So is that a no-“

“Yes!” I quickly answered before shutting my mouth, it sounded like I was desperate or something, he seemed to like it by the way he chuckled

Before I knew, our lips smashed with each other, the kiss felt nice..it was comforting and tender, and filled with love. Something I wanted to experience everyday, and I’ll be sure to make that happen. Unfortunately he pulled away, I leaned forward unconsciously and he laughed through his nose.

“It seems you liked it it by how you leaned for more.” He laughed a bit, I could only stare at him with adoration, yeah I could definitely get used to this..

I quickly pulled him into another one to which he reciprocated quickly, the kiss was much more intense than before. I opened my mouth a little to get some air when he suddenly pushed his tongue inside my mouth, to which I choked at the sudden sensation but I welcomed it nonetheless. Looks can be deceiving, he’s the right person to use for it, at first he way seem like a tired and inexperienced person but boy..when I tell you he’s good..

Soon he pulled away so we can catch our breaths, a string of saliva connected our mouths as we planted from the session we had. My face was red considering it was my first time doing that, I was a bit surprised how well and experienced he is actually.

“Do you still wanna go further?” He asked, either way he already knows I’m gonna say yes due to the tent in my pants anyway

“Y-yeah sure.” I stuttered, he seems to be looking at my pants

“Just wanted to ask, since you’re a doppelgänger and you can alternate yourself, I’m just wondering if there’s a possibility you can alternate down there?” He asked, ah so that’s why

“Yeah, why? Do you want me to change it?” I asked but he shook his head as a no

“No, I want something to play with while doing it.” I raised an eyebrow at his statement

“..what?..”

.

.

.

.

.

.

“O-oh shit-!” I gasped when his pace became faster, currently we were in my bedroom giving me a handjob, he had an iron grip on my leg so I couldn’t crawl away “Hah ah-I shouldn’t..have ah!-asked..” I managed to speak

He just chuckled at my disheveled appearance, my hair was a mess. Sticking to my forehead, some got tangled by how much I turned my head side to side to ignore the feeling. My clothes are long gone, all thrown to the floor thanks to Mr. Milkman. Francis was shirtless and his hat was on my head, saying I looked cuter with it. This guy really likes seeing me like this doesn’t he?

“Please..” I muttered, I’m close and I’m sure he noticed it too by how my dick throb in his hand.

“Please what dearie? I can’t hear you.” He teased, smug bastard.

“Let m-me come mngh..please-I’m clo-HNGK..!” I choked on my spit once he gripped it and speed up the pace much faster than before, I tried to hold it in but the bastard was determined to make me release, and so I did. White streaks shot out from the tip, landing on his chest and to my stomach. I panted like a person who ran a marathon, but it felt great. It was something I’ve never really felt before..

I looked over at him to see him wipe some of the cum of his chest and to his mouth, I blushed at the act and immediately yelled at him

“Spit that out, it’s dirty!” He didn’t listen of course, fucker even snapped his tongue

“It’s sweet and salty..” he seemed a bit surprised, is it because of the salty part or sweet?

“Probably from all the milk you delivered to me..” I finally calmed down from my high but noticed that he was unbuckling his belt.

“H-hold on, you’re not finished I thought-hey!” I was a bit surprised when he listed my other leg and rested it on his shoulder, I grabbed a pillow to hold on to, something tells this one is gonna be different..

“You didn’t think I was finish were you?” His eyes met mine and instantly I felt small “I still haven’t had my problem solved yknow?”

Oh yeah he’s right, it would be a bit unfair to stop this when he hasn’t finished his yet. And so I hug my pillow, preparing for what’s about to happen. I dozed off a bit, obviously this is my first time and I have no experience with this kind of things, I just wondered how it was gonna feel whether it would lean more to pain or-

“Holy sh-mngh..!” I bite into the pillow when I felt my stretched up when he entered, it stinged, not in a way it was painful, it felt good..

He didn’t think so though because he immediately stopped and looked at me with concern “Sh-shit I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you..” he apologized, rubbing circles around my thighs

“It’s fine..it-..it felt good.” I admitted “Keep going..”

He blushed and nodded, slowly he pushed the rest of it in me, I muffled myself using the pillow. Holy shit did that feel nice, never really thought it would feel this good honestly.

“Can I move?” He asked softly, it’s cute how he still needs to ask

“Yes..” I replied

He indeed took that opportunity and pulled away, leaving the tip inside me before thrusting back. I choked out a moan, not expecting the sudden rough movement, not that I was complaining though it was kind of attractive.

The pace was fast and hard, the way he feels inside of me was something I could never explain in words. He was quite literally hitting all of the right place, like he studied my body and memorized all of the sensitive parts. The bed started creaking from how fast he was going but I could careless, all I could think about was him and him only. I was close again, the knot in my stomach was back. And as if he’s reading my thoughts his hand gripped my dick once more and started pumping it. His hand felt so nice against my dick, I could get used to this all day.

“F-fuck!..too ah-!m..much..” I moaned out, I didn’t even notice the tears that were rolling down my face atop the pillows. I could feel his thrust getting uneven “Please..!”

“You can k-keep it in, just a few more..” he panted, chasing his release, he slowed down his hand so I wouldn’t release so soon.

A few thrusts and soon he came inside of me, the feeling of being filled up plus his hand pumping my dick immediately put me to my climax. We both panted, riding out our high from the activity. He exhaled and collapsed his body on mine due to exhaustion.

“Oof bloody hell are you heavy.” I stated, he chuckled tickling my neck

“How was it?..” he asked after moving a little so I can breath, his arms were wrapped around my waist

“It’s scary how you know my body so well despite this being the first time you’re exploring it..” I admitted “You were great.”

“Glad to know..” he muttered, burrying his face onto my neck even more

Silence engulfed the room..

“How am I supposed to explain my neighbors about these bite marks and hickeys littered all around my neck. I swear you did this on purpose didn’t you.” I slapped his head weakly to which he laughed and hugged me tighter

“Yeah yeah, I’m sorry. But it’s not my fault you had a pretty neck, I couldn’t help it!” He stated

“Oh so that’s my fault?!” I laughed

Yeah I’m definitely gonna get used to this now..

[nyxtickled]

re: his public response

i would not have to share screenshots if blatant misinformation was not being shared about me in private to multiple women and now in public.

i will not be shamed for offering hard evidence and truth to dispute the way i am being painted out by a manipulative man.

Despite her showing some sort of interest for potentially more, I made it clear we were in a kink dynamic, and we both agreed on that. I was not romantically dating anyone for the duration of our dynamic, so Nyx was a large part of my focus in my personal life for several months. 

i will NOT be painted as some scorned lee who was hurt because she developed some sort of unrequited feelings for a play partner. for the love of god i am WAY too gay for that shit.

I was put in a hard spot many times because multiple partners would openly voice the way my (gushing) posts about Adi would make them feel. Dynamics were ended (and then reconnected after conversation) over the way my posts made them feel like I was prioritizing one play partner over another. That was never my intention. I truly do enjoy gushing over a play partner. I enjoy hyping up my play partners, as you all have seen. But, this caused problems several times with several partners.

this conversation happened in mid-November. it was the second time i had brought up my feelings of disconnection. i never had a problem with what he shared on tumblr. i will always support, encourage, and love other women. i would never express discontent about another woman’s attention. what i did was express a need, and gave him the option to meet it. he minimized, said he would, and never put forth the action. it was all words, words, words.

and when i later attempted to deescalate our connection in an attempt to be as respectful as possible of his needs and his limitations, trying to meet him where he was at, while dealing with my dog’s cancer and my second community member warning about him, the mask came off.

and the most shocking part about all of this? during the family tragedy he referred to from mid-December as stated, i constantly poured out as much support to him as i could while giving him as much space as he needed. i am so heartbroken that he would imply that his play partners disregarded his grief as the cause of his disconnection from us. that is actually deplorable. after all the times i reiterated that i would never be resentful of him for processing a pain like that. after an entire month went by before he even told us his family member had passed, and i apologized while clarifying over and over that if i had known, i would have understood, but that was not the root issue. i assured him that i would never hold something like that against him.

what he fails to mention is that he invited me to AUNT, changed his mind on going, and then changed it back when he found out i was going to find my way there anyway without depending on him for a room or flight. when he approached me attempting to act as though we were close as ever and ready to kiki, i explained that i wouldn’t be bailing on my new plans with my new friends. THAT is when i suddenly was told about his grieving. again, i don’t post screenshots to be messy, i do it to fucking fact check because i will never make a claim i cannot back up.

i don’t care about how i might be judged for taking this bait. i absolutely fucking refuse to allow a man who has already emotionally harmed me privately to get on here and continue perpetuating literal delusion to avoid accountability. fuck that.

i was not seeking a romantic relationship. i never, ever expressed discontent as a result of his grieving. i repeatedly spelled out what i needed in a dynamic, he agreed that he would love to give it, and then disappeared without any follow up. over and over and OVER again, and every time i tried to restructure us as friends, he begged me not to until i agreed. FAR before any personal tragedy struck.

i will not continue to sit here silently as he twists the narrative once more. i don’t care about posting screenshots because i have nothing to hide and i have had my experience minimized and overridden enough times in the last 6 months. it will never happen again.

if you would like me to stop talking about this on my blog, simply do not fucking lie about me again.

[harringtons-cupid]

idk if you're taking requests but i think it would be cute/ funny if joe and readers relationship was figured out by fans because they've been sharing jewelry and it was getting very noticeable in interviews and stuff

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, this was kept short and sweet! I did struggle with the fluff and I honestly think this would make a great fic!! A longer one!! 🤍

Please, like, reblog and send a request if you want to support me!🤍🤍

You and Joe had been secretly dating for a few months, managing to keep it under lock and key by careful curated disguises. Swapping clothes until safely inside buildings but during the Back On You Tour, you found it hard to be apart.

During one interview Joe attended whilst performing in Glasgow, a lot of photos were taken of him with the matching bracelet to yours.

There hadn’t been much mention of them until you were asked onto a podcast. With the camera set up directly between you and the host, you began to twirl your bracelet as you spoke.

You didn’t think much of it until you were told to check twitter a few hours later, photos upon photos comparing both you and Joe’s wrists were practically everywhere.

The moment you were on your own, you went to find Joe. Feeling slightly embarrassed about the fan’s behaviour, you were both snuck into a quiet restaurant nearby.

Hands reaching across the table, bracelets on display as you both hid behind sunglasses and caps.

But somehow, a few photos were taken and posted online. Which cause a surge of fans to examine the situation, you weren’t as a famous as Joe but you had a small fanbase.

You dismissed any question that mentioned your love life during interviews and Joe tried to bounce around it but you both knew that it would catch up to you at some point.

On the bracelets were both of each others initials but thankfully the fans had yet to figure out what the words meant.

During the next few weeks, Joe continued to play throughout his tour. You shadowed him by attending particular interviews before watching him perform, sneaking backstage for some alone time between sets.

You both hoped that the fans who were following the group, noticed that you were meeting them inside the venues rather than walking with them.

It was the only way that you both could hide without being seen, it was becoming a strain on your new relationship.

Joe was invited to do a few interviews, you were sitting off screen as he sat in front of the cameras. His eyes flickered to you numerous times, sending a wink your way.

“So, Joe. I think the fans want to know who gave you that bracelet” the interviewer asked him.

His cheeks flushed red, looking down at the bracelet with your initials on it. Playing with it as he was clearly trying to avoid the question.

“Woah, There are so many tweets coming through Joe” the interviewer laughed as they kept reading off their phone.

Joe was staring at you, deciding to encourage the comments. He leant forward, reading the comments off the screen.

The fans were blowing up at the fact that Joe hadn’t answered their questions, he was being @‘d by different people.

He looked at you for answers before speaking,

“It’s a friend, a very close friend” he stuttered as he laughed from being put on spot.

After the intense interview, he rushed off screen towards you. Pulling you away from the interviewers and cameras, his hands were on you as he laughed against you.

“What do you think we’ll able to hide the press and fans ?” He laughed with you.

“Oh baby, I think we could. But it’ll be much harder now” you kissed him, holding his face as you both smiled.

As he kissed you back, you realised that you didn’t mind if people figured out your relationship. You wanted to show the world that Joe Keery was more than a close friend.

[quotidian-oblivion]

How I picture Leon finds out that Merlin has magic:

Merlin was tired.

Not because of the abundance of chores and the fatigue that came from running around after yet another assassin, but because he hadn't used his magic at all for the past month. Yes, even with the presence of the assassin. Gwaine had fortunately been there to knock the guy out and throw him in the dungeons, catching him red-handed.

He had been trying to stay as cautious as possible, which was why he hadn't used magic in such a long time.

But the fact was - Merlin was born with magic. It was as natural as breathing to him. So when he didn't use magic for an extended period of time, he would get tired.

He needed to use magic. Just a small bit.

He would do it in the safety of his room, but he was currently carrying Arthur's armor to his chambers from the training field and it was heavy and he was so so tired and- well, it would only be a small spell.

He put the armor down, checked that no one was around, then held up a palm. His eyes flashed gold and a small fire appeared on top of it.

Just because he had missed his magic, he flashed his eyes gold and made the flame morph into a butterfly. He smiled as it slowly flapped its wings, staying on Merlin's palm.

Then Merlin heard a gasp and he snapped his head to the newcomer.

The thing about knights was that they were trained to be as quiet as possible even in armor. It was required for certain missions as well as hunting. But armor was impossible to be quiet, so Merlin, having spent a significant amount of time with them, had trained himself to automatically hear when they were approaching. And since they were always in their armor anyway, even sleeping in it sometimes, he had relied on that to alert him of anyone crossing the hallway.

After all, anyone else - servants and nobles alike - wouldn't bother quieting their footsteps while walking.

If they did, it would be because of malicious intent so it wouldn't matter if they saw Merlin or not.

But occasionally - very very occassionally - knights walked around without their armor.

That, combined with their light footsteps and silent movements, had caught Merlin unaware.

So when he snapped his head over to look at Leon staring with wide eyes at the butterfly made of flame in his hand, Merlin was surprised. More than that, he was afraid.

The two of them froze, with Leon's gaze on the fire butterfly and Merlin's on Leon, standing rigidly like deers caught in the wild.

Then Leon raised his eyes from the butterfly to Merlin, then back to the butterfly, then back to Merlin again-

Before he spun on his heel and walked the other way whistling jovially like he hadn't seen anything.

Merlin was still frozen like a deer. He didn't move until several minutes later when he did hear armor clinking against each other. That was when he got rid of the butterfly and hefted the armor up, walking back to his room, leaving Arthur's armor in favor of panicking.

~

When Merlin met Leon in the armory that evening, he tried to approach him. Leon, recognizing what Merlin was trying to do, let him, moving into a secluded changing room far from the armory with the other knights and squires and pages.

Leon nodded at Merlin in greeting when Merlin closed the door.

"Leon," Merlin started. "What you saw-"

"That you were shirking Arthur's chores? No worries. I didn't give you away before, I won't do so now."

Merlin blinked. "What?"

Leon sighed. "Look, Merlin. I don't get paid enough, even as a knight. Not with all those missions and calamities that keep getting Arthur into trouble. So I refuse to deal with anything above my paygrade. Even you avoiding chores."

Merlin blinked again.

Leon clapped a hand on his shoulder, and with a smile, left the room.

Merlin looked after the knight, wondering for the first time, exactly how many times the knight had committed or aided or turned a blind eye against treason for him to be this casual about it.

[writersblockedx]

night swims w conrad?

Pairing - Conrad Fisher x Fem!Reader Summary - Conrad interrupts your night swim, leading to all the words you hadn't said spilling out. Warnings - Jealousy? Mentions of alcohol use Words - 1.3K 

Masterlist

Night swims were always enjoyable. To dip your legs in first, for the bitter water to creep up your skin ever so slowly until you submerged your whole body. Goosebumps covered your skin, reminding you that you could feel something. Once your shoulders were in the water, it suddenly wasn't as cold. It was weightless. And it carried you as you floated on your back, staring up at the stars as if they were staring back at you.

Night swims were for the days that were too much. After going to a bonfire with all the boys (plus a surprise visit from Belly), tonight was one of those nights. Maybe it was just the people, or the amount of alcohol you consumed, or perhaps, as you deep down knew, it was about the fact you had to watch Conrad and Nicole the whole night. She was the newest hookup of Conrads. Not quite girlfriend, but she was certainly under the belief it would happen one day.

It was torture. She was nice and kind and she only wanted the best for Conrad exactly as you were. A part of you was seething with guilt in that you still hated her a little bit. She had stolen everything you wanted to be. But, by now, it had become a feeling you were all too familiar with. Every few months, a new girl. Before her, there was Arbury who was lucky to make it to girlfriend status - not many ever had done.

Wrapped up with these thoughts, you just wanted a moment away from the chaos. Like you could pretend that, for a second, it didn't bother you. That what Conrad did - who he did - didn't actually bother you. When your eyelids lifted, you almost thought you were hallucinating. The very person who had captured your thoughts was looking down at you.

At first, you didn't move. Because, at first, you weren't completely sure if he was real. Then you jumped back to reality and that pit in your stomach returned. You adjusted, going to stand rather than float. Still, you turned to find Conrad who had his legs dangled in the water, letting his gaze wander over you, every corner of your skin as if you didn't notice what he was doing.

"It's late." So you assumed anyway. You hadn't even checked the time when you came in, but the bonfire had dragged on for a while - or maybe it only felt that way because you were forced to watch Nicole flirt with Conrad the whole night. "What are you doing out?" You finally added.

Conrad answered by retrieving a cigarette from his jacket pocket; a new hobby he had taken up this Summer. "Been a long night." You were glad he felt the same.

"Susannah's already mad at you, you think that's gonna help?" You had one brow raised at him.

But it didn't seem to do anything, "I don't need a reminder." There was a snap in his tone that you had tried to ignore. "And anyway, she's fast asleep." His eyes dwindled at that, going to focus on the abyss in the distance.

You swam closer to him, forcing the boy to move his gaze back to yourself. "What's with the smoking anyway?" You'd noticed it since you first arrived. He would wander off and come back ten minutes later smelling of either smoke or some illegal substance. "Just last year, you hated it. I remember when you found Jere vaping and you gave him the silent treatment for almost two whole days."

He thought about that memory for a moment before he shrugged it off. "Things change." He excused.

Without being able to stop yourself, words started spilling out, "I thought you wouldn't." He was Conrad. He wasn't meant to change, especially not like this.

Your eyes lingered on his, watching as his pupils dilated and his expression moulded into one you couldn't read. "You're upset with me?" He finally asked as you took a few steps back.

"Like you said, things changed." You reiterated. "You changed. You're more distanced from everything, quiet. You don't have that playfulness you did last year-"

He cut in with a scoff, "Playfulness? Really?" You could feel your heart sinking. "You mean because I don't play your's and Jeremiah's and Belly's childish games?"

You knew there was no point in arguing with him. "It doesn't matter." You shook your head. And this time, you turned your back to him, swimming to the other end of the pool when you weren't forced to stare at Conrad Fisher.

Only a few minutes had passed when you heard the shuffling of movement. At first, you thought Conrad was getting up to leave, but the sounds continued until a soft splash came from the other side of the pool. That noise prompted you to turn. Conrad was already looking at you, shirtless and getting used to the temperature. Then, once he was close enough, he flicked his hand passed the water, letting it splash in your face.

"Conrad, what the hell!" You snapped, squirming at the feeling of bitter water hitting your skin.

"What?" He questioned as if he was innocent. "You told me to be more playful." 

He shrugged it off as if it were nothing, gaining closer and closer until you only had to whisper in reply. "I'm not in the mood." Your tone was flat.

But Conrad hadn't let that stop him. He splashed you once more. "Conrad!" You snapped again.

"Oh come on, you not gonna fight back?" Your head shook and he took another step towards you before there was barely any distance left between the two of you. Before you could stop him, his hands took a grip around your waist. Within a moment, you were swirling around at Conrad's will, and as much as you hated it, laughter was trickling from your lips. "That's not the Y/n I know!"

You started hitting his side, letting out a, "Conrad, put me down!" Only just heard through the giggles to two of you shared.

Soon enough, he slowed and your body entered the water again. But Conrad's touch didn't leave you. His hands lingered around your bare waist and you swore you could get drunk just off his touch. He was so close. Yet, there was a distance between the two of you still. There felt more distance now than before you had arrived at Cousins. You just sat wishing the boy would break that distance.

"I'm sorry I've not really been around as much as you had expected. Or that I haven't joined in on any of your games or even watched a movie with you." His eyes clung to your own. "But, trust me, I'm trying."

This time, your hand reached out, brushing his cheek as he fell into it. "That's all we need to know." You assured him. "I'm here for you Conrad, you know that?"

He nodded, "I know." And before you could reply, he closed that distance. His lips leaned into your own and you were caught in his trap.

It was sweet but short-lived as you pulled away, too shocked to deepen the kiss any further. Conrad's eyes were frightened and yours were curious. "Why did you do that?" You asked, without moving away from his touch.

He thought on it for a second before answering, "I think I've been meaning to for a few Summers now." Them words had only made you lean into another kiss. One of which you were sure now wouldn't be your last.

[losers-clvb]

mayor's banquet // sam winchester

pairing: sam winchester x female!reader

summary: you and sam do not get along. after a hunt where you're put in danger, you're forced to come to terms with the fact that you two are more compatible than you think.

content: enemies to sort of lovers, canon typical violence, arguing, maybe out of character sam and dean, use of y/n

word count: 1.9k

note: this is the first of two parts. i have only watched up until season 5 so bear with me if it's out of character. also, keep in mind it's quite unedited. the second part of this will contain smut.

masterlist part two part three

----

God, Sam Winchester infuriated you.

It had begun when you had met the boys. Bobby had been training you as a hunter, something that had been your birthright through your mother before she was killed. You were needed on a particular case in Arkansas when you were introduced to the Winchester boys. Dean had, with slight persuasion from Bobby, accepted you with open arms. Sam on the other hand had been slow to even acknowledge you. It was disheartening when you realized it was because of his lack of trust in your hunting abilities. He didn't want to have someone inexperienced to look after when they were already trying find a way to save Dean. Sam had been short with you, opting most times to just ignore your questions rather than answer them. Eventually you did the same. After the hunt in Arkansas it was clear to Dean that you would be useful to them, plus you usually sided with him over Sam.

That brought you where you were now, the three of you checking into a motel. You had gotten a suggestive smirk from the attendant at the desk when checking in. She obviously thought the three of them had some less than innocent things planned. It wasn't the first time and would certainly not be the last. It was routine at this point. Check in, Sam and Dean got the beds, you would sleep on the couch. When Dean opened the door to the room however, there was no couch. This hadn't happened yet, though you haven't been with the boys for more than a few months. You simply stared into the room with brows furrowed. Dean came up behind you and let out a small laugh before talking.

"Guess you're sleeping with me tonight sweetheart." Dean smirked before moving past you. You followed after him with a look of faux annoyance. Dean meant well, even if he had tried to get in your pants the first time you hunted together. Now, you were more of a cousin to him, not quite as close as him and Sam, yet closer than most people he knew. You shuffled in after him before throwing your bag onto the bed. You sat next to it as you watched Sam trail in. Your eyes were stormy as you dared him to argue with you about anything. It was rare that the two of you hadn't been at each other's throats yet. Sam held your eye contact until he passed you. It seemed he wasn't in the mood for a fight right now.

----

A few hours later, you were sat in a bar with Dean next to you. You were sipping on a beer while listening to Sam speak about the details of the case. A string of mysterious deaths had made your trio suspect demon possession, or possibly a witch. Something other than human had caused this to happen. Sam had discovered the history of the town had held similar deaths to these.

"Every 100 years, 10 residents of this town have been found dead. All found to be victims of some sort of sacrifice." Sam spoke to them both but only looked at Dean. You looked over the flyer that was laying on the table top. It was advertising a town banquet hosted by the mayor's family. The same mayor that had descended from one of the town's founders. The dots were connecting in your head as Sam spoke again.

"And guess which family kept showing up every century?" He asked before speaking again, obviously not expecting an answer.

"The Wilson family." He raised his eyebrows with the last word. It was obvious he thought the family had something to do with this. You just kept staring at the flyer, trying to figure out why the faces on it seemed so familiar. Something was ticking in the back of your mind. It was one of the things you and Sam had in common. Too smart for your own good. If you had asked Dean, that was why the two of you never got along. You and Sam were practically the same person, and when you fought with him, it was like fighting with yourself. Neither of you would admit to this, not wanting to admit that you had anything in common with each other. But it was still the truth.

"My great grandmother was here." You said, causing the Winchester brothers to pause. They both turned to you with twin looks of confusion. Your eyes stayed on the flyer.

"100 years ago, she was one of the last sacrifices." You continued, feeling yourself trying to swallow the words down.

"It was what my mother was searching for when she died. She was waiting for this time to come around again." You sighed, looking up at the boys.

"This family, they never die. They're immortal, and the only time they can be killed is in between the first and last sacrifice."

Sam broke his gaze from you after your last word, counting the names in his head. Dean scoffed before taking another swig of his beer.

"There's been 7 deaths, which means our window to kill them is closing fast." Sam said. You thought for a moment how best to go about the situation when another beer was placed in front of you. Your eyes shot up to the bartender, a skinny man who only pointed to the corner of the room. You looked over, seeing a table of men around your age. One raised his own beer to you with a flirty smile. You smiled back before turning back around. You looked to Sam and Dean again, who wore very different expressions on their faces. Dean looked proud of you, as if it was the first time you had been flirted with. Sam, however, looked pissed. You knew it was because of the case and he didn't want any distractions, but it still made you angry to see it. Acting on impulse, you stood from your chair and walked to the table. The man met you halfway, leaning on the empty table near the two of you.

"Hey pretty girl." He said suavely. You leaned next to him, only a step away from him.

"Hey yourself." You responded. You felt eyes on you from every direction and you knew on pair of them belonged to Sam. That pushed you further, knowing it would only make him angrier, even if you had a plan.

"You're new to town? I'm sure I would have remembered you." The stranger said as he leaned in closer, eyes darting over your shoulder.

"Just passing through. Was there a reason for your generosity, or is that how you greet all newcomers?"

The man chuckled as your question, still looking over your shoulder.

"Well, certainly not how I treat everyone." He paused before turning his gaze back to you. "The Mayor's Banquet, are you going?"

You thought for a minute while letting your eyes trail up his body.

"Maybe." You replied shortly, knowing where he was going with this.

"Go with me." The man said in a way that told you he thought you were wrapped around his finger. You got the sense he was used to getting his way. Guess that's how it was when you were the mayor's son.

"I don't even know your name." You laughed out, resting a hand on the table. You weren't about to give in so easily, trying to not make him suspicious. He had been the one to ask you to the banquet, but you were the one who needed it. It was the only way to get close enough to the family.

"George. George Wilson." He spoke, though you already knew this information. You smiled and moved closer, close enough that your feet were touching. George placed his hand on top of yours. It was freezing cold. Bone-chillingly cold. You looked down where your hands met, then looked back up at him. You smiled and bit your bottom lip.

"Well, I suppose I was looking for a date." You answered before leaning into him. "I'll meet you outside this bar at 7." You whispered in his ear before leaving him. You made sure to sway your hips as you walked, trying your best to look seductive. That was the best way to go about things.

You made your way back to your seat while ignoring the looks from Sam and Dean. Once you had gathered your jacket and purse, you looked at them. They still held the same looks they had when you were given the beer. You shrugged before walking out of the bar, hoping they would follow.

----

"What the hell was that about?" Dean asked as he walked into the motel room. You had arrived only 5 minutes before and were in the process of readying yourself for bed. You looked up at him from your bag.

"I have a plan." You replied, looking at Sam as he walked in. He looked just as angry as he had at the bar. You narrowed your eyes at him when he scoffed and shook his head.

"And what was the plan? Find someone to sleep with while the residents of this town die?"

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, turning in shock to his younger brother. Sam's words made you whip around and stalk towards him. You jabbed a finger in his chest.

"You haven't heard a word yet and you're already doubting me. If you kept your mouth shut for longer than 3 seconds you might have found out that was the mayor's son. You might be interested to know that I'm his date to the banquet, his date who will be able to get him alone a room where you two will be waiting with weapons." You growled out through gritted teeth. You watched as realization crossed his face. You knew he was too stubborn to admit he was completely wrong, so you moved away from him to continue what you were doing. Sam and Dean began to do the same, moving about the room.

"How were you so sure that was him?" Dean asked, still eyeing his brother in annoyance. You stopped again and kept your eyes on your bag.

"I spent my childhood looking at those pictures. Everything. I have their faces memorized." You threw your bag to the ground and crawled under the cold blankets. You waited for Dean to crawl in beside you before turning the light out. You felt the heat coming off of Dean and smiled. You were still freezing from George's touch.

----

A thump on your shoulder woke you. At first, you thought the worst. Demons, vampires, anything that was sent to kill you. Then, you felt a kick. You turned your head slowly to look over at Dean. Apparently, he moved in his sleep. You would wait it out, maybe he would stop after a few minutes.

Those minutes came and went and Dean was still moving. You sighed, eyeing Sam’s bed. Maybe you could get him to switch.

No. You knew he wouldn’t move. He might not even wake up. Or he would wake up and tell you to fuck off.

It was a quick decision. You would just sneak into his bed and hopefully wake up before him. He wouldn’t even notice, right? Plus, you were still shivering and Dean’s moving kept the bed cold. You pulled yourself onto your feet and tiptoed over to the side of Sam’s bed. Slipping under the covers was easy with Sam sleeping on one side of the bed. You closed your eyes and fell asleep with Sam’s warmth enveloping you.

[hyperfixiation-station]

Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information Pt.3

TW: Blood, Torture, Violence

Summary: You get rescued(finally)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 4

Silent. From the moment Price had found you in that dingy cell, broken and bleeding, that was all you had been. You were silent when they moved you, though it had to have hurt with how many broken bones and lacerations you had. You were silent when the medics asked you where you were injured, how you had been hurt. You were silent through the debriefings, through the desperate attempts to find out what you had been through, what secrets you had spilled. You were silent through all of it. 

It wasn’t your fault, not really. A mental barrier you had constructed during months of torture to keep secrets from spilling, a dam built with a mantra of DON’T TALK to keep your thoughts at bay as your captors repeatedly tried to draw them out of you. 

Even now, when the rational part of your brain knew you were safe, knew that these men, the men you served with, the men who had tracked you down and saved you, were to be trusted, the barrier would not fall. 

Every ‘what did they want from you, what did you see, did you recognize them, how many of them were there’ was met with silence. Anytime you opened your mouth you were hit with a wave of fear so strong it sent you into a panic attack. 

They understood, in part. They had seen recordings, seen the rooms, seen your broken body at the time of rescue. 

It took them 2 days to get to you after figuring out your location. They went in guns blazing, and tore the place to the ground. They split up, Price and Gaz taking the left with Soap and Ghost taking the right. They shot at anything that moved in their quest for vengeance, breaking down doors and checking every nook and cranny for where you might be locked up. 

Price found you about a quarter of the way into the camp. He took the bottom floor and Gaz took the top as they cleared the building. He had stopped before a door that was different, metal and welded shut with a small little flap in the middle, instead of solid and wooden like the others. It took him and Gaz some prying and metalwork, but they got the door open. 

Price almost cried when his eyes adjusted to the change in light. You lay curled in the corner, back to the wall as you shied away from the light. Your hair was tangled and matted with dried blood, your clothes were torn and dirty and your skin was crusted with so much blood and grime that he couldn’t even see you underneath it. 

“Y/n?” He had called, but there was no response. He crept slowly toward you, keeping his movements as open and relaxed as possible. He crouched in front of you, taking note of your dilated pupils, sunken eyes, obviously malnourished form. He winced at the weird bulges in your skin, indicative of broken bones. 

“Sorry love.” He whispered to you, taking a steadying breath as he slid his arms under you and lifted. Hise expected you to cry out, the action no doubt causing unspeakable pain, but you didn’t. In fact, you didn’t react at all. He didn’t dwell on it then, opting to get you somewhere safe and secure. 

“9 broken ribs, a broken left femur, both shoulders dislocated, pneumonia, dehydration and severe malnutrition, multiple lacerations that required stitches, broken wrists, all 10 fingers broken, right kneecap dislocated, multiple concussions, and a hairline fracture on their skull.” The doctor had said. It hurt all of them to hear how badly wounded you were. 

They gave you two weeks to recover before asking any questions. The first week you were unconscious, in a coma as your body tried to heal you. The second week you spent in worrying silence, saying nothing to anyone, not to your doctors, not to your teammates, not to your friends.

Price sent Ghost in first. He had had similar experiences and Price figured he would be able to relate. However when Ghost came storming out an hour later, slamming the door behind him, he came to regret that decision. 

“I got over it.” He had said, “Why can’t they?” Price reminded him that not everyone responds to trauma the same way and sent him away.

Soap tried next, and came out near tears after sending you into a panic attack after calling you ‘Little Bird’. He was confused until Ghost not-so-gently reminded him of the video they had seen, of the words ‘Pretty Bird’ being used over and over. Ghost pretended not to hear him throwing up in the toilet later. 

Gaz tried, to no avail. He ended up just sitting in silence with you, showing you videos of his cats. He counted it a victory when your busted lips twitched into a tiny grin for a few seconds.

And on and on it went, with refusing to speak to anyone. They were losing hope until the psychiatrist finally spoke with you. 

“GIve them time.” She said gently, “You trying to force a response will just make this worse.” 

So they do. The higher-ups still want answers, of course, but Price manages to dissuade them from asking until you are out of the hospital. They spend the weeks treating you as normal as possible, stopping by to give you updates on missions, show you a video of Soap absolutely biffing it in training, tell you the latest gossip of which recruit is sleeping with who. But even though they are trying, they still handle you with kiddie gloves, afraid that the wrong word or look will make you shatter irreversibly. 

Which brings you to now. It’s nearly 2 A.M, and visiting hours are long over as you stand unsteadily in the bathroom, staring at your pale, pathetic form in the mirror. You open and close your mouth, trying and failing to get words out, the barrier cemented in your mind by blood and tears too strong to break down.  

‘Speak, you stupid fucking bitch!’ You scream mentally at yourself, ‘You have to speak! If you don’t you'll be discharged and you'll never be able to serve again! They already think you’re broken, and if you can’t tell them different they’ll never treat you the same. Stop. being. So. Fucking. Pathetic.’

Tears streak your cheeks as you slide down the wall. You draw your knees up, hiding your face in them as your shoulders shake with silent sobs. Rationally, you know you are safe. Rationally, you know that if you were to speak, nothing would happen. But it’s not the rational part of your brain that is keeping you from speaking. 

Going dark in that hellhole you were trapped in had saved your life, and you couldn’t seem to get past it. Sure, not responding had almost killed you right at first, as Kravchenko became more and more ruthless in his attempts to get you to speak again, but eventually he grew bored. His little plaything had lost its sparkle, and he locked you in a cell and threw away the key as soon as he lost interest. But starving to death was still a better alternative to the all-consuming agony that had been your day-to-day. 

And now, the subconscious, irrational part of your brain was convinced that if you spoke you’d be dragged right back and strapped to a table, that you’d wake up to find that your rescue had all been a dream. That you-

“-/n! Y/N! Y/N!” You flinch, startled out of your reverie. You look down to see rivulets of blood running down your arms, your nails having gouged holes into your skin. You look up to see the eyes of a worried nurse, holding your hands in hers. 

“There you are. We lost you for a minute. Do you mind letting me bandage you up here?” Her voice is soft and gentle and you find yourself nodding, letting her lead you back to your bed where she cleans and bandages your upper arms. 

“What are you doing up so late sweetie?” Her voice is calming, almost hypnotic, “I mean, I’m awake cause I get paid to be, but you should be sleeping all your injuries away, shouldn’t you dearie? If I was you, I’d of been cryin’ too, being awake at 2 A.M. for free.” She laughs, the sound echoing through the room, “Course, I suppose you probably think I’m crazy for agreeing to work this shift anyways. Did you know I was supposed to have this shift off? But Roberta’s kids have the flu and so I agreed-” She keeps talking, her voice soothing your fears and helping you relax. YOu can’t help but mentally thank Roberta’s kids for being sick, for sending this wonderful lady who does not treat you like you're going to break at any moment to you tonight. 

“And that should about do it dearie. Just press that little call button if you need any more help, alright?” She says cheerfully. She squeezes your hand and heads to the door before pausing. 

“Make sure to get some sleep.” She leaves, gently closing the door behind her. Something about her makes you feel safer than you have since falling off that helicopter. Maybe it was her motherly demeanor, maybe it was the fact that she treated you like a normal human being, maybe it was the fact that she could have put you on a psych hold an ddin;t, but whatever it was, you loved her for it. 

And as the door closes and the room stills, you whisper a quiet “thanks.” 

Part 4?

~tags~

@louthedino @scarletdfox @dangerkitten1705 @warenai @spineless-spino @rainy-darling

[gguk-n]

hii can you write one where y/n is dating brocedes at the same time in 2016 and then they find out?

Triple Threat

2016 was a tough year for Lewis and Nico’s friendship; not only on track but off track. Everyone knew how things were going on track but no one knew of the turmoil Y/N was causing off track.

“Lew, you were great” Y/N cooed as they cuddled after the British GP. The title fight was in full swing; “I’m just happy I have you” Lewis mumbled as he sucked on her neck. Y/N moaned softly pulling Lewis in for a kiss. The spent the whole night together as her phone buzzed away. In the morning Y/N left the room with a note on the table saying she was checking up on Nico.

Y/N, Lewis and Nico had been friends since they could remember. They had grown up racing each other in karting and now she watched her two favourite boys race against each other in the same team.

It was almost a year back when Lewis had told her he liked her. Y/N had been dating Nico at that time, unbeknownst to Lewis. They had started dating six months ago and decided to keep it quiet for a while. Y/N could never choose between the two; so when Nico asked her out she agreed; having nursing a crush on the pair since they were teens. So when Lewis asked her out later, she agreed. The two never spoke about their feelings towards Y/N and now they wouldn’t either with the raging title fight. Y/N would end up dividing her time between the two, enjoying the best of both worlds.

After leaving Lewis’s room, Y/N entered Nico’s with the key card she had. The two of them always gave her a key card so that she could come and leave as she wished.

Nico was asleep when she slipped under the covers. The movement of the bed made Nico stir, wrapping his arms around her. “You don’t care about your poor boyfriend” he chided. She pressed a kiss on his lips. “I do but Lewis is my friend too” she remarked snuggling closer. “Stupid Lewis, he gets everything” he muttered and closed his eyes to get some sleep. Little did Nico know, he was correct.

Things went on like that, Y/N juggling her time with the two. Since they were barely interacting without cussing each other out; she was able to continue to date them. But it all came to a head at the Abu Dhabi GP when Nico won the championship with just 5 points after finishing the race behind Lewis. The anger bubbling under Lewis was uncontrollable. Nico in his happiness ran towards Y/N who was with their team. He swept her in his arms and planted a sweaty and messy kiss on her lips. Lewis, who was only a few feet away saw the scene unfold in front of him. Y/N's eyes were wide and she could see Lewis's heart shatter for the second time that night. She moved away from Nico trying to get to Lewis only to be pulled back by Nico who had turned to look at Lewis but he was charging towards the pair. In a flash, Lewis's fist made contact with Nico's face. There were people trying to pull them off each other and cameras flashing, everyone knew what the next headline was going to be. It was only after a while were they able to do that. The cameras flashed as 2 bruised Formula One drivers stood in front of each other, Nico wiping the blood off the corner of his mouth.

"Cheater" Lewis spat towards Y/N who was stood there in shock with tears in her eyes. "I have no clue how long this has been going on for but she's been dating you behind my back" Lewis spoke. "I can explain" Y/N stuttered. "No. You played me, for that fact us" Lewis chided before he stormed off. "What is saying?" Nico asked with tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry" was all that came out of her mouth. "Way to ruin someone" Nico said before leaving for the weigh in.

Mercedes were able to get Y/N out of harms way. She tried to talk to the both of them but she realised than that her selfishness had lost her the two people she loved the most in the world.

[graysnetwork]

Love, S. R. — Chapter 2

Warnings: Stalking, B&E, drinking

Simon Riley x Reader

Don’t read if stalking is an uncomfortable topic!!!

Months had gone by, you were still getting those anonymous messages and gifts. The gifts weren’t being given on holidays, they were small everyday gestures. Flowers, coffee, Amazon packages. It was getting harder to ignore your stalker when he was always trying to talk to you.

You told your friends about the stalker, one of them being in a relationship with a cop told you to go to the station. You laid out the entire situation and when they tried to find him they couldn't. They couldn't track down his IP address at all. That was weird.

Instead you decided to continue ignoring him, thinking that one day he’d get bored of talking to someone who wont reply. Oh how wrong you were.

Simon couldn’t get you out of his head, you infested his mind in the best possible way.

_______

Another day of living in constant fear, but tonight your friends were determined to give you one night of stress free partying. The plan was simple; they will pick you up, youll go to the club, drink a lot, dance, have fun, come home, sleep with no worries for the first time in months. It was the perfect plan.

Until you got out of the shower and started doing your hair. A pit in your stomach appeared as you heard the ding from your phone. You dreaded that noise every day now, knowing it would be another message from “unknown.”

Unknown: Going out, doll?

You peeked out of your window, staring out at the street below, checking for any men on the sidewalks, but nothing was out of the ordinary. Your neighborhood was quiet, peaceful—save for the fact that you were always being watched—but the people who lived in the other houses were normal.

You returned to your vanity, ignoring the message from him. Maybe it was biased to assume it was a man stalking you but your gut told you so.

Unknown: Ignoring me again?

Unknown: C’mon, sweets, just talk to me

Unknown: It’s getting annoying.

Unknown: Just reply, sweetheart

Unknown: I just wanna know if your going out

Unknown: I wanna keep you safe

Unknown: Answer me.

…

You: Leave me alone.

Unknown: You know I can't do that, sweetheart

You: Don’t call me that?

Unknown: Call you what? Sweetheart?

You: Yes

Unknown: Why not?

You: Its annoying, I don't know you, and you're creepy

Unknown: You wound me, my love

Unknown: You know me, I know you. I can call you whatever I like

You: how have you been watching me?

Unknown: Way to switch the topics, my love

You: How?

Unknown: You should close your curtains

You: fucking creep

You hit the block button again—to no avail.

He continues sending texts while you get ready, close your curtains, and lock up the door. You made your way to your friends’ car and whisk away the thoughts of your stalker.

Hours later you arrive home, the lock seems different but you don't think anything of it. You've had much more than enough to drink tonight.

You walk into your home, tossing your bag and keys on your couch. Huh, was that light on when you left? Again, you think nothing of it, you were dizzy, drunk, and so ready for bed. You make your way into your bedroom, the bed was made—not how you left it—you thought you’d left your entire wardrobe on it when you searched for an outfit earlier. You sit down, take your heels off and flop back against the bed, watching the ceiling spin until you force yourself up.

You did only the basics; change into pajamas, tie up hair, brush teeth, wash face.

You heard a thump, assuming it was the neighbors on the other side of the wall you continued washing your face without checking your room. You walk into the dimly lit room, the only source of light being the moon. You definitely closed those curtains, right? You rubbed your eyes, staring at the window, everything’s blurry. Finally, your eyes focus and you see him, a tall dark figure standing right by the window.

“I’m so drunk” you mumble to yourself, reaching out to shoo the apparition away. You get close before the figure's hand wraps around your wrist. “Not imagining things, love” a deep, gruff, British voice reassures you, he steps closer to you, the moonlight only helps you see a little more of him. Short hair, a stubble that covers the expanse of his jaw and above his lip, he wears a hoodie, jeans too—you think, you're not very sure of anything right now.

“Who are you?” you whisper. “Yours” he responds, taking a step closer and grabbing your waist. You giggle, you would laugh at anything right now, even a bad knock knock joke. “Seriously” you smiled at him as he guided you towards your bed, a small smile touches his lips but disappears when you don't comply and lay down. He’s annoyed you won't just lay back but he also loves the way you're staring at him; doe eyed.

“Simon, but don't tell anyone” he says, smiling at the giggles that leave your mouth. “Say my name, love” “simon?” you said softly. He could get used to this, listening to you like this every night, he should've done this much sooner.

“Do we know each other, Simon?” You ask, wondering how he got into your house, why he got in. “We’ve met. We’ve texted, remember? “Unknown” ring a bell?” “You're the stalker?” “Wouldn’t say “stalker,” love, more like a secret admirer, and you've seen me now so it's not secret anymore.”

You hum as he finally gets you to lay back on your mattress. “You comfy, love?” he asks, pulling the blankets over you. You hum again. He smiles and strokes your hair out of your face, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Drink some water” he whispers and holds the bottle for you as you drink from it. “Now, get some sleep, love” he whispers, kissing your temple, and stroking your hair with his fingers to coax you to sleep. It works perfectly, you're out like a light, in dreamland while Simon sits beside you and watches your sleepy, relaxed form.

“I love you,” he whispers, kissing your head throughout the night.

The last kiss is the most painful for him, he leaves an aspirin water bottle on your bedside table, he’s tempted to leave a note but he’s sure it’ll send you into a panic when you wake up later. He leaves your room, fixes the lock on your door since he broke it when he broke in last night. And finally, he leaves.

[snowfieldstories]

In Life and Death [Chapter 1]

Kim Dokja x Reader/Original female character

In Life and Death Masterlist

Warnings: canon-typical violence, language, endearing fluff

Summary:

In which a reader finds herself tossed into the pages of her favorite web novel after her untimely death. A novel of a novel within reality. It's a reader's dream, right? Well, this reader vows to bring the right ending to the one and only, Kim Dokja. She will give him the happiest of endings. Or she will die trying.

⚠️MAJOR SPOILERS FOR ORV WEB NOVEL AND MANHWA!!!!⚠️

WAIT! This says "Chapter 1" but there are three chapters before it that contain important story.

<- Go back and read [Beginnings]?

Episode III. Chapter 1 — A Ruined World: Round Two

"Choi Yeona?"

I gasped awake. Yoo Sangah flinched back, startled. "Ah..."

"Sorry. I'm fine, I just didn't sleep well last night."

I was back in the subway car. There was a nauseous, woozy feeling in my body as though I were carsick. I thumped at my chest. Was this what Joonghyuk felt each time he regressed? It was terribly unpleasant.

Sangah glanced at me, but didn't comment further. I checked my smartphone and was comforted by the presence of Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint and my own written stories. I called out to Mother, but my sponsor was silent. Well, it's not like the scenarios had begun yet. My chest ached again. I tried to recall the moments just before my death—getting stabbed by Uriel, Dokja's panic, Sooyoung looking at me in sorrow, but everything beyond that was hazy.

We arrived at our station. Han Myungoh ambushed us in the street, first accusing, and then humiliated. Sangah and I entered Minosoft, bid a farewell where I let a casual use of her name slip (she scrunched her face at that), and went our separate ways.

I moved easily now. Regression was much better than transmigration—I retained memories of my previous turn, and I later learned, after tripping into a metal filing cabinet in the copy room and leaving a sizable dent, I'd retained a certain degree of my abilities.

It was in that copy room that I first encountered Kim Dokja of the 1864th round. I was walking, glancing to the side, when a mop of black hair bent over a smartphone distracted me. Which led to the dent.

"Are you alright?" Dokja asked, after bothering to look up from his phone and seeing that it was me.

"Oh, yeah. I'm good."

My shuffling seemed to only draw attention to the inhuman stunt I had just pulled behind me. Dokja's eyebrows drew together.

"What are you reading?" I asked hurriedly.

He only looked more suspicious. "...Ways of Survival."

Shit. I was going off the assumption that the memories from the missing month before I appeared here were exactly like my previous turn. But, unlike then, this Kim Dokja was of course a reader of TWSA. The fact that he had told me so easily meant the past month-me should have known of his obsession with the story. As if it were surely the only thing I would expect him to read. I waved my hands. "I just thought, you know, maybe you were reading something new this time. Like there's that other popular web novel, um, SSSSSS-grade Infinite Regressor..."

The expression on Dokja's face made me want to crawl inside my own stomach, curl up, and die. Why the fuck did that title have to pop out my mouth? Well, it's not like I knew any other web novels in this world! While I was lamenting my word vomit, Dokja stood.

"Yoo Sangah said you were acting strange on the train earlier, too."

My blood chilled. I was not off to a great start in this turn. I opened my mouth, and then paused, measuring my words carefully this time.

Should I just tell him?

I checked the clock over the door. 10:17. A little less than nine hours until the world was ruined. I weighed the possible repercussions of informing Dokja that his favorite novel was set to become reality later today. In the end, I hedged the truth.

"I'm nervous about an apocalypse. I mean, any day now the world could end. Nuclear bombs. Aliens. Natural disaster. Today seems especially world-ending and I don't want to die when it does."

Dokja didn't give any indication that he'd heard me.

"Anyways, it's been stuck on my mind. And I'm unprepared. So unprepared. In fact—" an idea dawned "—I was going to visit the shopping center next door during lunch. For, uh, supplies. And lunch. And I'd really like it if you joined me?" My teeth gnawed on my bottom lip as I waited for his reaction.

"...You want to get lunch with me?"

Did he not hear a word I said besides "lunch"?

"And shop. But yeah, I want to have lunch together."

There was something conflicted—a hopeful doubt?—crossing his mind before his face finally cleared. "Oh. Is this your way of trying to make me feel better?"

"Huh?"

"You must have heard." Dokja nodded his head. "Minosoft isn't renewing my contract. I was disappointed, of course, but think I'll be alright. I guess I do like convenience store gimbap enough..."

My heart cried out at the mournful slant to his mouth. Without thinking, I rushed forwards to wrap him in a hug. Dokja froze in my arms.

I squeezed him tighter. "Minosoft is brainless for letting you go."

Dokja gave a little pant, so I released my hold. His face was a deep red as he avoided my gaze. "Thank you for saying so, Choi Yeona."

"Yeona."

"What?" His eyes flew up to mine.

"Yeona. Just call me Yeona."

Perhaps we weren't yet close enough for that. I didn't care. My time with the future Dokja that visited the 1863rd round had made me greedy. I knew it wasn't wise to speedrun my relationship with him, but I couldn't help the urge to hear him call me by my given name once again. A signal that such closeness could exist.

Dokja smiled. It was shy and sweet. "Alright. Thank you, Yeona."

"You're welcome...Dokja?" His nod of confirmation filled me with euphoria. "Dokja!"

I was a bit embarrassed by my cheer of his name, but Dokja seemed pleased. He had to go finish a work task, so we arranged a time to meet for lunch, said our goodbyes, and parted ways. I practically skipped back to my desk.

Once there, I took a deep breath.

I'd narrowly escaped the trickiness of the situation. Already, I was acting too careless compared to the start of my previous turn. Probably a result of being armed with years of knowledge and experience of the last round. And something about Kim Dokja made me lose my head.

Dokja would realize that I had knowledge of these events the moment Bihyung showed up. That was good. I wanted to gain his trust in my experiences, so we could proceed more smoothly at the start.

I pulled out a notepad and pen, humming as I began to write a list of things I needed to buy in preparation for the apocalypse.

Dokja was waiting for me just outside the glass doors to the building. I tapped his shoulder, and he jumped. "You're here?"

I laughed and grabbed his hand. "Of course I'm here. Let's go."

When he hesitated to follow, my hand slackened. Already, I'd gotten ahead of myself. I wasn't very good at holding back with him. But this 1864th Kim Dokja had been deprived of love and care his entire life—surely a little affection couldn't hurt? Still, I should take things slowly.

Before I could let his hand slip out, his own tightened around mine. There was a blush on his cheeks as he looked away. It was ridiculously... "Cute."

Dokja's head whipped toward me. Oops. This time I did release his hand, swinging it up to hold the strap of my backpack.

"So," I said, digging into my pocket and ignoring the stare pinned to my head. "Do you mind if we shop first? I have a few things to pick up before the end of the worl—ork day. It shouldn't take long."

"It's fine."

I scanned the list I had made earlier. Small critters for the first scenario, but that would have to wait. After all, I didn't want Dokja to think I was insane (there would be time for that later). Survival gear—knives, medical supplies, matches, nonperishable food, flashlights, etcetera—and spare clothing could be found mostly all together.

"Will they have all of this there?" I flinched at Dokja's words spoken just over my shoulder, so close I could feel his breath, and then nodded.

"Yeah. This shopping center doesn't have many typical fashion stores. It's more of a local bazaar."

We reached a metal archway with the sign "Gingil Market" painted in faded letters, and behind it was a narrow street lined with shops, their products spilling out past the unmarked sidewalk. There was a buzz of people milling about. Dokja and I squeezed past smiling ahjummas and stooped ahjussis shopping, while others shouted for us to check out their wares. I stopped in front of an outdoor gear shop. It was the same one I visited in the previous turn.

Dokja refused to let me carry the basket, and I was quickly grateful as it grew heavy with items. He never once complained. Though, his eyes did become wide as saucers when I grabbed a handful of various hunting knives.

"I didn't realize you were such a serious doomsday prepper," said Dokja.

I shrugged. "I'm a cautious girl."

On the way to checkout, a wall of technology made me pause. I snatched up an item, excitement filling my body. "A solar-powered charging bank!"

It was the perfect item. Now, Dokja and I wouldn't have to worry about constantly finding an electric power source to keep our smartphones alive—phones vital to our own survival.

"It attaches with a carabiner. Look, there's also a level and a compass for finding your way in tricky spots. It even has a flashlight built into it! And it's sturdy!" Realizing I was geeking out over the specs, I lowered it, feeling awkward. But Dokja's gaze on me was fond.

"If Ways of Survival were real, you would be a worthy protagonist."

I was stupefied. Me, Choi Yeona, the protagonist? And Kim Dokja thought so? I wanted to ask, to know why he saw me as protagonist-potential, but I swallowed down the questions. "Thank you, Dokja."

I tossed two power banks into the basket and his eyebrows raised. "Will you really need more than one?"

"Sure," I said, evasive. He would need his own, after all.

Dokja only smiled and walked with me to the register. I paid, then he helped me pack away the newspaper-wrapped knives, chargers, and other supplies into my backpack.

We browsed the street some more, but I didn't buy much besides a few food items.

At one point, Dokja wandered off with a vague statement about needing soap, and I took the opportunity to head into the bait and tackle.

Now, why the hell there was a fishing store in a shopping center in the middle of Seoul, I had no clue. Maybe it was due to the recent explosive popularity of tuna-related music? Anyways, I was glad to see it. Digging around for bugs in the grass wasn't exactly appealing.

I paid the pimply checkout boy (shouldn't he be in school?) for eight small plastic bags of insects and worms and placed them carefully in my pack. There was an extra for if something went wrong, and Gilyoung would also have his crickets.

Dokja and I reconvened by the tteokbokki stand in the open food hall. After ordering and picking up our food—traditional spicy rice cakes for him, creamy rabokki for me—we sat at a quiet, shaded table by the plants. I twisted the ramen around my chopsticks. "Did you get your soap?"

"Mhm." Dokja finished his bite. He wiped at his mouth, setting down the napkin and leaning to reach into a shopping bag. "And I got you this."

He slid a small box towards me. It was pretty, decorated with an oriental, burgundy pattern over a gold background. I read the box: Chinese ginseng oolong. Honey infused, twelve sachets. When I looked back up at Dokja, he was nervous.

"It—it's a farewell gift." Dokja swallowed. "The tea is supposed to be healing—the ginseng and honey, I think—and if that apocalypse comes and you get hurt or sick, you'll have this."

The moment strongly reminded me of my first ever encounter with Dokja. A moment that this Dokja had never known. I was beyond touched and clutched the box of tea to my chest. Inside, I squealed at his thoughtfulness, his endearing kindness. "A farewell gift...aren't I supposed to get you one of those?"

He shook his head. "I'm grateful for you." Dokja smiled softly. "You're the only friend I have at Minosoft, and my time there would have been much worse without you."

I must have stared at him for too long because his blush returned.

"I love it, Dokja. Thank you." I admired the tea once more before stashing it in my backpack.

We polished off the food. Dokja returned from the trash bins and glanced near my feet, worried. "I can get that for you. It looks heavy."

I lifted the backpack. It was surprisingly lightweight; I had chosen my items well. Or perhaps that was my own unnatural, regressor strength. I waved off Dokja's offered hand and tilted my head at him, saying, "For the record, you're the best part of Minosoft for me too."

"Not Yoo Sangah? Aren't you two close?"

"Oh." I didn't really know how friendly she and I were in this world-turn. "Sangah is a wonderful friend, but you're my favorite."

Dokja became flustered again. He was awfully easy to tease right now, and I was going to savor it while I could.

We headed back, having filled out our lunch break time and then some, and before we separated, I asked Dokja to meet me by the entrance after work. He agreed.

Then I sat at my desk. I read Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint; I lost at Tetris a few times (or twenty...six) on my computer; I downloaded some music and books to my phone; I twiddled my thumbs. I read some more. And then the clock struck 18:30.

Sangah greeted me in the elevator.

"Will you take the train home today?" I asked, rather nervous.

"Of course," she said and looked at me curiously.

"Do you mind if Dokja joins us?"

"...Kim Dokja? Sure, I don't see why not."

I smiled in thanks. Dokja was already waiting by the front doors and joined at my other side. The three of us fell into a light chatter as we walked.

Soon, we were through the ticket gate and waiting in front of the subway doors. With my excess time earlier, I had made sure to learn exactly where we needed to stand to enter the 3807 train car to Bulgwang.

We found three seats across from the young boy with the crickets. Lee Gilyoung. He seemed troubled, and I watched as he tugged on the sleeve of his aunt and she ignored him. Ugh.

The train moved. 18:49. Dokja was preoccupied with his phone, no doubt receiving the messages from tls123.

Sangah wrinkled her forehead at the bulging survival backpack in my lap. I patted it and said, "I'm going on a hike this weekend."

Dokja shot me a look but didn't say anything. That's right, it would be our private little secret for now.

I checked the time. 18:58. A secret for just two more minutes.

I leaned over to Dokja's ear, my leg pressing against his. He inhaled sharply. "You know the Delusion Demon, Kim Namwoon?"

"...From Ways of Survival?"

"Yeah. Don't kill him. I want that brat to live."

Dokja looked at me, alert but baffled. The next moment, the train lurched to a halt.

"E—everyone, run away—!"

Bihyung popped into the air and everyone clambered to their feet. Dokja's eyes were wide as his head whipped towards me again. People angrily protested, and Bihyung blew up a few of their heads, the blood splattering everywhere. Our scenario messages appeared. I slipped a knife into my hand as the crowd became more agitated. Sangah was shaking beside me, so I brushed her hair with a whispered comfort before positioning myself between her and the crowd. They targeted the grandmother now.

There was a tight grip around my shoulder. "You knew."

Dokja was looking at me intensely. I eased off his hand, shaking my head. "Later. After we clear this scenario."

Thankfully, the levelheadedness was already kicking in because Dokja said nothing more and returned his attention to the chaos of the carriage.

With him keeping an eye on things, I took the time to dig out the insect and worm bags. I gave one to Dokja first, as well as a spare knife. "Crush it. It will count."

He did so without hesitation. I was gratified that he would earn the 'First Kill' achievement bonus; Dokja would need to amass money quickly for his plans.

I killed those in my own bag, and then instructed Sangah to do the same, waiting beside her until she crushed it with a wail of despair. My critical eyes searched the carriage. I went over and pulled aside a startled Gilyoung, just as a flailing woman was about to crash into him. I steadied the grasshopper box in his hands and put my own insect bag on top. I crouched. "What's your name?"

"...Gilyoung...Lee Gilyoung." His voice was shaky and timid, but he looked at me steadily. I placed a hand on his head.

"Okay, Gilyoung. You have a choice. Crush this bag I gave you to survive. Or kill nothing and you will die. If you choose to live, I swear I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

A woman's shriek caused me to glance over. It was his aunt, beating down at the old grandmother with her purse. There was a feral air to her movements. I turned back to Gilyoung, noting the purple and green splotches on his wrists. My lip curled in disgust. "You also have those crickets. You could give one to that lady you were with and help her survive too. But," I said sharply. "I will never judge you if you don't. Not everyone deserves to survive in this ruined world."

Gilyoung seemed to be taking in my words intently. I was relieved that he didn't appear to be afraid of me, rather, he seemed to gaze up with a sort of reverence.

I patted his head once more before standing. "I'll leave it to you."

[The constellation 'Queen of the Darkest Spring' respects your maternal instinct!]

Interesting. I had been ignoring the constellations for the time being, but that one was rather curious.

[You have 10 minutes remaining!]

Bihyung had returned and surveyed the chaos eagerly. It must have satisfied him, because he left soon after.

I was glad to see Dokja protecting Sangah. The crowd was dangerously rough now, and one boy in particular oozed aggression. I was about to give Dokja another bag for Lee Hyunsung, when I noticed there were four left. Four? I counted: one to Dokja, one to me. Sangah. Gilyoung. Two for Namwoon and Hyunsung. And the extra, just in case. So who...?

Flailing arms clad in a pinstripe suit caught my eye. Ah, that's right. Han Myungoh.

I debated giving him a bag. He was part of what made Dokja's life at Minosoft so bleak and was a rather annoying pest to women. But he would have growth. And he was a rather useful and welcome ally in the future. Plus, after he gave birth to that girl in the novel, I quite liked him. I handed two bags to Dokja.

"One for Lee Hyunsung and one for Han Myungoh. Will you make sure they get them?"

"Han Myungoh?" Dokja said, furrowing his brows.

"I know," I sighed. "Don't worry, he'll get better."

He accepted the bags hesitantly and headed off to find them. I went over to the mob. An elbow flew back my way and just barely missed my head.

[You have gained +2 luck! Account balance: 2/500]

Oh, I'd completely forgotten about all that. It was good to know my sponsor and skills were still in place. But five hundred, really? Considering how high of a balance I'd reached in the last turn, I thought my starting limit would be greater.

A problem to examine later.

There was a schoolboy uniform in front of me. My hand closed around the collar. I ripped Kim Namwoon away from the pack with such force that he launched into the metal door behind us with a clang! A few other passengers startled up in fear, but quickly returned to their beatings of easier prey. Namwoon was already getting to his feet.

"How the fuck—?!"

"Language." I kicked him back down, my foot trapping him to the floor. One hand pointed a knife at him. "Kim Namwoon. You're mine now. I'll let you live, but you can't hurt anyone else on this train, got it? You'll have your chance to fight later. Nod if you understand."

Namwoon gaped up at me, so I pressed my heel harder into his chest. He nodded rapidly.

I dropped the bag onto his face and released him. He crushed it at once, sitting up eagerly as though waiting for the next command. I pointed to the train seat in the corner. "Go sit, and don't move until I fucking tell you."

"Okay!"

...Just like that? I figured strong-arming him would be the best choice, but this kid was way more delusional in this turn than the last. I side-eyed him until he settled, one knee crossed over the other. The illusion of politeness and etiquette.

[The constellation 'Abyssal Black Flame Dragon' likes your handling of his incarnation-interest!]

I shook my head. A crazy sponsor for a crazy demon child.

I turned to find a dumbfounded Dokja and scandalized Hyunsung staring at me. My head bowed, feeling awkward at their witness. "Um, hi. I'm Choi Yeona."

Hyunsung gulped. "Lee Hyunsung."

There was one minute left of the scenario.

I pocketed the knife and pushed the final bag of insects into Dokja's hands. "An extra. It's yours."

Dokja tried to give it back. "You deserve it more than I do—"

"No. I want you to have the coins."

Then I cupped either side of his hands and forced them shut. The plastic popped, and bug guts and fluid leaked out.

[The given time has run out.]

[Paid settlement will begin.]

People's heads exploded around us in a bursting succession, as if celebrating our accomplishment of survival. I was unaffected at the sight. Dokja was equally calm at my side.

A body attached itself to my legs. The shaggy head of Gilyoung looked up at me with a smile. I scanned the carriage until I saw the broken and bloodied body of that woman, and I turned back to Gilyoung, ruffling his hair with a warm smile of my own.

The train moved once more. After we all viewed the sight of a ruined Seoul for a bit, I asked Gilyoung to give us a moment and ushered Dokja over to the corner, to which I immediately ordered Namwoon to leave. He did so without a word.

"So..."

I was nervous. Dokja was quiet as he sat back and regarded me. He probably had a million questions.

"You move like a regressor."

Wow, right on the money with that one. I was impressed, and gestured for him to continue.

"If I'm being honest," he said with a grimace. "You're not someone I should trust."

It was hard not to let the disappointment show on my face. I had hoped my knowledge and preparation for our survival might leave enough for a trusting foundation with Dokja, but I could see why he felt that way. Regressors were known to have their own, singular agenda. Dokja also knew that a regressor would eliminate anything that didn't fit that agenda (damn you, Yoo Joonghyuk!). I would be suspicious of me, too. "I understa—"

"But that doesn't mean that I don't."

Oh?

"I want to trust you. I meant it when I said you're my friend. And it seems like you know a lot, maybe even more than me. So, Yeona, let's complete the scenarios together. Let's seek the end."

I nodded my head vigorously, fighting the sudden tears in my eyes. When it wasn't enough, I leapt forwards to wrap him in a hug that he returned more easily this time. I will save you, Kim Dokja.

[The constellation 'Demon-like Judge of Fire' squeals at this pure display of affection.]

[The constellation 'Secretive Plotter' is curious.]

I pulled back and wiped at my smiling cheeks. "I am a regressor, of sorts. It's my second turn. The last one was...nothing like this. I want to make this the final end, too."

"Your second turn? How was the last so different already? And what do you mean 'sort of'...?"

Dokja's excited questions now bubbled to the surface, but the stopping train halted our conversation. We returned to the others with the promise of a lengthy talk later.

Namwoon leered intimidatingly over Gilyoung. I smacked him hard upside the head, and he howled in pain. Perhaps it was harder than necessary. I took Gilyoung's hand in mine, glaring at the Delusion Demon. "Mind your place."

Hyunsung leaned in close to Dokja. "Your girlfriend is a bit scary."

Sangah and Han Myungoh's heads shot up, curiously tilted their way; Hyunsung clearly didn't know the meaning of a whisper. I jerked my head towards him, speaking.

"Oh, no, I'm not his—"

"We're not—I'm not her, uh—" Dokja stumbled cutely over his words.

"—girlfriend."

"—boyfriend."

The three of us stood awkwardly. No, more than that. Everyone had paused at the stiff atmosphere.

[Incredible.]

Bihyung floated in above us.

[So many constellations connected to the channel...haha. Thank you everyone! Now look at these survivors, there are...well now, there are seven of them. It's quite high? And it looks like you've used some unconventional methods.]

Bihyung scrutinized us one by one. He lingered on Dokja's fearless calm, and then me with the pack strapped to my back.

[Hmm. Anyways, let's move on to the sponsor selection. Take a good, long look, little bugs, because this sponsor will decide your fate in this world. Choose wisely!]

Mine glitched as it did before in the previous turn. I saw Dokja study his options before exiting the screen. Then we waited.

[Sponsor Selection has ended.]

[Many constellations are disappointed at your unavailability!]

[Huh? You two...]

Now Bihyung openly eyed us with suspicion. But, at a few urging messages of the constellations, he continued with the program.

[Very well. Congratulations on the outcome of your selection. I must go to prepare the next scenario. Rest here for ten minutes!]

We were left with a silence and the stench of blood. Then everyone began to hesitantly introduce themselves. Dokja finished it off by convincing everyone to leave immediately. The door was wedged open, and soon we all inhaled the fresh, slightly damp air. We made a break for the bridge. A sea monster bowled into the concrete with a powerful screech, knocking us back before we could reach the safety zone.

[The exclusive skill, 'Sacred Light' has been activated!]

I reinforced the bridge gap with a few solid beams of light and yelled for the others to cross over. Sangah and Gilyoung went first, then Namwoon, Han Myungoh, and then Hyunsung, until it was just Dokja and I left. My skill was incredibly weak compared to before. Already, my fingertips burned and smoked from overstrain. I didn't think I could hold the beams and cross myself, so I told Dokja to go.

"I'm not leaving you."

"I can find another way by myself—"

[Oho, what's this? It's no fun if the game is too easy.]

Shit. The zombies.

Dokja used the knife to swipe at the incoming bodies. There were too many. I released my makeshift bridge and swept a broadsword of light at the zombies. Just as an overwhelming surge came towards us, they were swept away by a pair of fists.

Yoo Joonghyuk stepped over the destroyed bodies.

He gave my sword of light a fearsome glare, and then lunged for Dokja, capturing him by the neck. "You all, how the hell are you alive?"

Joonghyuk was impatient as he punched Dokja in the stomach. I flinched, but forced myself to remain unmoving. Joonghyuk frowned. "You've already mastered the use of coins?"

Dokja coughed. "Yoo Joonghyuk."

"How do you know my name?" demanded Joonghyuk.

He reared back to punch Dokja again, but I stepped forwards this time. "I'm Choi Yeona and he's Kim Dokja. He's a prophet."

I looked at Dokja meaningfully, taking advantage of Joonghyuk's attention on him to tap my forehead and mouth the word "omniscient." I was never more grateful for Dokja's intelligence as he quickly grasped my intention. He used his read on Joonghyuk's thoughts to begin talking him down with an explanation, and Joonghyuk's hold switched from Dokja's neck to shirt collar as he listened.

"...So, make me your companion and I'll help you fill in the parts you are missing."

Joonghyuk looked at Dokja for a long while. "I will make you my companion. But one last thing."

Dokja's eyes slid to mine. I nodded.

"If you really are a prophet, you should know." Joonghyuk held Dokja out over the water. A great sea monster snapped up from below. "Will I let go of this hand or not?"

Dokja closed his eyes. Then he looked at me, smiled, and said, "Release your hand already, you son of a bitch."

"I believe you are a prophet."

Joonghyuk let go. Dokja accepted the fall and was swallowed whole by the monster.

I finally released the arrows I'd been holding at Joonghyuk's vital points, prepared to strike in the event he decided to murder Dokja himself. Sweat trickled down my face and my head grew woozy.

[Due to excessive strain, you are severely fatigued.]

Joonghyuk approached me.

"A prophet alone is suspicious." His dark eyes flashed. "But a puppet prophet controlled by a greater power is even more so."

Before I could move, Joonghyuk snapped a hand behind my neck, knocking me unconscious.

Next part ->

A/N: Office worker Kim Dokja is such a cutie ugh ♡

[nekrosdolly]

bₑₐᵤₜy ₛcₕₒₒₗ ₋ ₙ.ₛₚₐᵣdₐ

calling nero girlish leads to a devastating self-discovery. what can you do but help?

a/n; fun fact i've been working on this for two months and three days... also the most down bad thing i've ever written. enjoy!

cw; sub!nero, dom!reader, afab!reader, feminization, a bit of manhandling (reader is written to be on the stronger side), small impact play, spit kink, biting, referring to dicks as clits and assholes as cunts/pussies, nipple play, anal fingering (n! receives), pegging, clothed reader, doggystyle, implied multiple rounds. 5.444k words!

You’ve been staring at Nero for at least half a minute now. He’s not returning your gaze but it’s definitely affecting him, as he’s shifting in his seat across from you quite a bit. The two of you are waiting for Dante, Lady, and Trish to finish gearing up for the mission you’re embarking on- something big, Dante says, but with the lot of you it’d be maybe a few hours max. If the two of you weren’t mutually interested in one another both in friendship and in a more-than-friends way, the staring would’ve bothered him. 

“You know,” you lean forward in the uncomfortable chair bolted to the ground across from the ratty couch Nero’s manspreading on, “you have kind of girlish lips.”

Nero furrows his eyebrows, his eyes finally meeting yours. Something clicks inside of him that he chooses to ignore despite the blossoming pink tint on his cheeks. Maybe you just have that effect on him, or maybe it’s something else.

“No, I don’t. They’re just lips.” He says as he rubs his cheek, his eyes breaking away from yours.

“Whatever.” You shrug. The rest of the team enters shortly, Nico included, and you’re on your way. 

While you busy yourself with menial conversation amongst the group, Nero cannot get his mind off of what you just said. Girlish lips? He doesn’t have girlish lips, does he? No, not at all. But god, if that doesn’t do something for him… It does. Especially coming from you. You’re not the face of masculinity or femininity by any means, but he likes the fact that you find him a bit girly. A bit of heat stirs in his gut, something brand new, and it’s good. Almost too good to ignore- but he’s on a mission and he needs to focus if he wants to make it out with minimal injuries.

He shakes the thought away (or tries to) when Nico brake-checks everyone and nearly sends everything in the old van flying.

“Here!” She chimes with a lit cigarette dangling from her fingers.

Five hours later.

The mission lasted longer than any of you had anticipated. Five hours of grueling slaughter brought upon by you and your comrades- aside from Nico, who relaxed in her van and watched from the sidelines. Nero’s mind was preoccupied on the way back, replaying the fight in his head to see if he could’ve done something different. You were slumped against Dante, who kept one arm on the back of the couch so you could rest comfortably as he read his porno mag.

He didn’t catch himself thinking about it until he was undressed later that night. He had already removed most of his clothing before he sat on the edge of his bed, only in his boxers. The moment kept replaying, you calling his lips girlish. Something about that felt right. Girlish. Maybe you’d treat him like a girl, too. Thinking about it made his dick twitch and his chest feel warm. His face heats up the way it did in the van as his thoughts run wild. Being told to wear a dress for you, putting on makeup, and making him truly look like a girl- (edits starting now) he groans into his hands, calloused heels of his palm pressing his eyes shut.

“This is so not what I needed right now,” he mumbles, sucking in a breath as he wills his boner away. Embarrassed, he lies down and pulls the covers overtop him. Sleep does not come easy.

The next day.

Within your close knit circle, compliments are sparse. Dante claps people on the back as a “good job,” and maybe Nico will toss them a thumbs up, but that's it. Nero’s used to it- the silent reassurance from everyone- except you. 

“You did really good, Nero,” the two of you are fresh from another mission, sore and covered in muck. The tips of Nero’s ears turn red, though it could be mistaken for the blood of slain demons. Deep down, he knows he did well. He doesn't need reassurance, verbal or otherwise, but it feels nice. The words send a little shiver down his spine.

“Uh, thanks. You too, I guess,” he says, shrugging his blue jacket off to leave by the door. He'll come back later to toss it in the wash. In a stretch, he lifts his arms over his head to hopefully ease the impending ache that'll settle in his muscles within minutes. With his shirt being as short as it is, his midriff is exposed to you for a short second.

Your eyes slightly widen, zeroing in on his waist. How in the world is it so… feminine? Girlish? Cute? Grabbable? He's not even looking as he keeps stretching, oblivious to your wandering, hungry gaze. 

“Dude, I'm jealous. Your waist is like, tiny. You sure you're not a girl under all that?” He knows you're teasing, he really does, but good heavens. It hasn't been a full day since the last incident, you may as well be trying to kill him.

Stormy eyes shoot open in shock and he lowers his arms to his sides nearly immediately. He tugs his shirt down more, as if that would help, and looks away.

“You're so weird, you know that? Do you want me to be a girl or something?” He scoffs as he crosses his arms over his chest. You chuckle to yourself, satisfied with his reaction.

Shrugging, “Maybe I do. You'd be a pretty cute girl, Nero.”

The white-haired man grumbles something as he walks off in the direction of the HQ bathrooms in hopes of a very, very cold shower. It's not his fault that your teasing gets him bricked. Of course, you notice nothing different, given that Nero’s always been quick to fluster.

In the bathroom, he splashes ice cold water on his face and rubs it into his skin. Some dirt and blood washes away with the water, but that wasn't his intention. He'll have to shower when he gets home, as Dante’s shower is conveniently broken, but the last thing he wants to endure is a car ride home with half an erection and plenty of fuel to give him a full one. His blood is roaring in his ears, lewd thoughts invading his head like the plague. Hunched over the sink, his hands grip the ceramic edges like a vice.

You, with a tube of lipstick in hand that is very clearly not your shade but his. You, with a mascara wand in hand telling him to hold still or he'll mess it up. You, handing him a white sundress and equally white lacy panties. You, telling him to put them on and be a good girl- doesn't he want to look pretty?

Nero wants it all. He wants it so bad; to be your doll, your plaything to humiliate and use however you want. But would you? God, he hopes so.

Minutes have gone by. He shuts the sink off and looks in the mirror- still grimy, but not gross. Blood splotches mat his hair in some sections, but at least some stuff on his face is gone. He looks normal aside from the massive blush covering his cheeks, but that could be chalked up to exerting himself.

“Nero?” You knock on the shoddy door to the even shoddier bathroom, “you alright? It's been like ten minutes, man.”

The sound of your voice brings him back to reality- has it really been ten minutes? He looks at himself once again in the dirty mirror, a searing feeling of embarrassment settling in his shoulders. Another splash of cold water to his face before he shuts off the sink and exits. You step back as he does, looking up at him with concern. “Fine, thanks. Just tired. It was a long mission, y’know?” He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes, lest he get even the slightest bit hard. At this point, it’s a problem. Without another word from either of you, he heads upstairs.

Do you find it odd? Yeah, but you don’t say anything. After all, he did say he was tired. He probably just needs to get some rest. Settling on one of the couches in the lobby, you decide that you do, too.

Two days later, Devil May Cry, the Fortuna branch

Nero is glad that he lives so far away from Red Grave City. It’s a few hours’ drive both ways and it’s a pain to put up with Nico’s horrible driving. As much as he complains, he’d rather not be the one driving. The distance also makes it easier for him to not think about you as much. 

Well, that’s only half-true. He thinks about you more than he should. The only thing the distance helps with is avoiding you. Of course, that doesn’t stop his imagination running wild at the randomest of times- including while doing household chores. It’s a gamble- his thoughts range from pure domesticity to borderline porn.

When his thoughts take over this time, he’s doing the dishes. There’s not much, but it’s enough to warrant his attention. One would assume that touching dirty dishes and day-old food would ward off any semblance of lust-driven daydreams, right? Unfortunately, that’s not the case today.

He’s mid-washing a plate, his sleeves rolled up so only his forearm is wet. His metal arm is covered with a dish glove, lest the water screw with the wires and give him a nice, heart-stopping zap. The sponge in his hand is sudsy, lazily scrubbing at the leftover food on the plate as his mind wanders to you. At first, it’s innocent. Cooking together, thinking about what you’d want to eat for dinner after a long mission, or even just a long day in general. How would your lips feel on his cheek, your arms around him as the two of you get ready for bed?

Maybe your hands would slip under his shirt, your eyes meeting his as you rub his waist. Words of filth disguised as sweet nothings to get his blood flowing south, inciting a dizzying shiver down his spine. Your hands slipping into his panties that you picked out for him earlier that day with a smile, telling him that they’d look so pretty on him- that maybe, if he wore them all day while doing errands you’d reward him later on. Your voice in his ear, calling him a good girl, telling him how cute he is all flustered and wet in his panties.

His thoughts fester, the plate slipping from his hands. Only the sound of it clattering against the bottom of the (thankfully) shallow sink rouses him.

Well. That, and the door opening. There are only two people with a key, Nico and-

And you. What a wonderful time to have a hard-on.

“Hey, I tried calling you, but I think your landline’s down,” you say, barging into his kitchen without a care in the world. Nero keeps himself pressed against the kitchen sink for his own dignity’s sake as he looks at you, feigning irritation. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to knock?” He scoffs, picking up the plate he’d been washing and giving it a good rinse. “You clearly don’t care whether or not I do, seeing as I have a key,” you grin, crossing your arms as you lean against the archway between the living room and kitchen. Maybe you let your eyes wander a little- a domesticated Nero is a rare sight, one you enjoy very much. He’s got these tight fitting black boxers on that really do his ass justice and baggy a longsleeve shirt with the sleeves rolled up that almost gives him this cutesy appearance.

“Yeah, whatever. What did you need?” He moves on to the next dirty dish after placing the clean one on the drying rack. His voice is a bit snippy, and he’s a little tense. The fact that he can feel your eyes on him doesn’t help, and if anything, makes his boxers just that much tighter.

“Dante wants us on a new job he got from this new client. Some guy named V, though I dunno much about him,” you shrug.

“He couldn’t tell me himself?”

“Nah. I don’t think he really likes coming here, anyway. Something about Fortuna gives him the creeps, he said. Probably ‘cause they used to worship his dad ‘nd shit.” Nero scoffs at that and shuts off the sink, flicking his non-prosthetic hand to get the water off, then frees his devil breaker of its rubber confinement. 

“Nice ass, by the way,” you add, smirking at him. Nero turns to face you with his cheeks tinted pink and a soft scowl on his face. Facing you was a mistake because his erection from earlier has not died. You don’t notice it immediately, much to his relief, because he knows you’re not that much of a pervert.

“You’re so weird,” he huffs.

“Not my fault you look like a girl.” You retort. Nero’s cock twitches hard, his already warm face heating up more. He really, really should’ve put on pants this morning.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, the movement, as subtle as it may be, catches your eye through your peripherals. On instinct, your eyes dart towards the source and widen immediately.

“...Are you hard? Did I do that?” You point to yourself. Nero huffs and tugs the hem of his shirt down to cover his now raging erection, the dull throb making it hard for him to come up with any kind of retort.

“Wh- no! I-I mean, yes- I’m hard, but it’s not because of you!” He looks away from you, even as you step closer to him until you’re an arm’s width away. It’s too much too quick, because what can he say to make this all better? Nothing. There’s nothing he can say or do to make this situation go over smoothly. “So… You don’t want me to help out? I mean, it’s pretty obvious you need some, right?” You reach up and grab his jaw, your thumb swiping over his bottom lip. A dry spell hits his mouth, his pupils dilating as he tries to swallow. The poor quarter-devil’s heart races in his chest, that feeling from earlier returning. 

Nero opens his mouth to speak but you’re quick to press down on his tongue with your thumb. A sly grin spreads on your lips, knowing you’ve got him dead set on this. Now, he could overpower you at any given point- he’s part devil- but he finds that he doesn’t want to. You lean in closer, your face just a few inches from his.

“You like being called a girl?” Smooth and low, your voice has him in a trance. The hunger in your eyes makes his knees weak, saliva coating your thumb as it remains on his tongue. Hesitantly, he nods.

“Yeah, I thought so,” you mutter, your free hand finding a home on his waist. “You wanna be fucked like a girl too, don’t you?”

Another hesitant nod, his eyelids fluttering from the embarrassment of the entire situation. In truth, he only started experimenting with himself after he and Kyrie broke up. It’s not that Kyrie kept him from experimenting with stuff like that, because they tried plenty when they were in bed, but something about it felt wrong.

With you? It couldn’t feel more right, not as you remove your thumb from his mouth to smear his lips with his own saliva. “Don’t you know how gross that is, Nero?” Your voice holds a teasing lilt that makes his stomach flutter. While he does feel ashamed, he’s way too into this to care. His cock is crying in the confines of his boxers, the fabric tighter than ever. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, meek with humiliation.

“No, you’re not. In fact, I bet you want to be dressed up like some doll, then get railed just like the slut you are.” Nero squeezes his eyes shut. The tips of his ears are red, possibly even some of his chest, too. As humiliating as this is, he likes it a lot. Your words make his knees weak, his tummy’s warm and he may as well be sweating from how hot he is. Again, he nods.

“Please,” he forces himself to look at you, half-lidded eyes and all. “Please, just give me what I want.” A satisfied look crosses your face at the sound of his desperation, his poor excuse for begging.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” your hand slides from his waist to the very prominent bulge, amused at how it kicks against your hand and the way Nero’s breathing picks up.

“But not now. I mean I’ll get you off no problem, but your fantasy needs a few things that aren’t at my disposal, nor are they at yours.”

The disappointed noise that leaves Nero’s mouth is almost uncharacteristic. 

“Uh, yeah. You’re right, I guess.” He grumbles quietly, his eyes downcast like a kicked puppy.

“Think you can wait? I’ll come back, I promise.” He nods reluctantly. He’ll be as patient as he needs to be. With a kiss to his cheek, an unspoken promise you’ll return, you leave him in his kitchen with his boner still very much alive. Embarrassed, defeated, and aroused, he walks to the living room couch and plops down on it. 

Two hours later.

Barging in again, you toss a hefty plastic bag on top of a sleeping Nero, forcing him to wake up from the weight hitting his stomach. “Hey, what the hell?” He glares at you through sleep-addled eyes and sits up on his elbows.

“Look in the bag, sleeping beauty.” You lean against his front door, the metal surface cooling your back. 

Nero does as he’s told, rummaging through the bag’s contents like a curious puppy. The first item he pulls out is a white skirt that’s very, very short. Scarlet engulfs his cheeks within seconds. When you said later, he thought you meant tomorrow, not later today. He continues to pull items from the bag, his blush spreading like wildfire. The next item is a crop top, also white, frilly underwear and an equally cute bra to match, before he finally pulls out what must be the largest light blue dildo he’s ever seen accompanied by a harness.

“Put it on,” you smile, “go make yourself pretty for me. Take this, too.” You toss him your makeup bag, which he catches with the devil breaker.

With a hard swallow, Nero places everything back into the plastic bag and disappears into his bedroom, clutching the bag’s flimsy handles with an iron grip. The moment the door closes, he’s in a rush to take his clothes off. He nearly rips his shirt trying to get it off, same thing with his boxers. He really sucks at being patient.

It feels natural, to a degree, putting everything on. It’s clear you want him to look like an angel or some kind of bride, all white and pure. How ironic. The panties don’t quite cover his cock and the shirt you chose makes his pecs look more akin to boobs, but he looks… cute. If not a little silly, what with all the ruffles, cute. Now, the makeup is what confuses him the most aside from the fastening mechanism of the bra you chose.

He knows what lipstick is. He knows what mascara is, and eyeliner. Kyrie wore those sometimes. But the rest of the stuff is greek to him.

The white-haired man is still staring down at the contents of your makeup bag when you walk in, strap-on fully assembled in one hand. He looks up at you with a shy smile, red cheeks and all. You toss the light blue toy onto his bed as you walk up to him, your gaze nothing short of predatory.

“Hey, pretty girl. Havin’ some trouble?” His dilemma is clear enough, but he nods anyway.

“What color would look good on me?” Pale blues travel to the selection of lipsticks you have, fingers rummaging through the variety of tubes. Perhaps he’s too overwhelmed at the moment. Your warm hand settles on waist, his gaze flickering to your face.

“Why don’t we skip the makeup for now, hm? I’d hate to make you wait any longer, angel.”

Nero’s throat runs dry as he nods, expecting you to be a little gentle with him but oh, how he was wrong. He doesn’t expect you to push him onto his mattress like he was some kind of slut, nor does he expect you to get on top of him as quickly as you do. Your hands are so rough as you grope his chest, a soft whine leaving his lips when you lean down to bite one of his pecs. 

“Cute tits, dolly,” your thumbs rub his clothed nipples and he’s really glad he’s sensitive everywhere right now, otherwise he’d feel kind of stupid. He can’t bring himself to meet your eyes again, shy as a virgin during her first time, as he mewls quietly.

“I just can’t believe that you’re into this kind of thing,” you snap his bra strap against his skin, making him flinch, “What a fucking slut…”

“M’not a slut,” he mumbles, cock weeping into the lacy material of his panties as he looks away from you.

“Don’t be dumb,” you grab his jaw and force him too look at you, his pupils blown wide. Fingers card into his hair and give it a soft tug, making him whine again. Everything you do makes his cock harder, his mind fuzzier, and his blush darker. Slotting a knee between his legs, you force his legs to part wider before you press it against his panty-clad hard-on. It’s a cute sight, him gasping and squirming in a pathetic attempt to escape the stimulation.

A sharp slap to his thigh makes him still, a mumbled “sorry” sounding from his lips. You let go of his jaw in favor of slipping under his thighs, guiding them around your waist as you lean down to kiss him. His eyes flutter shut, as do yours when your lips meet in a much gentler kiss than he anticipated. That doesn’t last long, because two seconds in and you’re biting his lower lip to make him gasp, allowing you to lick into his mouth without protest. His hips buck at the taste of you, hesitantly wrapping his arms around your neck. You pin his hips to the bed, thumbs kneading what little fat he has there.

He’s dizzy when you break the kiss, panting with your spit glossing his lips and your eyes locked to one another’s. Your thumb hooks in the corner of his mouth and pulls down, forcing his mouth open. As if reading your mind, he sticks his tongue out. A thick glob of spit leaves your lips and lands flat on his tongue. He moans, his cock pulsing hard in his jeans. When your thumb unhooks from his mouth, he swallows. “Good girl, angel.” Your voice resembles a low purr in his ear, his body on fire. If you praise him again, he might cum in his panties. He’s entirely sure that his skirt is damp with how much he’s leaking. Your hand slips down, down, down until you’re pushing his shirt up and palming over his erection, making him melt into the mattress. “My pretty girl is so wet,” you hum, thumbing over his weeping slit. He whimpers, his hips bucking hard. This time, you let it slide because he’s too damn cute when he’s under you to care. Using his precum as makeshift lube, you rub his frenulum, watching as his eyes light up with pleasure and his back makes a pretty arch, whining pathetically in the back of his throat. His silver brows pinch, his eyes torn between watching your hand and your face. “Right there, huh, princess?” 

“F-Fuck, yes, th-there,” he nods eagerly, his stomach tensing when you rub that spot faster. His dick twitches and throbs, his shaky breathing accelerating. You don’t let up, no matter how squirmy he gets. “Sensitive little thing, aren’t you? Who knew that rubbing your clit would get you like this.” Sultry words coming from you, his legs tightening around your waist. “C-Cum, wanna cum,” he mewls out, “pleasepleaseplease.” The rest of his cock feels neglected but he can’t bring himself to care, not when you wrap your hand around the tip and circle your palm on his sensitive head. Especially not when you use your free hand to pull down the neckline of his shirt to lick one of his pebbled nipples. The moment you wrap your lips around it and suck, he cums with the most pathetic noise imaginable. Hot seed sticks to your palm and spills down his softening cock.

“Mm,” you pull off his nipple with a soft pop, “that didn’t take long at all.” The sound of fabric tearing fills the air as you rip the lace material down the side seams.

“Why’d you do that?” Nero props himself up on his elbows, watching as you discard the now-useless lace. You shrug, slipping out from between Nero’s legs to grab the bottle of lubricant you know he has stashed in his nightstand. “Felt like it. What, you never had your panties ripped off before?” The drawer of his side table has too many things in it. Still, you fish out the black bottle of lube and toss it onto the bed beside him. “Obviously not.” You reach for the strap on lying cold and alone. Nero pulls his skirt down to cover himself and closes his legs, though it’s pointless.

“Keep up the attitude, angel. See where it gets you.” 

“...Whatever,” Nero grumbles, a new surge of arousal filling him as he watches you fasten the strapon to your pelvis. It’s a little unfair that you’re still fully clothed, but he’ll take what he can get. When you climb onto the bed again, you grab him by the hips and flip him over, his body weight that of a feather in your hands. With one hand, you prop his hips up as the other presses his face down into the mattress.

“Hey!” He yips, looking back at you with feigned annoyance. You roll your eyes as you push his skirt up for the second time tonight and give his ass a sharp slap, making him whine.

“Don’t be a brat. We’re just getting to the good part,” you grab the bottle of lube and uncap it, pouring a hefty amount on your fingers. Anticipation bubbles in Nero’s chest, his hands fisting the sheets. A shudder leaves him upon feeling your fingers coat the rim of his hole, applying gentle pressure just to tease. You push your index finger in slowly, forcing a hiss from his throat. It’s an odd feeling, the intrusion, but one he can get used to.

Besides, he’s seen those videos of cute guys getting pegged and they cum their brains out every time. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of both parties.

His walls slowly adjust as you move your finger in a gentle rhythm, waiting until you hear his breathing grow heavy to add another. A moan gets stuck in his throat, his brows pinched together as his eyes flutter shut. “You alright down there, angel? You’re awfully quiet.” You hum, using your free hand to knead one of his pert cheeks.

“F-Fine- M’fine,” his voice is a little strained and breathy. The pads of your middle and index finger brush against his prostate and his legs twitch, a soft moan leaving him. As subtly as he can (not at all,) he rocks his hips back onto your fingers to get more shocking, dizzying pleasure. Once you decide he’s loose enough, you withdraw your fingers and bring them to your silicon cock, adding a solid drizzle of lube along the shaft. A soft schlick noise sounds when you give the translucent silicon toy a few pumps to ensure it’s sufficiently lubricated.

Before Nero has time to complain, the tip is already pressing against his fluttering entrance. His fists clench in the sheets as you slowly press into him. Pink lips fall open as the stretch does him in, trying his best to stay still for you. “Good girl,” you murmur in his ear, “such a good girl, taking my cock so well.”

The white-haired man has never felt so full in his life, nor horny or outright dumb. He whines when you bottom out completely, your nails digging into his hips to keep him from running away.

“W-Why is it so big,” he looks back at you, his own cock dripping pre-cum again. His question is left unanswered as you pull out halfway only to thrust meanly back in. A strangled moan leaves his lips, his back falling into a natural arch. “Tell me, angel,” you keep a slow yet hard pace, each thrust bullying your fake cock impossibly deeper into his greedy hole, “has anyone ever fucked this cute cunt before?”

His brain processes the words but every time he opens his mouth, nothing but noises of pleasure come out. He shakes his head “no,” with a whimper.

“Aww, really? So you’re a virgin? Explains how tight your pussy is.”

Nero hasn’t been a virgin since he was nineteen, but for you, he’ll be anything you want. His volume increases the moment you bully your cock against his prostate, a sweet cry falling from his lips. His body feels hot every time the fat head presses it, his body relaxing into the bed. Lewd slaps and wet noises fill the air alongside his sweet noises of pleasure.

“Fuck m-me,” he gasps, his cock pulsing between his legs as it’s ignored, “y-your cock feels so good i-in my pussy.”

“I know, angel. Your cunt’s squeezing me so tight- if I knew you wanted me this much, I would’ve fucked her sooner.” You reach around to grope his chest, your other hand pulling him back on your faux dick with every thrust. Poor Nero doesn’t know what to do with himself but let you use him, as if you were the one getting pleasure from this. It’s obvious he needs more despite his noises, judging by the way he’s still able to think without interruption. He’s really gone when you accelerate your thrusts and keep the roughness, all but turning into a puddle atop his bedsheets. The coil in his stomach twists and tightens, his orgasm fast approaching.

“Yeah, there we go,” you murmur, your words adding fuel to the fire that is his impending release, “that’s my sweet girl.”

“M’gonna cum,” he whimpers, “I-I wanna- please, i-it hurts,” he reaches between his legs, whining when you slap his hand away. “Why didn’t you say something, pretty girl? I’ve got you, angel, just be a doll and let me take care of you.” Your slick fist wraps around his cock, stroking him in time with your thrusts and Nero just can’t handle it anymore. His orgasm catches him off guard, thick ropes of cum shooting out of his pink cockhead and onto the sheets below you two with a cry of your name.

You’re kind, so you take your hand away and slow to a stop, panting softly.

“You alright?” Nero takes a second to respond, humming a second later as he catches his breath. His thighs feel weak and shaky. “Good,” you pull out and settle on the bed beside him, your back resting against the wooden headboard. Under the impression that you’re done toying with him, he lets his eyes close. They shoot open when you grab him by the waist and hoist him onto your lap, thick blue dildo pressing against his gaping hole again. “C’mon, little girl- I can’t do all the work around here, y’know.”

The next day.

Dante calls Nero’s landline for what feels like the fifth time in a row.

“Damn, that punk,” he sighs, slamming the telephone down on its receiver. You’re not answering your phone either, but he knows better than to expect you to answer. He’s about to dial Nero’s number for a sixth time when the doors to Devil May Cry open and in walks you alongside a limping Nero. The red devil opens his mouth, but-

“Don’t ask,” Nero groans, making his way over to one of the couches and lying on his stomach. You’re quite proud of your work, even if it’s at Nero’s expense. Dante will find out eventually, and you cannot wait.

divider creds to @benkeibear!!

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Brand New One Shot - First Preview

It’s time for a new one shot! I promise I will finish “Dress Up” in the very near future but I wanted to get a jumpstart on this! No active warnings for this preview, but there is a very very subtle hint to something naughty if you squint lol

You remember first meeting the King of Hell on the day you checked yourself into the Hazbin Hotel. And you remember thinking that Lucifer looked nothing like you had pictured. Of course he was beautiful, that wasn’t shocking, but he was so…unimposing. Not only that, he was kind, albeit a bit dorky as well. Not that it was off putting to you, it was endearing if anything!

Although, you hadn’t spoken to him all that much since the time you’d moved in. Lucifer seemed so nonchalant and relaxed with everyone else in the hotel, save for Alastor, who you noticed always managed to get under the fallen angel’s skin one way or another. Even you knew the radio demon was playing with fire; probably wasn’t the smartest idea to piss off the most powerful being in Hell. Regardless, how he acted around you was a little odd to say the least. It seemed like Lucifer was always trying to avoid you for some unknown reason. Did he not like you?

When you had first spoken to him all those month ago, you could tell he was tense. He rambled, a lot. And he somehow managed to fumble every other word that left his mouth. He quickly left after your initial meet, and ever since then it was nearly impossible to get in more than five words at a time. He had an impossibly perfect disappearing act, what with his portaging abilities. One time you greeted him from across the lobby and his only response was “O-Oh! H-Hey you! Uhh, I just, umm…welp, gotta run!” and took off before you could even say goodbye. Truly bizarre.

You eventually went to Charlie, telling her that her dad was seemingly very distant towards you. “Oh, don’t worry about that!” Charlie explained. “He’s a pretty busy guy, so he’s usually popping in and out of here pretty frequently. And he’s told me on multiple occasions that he’s glad you joined the hotel! He can come off as a bit scatterbrained, but rest assured he’s more than happy to have you here! And so am I!”

You smiled and thanked her. From the few months that you’ve known her, Charlie was never one to lie, so you decided to take her words at face value. For now, at least. For some reason, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was up with Lucifer. You needed to find out.

A few nights had passed and you found yourself wandering through the lobby. It was late, way later than you should be awake. Even Husk was asleep, the bar sat devoid of any life. It was difficult to sleep most night, you were still grappling with the fact that you were, in fact, in Hell. You thought you were a decent person in life. Never religious but you tried your best to while you were alive. But that didn’t seem to matter. Perhaps you should have attended church with your family more often, or donated to more charities, or not cut that one person off at that traffic light. Laying awake in your bed wasn’t helping these thoughts, but getting up and walking around usually helped just a tad.

You glanced over to the fire place, noticing the flames dancing against the walls. That was strange, considering no one ever used the fire place, or at least not that you’ve seen. But then you noticed one of the large chairs in front of it wasn’t empty. A white sleeve laid across the arm rest. You walked over out of pure curiosity, just to see who was awake at this ungodly hour like you. You craned your neck to see Lucifer sitting there frozen, his head down and eyes closed with his free hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked troubled. Before you could speak up, you heard him mumble under his breath.

“What the hell am I going to do…”

Worried, you outstretched your hand, but stopped short of touching his arm. “Sir?”

Lucifer’s eyes shot open instantly, turning his head to see you towering over him. He leapt from his chair completely startled and began stumbling backwards towards the fire pit.

“Watch out!” you warned, gripping his hand and pulling him towards you. Lucifer held his breath, trying to process what just happened. His head ended up flush against your chest, your face now feeling as hot as the flames in the pit. You let go of his hand and stepped away from him as fast as you could. Lucifer remained motionless. “I-I’m so sorry, your majesty! I didn’t mean for you to…I’m sorry!”

You finally heard Lucifer exhale. He stood up straight and fixed his wrinkled jacket, making every effort to not look you in the eyes.

“It’s alright, m-my dear,” he spoke softly, “no harm done. A-And please, call me Lucifer.”

“Okay. Lucifer,” you started, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I saw you over here and I heard what you said and…is everything alright?”

Lucifer was tense again. You noticed him clench his fists. “How much did you hear?”

“Not much,” you admitted. “you just sounded worried about something.”

The king let out a sigh, letting his hands relax. “Thank you for your concern, I-I appreciate it. It’s nothing…nothing that you need to trouble yourself with. It’ll be fine.” Lucifer waved his hand, a portal now swirling open behind him, leading to his bedroom. “I think we should both get some sleep now. And t-thank you for catching me. Although, fire can’t harm me…b-but I appreciate the rescue nonetheless!” He was about to step through the portal when you caught his hand once more.

“Wait,” you said quietly. Lucifer looked down at the ground, still refusing to meet your gaze. You frowned. “Sir-I mean Lucifer…I wanted to ask you something. I need to know.” You felt his hand squeeze yours; he was tense again. “I-I’ve been feeling like I’m not welcome here by you.” Lucifer finally lifted his head, his eyes almost piercing your soul. He looked distraught at your words. You never noticed how beautiful his eyes truly were, the soft yellow complimented his pure white skin nicely. You blushed slightly, but shook your head and tried to remember what you were saying. “I-I just mean, you seem to avoid me every time I’m near. If I’ve done something to upset you, I’m very sorry. And if you’d rather I’d not stay here, then…”

“NO!” he shouted, now gripping your hand with both of his. “I-I mean, no. You haven’t done anything wrong! Please…Please don’t leave. I should be the one apologizing if that’s truly how you’ve been feeling. I never want you to feel unwelcome here, especially not from me. It…It’s just that…I…” Before he could finish his explanation, his eyes dropped for just a split second before returning to yours. His gaze had somehow shifted into a more panicked expression. He let go of your hands immediately and stepped through his portal in a hurry. “I-I have to go, I’m sorry!” You couldn’t get another word out before his portal disappeared from view.

You stood alone in the parlor, alone and confused. The fire had died out, and you felt a shiver down your spine at the realization of how cold it had gotten without it. But you couldn’t let the conversation end there. You needed to know what was going on with him. You wouldn’t sleep until you did. Luckily, Lucifer’s room at the hotel was very easy to find.

[anyknotrants]

Prompt: Broken bullet

words: 1615

warning: mentioned torture, implied/referenced panic attack, Jason and his amazing coping mechanisms

Jason wore a broken bullet around his neck. 

Not just any bullet, no, it was the first and only bullet he fired when he went into the Titan Tower to kill Robin. 

He knew it was bit fucked up- okay, a lot fucked up, but he was a Bat, did you expect him to deal with his emotions in a normal way? 

It just- it reminded him of that day. It reminded him of the way he almost killed, and brutally tortured, an innocent kid. 

Because that’s what Tim was in the end, an innocent kid that just wanted to help.

It reminded him to keep himself in check, it reminded him what happens when he slips, when the green clouds his mind. 

But it was supposed to be secret. Jason was not stupid, he knew this was about the worst way to cope, but he couldn’t help it. It was supposed to be a secret, it was by design, that even if someone was the bullet, they wouldn’t know it to be the one from the Titan Tower. It was just impossible. 

So of course Tim figured it out. 

Jason still had no idea how. 

It was a slow night, one of the rare nights when the even rarer blue moon was visible, which was a surprise on its own. 

Jason, Tim and Duke were the only ones taking care of Gotham right now. Bruce was with Clark for some unknown reason (something about the moon??), Dick was in space with Wally on a mission or whatever, Steph and Cass were in Hong Kong (trying to find a cure for some flower disease (???)) and Damian also who knows where. (Jason would know, if he bothered to check, but he didn’t)

As the night ended, both Red Robin and Red Hood retreated back to the Cave.

“Alright boys, that’ll be all from me, I'll alert you if there would be some emergency, but until then, Oracle signing out, good night.” A voice came from the cave speakers, and not a second later, a click that indicated that Babs was, in fact, signing off. 

Jason parked his bike —making a mental note to himself to look over it and clean it later— tossed his helmet on one of the benches, and all but melted into one of the couches. This night may have been quiet, but the last three sure as hell haven’t. 

“So…” Tim started, sitting in front of the Batcomputer, clicking away at the keyboard. “Any new jewelry or accessory that you’ve acquired?” he asked, still not looking at him. 

Now that had Jason’s mind kicking up again. Because as nonchalant as he tried to sound, there were obvious strains in his tone, and his posture. And the question was also really specific. 

He wondered for a moment if this was about the wedding band he had from Roy —when they eloped in Vegas, black out drunk, after Jason left Gotham after the Tower incident— but no, that couldn’t be it, that was months old news, one that his family already knew. 

“What are you on about, Timbit?” he asked, going for a lighter tone, and only seeing Tim tense up more. 

“Oh, I don’t know, any used weaponry? A broken bullet, perhaps? One that you couldn’ve used… I don’t know, in a fit of rage?” Tim’s voice was getting darker by the second. 

Jason’t blood freezed in his veins. He couldn’t- could he? No, there was no way he would— right? How would he even know? No, this had to be a mistake.

“What are you talking about?” Deny, deny, deny. That seemed to be the safest route here. He sat up on the couch, as Tim turned to face him, slowly. His mask was gone, and there was nothing short of pure anger and hurt in his eyes. Jason wondered for a second if he hadn't taken a dip in the Pit. 

“So— you mean to tell you you are not wearing a bullet that you fired at me in the Tower around your neck?” 

Jason's heart stopped. 

How did– how did he— he wasn’t ever supposed to— 

“What— How did you—”

“So it’s true!” Tim shouted, all but jumping from the chair, but still keeping his distance. 

“No-” 

“So you just casually wear a bullet that could have very well killed me, when you broke into the Tower? When you broke into one of the only safe places I had, when you tortured me?!”

“If you just listened–”

“NO! you wanted a reminder, didn’t you? A reminder that I’m only alive because you CHOSE TO LET ME LIVE!!?!”

“YOU—!” Jason roared right back, green nudging at the corners of his vision. He took a step towards Tim- and immediately stopped. 

Because Tim flinched. He flinched away from him, even though Jason was still a good few feet away. He flinched, and only now did Jason notice the slight shake over his whole body. 

The green melted away faster than it ever appeared. 

Because Tim was scared. 

Tim was afraid of him. 

Jason really, really fucked up. 

The silence in the cave was overwhelming. 

Jason took a step back. Loud enough that it was heard, but not loud enough to evoke any more memories— nightmares, that he already has. 

He kept his hands where Tim could see them, and started walking backwards, until he hit a wall. Even as the younger teen glared daggers at him for doing so, his posture relaxed, even if the slightest bit. 

He slid back down the wall, now sitting on the floor, a good 8 feet away. Slowly, as slowly as he could, he reached for one of his more visible knives, keeping the other hand still up. Tim tensed slightly again, but not by that much, after all, whatever was Jason about to do he could fight off the knife easily enough. 

But that didn’t happen. No, Jason unsheathe the knife, leveled it to the ground, and slid it over the floor towards Tim.

The young boy could only stare, as the cold metal clanged at his feet. He dared to look down, losing sight of Jason for a moment, but when he looked up again, Jason was already sending another one. 

Tim was confused for a second, scared, but by the third dagger, he realized what Jason was doing. 

He was disarming himself. 

He was disarming himself, to Tim, even though Tim just shoved some rather alarming and violent behaviour. 

He was disarming himself for Tim.

By the time Jason worked himself up to pass over his last gun as well, Tim had a sizable pile of various weaponry at his feet. 

They both knew that Jason had more than that. All of them always had more than that, he didn’t think anyone in this family ever went without at least a batarang anywhere, but the message was clear. 

Jason disarmed himself, gave his weapons to Tim, so the teen could feel safer. And the worst part? It was working. 

They stayed in silence,  Jason slumped against the wall, his eyes avoiding Tim for a moment. Tim’s gaze never left him. 

“....it does serve as a reminder.” Jason broke the silence, startling Tim a bit. He did not expect him to speak so soon. Sill, the admittance from Jason left a bitter taste in Tim’s mouth. He thought they were getting better, That Jason cared, but all this time– 

“But not for the reason you think.” Tim’s eyes snapped back to Jason, not even realizing he let his gaze fall, wide, still scared blue eyes meeting ble-green ones. Come on Tim, you can do better than that, and— no, those tears better stay in. 

When Tim didn’t respond, Jason took that as his cue to continue, averting his eyes yet again, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket’s sleeve. 

“It serves as a reminder, but not— well yes, it reminds me of how I almost killed you, how I almost killed an innocent kid–” There was a growl growing in Jason’s chest, begging to be let out. Jason took a deep breath. Don’t scare the kid. Don’t make him run again. 

“It reminds me what happens when I lose control, it reminds me why I shouldn't.” He choked back a sob. Damn, emotional conversations were hard. No wonder Bruce didn’t like them. 

“It helps keep the Pit at bay, because every time I look at it, I remember. I remember the kid that looked up to me that I beated up. I remember my baby brother, who I tortured, who’s trust in anyone I shattered. I remember—” Jason’s words were spilling faster and faster, giving the speedster’s run for their money, but once he started, he just kept going—

His words were suddenly cut off, when an object the size of a human child collided with him.

Jason looked down. 

No, not an object. A kid. 

A kid who was sobbing into his chest, clutching him like a lifeline. 

Jason wasn't sure what to do. The kid never hugged him on his own. Sure, there were the half-hugs, and group hugs (courtesy of Dick) but he never— he never….

Jason wrapped his hands around Tim’s stupidly small body, keeping his touch gentle, not wanting to hurt, or to trigger Tim. 

Only when Tim pressed himself even closer to him —which, wow, Jason was not sure if that was possible— did Jason tighten his drip, all but squeezing the life out of him. 

Jason didn’t know when tears started falling from his eyes as well, or when both of them stopped. 

He just sat on the Cave’s floor, holding his little brother in his arms.

(not my proudest work (far from it) but it could be worse)