#obviously i don’t stick my hand in his face but he’s never tried to snap at me when i’ve done stuff w his shell

[dudefromtheooze]

the snapping turtle at work likes having his shell scrubbed :]

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: Rafe Cameron. Your toxic ex boyfriend who can’t seem to let you go. Even your best attempt at fighting him off, telling him no, he comes back. He won’t let you go.

— CW: 18+ only! toxic!ex bf!rafe, dark!rafe, violence, kidnapping, strong language, cocaine use, fingering, choking, marking, unprotected sex, breeding kink.

— a/n: this is a work of fiction. i do not condone anything written. this will all be in rafe’s pov. enjoy🖤

likes, comments and reblogs aren’t expected but are very appreciated <3

❥ toxic — r.c

I always knew something was wrong with me. It started when my mom died. My mind just went… Dark.

My life had started taking a really dark turn. And for a while, I could control my dark tendencies, I could control the darkness that ate away at my mind. But, the older I got, the harder it became to control that darkness inside me.

For as long as I could remember, my dad always hated me. He fucking hated me, and there was nothing I could do to change that. He only cared about Sarah, my younger sister. From the moment she was born, all of his love and attention went to her. Like she was something fucking special, like she hung the fucking moon. I was left to care for myself, pick myself back up when I fell. My dad still financially supported me, — even though he wished he didn’t have too — so at least I still had that going for me.

But he didn’t love me. No, he wished I had been a stain on the bedsheets, wished I had been wiped away with a fucking warm washcloth after the deed was done. But that wasn’t the case, obviously. I was born. And I was here. And he fucking hated that.

I stopped believing in love at a very young age. Fucked up, right? What kid doesn’t believe in love? What kid doesn’t believe that someone is capable of loving him? If you didn’t already know the answer to that, it’s me. At least, it was me.

The idea of loving someone and being loved crept back into my life when I was eighteen. When she came into my life. I loved her the best I knew how, which, wasn’t really saying anything. I didn’t know how to fucking love someone, so… I hurt her. I hurt her in every way possible…

… And when she finally walked away from me, telling me that she “deserved better”, I fucking lost it. I lost the only fucking person in this world who mattered to me. The only person who tried to love even the darkest parts of me. I fucking lost her.

But her walking away from me. From us. Wasn’t going to stop me. No, she was fucking mine. And I was going to get her back, even if I had to force my way back into her life, she would come back to me.

“Rafe, are you sure about this?” Topper asks, pulling me from my own mind.

I shake my head, dragging my eyes up to find Topper’s intense stare. His eyes narrow into small slits, eyebrows raising as he tries to read my face. I blink. Once. Twice. “What?” I ask, completely confused.

“Are you sure you wanna do this shit, man? Y/N will never fucking forgive you, and you know…”

“I don’t fucking care, Top! She’s mine, and she needs to be fucking reminded of that!” I snap. My fists are now balled up at my sides, chest heaving up and down and nostrils flared as thoughts of her begin to fill my mind.

Topper throws his hands up in surrender. “Whatever, bro. Not my problem.”

I smile, but it holds no amusement. No happiness. It’s a cold smile. “Exactly. Not your problem. Now cut that shit up, I need one more line before I head out.”

Topper sighs, but does as I ask. He leans forward, grabbing my black Amex off the glass table and begins cutting a new set of lines for the two of us. I chew at the skin around my thumb nail as I watch him create four perfectly straight lines out of the white powdery substance.

Once he finishes, I shove his shoulder to the side, allowing me access to the table. I snatch the already rolled hundred dollar bill off of the glass, rolling it a little tighter and placing one end to my right nostril. I lean forward, sticking the other end of the bill onto one of the four lines and snort the powder up into my nose. I quickly do my second line before tossing the bill back onto the table and falling back into the couch, squeezing my eyes shut and letting out a loud sigh. The drug burns my nose and throat, but the numbing sensation that comes from the cocaine quickly replaces that burn. My nose, throat, and tongue are numb, but my entire body feels like it’s on fire, a new surge of adrenaline pumping into my veins and making me ready to do what I must do tonight.

I stand from my spot on the couch, glancing down at Topper once more before heading for the door. His concerned voice stops me in my tracks. “I really hope you know what you’re doing, man. She’s going to hate you after tonight”

I snort. I don’t give a fuck if she hates me. She’s mine, and she needs to be reminded of that. She can’t hate me more than she already does. Or maybe she can, I don’t know. If I have anything to say about it though, she won’t hate me. No, she’ll love me again. I’ll make sure she loves me.

“Maybe. But she can’t hate me forever. She will love me again.”

I walk out the door, slamming it shut behind me before Topper can even open his mouth to ramble off anymore bullshit. I didn’t care to hear it. I didn’t care about his opinion. I was doing this.

I sit outside of her work. Watching. Waiting. I know she’ll be off any minute now, I used to pick her up every night when we were together. My girl doesn’t have a car, so I already know she’ll probably be leaving with one of her coworkers, but that won’t stray my plan. It’ll only make it more interesting. More fun.

My phone goes off in my pocket, letting me know I have a text. Pulling it out, I glare down at the words on the screen.

Ward: Where the fuck are you Rafe? Tonight was fucking important and you’re fucking everything up. I don’t even know why i’m surprised, you’re nothing but a walking fuck up.

I growl, angrily tossing my phone into the passenger side floorboard. Fuck my dad. And fuck the business deal that he so badly needed me at tonight. He doesn’t give a fuck about anything other than money and Sarah. So naturally, I’m putting what I want first. And what I want is Y/N. I don’t give a fuck about anything else.

The sound of her laughter filters in through my cracked window, making me sit up straight in my seat. One glance out the windshield and I see her. She looks as gorgeous as I remember. And her laugh, fuck, it has my cock growing in my pants, straining against the harsh fabric of my boxers and jeans. I adjust myself, and shake my head a few times. I need to focus. My eyes travel to the left of her. My fists automatically ball themselves by my sides when I see her walking and talking with Pope. I fucking hate that pogue. I hate all pogues. Except for her. She will always be the exception.

He stands too close to her for my liking, and it makes my blood boil. Tossing a part of my plan out the window, I shove my door open and march my way toward them. She’s in the middle of talking when Pope’s wide eyes have her audibly clamping her mouth shut.

“Pope, what is- Rafe.” She says softly, her breathing picking up now that I’m right in front of her.

“Baby girl.” I reply, a slow smile spreading across my face.

“Don’t- Don’t call me that, Rafe. We’re not together anymore.”

My jaw tightens at her words, nostrils flaring as I try and keep my composure. I don’t need to lash out just yet. I need to keep my calm, for now.

I ignore her and turn my attention toward Pope. “Heyward. Get the fuck out of here.” I say simply. It’s as simple as that. He can leave, or I can beat the shit out of him. The choice is his.

He glares at me, his eyes narrowed into slits and his breathing calm. Seems like the kid grew a pair of balls in the last thirty seconds. He opens his mouth to speak, but my fist connecting with his nose cuts off whatever bullshit he was about to say.

“Rafe! What the fuck?!” Y/N shouts, dropping to her knees and checking on the boy that’s now laid out on the ground, blood pouring from his probably broken nose.

“Get up, Y/N. We’re leaving”

Her neck snaps in my direction so fast, eyes narrowed. “I’m not fucking going anywhere with you! Fucking leave me alone, Rafe!”

I roll my neck from side to side before taking a step toward her. “You can either come with me willingly, or I can make you come with me. Your call, baby girl.”

The look in her eyes has me straining in my jeans. She’s so fucking sexy when she’s mad. She looks down at Pope, he’s groaning and holding his nose as blood continues to pour from it.

“Y/N! Now!” I shout. My patience is growing thin. And she’s not going to like it if I have to force her to come with me. I want her to make at least one choice on her own tonight.

She slowly stands, but Pope grabbing at her hand has her stopping halfway up. I fist my hands, ready to fucking hit him again if needed.

“Y/N… Don’t go with him…” Pope says softly. I chuckle at that. He thinks she has a choice in the matter. The only choice she has is to willingly come. And even now, I have a feeling she’s going to opt out of that choice.

She glances between him and me, and I can see the gears turning in her head. She’s thinking of running. Go for it, baby. I’ve planned for her running. As if she can read my thoughts, she yanks her hand from his grip and turns as fast as she can. She takes off running down the empty street, but I’m right on her heels.

“Keep running baby, you know I love it when you run!”

She looks behind her shoulder, a look of pure fear in her eyes. When she puts her focus back on what’s in front of her I pick up my speed. Once I’m directly behind her, I wrap my right arm around her waist and yank her back into my front. She begins kicking and screaming, her nails clawing into my arm. “Rafe! Put me down!” She shouts, and I just laugh.

“Baby girl, you know I can’t do that.”

I carry her back to my truck, opening the back door and tossing her inside. I jog around to the driver side, glancing over to where she and Pope walked out of and noticing he’s gone. Oh well. Not my problem. My dad will get me out of whatever he tries to throw my way. I climb inside the truck, locking the doors and bringing the engine to life. I glance into the back seat to find her sitting up right, and she’s seething. Anger flashes through her beautiful eyes, her chest is heaving up and down and nostrils flaring as she glares at me.

“Fuck you, Rafe! What the fuck do you want?!”

I smirk. “You.” I answer simply, and her eyes go wide.

It’s as simple as that. I want her. And she is going to want me again, even if it takes days, months, years. She will want me again.

“Rafe, put me the fuck down! I can fucking walk!” She shouts. Her small fists are pounding into my back. I have her tossed over my shoulder, walking up the stairs of the porch and into the front door of Tannyhill.

Once inside, I finally set her down on her feet and she scrambles away from me. I laugh, she thinks she can escape me, but she can’t. She never will. She’s mine to own. To fuck. To control. She’s mine.

“You know, it hurts my feelings how scared of me you are, baby girl.”

Her eyes narrow. “Are you fucking serious? You just basically kidnapped me, Rafe! You’re fucking insane!”

I let out a breathy laugh. “I am insane. But only for you. Because of you. I fucking love you, Y/N. Why can’t you see that?”

She scoffs. “You don’t love me. You want to fucking own me, like I’m your fucking property or some shit. I’m not! I’m a human fucking being, Rafe!”

I love the fight she has in her. I always have. Just not when she’s fighting me. Against me. She’ll learn soon enough that I am the scariest part of her life. I’m her biggest threat. But I will also protect her. She needs to be protected from everyone but me. She fucking needs me.

“This can go one of two ways, sweetheart. One. You can willingly come upstairs with me, and let me fuck that attitude out of you, let me remind you who the fuck you belong to. Or two. I can drag your ass up those stairs by your hair and remind you who the fuck you belong to. Either way, you’re going to be begging for my cock by the end of the night.”

I don’t miss how her nipples harden at my words. She still wants me. When she notices my eyes on her now hard nipples she rolls her eyes and crosses her arms across her chest, causing me to smirk in amusement and arch a brow.

“I don’t fucking belong to you, Rafe! God, you’re fucking crazy! Go to hell!”

A smile spreads across my face at her words. “Sweetheart, I am hell.”

Her breath hitches in her throat and her arms drop to her sides. I take a step toward her, causing her to take one back. I roll my eyes, taking one long step toward her and closing the distance between us. I wrap my right arm around her waist, pulling her flush into my body. I lean my head down, breathing in her intoxicating scent before my lips brush against the shell of her ear, I whisper, “You wanna do things my way? I’ll take you right here. Right now. Don’t tempt me, sweetheart. I’m not against letting anyone see me claim what’s mine.”

I feel her body tense in my hold, and it only makes my smile grow. She’s scared of me. But that’s expected. For now. After I’m done with her, she’ll be begging for more. She won’t want to let me go. She’ll be mine, just like I am hers.

“Rafe-” She breathes out, but I cut her off. I smash my lips against hers in a breathtaking, aggressive kiss. She involuntarily moans against my mouth, allowing me to force my tongue into her mouth. She melts into me, her body going slack in my hold as she allows my tongue to explore her mouth, brushing against hers. God I fucking missed her. The taste of her.

She snaps her eyes open, pushing me back, and I’m so fucking weak from the kiss that I don’t fight it. I stumble back a little before straightening myself. She has her eyes narrowed and her tiny fists balled at her sides.

“Fuck you, Rafe! Stop trying to get into my head! I- I fucking can’t keep doing this with you!”

She tries to make her way past me, but I grip the back of her neck. I pull her backward, angling her head up so her eyes are on mine. She tries to pull herself from my grip, but I tighten my hand on her neck, making her whine out in pain.

“Is my soul too dark for you, baby girl? What is it? Can you not love me for who I am?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but I release her neck, tossing her onto the ground in the process. She lands on her ass, her hands flying behind her to keep her upright. I slowly make my way toward her, letting out a deep exhale.

“You see, I tried to be better for you. But I can’t change who I am. Not for you. Not for anyone. But, one thing did change. You wanna know what that is?”

Her eyes begin to fill with tears, one slipping past her lower lashes. “W-What?”

“I learned how to love. How to accept love into my life. I love you, Y/N. And you left me. Left me like I didn’t mean anything to you. That should have been enough for me to let you go. You know? I’ve always been rejected. My own dad fucking hates me. I’ve never known love. But you. You came into my fucking life and wrecked everything. I fell in love with you, and I know you loved me. So I can’t just let that go. I fucking need you. And you need me. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”

I kneel in front of her, reaching my right hand out and running it down the side of her pretty face. She flinches back and I grip her cheeks between my fingers, squeezing tightly. “Now. Let me remind you of who the fuck you belong to.”

She whimpers, more tears spilling past her lower lashes. I lay her onto her back, crawling on top of her and caging her in with my arms. She doesn’t fight. Sobs rack her chest, and she rolls her head to the side, trying to avoid my stare. I press my hips into hers, groaning when my hard dick presses against her clothed pussy.

“You feel that, Y/N? That’s what you do to me. You own me. Are you going to let me own you?”

She rolls her head back toward me. Her bloodshot eyes and mascara stained cheeks make me groan. Fuck, I’m in love with this girl. Even if she’s terrified of me right now, I fucking need her.

I chuckle at her silence. My hands go to the hem of her work shirt, sliding it up and exposing her smooth stomach. I take my left hand and run my fingers over the expanse of her skin, pulling a shudder from her. “You’re so fucking beautiful, sweetheart. And you’re all mine.”

She chokes out a sob, squeezing her eyes shut as my fingers trail up her stomach and to the underside of her bra. I cup one of her breasts in my hand, firmly squeezing at it. She whimpers, bringing her bottom lip between her teeth to try and silence her cries of pleasure.

I slip her shirt up and over her head, leaving her in her pink lace bra. I snake my hand underneath her back, finding the clasps that hold the bra in place and pop them. My fingers find the straps, slowly sliding them down her arms and exposing her chest to me. Her nipples are hard, perfectly pointed peaks. My mouth waters, wanting to suck on them. I lean my head down, wrapping my lips around one of her nipples and sucking at it lightly before bringing it between my teeth and lightly biting. She moans loudly when I pull back with her nipple in my teeth. I let the pebbled bud fall from my mouth and smirk down at her.

“Are you wet f’me, sweetheart?”

She rolls her eyes. “No”

I chuckle. She’s lying. I know her better than she thinks I do. And I know she’s fucking lying. She’s ashamed. She doesn’t want to be wet for me, but she is.

I run my fingers down to the waistband of her jeans, popping the button on them and slowly pulling the zipper down. She squirms underneath my touch, trying to get away but I press my weight into her, keeping her pressed onto the cold tile of the entryway of Tannyhill.

I slide the rough fabric down her legs just enough to expose her matching pink thong. I bought her this set. And fuck, she looks good wearing it. I slide my hand between us again, running my hand up her inner thighs until I reach her clothed center. Even from here, I can feel how soaked she is. I slide her panties to the side, baring her cunt and running my index finger through her arousal slick folds.

“You’re right, you’re not wet. You’re fucking soaked, princess. Your body misses me.”

I shove my index finger inside of her soaked pussy, pulling a moan from her. I add another, curling them slightly and working them in and out of her slowly. I press my palm firmly against her clit as I continue to fuck my fingers in and out of her. The sounds her pussy makes while my fingers are buried inside her have me straining harshly against my jeans. She begins to roll her hips, fucking herself against my hand.

I bury my face into her neck, sinking my teeth into her flesh and sucking a bruise into her otherwise flawless skin. I release her skin, looking at the deep purple bruise that adorns her neck before I lick the bruise and up to her ear. I nip at the lobe of her ear before whispering, “That’s it baby, ride my hand. Good fucking girl”

She whimpers, her hips picking up the pace as she rides my fingers and hand. Her pussy clenches around my fingers, letting me know she’s close to her release. I quickly pull my fingers from her, and she whines at the loss.

“Don’t worry baby, you’ll cum. But it’ll be all over my cock. I can’t wait any longer. I’m going to fuck this pretty pussy, and you’re going to love it”

I push myself off of her and quickly kick my shoes off before pulling my shirt over my head. I work on my jeans next, pulling them and my boxers down in one swift motion. Her eyes go wide when she sees my throbbing cock, precum already leaking from the tip. I drop to my knees and pull her jeans down the rest of the way. I rip her thong from her hips, making her gasp in surprise. “Rafe, I liked those!” I smirk. I can buy her a thousand more where that came from.

Ignoring her anger over the flimsy fabric I ripped from her body, I place my left hand on the ground, baring my weight while grasping my hard cock in my right hand and line it with her weeping entrance. My blue eyes find hers. “Tell me to stop. Tell me you don’t fucking want this, because if you don’t, I’m not sorry for what’s to come. I will fucking hurt you. I will not be gentle.”

She doesnt respond, and I take her silence as my okay. I shove myself inside her in one harsh push. I groan when my swollen head hits that spongey sweet spot inside of her and she gasps loudly. Her hands fly around my neck, nails digging into my shoulders. I stay still for a minute, needing to focus on not busting inside of her right now. I want to enjoy this. I want to fucking feel her wrapped around me for longer than a few fucking minutes, but she feels so fucking good. I feel like a teenage boy discovering women for the first time all over again.

“Fuck baby girl, so fucking right and wet. And all for me.” I rasp.

“Rafe… Please?” She begs.

“Please what, baby girl. Tell me what you want”

She whimpers and it makes my dick jerk inside her. “Please… Fuck me Rafe. I- I need you.”

I smirk. She admitted that she needs me. She fucking needs me.

I ignore the small victory for now and slowly pull myself from inside her, slamming myself back inside her warm cunt before she can even think of saying anything.

My hips find a pace, quick and harsh. I slam myself in and out of her. Her sweat slick body slides on the tile, and I wrap and arm around her waist, keeping her in place. I still myself inside her, quickly grabbing her right leg and placing it around my hips, allowing me better access to her pussy. I begin pounding my hips into hers again, pulling the sweetest moans from her lips.

“Tell me you’re fucking mine. Tell me you won’t ever fucking leave me again.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but nothing but whines and moans come out. I slow my hips, completely stilling myself inside her once more. My right hand wraps around her throat, squeezing and cutting off her air. Her wide, tear filled eyes stare up at me. “Fucking say it! Tell me you fucking need me! Tell me you fucking love me!”

She tries to speak, but my grip on her throat tightened, making her beautiful face turn a bright shade of red. Her lips begin to turn blue and I release her neck. She sucks in a deep breath of air, gasping as tears pour from her eyes.

“Tell me baby. Tell me you’re mine.”

“I-I’m yours, Rafe. Only yours. I need you. I love you. I’ll never leave you again.”

I smile at her words. They make a warmth flood through my body. A warmth i’ve only ever felt with her. She may be lying for her own pleasure right now, but she will love me again, and she will mean it.

Satisfied with her answer I begin thrusting into her again, slow and sensual thrusts that have her softly moaning. I dip my head down, burying it into her neck again. I sink my teeth into her shoulder, biting on the skin harshly before moving to the other side and repeating the action. She will be completely marked by me by the end of the night. Reminders of this night, reminders of who she belongs to marked into her skin.

Her pussy clenches around me, tightly gripping at my cock and sucking me in deeper. I groan, my lips kissing over all the bruises and teeth marks i’ve left on her skin. “Come f’me, princess. Come all over my cock, s’kay. Let me have it”

She whimpers, her pussy pulsing and body stiffening as her release rushes through her. Her body shakes, tears spill from her eyes as she screams my name. I smash my lips with hers, silencing her cries. Our tongues clash together, heavy breathing and the sounds of our skin slapping bounce off the walls. I break the kiss, my eyes finding hers. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty pussy baby. I wanna see you swollen with my child. Do you want that? You can’t escape me if you’re pregnant with my child.”

She whines, squeezing her eyes shut as she nears another orgasm. I feel her pussy clench around me again, squeezing me tightly like it’s trying to milk me for every last drop of my cum.

My hips stutter, dick twitching inside her warm and wet cunt as I explode deep inside her pussy. “That’s it baby, take it all. I wanna see you pregnant with my baby. You’re mine. Forever”

I push deep inside her one more time, shoving my cum deep into her abused cunt before I slowly pull myself out. I fall to the floor beside her, rolling onto my side and kissing her sweat slick forehead. “All mine baby. You’re never leaving me again.”

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[sugudoe]

❛ 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐀𝐘 ❜ ﾉ⠀ 𝙜𝙤𝙟𝙤 𝙨𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙪

✶ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: It had been a decade since the jujutsu world last heard your voice or seen your face. 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 had to deal with his emotions and conflicts by himself, and when he was nearly accepting that maybe you were dead, the unthinkable happens ── ����𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩.

✶ 𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is the same universe as ‘𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾’ 𝗆𝗒 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗎 one shot, but obviously can be read separated (but don’t, read all of them <3), because i thought it would be cool. this one actually made me cry a lot, but as always, good ending. totally based on this song. also, i noticed i like to make the reader strong and whatever, expect more badass readers from me. mwah.

✶ 𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬: angst with good ending, mature content, blood, death, kidnapping, foul language, anxiety attack, self harm (picking skin), malnourishment, afab!reader (their uterus is actually important to the plot), happy ending.

✶ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.8k

Gojo Satoru has had bruises and scars surrounding all of his fingers for almost a decade now. It’s a habit he picked to externalize his anxiety, much like Shoko with her cigarettes — ever since they met each-other, the girl would inhale one after the other.

When Ieiri became a doctor, her mission was to help healing the physical scars cause by either Gojo’s own hands or mouth, plucking the skin and tasting his blood, as if that could calm him. Maybe it could, he did felt relief through the pain. Shoko knew it was unhealthy and just the first steps before it all escalated to something more dangerous and difficult, so she tried to help.

“Let’s change this…” The brunette grabbed Satoru’s hands from his mouth, when he started to complain, she exchange it for a strawberry covered in chocolate. “For this.”

Soon, Shoko is reminded that Satoru can multitask. Blood and sweets merge in his mouth, the taste is addictive to him, much like something he unknowingly misses.

They both try cigarettes.

“Isn’t cigarettes as bad as this self-harm, you think I do?!” Gojo asks after burning his lungs and coughing the smoke all the way up his throat. There is a bitter taste that impregnates in his tongue, he can help but stick one of his fingers into his mouth and scratch the pink muscle. While he is at it, Gojo bites, tempted, his skin.

Shoko thinks that if Satoru is allowing all of this, that means he cares as much as she does, and he wants to be unhooked of this habit he has. One day, she suggests maybe he should focus on something else, like keeping his bed warm with a new person everyday. You’re never picking up your skin when you’re focused on somebody’s else, Shoko tells him.

Gojo turns it down the second she finishes her reasoning.

“Your pretty head is going to work harder for a new idea, Sho. Not in the mood for anyone else.” Shoko doesn’t bother slapping Satoru’s hands away from his mouth, the woman is to busy being stunned by his words.

“I thought you had move on, Gojo.” She didn’t meant to say it out loud, hence why it’s barely a whisper, but the contents of it could never scape Gojo. If the topic was you, he was always hearing, trained his ears in the hope to catch news a long time ago. “It’s been what? four years?”

“No, it’s been six, actually.” Gojo is not looking at Shoko, not at anywhere in the room but his hands, bruised and bloodied by himself. Shoko wonders if he is going to bite the whole thing off. “Six years since she has gone missing. Not a single news, she had no family, besides us, so no one has know shit.” He closed his hands in fists.

“Don’t you think she could have just gone away, Satoru?” Ieiri fidgets with her wedding ring unconsciously, the piercing blue eyes snap to the silver metal for a moment before returning to his lap, his long hand touching his necklace under the shirt. Shoko knew of your hate towards the jujutsu world and the men in power, but she was also your friend, you wouldn’t have left anyone behind, especially Gojo. “No, she didn’t.”

“Yeah, she didn’t.” Satoru grabs his glasses on the coffee table and adjust them over his eyes. To ease the pain of the six-eyes or to hide his tears, the woman wonders. “But I wish that’s what happened, y’know?” Gojo presses his thumb against the bottom of his teeth, tempted. “I would love her more if I knew she was far away, somewhere in the mountains, sleeping with dozens of blankets and a cat named Amour.”

Shoko doesn’t find her voice in that moment, is stuck besides her breaking heart and burned lungs. Gojo doesn’t seem to mind, he is lost in this calm and happier version of you he creates to ease his mind.

“If she isn’t, can you imagine? Can you imagine her dead?” Satoru slaps his hand over his mouth, and Shoko fears that’s the moment he will bite so hard the blood he is addicted to will paint himself, paint her, become physical enough to never be ignored like this situation they are right know. But none of that happens, Satoru simply try to hide his hiccups and cries.

It takes Ieiri a second to register what is happening, and when she does she jumps over the coffee table and hugs Gojo’s shaking form. In the six years since your disappearance, Satoru has never said out loud that you could be dead. The man thought such a thing was impossible, said that your curse energy was so strong anyone would feel it, Japan would lose its balance. He wondered if he had been wrong, had never noticed, because even if Satoru had spend all the time searching for you, he could have missed this. Could have missed you, and your last breath.

“Oh, please, my God.” Gojo begged the usual prayer: trade him for you, let him see you just one more time — he only needed a goodbye, a hug, a kiss. To look in your eyes and repent, to touch your skin and evaporate. Gojo Satoru would avoid death until the moment he sees you again, dead or alive.

“Gojo.” Shoko grabbed his face, removing his glasses and making him stare at her through his white eyelashes. He looked so young, the perfect mirage of how he was when Satoru learned of your missing. “She is not gone.” Ieiri hated herself for this, for trying to give him hope, something desperate to dig his claws in, unknown to the fact it was hope digging him, and when the truth would come out it could remove chunks of Satoru.

“Then where is Y/n?” Gojo whispered. “Where is she that I can’t find? Where is my love?”

Gojo Satoru became a shell of a man after that day. For the next four years he devoted his attention to anything related to you.

Becoming a good and happy teacher because he knew how much you wanted to be one, for the young sorceress who were obliged to give their lives for old men who couldn’t even thank them. Gojo’s spare time used to be for you, as well, searching Tokyo and hiring detectives all over the world, but now he promised Shoko to take some time at his penthouse. It sucks.

He holds himself against the large windows and knows you would love to see the city lights, when they would shine through your eyes and light half of your face, he would kiss you desperately. For a decade away from your lips, he still could remember how good it felt to be complete with you. The clouds reached the building some times, and he wondered if you were dead, this was your way of reaching. But whenever Gojo refused to believe in this, he would let the curtains take him away from the clouds.

Today is one of those days. And the sky is angry at him, demanding his attention with lightning and thunder — unfortunately, same as your cursed technique. Anytime a lightning falls at the city bellow him, Gojo hugs himself a bit tighter, to avoid himself from jumping to the windows, shamelessly looking for you.

His cell phone rings two times before he picks it up.

“Hey, are you alright? It’s a pretty heavy storm tonight.” Suguru asks right away, in the background there is two teen girls screaming with terror and then laughing like maniacs afterwards. “One lightning fell at the garden, the girls are going crazy. If you want to come, please do.” There is despair in his voice, and Gojo laughs at that.

“Sure, nothing better to do. Should I teleport in the middle of your living room to scare them?”

“Yes! That would be very much appreciated… Oh.” There is mumbling for a long time before Suguru returns. “Nanako is asking for you to bring her some of your snacks, the sour one, Mimiko says she want nothing but she likes the peanut butter M&M’s.” More talking in the background. “You are no bother, love, he is filthy rich.”

“Your daughters are lucky I love them.” Gojo mumbles getting up, before he moves there is a sound on his phone showing him a second number is calling. “I think Shoko is calling me, I’ll be right back at you. Tell your wife I’m bringing you and her something as well.”

“It better be good, last time you got her pineapple biscuits, what is wrong with you?”

“Those biscuits are good.”

“SHE’S ALLERGIC, SATORU.”

“OKAY, NO PINNEAPLES! WHY ARE YOU SCREAMING? Why am I screaming?” Satoru sighed before turning around from his cabinet with the pineapple biscuit.

He turned off the call with Geto who was busy with the girls to even notice. The second call was already off. Gojo shrugged, Shoko would definitely call again. Satoru was busy grabbing a random backpack is his closet when he heard his phone from the kitchen a couple of minutes later, he walked with the bag and picked the phone without seeing the id.

“Hi, you want to go to Geto’s house and prank the girls by teleportation?” Gojo starts to pack the bag, but stops when he hears no answer from Shoko, just breathing and thunder. “Wha…” Gojo takes the phone from his ears and checking the id find a random number. “Okay weirdo, this breathing thing is not really my cup of tea, know what I mean? I’m turning off now.”

“Don’t.” It’s a simple whisper, one word. It’s through the phone and the sound of wind, thunder clashes nearly at the exact same time. But Gojo hears your voice, and he doesn’t wonder if he heard right, but only if he is hallucinating, he would never forget your voice. “Please, don’t turn off.”

“Baby, please, please be you.” He has nothing else to say, no right question at this moment, the only thing in his head is you, has always been you.

“It’s me, Sato, I’m here.” He senses the smile in your voice, he can picture you with your eyes close and cuddling your face to the phone like he is doing right now. “Satoru, this is really, really important, okay? I need you to come get me now.”

Those ten years, Satoru had been waiting for this. Sensing the urgency of your words, Gojo removes his eye band.

“Tell me where you are, baby.”

Before you could answer, something snapped behind you.

“Here she is, dumb bitch couldn’t run that fast, after all. Still in our lands.” A man said causing not only yours but Satoru’s blood as well to run cold. You turned to him, admiring the blood dripping from the bite on his shoulder, your courtesy. “Let me make one thing clear, sweetheart, you’re never leaving here.” A slap followed his words. “Take her back to Naoya, he is waiting for the punishment.”

“FUCK.” A second man voice was present. “THE BITCH STOLE A PHONE.” All heads turned to him, in his hands was the object you dropped soon as you heard the men, the other line was silent but the call was still on.

“WHO WHERE YOU FUCKING CALLING?” The first man grabbed your hair, he approach his face to yours, forcing you to feel the putrid smell from his breath.

“I was ordering a pizza, asked for your favorite, no need to thank.” You stares at his nose for a moment, before launching at and biting it. Blood flows to your throat again in the day, he pushes you off and you stumble back, quickly getting up and spitting on the agonizing man. The other with the cellphone is scared, mostly due to the storms behind you, following the movements of your hands. “C’mon, I’m in the mood to a good fight.”

The man drops the phone. One step, is all he gives for you, all you allow before lighting meets him and he falls dead on the floor, a second hits the one on the floor. It takes you half a second to reach to phone, the call is still on but silent on the other side.

“Satoru?” You call worried for your lover.

“I’m here, baby.” You sigh in relief when he answers. He was coming your way, still.

“Did you heard me beating them?” You sit on the floor, under the rain who kisses your bruised skin softly, much like Gojo used to do. “I‘ve been waiting some time for this… How long was I out?”

“A long time.” Gojo answers are so short you wonder if you did the right thing by calling him. But if anything, he was the only number you had memorized, it was your only chance. When you first called him, he said something about ‘girls’ had he moved on? Are you allowed to be upset by this idea?

“Satoru, where are you?” It’s another whisper of yours he catch quick.

“I already said, baby. I’m here.”

You scrunch your eyebrows before getting up, turning your head for every direction, until you realized you had been so focused on the rain and Satoru’s voice, you didn’t catch the enormous red light over the trees and screams coming from the Zen’in clan’s houses direction.

“Stay where you are while I finish this, okay, baby?” He grunt, before you hear a punch being throw. “I‘ll come get you quick.”

You wait by the trees, sitting towards the entrance of the woods that you took off sprinting earlier. You were tired, had been years since you used your cursed technique, your muscles had gone missing after many malnourished sessions given by your kidnappers, as a lesson for disobedience, but you never stopped, never bowed down. For however long had the Zen’in Clan kept you, they never achieved their most sacred wish, the whole reason for capturing you. You were proud of that, even with your many scars and poorly healed broken bones, you were safe from the future they wanted, and now you were truly safe.

It’s silent before you see the first strands of white hair coming behind the trees. He moves gracefully with blood all over him, and you can tell none of it it’s his. Gojo keeps staring at the floor, but you know he knows you are there, standing up fast.

“Satoru?” You move towards him, but he catches your halfway, hugging your body like a cage you would have much preferred than the other you have lived. Your head is in his chest, and his is in your neck — both of you checking the other’s heartbeat, making sure it’s all real.

“If this is a dream, I hope I never wake up.” Satoru says against your skin. He lifts his gaze to be met with your eyes, so pretty he smiles. “But If I do, I’ll burn the Zen’ins again. I’ll take it as a sign, you are alive, you are waiting for me.” Gojo closes his eyes and bring his forehead to yours. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

“I am real, my love.” It’s you who initiates the kiss, he answers right away, hands moving to all the right places, keeping you still under him, where you have always been meant to be. Gojo doesn’t let you separate your lips, but does so when you start to giggle. “I want to leave, and after a perfect bath, we can have all the kisses in the world.”

“Do you want to see the others?”

Is a instant after your nod, and you are in the garden of a temple, hands interlock and gazes lifted, Satoru walks with you towards the entrance, he puts you behind him before getting inside a room.

“What took you so long?” You recognize Geto’s voice right away, you squeeze Gojo’s hand. “Thanks for my wife calling, Shoko and Utahime came.” Satoru is quiet in front of you. “What? Yeah, fine, I am disappointed you didn’t pranked my daughters, wife already put them to sleep anyways.” Oh, so Satoru wasn’t seeing anyone? Wait, daughters? How long you were out?

“What is it, Gojo?” Is Shoko who asks this time, but again Satoru keeps quiet. “Is that blood on you?” Your head shuffling and movement, but out of nowhere, Gojo moves to behind you, hands on your shoulders in a instant, startling everyone.

“You should check her first.” Is all he says while your old friends faces turns from shock to relief, and then tears. There is so many of those you feel your robes drenching more than before on the rain. But everything is warm, be the presence of your lover behind you or the arms of your found family, all burns away the fears of your past.

You take a shower with Satoru before returning to the living room with matching sweaters, Geto has you eating a proper meal before giving you the most extra decorated hot chocolate you had ever had. Is in his couch, under Satoru’s arm, that you start to talk.

“There was this woman many years ago, a sorcerer who could see the future, she left many letters hidden in many sealed boxes she buried all over Japan. One of those spoke about you, Satoru. She predicted your birth.” You gaze him quickly, before sipping the chocolate. “The Zen’in Clan wanted to find something about themselves, adamant she must have written when would the next sorcerer with the Ten Shadows Technique appear.”

All eyes are on you, avoidant of your trembling hands, except for Gojo, he grabs the cup from your hand and kisses your head.

“I found the boxes, it was my missions to find them for the High Ups. And I did good, but the Zen’in interfere, demanding to know just what concerned to them, and I guess someone took pity and let them read.” You gulped. “My name was on the last letter, saying that my blood was strong enough that I would bear an powerful heir, even stronger than their father. The letter specifically said who the father would be, a Gojo. with both Limitless and the Six Eyes.” You are already staring at Satoru, his eyes are all o ver your face, inspecting for the truth, there is a small smile on his face.

“I’m gonna be a cool dad.” It’s all he says before looking at your friends.

“Shut up.” You timidly said. “The thing is, the Zen’in only cared about my blood and genetics part, they thought if I give them a child, it could be the next Ten Shadows’s user. I can’t tell with certain, but I think they got the blessing from the High Ups, it was supposed to be a quick mission, even I thought it was weird, I’m always needed with weird quests. I found nothing but Zen’in Naoya, who proudly called himself my master and me his concubine.”

Your attention went to Gojo, he was biting the skin of his fingers, you grabbed his hands quickly and noticed the old scars and recent wounds, kissing all of them.

“They seized me with the help of a sorcerer from the Kamo Clan, she could power down my curse, in exchange for an heir to the Kamo’s as well, but electricity has always run on me. They learned to handle the shocks, but only for a couple of minutes. Naoya never touched me like that.” You said to calm your friends, but you as well. Had that woman been a bit more stronger, your life would have been different.

“That’s how I scape, before dinner they forgot that sorceress are humans as well, and I was left alone with her. I killed her with normal punches who turned into electrical punches. Then, I found Naoya and strike a lightning on his crouch, before I could do more damage, the others saw and i ran, grabbed his phone and called you, I thought I was going to die and needed to hear your voice.” There is tears streaming down not only your face, but everyone else’s. Your pain is being dissected in front of everyone, you had been so close all this time. “You didn’t pick up at first, but I kept trying, and you did. And it wasn’t enough, I needed to see you. So you came.”

“You called me, I will always come to you.” Satoru has you in his arms again, hugging you scared that this might all be a dream yet, he couldn’t live without you ever again, and with the way you would hold him back, he knew you felt the same.

Gojo had never been so sure of something when he made you get up from the couch with him, even confused you did and stared at your friends, their wet eyes were as confused as yours. You turn back to Satoru, and he is on one knee. Gojo hands left yours to move to his neck, removing his silver chain that was hidden under his shirt, now you see the dangling diamond ring in it. Satoru takes the ring and stares at you, hopelessly in love and devoted.

“You know I have always loved you, everyone in this room can testify to that. I knew you were alive, I knew we would see each-other again, and I promised myself that when we did met, I had to marry you.” You try hard to see Gojo through your wet vision, he smiles triumphantly even before he gives you the question. “I bought this ring after you disappeared, and it was what kept me safe, the promise that one day it would be in your finger, and your name complimented with mine. The future is what has held me, the thought of you. So please, my love, let’s start our future. Marry me?”

It’s the quickest ‘Yes’ you had ever said, you repeat it like a mantra, Gojo laughs while sliding the ring on your finger and kissing all over your hand, then he gets up and kisses you again and again and again, until Shoko, Utahime and Geto’s wife are pushing him away and hugging you, letting your fiancé to his friend.

Later that night, when the talk gets easier and calmer, with every couple holding themselves like a silent prayer of what could happen or re-happen, they take solace in their lovers. Shoko stares at Gojo and his happy smile, he looks, once more, so young. One of his hands goes straight to his lips, and Ieiri is tempted to slap it away from his teeth, but Gojo stops himself before anyone could, he simply moves one hand to your face in a love embrace and the other to touch your finger and keep spinning your ring.

The medic had been right all along, he is too busy devouring your love and attention and giving all those ten years of love he himself had kept, to focus on picking his skin. His scars would forever heal from now on, with you by his side, nothing would ever hurt again.

[miguelhugger2099]

Punk!Miguel who’s proud of his tattoos. At least most of them. He has some professionally done and others were stick and pokes from when him and Gabriel were younger.

Punk!Miguel who watches you with a smile when you touch up and down his arm. He hides the shivers down his spine when your perfectly manicured pink and green nails rake across the art decorated on him.

“What’s this one?” You poke at a terrible done smiley face, it was a little blobbed but barely noticeable with the much nicer ones done around it.

“One of the first tries my brother did on me when he was starting out.”

“And you kept it?” You tilt your head with a scrunch of your nose. Miguel laughs.

“Sentimental value.”

You scoff. “No way.”

“Yeah, way.” He takes your hands and pulls you closer, lugging you forward onto his lap where you belonged. Getting yourself comfortable you placed your hands on his chest.

“Are you just gonna have them on your arms?” You ask, tugging down his shirt for a peek at any new ones. Miguel smirks and stops your peeking by tsking and shaking his head—a knowing look on his face.

“Course not but tattoos cost money, babe.”

“You should get one of me.” You pout your lips, crossing your arms that makes you seem snobbish.

“What? Like get one of your face?” He laughs and leans back on his hands.

“No! Like—I dunno! Something sentimental about…me?” You look away, feeling the prickling embarrassment crawling up your neck. “Never mind!”

“Oh, so you want to be on my body, huh?” He teases, taking your hand and sliding it under his tank top to feel his warm stomach, faint dips of abs.

“You know what I mean!” You whine, feeling frozen with him holding your hand in place. He can’t help but find you adorable. Letting go of your hand to come around your waist as he leans up again, one hand coming down to cup your ass. He swallows your squeak with a kiss, unable to stop himself from biting into your sweetness.

Punk!Miguel who—even if he teased you about it—actually adored the idea of having a tattoo of you on him.

Punk!Miguel who thought day and night of what could represent you. Flowers he felt was done often, your name was cute but basic and anything else could very well be mistaken for something else. He wanted something that was obviously you.

Punk!Miguel who was rearranging his room again, bustling through various boxes for some spring cleaning.

Punk!Miguel who found his box of memories from when you two first began dating. It had been filled with all your gifts and letters you’d given him—every last piece saved securely in the corner of his room.

He smiles as he opens the box up again. Some pieces of papers falling out and the little broken keychain you got to match with him until it snapped when he accidentally sat on it.

He sits at his desk, flipping through the pages and tiny plushies you’ve given him. His heart swelling at the swirls in your writing with blue ink—the bunny pen you always wrote with.

The smile on his face continues as he reads through your words of love for him—words that you often found too difficult to say. He slams his forehead on the desk, blush coating his cheeks and ears while he groans loudly.

Each letter you’d given him ended with a print of your kiss mark at the very bottom. Some of it was a matte red, others was a faint glitter stain, but most of it was a soft pinkish color. The kind that was glossy and gave you just enough color that it looked tinted and natural.

His finger grazes the mark, an idea popping in his head.

Punk!Miguel who goes to a tattoo shop he was very well acquainted with, with an artist he knew extra well.

He slams his arm on the counter where a man was behind it, sucking on a lollipop and doodling in his sketchbook. The guy raises an annoyed brow.

“Do you have any space open for a walk-in client?” Miguel asks with a smirk.

“I don’t have space for annoying ones.” He sighs and puts his drawing pad away.

“I have money this time, Gabri. Plus, family discount.”

Punk!Miguel who is both afraid and excited to show you what he’s done to himself. He feels his heart hammering while he preps himself to show you. He’d done the aftercare as precisely as possible, taking extra care of it because this was no ordinary tattoo.

Punk!Miguel that lets you take off his shirt when he tells you he’s gotten a tattoo of you.

Punk!Miguel who smiles with amusement when you gasp and hit his arm that you were joking before! That tattooing is a permanent thing! He tells you that he knows.

His heart stills when you eyes land on his chest. On his left side, where his heart would be was your kiss mark. Just like the ones you left on the letters you used to give him.

You touch your lips subconsciously, your other set of fingers hovering over his lifted skin. You look up for permission and he nods, brining himself closer.

You marvel at the piece of work that replicated your lips. “Oh, Miguel…” You sigh, blinking back tears.

“Are you getting emotional?”

“No!”

He brings you to his chest in a tight hug, your hand still resting beside your kiss mark now permanently etched on his person—a permanent reminder that he is yours and that he loves you.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Help! I'm a Woman & I got my two Male Boyfriends Pregnant

Summary: You got your boyfriends Gojo Satoru & Ryomen Sukuna Preganat; now they are spirling, thinking you are going to leave them. Send jesus!

Based on this.

The day started normal enough. Coffee brewed. Cursed spirits got obliterated. You avoided Gojo's pranks and Nanami’s disapproving stares. But nothing could’ve prepared you for this.

Absolutely nothing.

"EXPLAIN," Sukuna growled, pacing back and forth like a caged tiger, his crimson eyes flaring with murderous intensity. "HOW THIS HAPPENED."

Beside him, Gojo sat slumped on the couch, his head in his hands. For once, his usual smirk was nowhere to be seen. “She broke me,” he muttered, his voice muffled and full of existential despair.

You blinked, your hands raised defensively as you tried to process the sheer absurdity of what was happening. “Okay, let’s—let’s all calm down and start from the beginning. What exactly—”

“WE’RE PREGNANT!” Sukuna bellowed, his voice rattling the windows.

Your brain short-circuited. “What?”

“Both of us,” Gojo mumbled, finally lifting his head to glare at you with his piercing blue eyes. “We’re both pregnant. With your cursed energy, apparently.”

You stared at them, your jaw hanging open as your brain desperately tried to make sense of the words coming out of their mouths.

“Wait,” you said slowly, pointing at each of them. “You’re pregnant. And you’re pregnant. And… I’m the father?”

“Yes!” they both shouted in unison.

Gojo flopped back against the couch, throwing an arm over his face dramatically. “I can’t believe this. I’ve never been abandoned before. This is new for me.”

“Abandoned?” you snapped, your bewilderment turning to irritation. “I’m literally right here! No one’s abandoning anyone!”

Sukuna’s glare could’ve melted steel. “You better not be abandoning us. Do you have any idea what this is like? I’m a goddamn king, and now I’m carrying twins! Twins!”

You blinked again. “Twins?”

“Yeah, apparently cursed pregnancies are extra efficient,” Gojo muttered, rubbing his temples. “I’ve got triplets. Freaking triplets.”

Your knees nearly gave out. “Oh my god.”

“Oh your god, indeed,” Sukuna snarled, his pacing becoming more frantic. “Do you have any idea how much I’ve puked today? I’m the King of Curses, not the King of Ginger Ale!”

Gojo groaned dramatically, throwing himself across the couch. “And my ankles are swollen! I didn’t even know I had ankles that could swell!”

You stood there, frozen, as the two most powerful men you knew devolved into chaos before your eyes. Sukuna ranted about hormonal imbalances and cravings for spicy tuna rolls at three in the morning, while Gojo moaned about needing custom maternity uniforms for missions.

“Okay, okay!” you finally shouted, throwing up your hands. “Let’s take a step back and breathe for a second!”

Sukuna whirled on you, his crimson eyes blazing. “You breathe! I can’t breathe because your cursed energy apparently rewired my insides to incubate life!”

“That’s not even scientifically possible!” you argued, gesturing wildly.

Gojo raised a hand from the couch, his voice weak. “Apparently, science has no place in cursed pregnancies.”

“Obviously!” Sukuna snapped.

You groaned, running a hand through your hair. “Okay, look. I don’t know how this happened, but I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure this out together, okay?”

Gojo perked up slightly, peeking at you from under his arm. “So, you’re saying you’re going to stick around? You’re not gonna leave us to fend for ourselves?”

“Of course not!” you said, exasperated. “Why would I abandon you?”

Sukuna snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Because that’s what all the terrible stories say. The cursed sorcerer fathers always leave. And yet, here I am, trying to keep it together while I grow two heads and three hearts inside me!”

“What?!” you shrieked.

“Apparently, cursed pregnancies come with… add-ons,” Gojo said, waving his hand vaguely. “It’s fine. We’ll manage. Just… don’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t tell anyone?!” you repeated, your voice climbing several octaves. “How am I supposed to explain why Sukuna is eating pickles and peanut butter out of the jar at 2 a.m.?”

“I’m literally creating life, you peasant!” Sukuna growled.

“And what about you?” you snapped at Gojo. “You’ve been crying for two hours! What even is that?”

Gojo sniffled, his bottom lip trembling. “I just feel so much right now, okay?”

You stared at them, completely overwhelmed, as the reality of the situation sank in. Two of the most powerful sorcerers in existence were pregnant. With your cursed energy. And somehow, it was your job to keep them alive and sane.

“Fine,” you said, throwing your hands up. “I’ll get the pickles and the peanut butter. And maybe a sedative for myself while I’m at it.”

“Don’t forget the chocolate!” Gojo called after you as you stormed out of the room.

“And ginger tea!” Sukuna shouted. “Or so help me, I’ll kill you!”

You groaned, your footsteps echoing down the hall. This was your life now.

A/N: Want more? I can give you more if you ask nicely (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)👌 I will mark this series completed for now until I get any more inspo or ideas (feel free to send yours too). Please comment; it fuels my cheos ᕙ(`▿´)ᕗ Who would you like to get pregnant next?

[pinkgorecat]

Hole in the Ground

Derek Goffard x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-con Elements, Mind Rape, Mind Manipulation, Kidnapping, Loss of Virginity, Forced smoking, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Tom harm (I’m sorry my little baby), Dumbification, Burning, Classicism, Praise Kink, AFAB reader, She/her pronouns, Hurt No Comfort, Reader is only referred to as she/her/hers, Begging, Stabbing, Breeding, Not Beta Read

Can also be found on my A03 @sponkynun :3!!

The cave door creaks open, and a plume of dust kicks up from the floor. She enters and shuts the door swiftly, pressing it back into place and hearing the latch click behind her. She rushes to Tom, who is laying on the dusty cave floor. He isn’t looking too good.

“Tom? Tom?” She asks worriedly, “Please wake up, it’s me.”

Tom slowly starts to regain consciousness, he looks at her lazily.

“I…I don’t think I’m going to last much longer.” He confesses, and tries to stand on his feet.

The cave entrance opens roughly, pebbles clatter onto the floor. The two scramble to hide in the small space, but it’s in vain.

The ‘scorpion’ is back, baseball bat in hand. His blonde bang wavers in the cool night breeze, and his chest heaves with anger.

“What the FUCK?” He seethes, “why the fuck are you with MY property?”

His attention is focused on Tom, who tries to scurry away. He gets only a few feet, as Derek saunters over to him. Derek swings and smashes Tom’s left hand with the bat. Everyone in the room can hear the crunch of his delicate bones. Tom squeals in pain, recoiling his hand to his chest. He looks up at Derek with raw fear.

Derek scoffs, “Get out… GET OUT!”

Tom scrambles to his feet, and looks at his fellow captive. She’s standing near the ‘table’, but on the wrong side to try and make a run for the entrance.

“Don’t look at her, you fucking weasel. Get out of this fucking hole in the ground before I change my mind.” Derek snaps, as he turns his attention to her.

Tom silently sobs, and he uses his unbroken hand to push the cave entrance open. Fleeing into the open desert.

Derek smirks down at her, he holds his bat threateningly over his shoulder. He sees her tears pour down her cheeks, and takes note of her worried expression. But she’s obviously not looking at Derek, her attention is focused on the cave entry…on Tom. Derek can feel something rising in him, a childlike jealousy that makes his words catch in the back of his throat.

“How sweet,” Derek hisses, “Don’t cry, that idiot is getting off so much easier than you are.”

His words obviously do little to comfort her, in fact they make her feel even worse. She refocuses her attention onto her captor. Glaring at him, trying not to give away how terrified she is. He pulls out a pack of expensive cigarettes from his coat pocket, and bites the butt of a cigarette into his mouth. Never moving his bat from his shoulder. He shoves the pack back into his pocket, and lights the small stick.

Derek takes a long drag, and blows the smoke into her face. To his surprise she doesn’t cough, she doesn’t try to move her way out of the smoke cloud. She just looks at the cave floor, at the pebbles, inhaling the secondhand smoke.

“You’re…very oblivious, you know that?” He beguiles. “ I bet that’s how those freaks from the auction got you there, I bet you didn’t even see them. They just grabbed you, before you could even notice. You’re kinda…dumb.” He flicks some of the ash onto her hair.

“You didn’t even see me following you to this cave. I mean, you practically invited me in.” He laughs sardonically, and she can see the rage wash over his features in an instant, “to this disgusting hole in the ground, with your weasel of a boyfriend. Did you let him take your virginity? Just so I wouldn’t get what I’m owed?”

She looks puzzled for a second, he can’t really mean Tom? The man looks like he’s four steps away from dying of thirst. Exerting any energy on something like that feels more than pointless. She looks back into his eyes, and knows he expects an answer.

“What?” She asks exasperatedly, “No, he-we didn’t do anything.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, but his features soften just a little. He flicks more ash onto her, and can see her eyeing his cigarette. He smirks.

“You want one?” He beguiles again. His voice is sickly sweet, yet obviously filled with venom.

Despite every fiber of her being screaming no, she reaches out for the new cigarette Derek lit just for her, before she can grasp it he jerks it away from her slightly.

“Ah, ah, two rules: You have to finish all of it, and if I even think that you’re going to try and burn me, I will bash your skull into the floor. Are we clear?” He grins, ear to ear. It’s still not enough to turn her away from the comfort of a cigarette. She nods her head, but it’s obvious he wants a verbal answer.

“Yes.” She says dejectedly. Reaching again for the cigarette, but he pulls it just out of reach from her again.

“Yes, what?” Derek arches his brow as he asks.

She can’t tell what he wants her to tack on. She’s not a mind reader, and even if she were, Derek would still be a challenge.

“Yes please, sir.” She’s mortified, more-so when that creepy look washes over his face. He reaches the cigarette back out, and she’s finally able to take it from him.

“Wow!” He chimes, “that was very well behaved of you.”

She takes a long drags off her cigarette, eyeing Derek closely. She tries to keep the cigarette pointed away from him at all times.

“Hmmm..” he hums, reaching out to tossle her hair like an animal, “look at you…I found you. When the third day came, and I couldn’t find you, I seriously thought you escaped me. I think I gave you way too much credit.”

“What are you going to do to me?” She quivers, and she can see rage wash over his features again.

His harsh slap echoes off the cave walls and leaves a stinging patch on her cheek. She looks up at him pathetically.

“Don’t fucking talk unless I want you to, bitch.” He seethes. She takes the last puff of her cigarette and puts it out on the cave floor.

“Hmm. Have another.” He takes the pack from his pocket and lights another. Holding it to her lips this time.

“It wasn’t a question.” He warns, taking note of her hesitance. She immediately puts the cigarette into her mouth, grateful he gave her any warning at all.

“Finish it without taking it out of your mouth.” Derek chuckles. He pats her stinging cheek a little too roughly.

She holds it in the corner of her mouth and tries to only inhale oxygen through her nose. She’s significantly slower at smoking it this time, and Derek is beginning to grow impatient.

“Come on! Hurry up. There’s like…6 more in here!” He yells, and taps his bat threateningly against the cave floor.

She takes deeper inhales, and finishes the rest in under a minute. Before she can take it out of her mouth, Derek nabs the cigarette from her.

“Give me your hand…” he says impatiently, “or I’ll break it, just like I did to him.”

Derek rests the bat behind him. She puts out her hand for him, and watches in horror as he presses the lit cigarette butt into her skin. She screams in pain and tries to jerk away, but his firm grasp keeps her in place. Her skin sears and blisters against the ash until it’s finally put out. She shakily takes her hand back and looks at the damage. The skin is red, puffy in some parts and blistering in others.

“More.” He says curtly. Handing her two cigarettes at once.

She looks at Derek, bewildered. She can’t tell if he wants her to say anything.

“May I speak, please?” She asks quietly, swallowing every last ounce of dignity she has left.

His face lights up, “ Only because you’re being so good for me.” She curses herself for the way her heart flutters at his praise.

“Please, no more, it’s starting to irritate my cut on my…tongue..” She trails off, realizing as soon as the words leave her mouth that he’s not going to take any pity on her. As if he could ever feel empathy for anyone.

“Aww, it hurts?” Derek mocks, “Don’t you know what the word all means? Or are you that stupid?”

She can only look at the ground in response.

“Show it to me, now.” Derek demands.

She looks up at him pathetically, and he revels in it. She opens her mouth and slowly shows him the scab beginning to form. It’s a grotesque, painful, permanent, reminder of what he had done to her in the open desert. Derek runs his thumb over the healing wound, she whines in pain, but she dares not to move away from him.

“Haha, you’ve still got that pathetic look all over your face.” He gleams, “now take these fucking cigarettes, my hand is getting tired.”

She takes them from him, and puts them in her mouth for him to light. He reminds her not to use her hands again. Her strategy for inhaling oxygen is ruined by the second cigarette.

She lets out an exasperated cough as she finishes the first quarter of the two cigarettes.

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you smoke these. Do you know how expensive these are? I bet you couldn’t even afford them on your own.” Derek sighs.

The insult cuts a little bit deeper than it should. Obviously Derek had to be from money. He literally bought her in an auction, but being all but called poor by this sick freak really stung. He was expecting a ‘thank you’. She could read it all over his face, and in the way that he eased just a bit of pressure off his bat. Ready to swing it again.

“Thank you.” she mumbles, trying to keep the cigarettes pressed between her lips as she says it. She gags on the thick smoke again as it billows from her mouth and nose.

“Aww, you’re such a good girl,” he cooes, “but I guess the dumb ones are always the best behaved.”

Her loud coughs fill the room, and she accidentally lets a cigarette slip from her lips. Derek rewards her with another painful slap, it echos off the cave walls. He puts the cigarette back in her mouth.

“Thank you.” She says passively.

Derek laughs snidely. Even standing over her as she kneels on the floor is enough of a power trip for him. But he barely has to do any work, and she was already using her manners for him. It makes his cock twitch to think about it. He watches intently as she chokes down the last of the cigarettes.

“Hand.” He says, jutting his open palm, and putting the bat behind himself again. She screws her eyes shut and she reaches her burnt hand to him, along with the cigarette butts.

“Beg me to stop. Cry for me.” He grins.

He doesn’t have to ask twice. He probably doesn’t have to ask at all. She looks up at him, fearful of his next move.

“Please, please stop. I’m begging you, please have mercy on me. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, please don’t burn me again. I-it hurts so much, I’m begging you, please.” She chokes out. Her tears fall in puddles onto the dry floor. She tries to never break eye contact with him.

“Haha!” He cackles, loosening his grip just a bit, “You’re good at that! Just like when I fucked your throat. Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“You…” She whispers, her voice quivers.

“Aww, you’re kinda cute.” He cooes, but his hand re-tightens its grip, and he thrusts the cigarettes on to her skin again. They sear the same spot on her hand, but are put out much quicker. She wails in pain, almost doubling over onto her other hand. There’s black marks on her skin, and she can’t tell if it’s charred flesh or ash from her cigarettes. When she examines it, she can see where parts of her skin are almost melting together. Shallow craters form in her flesh, it almost looks fake.

“Please stop!” She cries, “please, I’ll do anything!”

“Quiet.” He grumbles and flicks the cigarette butts across the cave.

“I’m bored now.” Derek sighs, his hands return to his baseball bat, “Get on that…table thing.”

She gets onto the table, it’s hard and shockingly cold. She sits and suddenly feels a slight jab on her stomach. The knife! She had almost forgotten it, she prays Derek can’t see its wavy outline in her shirt.

But he can, his eyes immediately move to it.

“Aw….what do you have there?” He cooes, and quickly snatches the knife before she has any time to react.

“What…What the FUCK!” He growls. Derek shoves her down into a lying position on the stone table. The force he exerts whacks her head against the table, and disorients her for a moment.

He holds the knife in front of her accusingly.

“Did you think you were gonna’ stab me?” Derek cackles, “You are such a bitch! Where were you going to stab me, you little slut?”

“I wasn’t!” She lies, sobbing at the knife that is now pressed against her throat. She’s almost unable to form a coherent sentence with the way her head is spinning.

His smirk is full of malice as he presses the tip of the blade into her skin. Her flesh bends at the slight force, and eventually spreads itself around the very tip of the blade.

She whimpers at the stinging sensation. Derek’s silence is telling, his lustful gaze is even louder.

“Please,” she sobs, “don’t kill me. I swear, I wasn’t going to stab you.”

Derek eases up the pressure of the knife, but doesn’t remove it from her neck. He uses his freehand to lift up her thin tank top, exposing her breasts to the cold cave air. But she doesn’t have time to think about how embarrassing this is, she’s still so focused on groveling.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” She whimpers, “please, please forgive me.”

Derek jerks the knife away, now aiming at the center of her chest. His grin is evil, and spreads almost from ear to ear.

“Liar.” He says flatly, as he drives the blade into her skin, not deep enough to be a stab, just enough to slice through her skin. A pained scream erupts from her lips and her whole body tenses. Derek grabs a fistful of her hair and forces her to watch as he slices her.

At first his cuts seem unplanned and uncoordinated. He moves the knife around roughly, and each time he lifts and pierces her skin again it somehow hurts more. The cuts aren’t shallow, but only some are deep enough to warrant stitches. Blood oozes from each wound and smears across her chest.

“Stop bleeding everywhere, you’re messing me up.” Derek seethes.

She can only whine loudly in response. Any words would just come out as a broken, jumbled mess.

Derek finally sets the knife down, and takes a moment to appreciate his handiwork. He watches how her tears roll down her cheeks, and down her neck.

“Look. Do you know what that says?” He asks sweetly, as if he were teaching a child to read. His sudden change in demeanor almost gives her whiplash.

She shakes her head no, and Derek whips out his phone and takes a picture of her cuts. The flash of his camera is bright and feels almost blinding to her. He turns his phone around proudly.

She squints her eyes to look at the picture, but doesn’t even see the cuts at first. Tears well up in her eyes as she realizes he’s one of the only people that have ever seen her like this. Definitely the only person to have a picture of it.

“What does it say, can you not read?” He beguiles, and underneath his feigned sweetness is a sickening amount of arousal.

While she most definitely can read, the blood smeared across her chest and oozing from her cuts is not making it very easy. But after staring at it for a minute she’s able to make it out.

‘Property Of Derek Goffard.’

“No..” she chokes out a heavy sob. This sick fuck mutilated her, carved his name into her. If she even survived this long enough to get a partner, what were they going to say when they saw that?

“Now, everybody will always know you belong to me.” Derek hums. He delicately rests a hand on the open wounds at first. His hand squelches against the blood, and it coats his palm. He brings it up to his face to inspect it.

Tears stream down her face violently as she watches him lick her blood off his palm.

“Stop, stop, stop.” She repeats. Her head shakes no, and he lowers his hand to her face.

“Clean it.” He says coldly, his eyes half lidded in boredom.

“Fuck you!” She sobs, and tries to push herself up to smack his hand away.

She misses his hand and instead collides with his shoulder, he feels much more muscular than he appears. Especially with his slightly oversized coat hiding his arm.

“Fucking bitch!” Derek yaps, he’s unfazed by the hit, only upset that she’s disobeying him. He chuckles a little, out of a weird mix of anger, pity, and egocentrism.

“Aww, are you dehydrated or something? Did I not give you enough water? I didn’t even feel that.” He smiles. He thrusts his fingers to her lips.

“Drink up.” He cooes. He can feel the power rushing to his head.

She can’t hold back any sobs, even though she knows it’s only exciting him more.

She sticks out her tongue to lick her blood from his fingers. She wraps her lips around them, and sucks them clean.

“Better?” He feigns, and wipes the spit on his fingers onto her face.

Obviously it isn’t, blood can’t rehydrate her, but she feels the need to nod her head so he doesn’t make her drink more of it.

“Please, let me go.” She begs, even though it’s pointless. She hopes he will leave her like their last encounter.

“Shut up. You have something that belongs to me.” Derek barks, and slaps her across her face once more .

He eyes her crotch, covered by those uncomfortable grey boxer briefs. She immediately feels self conscious of his gaze and presses her legs together. Only drawing his attention to it more.

He waves the knife around threateningly, “Hmm, spread them.”

She violently shakes her head in disapproval, “No, no, please.”

Without a second thought he aggressively stabs her thigh. It goes all the way in, up to the hilt. A broken scream escapes her lips, as she feels the knife tear through her skin, fat and muscle.

“Fuck!” She cries out, “you fucking bastard!”

Pain explodes behind her eyes, it feels like every single nerve is on fire. It makes her dry heave, and curl up defensively. He’s pleased with the way she cowers at his hands. He’s not even mad she cursed at him, rather disrespectfully. He’s only enamored by her reaction. Derek taps the end of the knife with his fingers, and chuckles at her reaction. Her pain coated whimpers flood the cave.

“Do it, or I’ll stab you again.” He orders, and she can tell he’s more than happy to do it again.

With teary eyes she slowly spreads her shaking thighs apart. The movement alone makes her feel like she’s being stabbed again.

“Please don’t do this.” She begs.

Derek reaches out and slides his finger along the rough cotton fabric, right against her folds. It feels scratchy against her and she whimpers in discomfort.

“Stop. Please don’t, please don’t touch me.” She sobs quietly. She tries to stop herself from jerking away from him. Knowing it will just make him more volatile, and irritate the knife sticking out of her leg.

Derek again finds himself internally surprised. He usually would feel much more upset with her insubordination.

“Fuck,” he gruffs, his voice is sticky with lust, “I can’t even focus on being mad at you with all those cute noises you’re making.”

“Does your leg hurt?” He asks. His fake-sweet voice makes her stomach churn. He puts his hand on the handle of the knife.

Before she can give any response he tears the knife out of her leg. Blood that once slowly seeped from her wound now pours onto the cave table.

The scream that follows is inhuman, if Derek hadn’t seen her mouth open he could’ve sworn it was a wild animal outside. She places her hand over the wound quickly. She tries to apply as much pressure as possible, but her blood seeps from between her fingers.

“Fuck. Fuck. I’m,” She pauses, “I’m gonna’ die.”

She can feel herself becoming lightheaded from the blood loss. She feels like she barely has the energy to cry, and her sobs just come out as a broken, pained groan.

“I’m going to die.” She weeps. After she had made it so far. Surviving so much in these short three days, she’s really just going to die in this dank cave.

Derek can’t help but let out a genuine laugh. The kind of laugh that makes his stomach start to hurt. He almost doubles over and cackles on the cave floor.

“Haha, oh my god. No, you’re not going to die.” He removes his bandana, and finds a long, straight piece of rock on the floor. “I’m not even close to done with you yet.”

He’s almost purring. The sight of her blood is so arousing for him, it’s distracting. Derek slides his bandana around the fat of her thigh and uses the rock to make a makeshift tourniquet. The pouring of blood slows to a slight trickle. His sudden concern for her life, even if it’s for purely selfish reasons, is almost brain-washing. Accompanied by how light-headed, and out of it she feels, it seems he's put her under a spell.

“Thank you.” She fawns, and he can tell her words are sincere.

Derek doesn't reply, and he doesn’t really care. He’s too focused on how her blood seems to sparkle in the dim lighting. He delves his fingers into the pools of it on the table. He raises his hand to his mouth to again lick the mess off. She knows his preoccupation with her blood is a horrific omen, but it still disgustingly makes her excited that he enjoys such an intimate part of her.

Derek runs his index finger over her stab wound. She hisses through her teeth at the stinging sensation he’s reawakening. She tries to stifle a cry as he pushes the tip of his finger into the wound.

“Don’t be quiet now,” he flashes a devious grin at her, “I want to hear you scream.”

He pushes his finger deeper into her battered leg. She wails at the sudden intrusion. It burns her skin and the original pain is amplified by his sadistic actions. She’s unable to hold back any whines.

“Please?” She begs pathetically.

She feels almost winded, and she can feel how flushed her face is. Despite every other part of her body feeling cold, like she wasn’t even attached to it anymore. She can feel her head becoming fuzzier, and it lolls to the side as she slips into a gentle unconsciousness.

Derek’s rough tapping on her cheek startled her from her peaceful daze.

“Hey! Hey, what’s your problem?” Derek asks anxiously. In her drained state she can almost convince herself he is worried about her. But deep inside herself, she knows he sees her as an object. Her life has no real meaning to him.

“Are you seriously fucking dying? Already?” Derek barks, lashing out like a small child about to throw a tantrum. She can make out the frustration all over his face. He looks like he’s shaking from how angry he is.

“No! I’m alive.” She said worriedly, her speech sounds distorted, cloudy, it feels almost delayed.

His hand flies to her waist, and he leans over her figure. The strands of his blonde hair tickle the skin of her face.

“You don’t get to die until I want you to.” He whispers to her.

“Dumb bitches like you, you don’t want to have to think for yourself. It’s so much easier to let me choose for you. Isn’t that right?” Derek asks, his hand moves up to caress her cheek.

The foggy part of her brain is screaming at her reminding her how degrading this is. She’s so disoriented though, and has been stuck in fight or flight since he brought her here. It feels good to let go.

“I…yes. I don’t want to choose anymore.” She mumbles, her throat gets tight. If she had any tears left, they’d be pooling at the corners of her eyes.

“Beg. Beg me to own you. Beg me to let you be the dumb bitch you are.” Derek says excitedly, his hand moves from her cheek to his cock. It’s rock hard and throbs every time he catches a glimpse of the ‘memories’ he’s inflicted on her.

“Please,” she whines, and she can hear him unzip his pants, “don’t make me think anymore. Please just let me be dumb. Please just don’t make me think, and don’t kill me.”

Derek revels in the way her words seem to fall from her lips. They’re unplanned, unfiltered and so pathetic. He wonders if she knows just how pathetic she’s being.

In a moment that feels too fast for her, his pants are off. Discarded onto the cold cave floor. He yanks her upwards, so that only her head lays off the dirt table. She groans at the sudden movement. He positions her head between his thighs, his long erection rests gently on her face.

She gets the memo and parts her lips. Derek impatiently presses his length into her mouth. It doesn’t take long for the tip to fill up her mouth, then to fill up her throat. She feels how she’s struggling for air, but can’t manage to even tap him and silently beg him for a breath.

“I think it’d be nice to see you die on my cock. Should I suffocate you?” Derek purrs, finally thrusting the entirety of his cock down her throat.

She’s too weak to fight back, too scared to bite him. The slow oxygen deprivation burns her lungs and she desperately gags on his cock for air. A particularly violent gag causes more spit to coat the length of his cock. His hands twist around her neck into a choke hold, her throat was already tight but when he thrusts again the added pressure draws a moan from his lips.

It’s sloppy, needy, and loud. Even in her delirious state, she recognizes it. She can even recognize the disgust she feels when it makes her ache for him. His thrusts are shallow, testing how tight the addition of his hands is. They finally settle into a pace, and seeing her face turn to a shade of bright red excites him more.

“Look at me.” He orders.

She opens her eyes, and can’t hide the lustful look on her face. All her pain feels mellowed, she can only focus on the lack of oxygen, and wanting him to feel good.

“You are nothing.” He moans. “You’re such a stupid cunt.”

Spit drips from the corners of her mouth and sticks stray hairs to her face. Derek uses his grip to slide her head up and down his cock. The saliva her gag reflex is producing creates a thick coating of lubrication. Derek shudders as he lowers her down on it again. His thrusts squelch, she makes a lewd noise every time he rests too deep for too long. The choking sends vibrations up his length. He lowers her again, painfully slow. She can feel every last bit of oxygen escaping her again.

She gasps raggedly, the color slowly comes back to her face and she pants, and gazes up at him. The light in her eyes seems dimmer. She looks like a puppet, brainwashed, broken.

“Good girl.” He pants. He seems pleased, but his violent aura never dissipates.

“Thank you.” She says slavishly. Internally fighting to stay on his ‘good side’.

He smirks coldly, and moves away from her head, down to her battered thigh. He lets his dick slap against her open wound. It becomes coated in blood, and splatters droplets over the pair.

Derek has the urge to press his cock into the open wound. To listen to her scream as he rips it open wider around his painful erection. His fun however, it can’t be over yet. Irritating a wound like that with something as girthy as his cock would mean a much quicker death. He was surprised that fingering it hadn’t killed her, he couldn’t really afford to take more chances.

Against his better judgment he presses the tip against it, just a bit. The wound is barely affected by the new pressure. She hisses, but the pain feels so much duller than it did previously.

“No, not my leg, please.” She whines desperately.

Derek cackles, “What happened to not thinking anymore? You told me I get to choose.”

He applies more pressure to her pained leg, and she curses at the awful sensation.

“Aw, does it hurt? Should I just rape you instead?” He asks rhetorically.

Her head is swimming. Neither option is in any way pleasant, but dying still feels worse. She can’t bring herself to suggest either. She weeps dryly, waiting for him to steal the decision from her.

“You don’t get to choose.” Derek says impatiently.

He tears a hole in the rough gray fabric that covers her sex. Embarrassment crashes over her, and so does a strong sense of fear. Derek pauses, and just stares at her. It makes her more uncomfortable than if he were to just say something. He’s studying her, as if she were some scientific experiment.

“Don’t look.” She whimpers, trying to muster the strength to cover herself.

“Stop fucking telling me what to do!” Derek shouts. His face has a tinge of red to it, and he’s shaking again. His blonde hair is disheveled and falls into his eyes.

He smacks her pussy, and watches the way it jiggles. It isn’t particularly rough, as though he’s still examining her. She still squeaks at his touch. She fights to keep her pleas back, not wanting to upset him further.

He giggles, “I just realized you’re all shaved, did that bastard from the auction shave you?”

She can’t help but wonder why he’s so jealous, why does he really care? What did any of it matter? She knows he wants an answer.

“No, I did it.” She pauses, “before.”

He seems pleased with her response.

“Aw, am I going to steal your virginity from someone?” He teases, and flicks her clit.

“From me you fucking asshole!” She weeps, and she can feel her tears returning. Every tear that falls is a silent plea to god.

Derek can’t help but laugh callously. His eyes wide with excitement at the resumption of her crying.

“This isn't fair, this isn’t fair..” She cries, mostly to herself.

He laughs again, watching her break was just so funny to him.

“That’s now how the world works.” He laughs, “fair, not fair, it doesn’t fucking matter. All that matters to you now is what I want. No one is going to save you. I’m gonna’ fuck you, and then I’m going to kill you.”

He ends his sentence by shoving two fingers into her opening. He slides them around, she’s barely lubricated so it doesn’t feel good. He roughly slides his fingers around, exploring her most vulnerable and private area.

“Please, please no more” She weeps.

Derek ignores her and starts to settle into a rhythmic pace. He slides his fingers as deep as they can go, and scissors them open. She can’t hold back a small moan that escapes her lips every time he opens them.

“You fucking slut. You’re getting wet from this?” Derek barks out a laugh.

“I, I…” she trails off, her mind hazy from fear, lust, and blood loss.

She mewls around his fingers, and a slickness starts to form as he begins to move at a much faster pace. Derek pulls out the knife again, and without warning begins to slice her non-stabbed leg. She screams in a mix of ecstasy and agony.

“Please, please stop. Please? I’m sorry, please no more.” She babbles incoherently. Her hands move to cover her eyes.

Her begging only excites him more, without warning he rips his fingers out. Replacing them with his large cock at her entrance.

“No! No, no!” She cries as she feels him begin to force his way into her walls.

“Shut up whore! I know you want it!” Derek laughs, barely pressing the tip in. “Oh fuck, beg me to rape you.”

“What?” She asks, bewildered.

“Do it, or I’ll fuck your leg and let you bleed out. That’ll hurt more than me killing you with that bat.”

He laughs and cups her face.

“Please, don’t fuck my leg.” She sobs

“You dumb bitch! Are you even Listening? You know what I said.” Derek spits.

“Please,” she has to force the words out of her mouth, “ Please rape me. Take my virginity, just not my leg? I’m begging you, please, I’m scared.”

He stills for a moment. Before she can feel any sense of relief or dread he shoves himself in farther. A broken scream falls from her lips, and blood coats the half of his cock that’s inside of her.

“You really are a virgin!” Derek gasps a laugh, and thrusts into her shallowly.

She closes her eyes and begins to dissociate. She tries to focus on something, anything but the way he feels inside of her. Derek presses harder and is able to fit most of himself in. He wraps his hand around her neck as he begins a long stroke. Derek’s hips snap forward, and the force makes her rock underneath him.

“I want to watch you cry.” Derek moans, and uses his free hand to seat hers away from her face.

He thrusts more, they’re sloppy and with no real rhythm. She wonders how this can even feel good for him.

“Derek, stop.” She chokes out.

Derek tightens his grip around her neck, and thrusts harder. Her juices cover his shaved pubic area. He’s gripping her throat so tightly she can make any noise, each thrust in feels like he’s squeezing her tighter.

The pain of her virgin hole being forced open is beginning to subside, thanks to the lubrication of her arousal and the blood coming from her.

“Stick out your tongue.” He commands, and through the haze of oxygen deprivation she obeys. Fearful of the punishment that would result from her insubordination.

“You,” he grunts as shoves himself as deep as possible, “you look so fucking stupid. You’re my dumb slut.”

His moans are breathy and loud. The lewd sounds of slapping skin and squelching echo off the cave walls. His grip loosens and she’s able to gasp in a large breath.

“Say it. Say you’re my dumb slut.” Derek groans.

Maybe it’s the throbbing pain in her head, the lack of oxygen or the blood loss. But she can’t stop herself from moaning. She feels a pit in her stomach begin to form.

“I’m your dumb slut!” The words fall out in between involuntary moans from her violent orgasm. They sound like they’re coming from someone else. She definitely couldn’t have just said that out loud.

“Fuck, did you just cum from this?” He groans as he feels her shudder around him. His thrusts become impatiently fast. His hand returns to her neck as he snaps in and out of her.

“Fuck, fuck I’m going to cum inside you.” Derek grunts.

She has no energy to beg him not to, she just lays there and feels Derek’s cock throbbing inside her. With a last, particularly deep, thrust he comes undone inside her. He shudders and breathes raggedly. His grip loosens around her throat and he pulls out. Their juices fall out unceremoniously onto the cave table. She whines at the sudden emptiness, and curses herself for subconsciously wanting him back inside.

“Get the fuck up.” He demands, and the reality of her situation sinks in. He grabs the once discarded bat off the floor. She musters the last of her energy to push herself off the table and into a kneeling position on the floor.

The stab wound and her chest wounds ache from the movement. She buries her face in her hands and sobs. She feels pathetic, sitting on the floor and not even trying to fight back. What is there to do, she can barely move.

“Hey, hey!” Derek’s fingers snapping pull her from her thoughts.

“He’s almost here, get ready.” Derek barks. She’s confused, who was coming?

The man in the dog-ish mask bursts through the door. He’s covered in blood, and without asking she knows exactly which captive it belongs to. The smell of Jack’s cigarettes makes her nauseous as he circles her slowly.

“You really want to keep it?” Jack asks. Before she can question, Derek sighs.

“Shut up and grab her!” Derek huffs, crossing his arms impatiently.

“No, please, just do it already.” She weeps as jack manhandles her. He throws her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing.

Derek strides up to her and pats her cheek roughly again.

“I don’t think I’m finished with you yet.” He says slyly.

Somehow, that makes her feel worse.

[lcvernat]

Smile for Me | Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Request: hello! it’s my first time requesting on your blog.. is it okay if I ask for nat with reader who hides their smile because their insecure of how it looks.

feel free to take your time writing this, I don’t mind waiting :)))

thank you, have a great day!! <3

Word Count: 1.4k

Content Warnings: fluff, talks of being insecure, like two swear words, probably bad writing cause i am a bit rusty

A/N: thank you for requesting anon! i am so, so sorry this took so long but i hope you like it <3 this might not be my best work because i am very rusty and haven't wrote anything in a bit but i hope you enjoy it either way

Smiling was natural, everyone done it, and usually no one really thought about it whilst they were doing it. You just lived in the moment, smiling at something that had brought you joy. It was whimsical, in a way. But it wasn't like that to you, though. No, it was actually the one thing you tried to avoid the most. Even in situations when you were at your most happiest, ranging from getting top grades in your exams to the day Natasha had asked you out on a date, a smile was rarely exchanged in those moments, or it was hidden behind your hand.

It was hard when something so simple was the root of your insecurities. Every time you caught yourself smiling, you covered your smile with your hand. It was an instinct at this point. Either that, or you would just avoid smiling altogether. It wasn’t as if you were trying to keep up some mysterious persona - you just really, really hated your smile. A lot.

Tiny remarks in middle school had started it. Words said by children that shouldn’t be that serious because you were all kids instead stuck with you for your entire life. Sticks and stones do break your bones, but words will still hurt. They still cause bleeding wounds, but because you can’t see them, society deems them unimportant. Which is why you’ve not told anyone about your insecurity, you just let them poke fun, because the logical part of you knows that it’s a stupid thing to be insecure about, but you can’t help it.

Natasha, of course, had noticed. But she’s never pried, thankfully. She understands having secrets that you keep under lock and key. She has them too. It’s a bit hard not to notice when someone hardly smiles, but somehow she notices that there’s something more to it. Having a spy as a girlfriend, one who is the best spy in the world no doubt, means that any of your secrets aren’t really secrets. You simultaneously love and hate it.

“Why do you never smile?”

“Why do you always pry into people’s business? And I do smile.”

Tony shrugs halfheartedly at your jab, a tiny smirk on his face as he takes a sip of his drink. You were thrown off guard by his unprompted question, not expecting it to happen when you were just sat eating dinner with the rest of the team. The rest of the team who had, unfortunately, went silent after the words left Tony’s mouth.

You took an awkward bite of your food, trying to focus on the taste instead of the eyes boring into your soul.

“Leave them alone,” Natasha snaps, but there’s no actual bite behind it yet.

“Hey now,” Tony raises a hand placatingly, “I’m not trying to be nosey, not at all. Well, actually, I kind of am, but for good reason. They rarely smile! Have you not noticed? And if they do, I always catch them covering their mouth! Have they ever fully smiled around you, Romanoff?” - The only response he gets is a glare - “No? Christ, they’re dating you! Don’t you think it’s a bit odd? I-”

You cut him off, “Just finish your food, Stark.”

Tony, seemingly unable to realize when you’re seriously not in the mood continues on undeterred, “Listen, I get if you’re trying to be all tough and that. But you can still smile! You’re still pretty intimidating anyway. To the newbies, obviously. Not me.”

“I just don’t smile that often, Stark. Got a problem with that?” You get out through gritted teeth, setting your knife and fork down on your half-eaten plate. You aren’t very hungry anymore. The ravaging appetite you felt before dinner had quickly dissipated, and it wasn’t because you were full.

Natasha sends you a concerned glance but you ignore it. You ignore everyone’s glances. For superheroes, they were horrifically bad at pretending they weren't staring at you.

“Oh, come on,” Tony leans back in his chair, clearly exasperated, “unless you look incredibly hideous, your teeth are falling out or you have a shit ton of cavities, which I doubt, I don’t get why you hardly smile! Just smile for us this once, and don't cover it!" He urged you on, and it was your final straw.

You abruptly stood up from the table, your chair making a harsh sound across the floor as it was pushed back. Once again ignoring Natasha's glance, you walk as fast as you can out of the room and making a beeline towards your shared room with Nat. You know she'll probably follow you soon after, but you'd take a minute alone if you could.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you ran your hands across your face and let out a groan. You were being so stupid. Tony was right. It's not a big deal at all, you're the one making it a big deal. All over a couple comments a few kids carelessly threw your way years ago in middle school. Insecurities were so stupid, why couldn't you just stop being insecure? You were an Avenger, for Christ's sake, and the one thing that defeats you is your own goddamn smile.

After a couple of minutes had passed, there was a knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, Nat's voice filtered through, "Y/N? Can I come in?" Somehow, she managed to hear your barely coherent mumble of a response, and the door gently opened seconds later.

"Don't listen to Tony," the redhead spoke softly, "he doesn't know when to stop."

You let out a mirthless chuckle, "Yeah, I know."

Natasha didn't reply, instead slowly walking over to you and kneeling in front of you. You catch her eye before quickly glancing away.

"Look at me,"

You do, and she reaches out to take ahold of your hands that were previously lying limp in your lap, "Why do you always cover your beautiful smile?" It was a gentle question, the redhead treading lightly on what she knows is a sensitive topic for you.

"Because it's not beautiful," your voice is small. It's the first time you've ever actually spoken about your insecurity out loud.

"I bet it is. What makes you think it isn't?"

"People were saying shit 'bout it in middle school. Words hurt, you know." It sounded pathetic, you knew it did. You half expected Natasha to laugh at you, and anyone else probably would, because you were a grown adult, but of course Natasha didn't laugh. She never would.

"Well," she lets go of one of your hands to reach out and cup your cheek, her thumb brushing over your bottom lip, "those people can go fuck themselves."

A surprised giggle leaves you at the bluntness of her tone. She smirks before continuing, "My angel is gorgeous, and I know their smile is just as beautiful. Come on, you wanna let me see it? Smile for me."

Despite her words, a small part of you still didn't want to smile in front of her. Years of covering it and hiding it was obviously engrained into you, no matter how hard you wanted to try and stop it. So, you shake your head.

"Well," Natasha sighs, "I guess I'll just have to subject you to a month of Steve's cooking. Hopefully you won't die, but if you do, I'll make sure to make your funeral the best funeral ever."

That made you laugh then, and a smile made its way onto your face. The hand that Natasha wasn't holding instinctively raised to cover it, but the spy grabbed ahold of it before you could.

"See?" Natasha smiles then too, "beautiful."

That makes you smile more, and you don't move to cover it this time. You fight the insecurities that worm its way into your thoughts, you were done being insecure about your smile. You were fed up of hiding it. Natasha plants a soft kiss on your cheek then, before whispering into your ear, "If you gave me the names of those people..."

You let out a shocked laugh, hitting her arm playfully. "No. Murder is bad."

"I never said I would murder them!" She gasps, "Just a nice little talk. That's all."

Shaking your head in amusement, you pull Natasha into a hug, "I love you."

"I love you too."

God, what you would do for this woman. You would always smile for her from this day forward. No more hiding it, especially not from Natasha.

tags: @sheneonromanoff @olicity-boo @r4nd0mgir1 @tigerlillyruiz @dj-bynum3718 @lovelyy-moonlight

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[zzzleepy]

WALK : jeff the killer x fem!reader one-shot

a/n: this is my FIRST TIME writing smut, please be gentle

summary: NSFW (MINORS DNI), knife play, established relationship, jeff being flirtatious, reader is horny, PRAISE, blood, slight voyeurism, not proof-read

The sunlight softly hit your face through the trees. Your boyfriend, Jeff, was pacing ahead of you slightly and you couldn’t catch up. Today you two were taking a walk, it’s something you like to do alone but Jeff wanted to join you today.

“J, Slow down!” You yelled after Jeff. His head snapped to look back at you, a puzzled look painting his face.

“Do I walk too fast for you?” He smirked, his teeth peeking through his slashed skin. Jeff’s love language must be teasing because he enjoys getting a reaction out of you. This time, you stayed quiet and kept walking towards him.

“Should I carry you, Princess?” He obviously meant the nickname in a teasing way, hinting at the fact that maybe you’re walking so slow because you don’t want to walk at all.

“No. What’s the point of taking a walk if I’m just gonna be carried the whole time?” You shot down his request, but that never stopped Jeff. This relationship between you two consisted of Jeff doing whatever he wants most of the time. Like just days before today, you and Jeff got into an argument because he was gone for days. Doing what? Who knows. Jeff’s a serial killer, and you understand that, but he doesn’t have to disappear for days. So, Jeff ran and scooped you up into his arms bridal style.

“You said you didn’t want to be carried and now you’re not fighting back.” Jeff laughed and quickly kissed your cheek. You rolled your eyes and looked away at the trees surrounding you two, the sun shining down, and the fact that not a single person was in sight. This gave you the bright idea to wrap your arms around Jeff and have some fun too, by teasing your perverted boyfriend.

“You make me feel so safe, thank you.” You topped off your words with a small kiss on his jawline. You know what you’re doing to him. Jeff has this “problem” where he’s really overprotective and possessive. There have been many times where Jeff’s gotten off to the thought of protecting you or “claiming” you. The fact that Jeff’s a serial killer just adds to it because he wants you to love him and feel safe with him, despite what he’s notorious for. Right now, those words and that kiss were sticking on Jeff and his heart was beating fast.

When you pulled back to look at Jeff, you could see a small tint of pink flaring his cheeks. Your boyfriend couldn’t control himself, his lips crashed into yours. The kiss was long and drawn out, your lips still being connected while Jeff carefully put you down. You pulled away to catch your breath and Jeff tried pulling you back in.

“J, you’re so greedy.” You giggled at him. You were holding his face in your hands and looking into his dark, open eyes.

“I’ll always be greedy when it comes to you, Babe.” His words spilled from his mouth like a slur, then his lips met yours. His tongue grazed your lip, begging to be let in. You returned his advances and found his tongue exploring your mouth. Your cheeks were hot and your mind was messy. Jeff took your hands in his and slowly guided you to a tree, pinning you against it and pushing up on you.

“I need more of you, so much more.” Jeff breathed against your ear, slowly kissing down your neck.

“I know, J.” A gentle moan escaped from you with your words. You pulled Jeff in for another kiss, his warmth enthralling you. Amidst Jeff’s warm hands trailing up your figure, you felt sudden cold contact. You hadn’t realized that Jeff reached in his pocket to take out his knife, now using it to cut open your top, exposing your breasts.

“That’s exactly what I wanted to see, Baby!” Jeff backed away to admire you before closing the gap with another kiss, slowly trailing down to your neck.

“Jeff. What the fuck.” You stuttered your words out amongst many moans. Jeff didn’t acknowledge you, his hands were exploring your body and your neck was his current point of interest. You couldn’t deny that this was your fault or that you felt good, you were just embarrassed. You’ve never done it in a forest before, the thought of this exchange being so public felt shameful, but exciting? You never stopped moaning and whimpering against Jeff, every single sound you made was heaven to his ears and a sign that he was doing something right.

This exchange developed fast. Jeff loved the sounds you made while he kissed your neck, but he wanted more. Jeff got on his knees, you truly loved seeing him like this and he loved serving you. Jeff knew what he wanted, he planned it out in his head from the beginning. Jeff took his knife again, bringing it up to you, then cutting your pants and underwear off.

“Holy shit! What are you doing?” You yelped after the sudden movement. You know you told Jeff he makes you feel safe but you didn’t expect him to pull a knife out, especially during a time like this.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. You said you feel safe with me and you know I’d never throw that away.” He smiled, gazing up at you. You trusted your boyfriend completely but you had no idea what he was trying to do.

“Trust me. I know what I’m doing.” He ended his sentence with a laugh and suddenly penetrated you with the same knife he cut your clothes with, now using the handle of the weapon to pleasure you. You moaned with every pump, in and out. You didn’t notice through the excitement that Jeff began licking at your clit and that his hand gripping the sharp blade was oozing blood. Jeff was paining himself to please you, slicing his hand open and draining out onto the grass beneath you.

“Jeff. Stop. Please.” You breathed out with each moan and whimper. Your legs were shaking, struggling to hold you up. You felt so good, but you couldn’t stand to watch your boyfriend cut his hand open for you to feel this good.

“Hand,” was all you could stutter out. Jeff paused on your clit for a moment to look up at you.

“Ah shit! You’re just so pretty, Princess. I couldn’t resist.” Jeff acknowledged his bloodied hand and pulled the weapon handle out of you.

“You want to finish though, don’t you?” Jeff doted on you. You met his question with a whimper of approval.

“Okay, Baby.” He pocketed his knife and began trailing kisses up your thigh. Jeff used his non-bloodied hand to insert two fingers inside of you and begin pumping you with pleasure, his tongue finding your clit with the same quick pace from before. Your legs were sore and could barely hold up anymore but through your orgasm you could barely feel the pain. You moaned out Jeff’s name and quickly finished on his fingers inside of you. Jeff licked up your mess on his fingers and stood up to meet your gaze.

“You did so well, Babe. Let’s go home now.” Jeff softly whispered in your ear, picking you up bridal style again. You two walked home and Jeff peppered your face with kisses the entire time, telling you how pretty you are. He made sure to also let you know that you’re his, multiple times.

[dargeereads]

Title: Crazy Apologetic Canadians

Author: Cathryn Fox

Genre: Romantic Comedy

Tropes: New Adult/College

Release Date: March 6, 2023

BLURB

"If you liked Crazy Rich Asians, you're going to LOVE Crazy Apologetic Canadians!"

I take one look at the grumpy Brit and know I’m in trouble. Not because he’s in Nova Scotia to tear down our beloved amusement park. Or because he wants to build an elite school on the lush property.

No, I’m in trouble because Colin Parker is superlicious – despite the stick up his British bum.

You see, I’m a free-spirited girl who knows her way around a lobster boat. He’s a rule follower who knows his way around a boardroom. Can you say polar opposites?

Oh, did I mention his mother is back in England planning his marriage? The sexy Brit with a debutante makes sense, right?

You know what doesn’t make sense? The two of us between the sheets and a montage of fun activities that finally put a smile on his face. But when the montage ends, and life turns messy and complicated—yet we still manage to find common ground—it leads me to believe we’re not so different after all.

Until he does the one thing that proves me wrong and I’m forced to make a decision I thought I’d never have to make.

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EXCERPT

“You can take the front. Sounds like you two have a lot of catching up to do, and I’d like to check my emails,” he replies.

“Suit yourself.” Emily flips the seat forward, and gestures for him to climb into the back. He puts one leg onto the floor of the back seat, pushes forward and grunts. I’m about to circle the car, but notice he’s not moving, or grunting. I’m not even sure he’s breathing. Great, I think we’ve killed him. We certainly have the motive. As I glance around, and contemplate on how to hide, or even move, the body, a loud groan reverberates through the near empty parking garage.

“Violet.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m…stuck.”

I admire his perfect ass, wedged between the back seat and the frame of my car. “Um, do you want me to push?”

“I think maybe you should pull.”

I take in the angle of his body and consider the logistics. “What do you want me to pull?” Emily chuckles beside me and I nudge her with my elbow. “Stop it.”

“Ow,” she complains.

I glare at her. “You’re not helping.”

She snaps her gum, enjoying this entirely too much. “What am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know. Go around the other side and push on his head.”

“I thought that’s what he wanted you to pull.”

“Ohmigod!” She grins, clearly proud of her quick-witted sexual innuendo. “Do you want to walk home?”

The car rocks as he tries to free himself, and I pray to God he hasn’t heard Emily, or think in any way that I want to pull his…anything.

Emily drops her gum back into her purse. “Fine.”

She circles the car, and I step up to him. “I’m going to put my hands on your hips and pull, okay?”

“Yes, I believe that will work.”

Pity once again hits me. The man is obviously embarrassed. The British are so stiff—do not think about head and stiff.

Dammit, I’m thinking about it.

Let me try that again. The British are stoic and reserved, and this must be mortifying. Then again, maybe he’s none of those things. People have misconceptions about Canadians too. Yeah, okay, it’s true. We’re ridiculously nice and overly apologetic. Sue me.

As he struggles, I take a fast second and consider drawing this out, letting him wallow in his embarrassment. I mean he is here to destroy our town, but because I only have one mean bone in my body—you did just hear me say we were ridiculously nice right—and I might need to use it later, I put my hand on his sides, and brace my pelvis against his rear.

Oh my.

I glance over my shoulder and pray no one is watching. The last thing I want to be accused of is bum-fucking some Brit in the back of my car. I’m not looking to cause an international incident here. I suppose I could just tell them I’m trying to remove a stick that’s lodged deep. That’s more believable, anyway.

AUTHOR BIO

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cathryn Fox is a wife, mom, sister, daughter, aunt and friend. She loves dogs, sunny weather, anything chocolate (she never says no to a brownie) pizza and red wine. Cathryn lives in beautiful Nova Scotia with her husband, who is convinced he can turn her into a mixed martial arts fan. When not writing, Cathryn can be found Skyping with her son living in Seattle (could he have moved any farther away?) shopping with her daughter in the city, watching a big action flick with her husband, or hanging out and laughing with friends.

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[nonconstories]

3k words preview under the cut

TEXT FROM CYRIL: Okay but that’s him right? 

TEXT FROM RAY: Obviously it’s him. 

TEXT FROM SELF: Lana’s gonna kill him 

TEXT FROM RAY: I’m gonna kill him! 

The vet tech, who was definitely Archer, was still examining the python on the metal table. “Soooo, yeah, the USB thingie is totally still in his tummy. And he’s not happy about it. How did he eat a…computer part?” He looked back at them, and yeah, for a second? Pam wasn’t completely sure. The face was the same, the exact same. Maybe some more pudge in the cheeks and chin, and a few more lines on the forehead, and there was a spattering of gray at the temples, but that was all just normal aging shit. His eyes were still obnoxiously blue and ringed in thick, black eyelashes, and he still had that puffy, pouty, gay porn mouth. Same stupid ears, same little scar on his temple from those German weirdos sticking that chip in his brain a zillion years ago. 

The only thing that really made her doubt it was the fact that his eyes were so wide. Wide and a little vacant, or dreamy, maybe. But he wasn’t so zoned out that he’d forget that he’d asked her something, so, she tried to answer. “We’re not sure. Our shit-for-brains secretary was supposed to be watching him–and the USB drive–and just, you know, didn’t. So. Can you get the drive out?” 

“Uh. I can’t. But Doctor Southie can. And she’s gonna have to, cause otherwise he might die.” He scratched the side of his face, which was a tad scruffy, like he hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. A slim black wedding ring sat on his ring finger, but whatever. Any asshole could buy a ring to help sell the fake identity he picked up after bailing on his kid and his girlfriend and his mom and his whole freaking family. “You can’t have the snake back,” he added. 

“What? Why not?” Cyril demanded, as Archer–or Randall, as his name tag insisted–made a note on the chart. “It’s not our fault he ate the drive–” 

“Sorry. Dr. Southie says so. You guys are flagged; this is the fourth time you’ve brought in an animal in distress due to negligence.” He shot them a glare, and then cooed at the snake. “Hi, there, Julius Squeezer! I’m gonna go get you a sedative, and then Dr. Southie is gonna get that yucky hunk of plastic out of your tummy!” 

“Krieger’s gonna be pissed,” Cyril muttered under his breath. Pam watched Archer’s face. No twitch of recognition at Krieger’s name. No sneer at Cyril’s comment.   

“But we’ve never been to this vet before!” Ray was saying to Archer’s back as he headed for the door. “How’d y’all about the other times?” 

“Uh. Vets talk?” With his shoulder, Archer pushed open the exam room door and leaned into the clinic’s back hallway. Pam could smell antiseptic and hear the hum of machinery as Archer called out to someone they couldn’t see. “Miguel! Get the OR prepped, we gotta cut the snake open!” 

“Do you really have to keep the snake, or are you just being a dick?” Cyril was trying not to snap, and Pam winced. She didn’t need to look at him to know he was crossing his arms, was probably slouching down in his seat too. 

Archer stepped back into the exam room, letting the door swing shut again. “What?” He just sort of gawked at Cyril for a second or two. With his off hand, he fiddled with his wedding ring, and then tried to compose himself. “Mr…Figgis, was it? I can promise you, I’m not just being a dick. I’m doing my job, which is taking care of sick animals. You and your…polyamorous cult are clearly not fit to be pet owners, so, I’m confiscating this EXOTIC ANIMAL that you probably don’t have a permit for–” 

“You know we don’t have a goddamn permit,” Ray blurted out, exasperated. 

“So you’re proving my point! Mr. Figgis–” 

“Stop calling me that, it’s goddamn weird–” 

“I am taking possession of this reptile! After he recovers from EMERGENCY SURGERY, he will be turned over to animal control! So, you know. Take it up with them–” 

“Are you supposed to be from Boston?” Ray asked, and yeah, she’d noticed that too. A touch of crackly, New England townie, coming through clearer on words like confiscate and doctor. Not fully smothering an angry chuckle, he said, “Why the hell are you from Boston?” 

“I–what? The hell are you talking about?” Archer eyed them with a mixture of annoyance and concern. “I grew up in–I don’t–I need to get this freaking sedative, and youse–you need to pay your damn bill.” He banged his way through the door into the back hallway, and Pam stood up and followed him. 

Over her shoulder, she hissed, “Go search his locker!” and shoved the door back open. The employees only area was mostly chrome and tile and strip lighting, and smelled like coffee and sterile tools. “Yo, bro, wait up!” She jogged past three other startled techs to grab at his elbow; Archer yelled wordlessly and whirled out of her reach. 

Teeth gritted, he stuck one finger in her face. “You are not supposed to be back here! Piss off, now, or I’m callin’ the freaking cops!” 

“Man, that accent is good. Subtle! Good to see you learned to ACT while you were sulking for the last four years.” She was trying to figure out if she was pissed or not, and the sincerity of this selfish performance was really throwing her off balance. “Cut the shit, Archer.” 

His short, thick lashes flapped as he blinked at her in very well-feigned confusion. “Uh. You… you got me mixed up with somebody else,” he said slowly, and dropped his hand to his side, but not before she’d spied a callous on his trigger finger, one no less thick than it had been four years ago.  

“Oh, do I, Randy?” The dickbag was really gonna dig his heels in, huh? Just like he always did at the blackjack table, just like he always did on missions, just like he always did with his goddamn mother. Her stomach jerked oddly, and her eyes burned as her frown deepened against her will; man, he was such a fucking pussy sometimes. Sprinting off to play puppy doctor instead of facing a shitty conversation his girlfriend. 

“You just called me Archer! So, yeah, you do.” He smacked his own name tag, the gesture oddly clumsy, and his voice sounded a little thick and forced as he added, “Don’t call me Randy. Christ, not even my husband calls me that–” She really didn’t mean to scoff. Nor did she think about what scoffing at that would sound like. And, still completely convinced this was her shitty dickhead ex best friend doing goddamn improv, she didn’t stop herself from saying: 

“Oh, what, you’re flippin’ gay now? Are you serious?” Archer’s face went white under his beard, and he was back to gaping at her. The hallway around her had gone completely silent, and Pam cleared her throat as every eye fell on her. “Uh. That came out wrong?” 

“Get out,” Archer hissed, and turned his back on her to storm off to the room where they kept the snake drugs, apparently, and a very hostile veterinarian escorted her past the examine room where Julius Squeezer was still awaiting treatment, and out into the parking lot. 

“If you have a problem with gay marriage, move out of Seattle. May I suggest Uganda?” She pointed outside. “Do not come back to this clinic.” 

“Firstly, I’m not homophobic! I know him, he’s just being a jerk. Secondly, are we gonna get that USB back?” 

“We’ll mail it to the address on file.” 

“That’s gonna take days!” The vet slammed the door, and Pam was left standing in the sidewalk’s shade, watching shadows through the frosted glass of the window. “Huh.” She briefly considered going back in, but the lickbag wasn’t going to cave in front of the civvies. She should have guessed that. Four years ago, she would have guessed that. Wouldn’t have wasted her breath–

An image jumped to the front of her mind, so sudden and blaringly clear that she started in place, even swore under her breath. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit–” That scar on his temple. Tiny and white and smooth, a strange whirl left behind by a super thin drill, slashed with a single diagonal hatch mark. The Germans had thought better of it halfway through, killed the drill to open the skin of his temple with a scalpel. She’d petted that scar damn near every time they’d screwed in the office or in his penthouse or on the damn space shuttle, could see it clear as day under her own fingers. But the scar she’d seen on Archer’s temple had been–

She sprinted back to the van, and found Cyril comforting a sobbing Krieger. “We can appeal to animal control. I’m sure they’ll understand that it wasn’t your fault. Archer’s being a tool–” As Pam threw herself inside–and tried to breathe past a stitch in her ribs–Cyril looked back at her, scowling. “Can you believe him?! I-I thought he was DEAD, Pam! I mourned him! I grieved him! I made PEACE with that asshole, and here he is, living his fucking dream and pretending to be from Boston?! While Lana raised AJ alone?!” 

“She’s married and in boarding school!” Pam gasped on reflex, and Cyril started to correct the implication there, but she cut him off by banging her fist against the van’s floor in a clear threat. Squinting at him, she said, through heavy but slowing pants, “I think Mr. Archer is LITERALLY a tool right now!” 

As Krieger continued to sob into the steering wheel, Cyril looked at her, eyes uncertain above his lined mouth. “You, mean, figuratively?” Anxiety hazed up the air between them. 

She shook her head, hair flicking against her cheekbones, reminding her that her sporty little bob was growing out. “The brain chip scar. He has a new one.” Now Cyril was the one going white. Through the windshield, past his head, she could see Ray sprinting towards them across the parking lot. “I saw it. It’s still all puffy and shit! And on the other fricking side!” She felt nauseated, face sweating buckets, and a burst of cold air made her shudder as Ray yanked open the door and scrambled in. 

“Drive!” He trilled, making short, panicked gestured with her robo-hand. “Drive, drive, they’re calling the goddamn cops!” He was pulling something out of inner pocket as Krieger pulled himself together and took the van out of park. “What about a scar?” 

“Pam thinks somebody mind controlled the douchebag into abandoning us!” Cyril was sinking lowered and lowered in the passenger seat, just like he had at the clinic, and when telling Ms. Archer that Krieger’s latest pet had swallowed the evidence they were supposed to be analyzing for evidence of forgery. “I mourned him, Ray!” He added, voice heavy with despair. “I wasted so much time NOT HATING HIM!” 

“We all thought he was dead too!” Krieger barked, weaving in and out of traffic at an alarming speed. “You aren’t special! Remember when I had that symbolic viking funeral for him?!” 

“You mean twelve hours after he disappeared?” Pam asked dryly. 

“I FEEL THINGS DEEPLY!” 

“That was our exit!” Cyril shouted. 

“WILL Y’ALL SHUT IT?!” Ray screeched, and Pam remembered the thing in his pocket. 

“You find something in his locker? Get this, he said he had a husband!” 

“I…I know…” Ray was gripping a photograph. Slowly, he held it out to Pam, still staring at in a kind of vacant shock. “Found a few more like that, stuck to the inside of his locker like he’s a damn teenaged girl.” Pam felt even sicker as she took the photograph and stared at it, finally getting off of her elbows and shifting her weight to her ass so she could more easily pass the god awful wedding picture up to Cyril. 

“Oh. Oh my fucking god.” Cyril dropped the photo to the floor of the van, recoiling from it with his hands up by his shoulders, like he was tossing away a dead rat. “Sick bastard!” 

Barry Dylan was grinning up them, smug as a hog balls-deep in a fertile sow, his arms wrapped possessively around Archer, who looked like the photographer had caught him mid daydream: eyes wide, smile just a touch hazy. They were both in tuxes, Archer’s slate gray and powder blue and white and Barry’s all black, almost aggressively dark. Archer was gripping a champagne glass, tucked against Barry’s chest–

“He’s not taller than Archer,” she said to literally nobody in particular and sat up. “Look at that picture! When he got rebuilt after my bitch sister’s wedding, he made ‘em make him taller!” 

“And then, what? Married Archer? After…brainwashing him into thinking he’s a dog nurse?!” He was looking wildly between Cyril and Pam, and Krieger was still accelerating. 

“You okay, dude?” Pam asked him. 

“Where the fuck is Barry?” He asked in response. 

“Good question! We gotta get back, tell everybody else–” 

“Lana’s gonna lose her shit.” 

“Malory is going to lose her shit!” Cyril said, and Krieger yanked the wheel hard, throwing them into the next exit lane. “Watch it! I wanna get there alive!” 

“We’re being tailed,” Krieger said flatly, and they all snapped their attention the rearview mirror. 

“Shit,” Cyril breathed, and twisted around to stare out the window at the slick blue Mercedes speeding after them. “What do we do? We can’t go back to the lab.” 

“Mandy’s?” Ray suggested hesitantly. 

“No way. We cannot get Mandy all fucked up again.” Pam turned in place to face the back doors of the van, trying to stare Barry down through them. All the other shit going on could be stowed in the barn for later. “We gotta lose him.” 

“It’s definitely Barry, right?” Krieger took them south instead of east, towards the storage lockers they kept all their old drug lord/spies/detective agency/traveling circus stuff in. 

“Call Ms Archer,” she said, sort of to Ray, sort of to everybody. “She–she and Lana have to KNOW, now. Before Barry maybe kills us for real this time.” 

“Jesus, I’m actually praying it’s Captain Blanders this time!” Ray was checking his gun, back against the van’s less dented wall. “Wouldn’t that be nice? If the Bary shit waited until tomorrow?” 

“Ray’s right, he might have followed us to the vet!” Cyril seemed to be dialing the lab; Pam could hear the line ringing when he put it on speaker. “If it’s Blanders, we need to just, I don’t know! Run him over this time!” 

“Us and what army?” Krieger snapped. “He’s not BETTER news than Barry!” 

“I disagree!” 

The line engaged and Cheryl said something bitchy and nonsensical, but was cut off by Cyril snapping at her to get Malory. “It’s VITAL she hears this now! Get Lana too, if you can–” 

“He’s still on us,” Krieger said, and banked hard to the left, cutting through a red light. “What the fuck do I do if he corners us?! The last time I ran him over–” 

“Ran who over?” Malory sounded frazzled. 

“Barry’s chasing us, he used mind control to kidnap Archer, he thinks he’s a vet tech, and he has a Boston accent!” Cyril shrieked in terror as Krieger made an illegal U-Turn and raced straight past the car tailing them. “Also he married Archer!” 

“Some kind of pervy white picket straight jacket fantasy!” Ray shouted at the phone. 

“Married?!” Malory spluttered. “To–to Barry?! Mind controlled–VET TECH?!” 

“Did you see the driver?” Pam demanded, as Krieger cursed at his gas gauge. 

“Windows are tinted!” He took a highway on ramp going west bound, towards the nearest city limit. “I only have half a tank,” he added, and Pam thanked several saints and dead celebrities for how helpful he was being right then. 

Silence had fallen the other end of the phone. Pam could vividly picture shattered glass and puddling gin, some of both marring Ms Archer’s bougie-ass heels. Lana’s voice broke the quiet. “Cy-Cyril. Honey. Are you–sure? That sounds–” She laughed, short and strangled. Krieger changed lanes, too fast and sharp, and slammed on the brakes until they squealed. “Far fetched.” 

“We all SAW him!” Cyril was waving an arm at nothing, and Ray was coiled tight as a cottonmouth behind her left shoulder. “And Pam saw a new scar–” 

“Four years–” Ms Archer sounded muffled, further away from the phone than Lana was. “Four years–” 

“But, married?! Why would Barry–” 

“Because he’s sick!” Pam’s hands itched. “We saw the fucking wedding photo, Malory! He told me he has a husband!” 

“I’m gonna be sick–” Lana nearly hiccuped the words. “I’m gonna be fucking sick–” 

“Four years. Four years.” 

“Where is your gun?” Ray demanded, wincing as the van jostled him side to side. 

“What good do guns do against Barry, like, ever?! GRENADES barely do shit! And, if its Blanders? I’m gonna beat him to death.” Lucas Troy was out in the barn, laughing his ass off about something, and she’d beat him to death later too. 

“You and what army?” Cyril muttered. “We’ve trying that for weeks–”  

“Four years!” Ms. Archer said again, voice warbling and strange. Pam wondered if she’d poured another drink or if she’d maybe never drink again.  

“Lana, what the hell happened that night?” 

It took Pam a second to realize that was Cheryl. Krieger was changing lanes again, and veered into another exit ramp soon after. “Don’t go to the–” 

“I’m not!” He was taking them down suburban side streets, which forced them to slow to 35 miles per hour. Cyril sobbed in terror. 

“Lana!” Cheryl said, louder and harsher. “You said Mr Archer got all pissy and stormed off and then we never saw him again–” 

“I MOURNED HIM!” Cyril screamed into his hands, phone abandoned in his lap, wedding photo ripping in half under his fidgeting left loafer. Pam jerked her gaze away from that, faced the doors of the van again. 

“HE IS MY SON, CYRIL,” Malory screamed back, and something hard and cold thunked into the squishy parts of her heart. “Four years?! Four goddamn fucking YEARS?!” 

“You said he left!” 

Blanders wouldn’t still be following them. Not into this kinda neighborhood. It was Barry. Come to teach them some manners about talking to other men’s girls. She cracked her neck, pictured adding a new hatch mark to her back. Pictured her own hands broken to useless junk by his invincible robot bod, but, hey. The asshole had made her boss cry.

What's the more intriguing Archer/Barry fic: Archer and Barry running around Europe as they chase down Barry and Katya's deranged clone-child who was raised as a brainwashed assassin, or Barry kidnapping Archer and mind-controlling him into believing they're in a happy suburban marriage and the core gang finds him working as a vet tech after being missing for like, four years?

Spoilers for both under the cut

Option one is set vaguely in season six, with Archer and Lana arguing over his involvement in AJ's childhood and he's actively considering leaving ISIS. Katya contacts Barry after discovering evidence that a splinter group in the Russian military stole their DNA and grew a clone to use as an assassin. Barry's trying to exploit Archer's semi-canonical immortality/super-powers to both find her and get her somewhere safe; Archer's partly doing this for Katya, and it's partly about getting away from home for a LONG while. At one point, the child escapes from her prison camp and is attempting to flee Russia, and all three of them are desperately trying to chase her down (and no, none of them know what they're going to do when they catch her).

Option two is canon divergent from season seven. Archer and Lana have a VERY BAD fight that ends in Lana not only emotionally berating him (way over the line shit) and then tells him that she's revoking his visitation rights and will be cutting him out of AJ's life permanently. Instead of ending up comatose in the pool, Archer disappears after this. A few cryptic messages to Mallory hint that he's been abducted, but who took him and for what reason is a mystery. Then the notes stop, and Archer remains MIA. In reality, Barry found Archer mid suicide attempt, and jammed a chip into his brain. After about three years of being Lobotomy Ken for a few years (and getting certified as an emergency vet tech) Archer partially regains his memory but a combination of bitterness, sunk cost fallacy, and stockholm syndrome keeps him from even TRYING to leave. A year after that, his old gang find him living as 'Randal Reynolds' in their current city of residence, and things deteriorate from there.

[hyungieyoongi]

Two Pink Lines

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Fluff + Valentine’s Day + Dad!Yoongi (more like Dad to be tee hee) + Pregnancy + Married AU

Word Count: 590

A/N: Just a little something I wrote to celebrate Valentine’s Day feat. my fave trio—here’s a peak into how they found out baby Nari was on the way. If you’re looking for more Dad!Yoongi content feat. baby Nari, check out Home, Never Enough, Fussy, and First Christmas. Happy Valentine’s Day, my loves!! ❤️

You couldn’t remember the last time you felt your heart beating this hard in your chest. Your breathing was shallow, hands tightly clenched in fists at your sides, turning your knuckles white.

Breathe, you thought to yourself. In…1, 2, 3, 4…out…1, 2, 3, 4. Repeat.

It felt like you were experiencing every emotion possible all at once, your thoughts swirling in your head as you stared down at the bathroom counter, eyes unable to move. You were afraid that if you looked away, it wouldn’t be real. The two of you had been trying for so long. There had been so many times before when it hadn’t been real. This time had to be different.

You heard a gentle rapping of knuckles against the wood of the door, eyes flicking toward the noise briefly before going back to their original focus. Yoongi jiggled the door handle, but it was locked. You could almost picture his frown, eyebrows pushed together in confusion as to why he was being denied entry.

“Sweetheart, are you almost ready?” Yoongi called on the other side of the door. “We’ll miss our dinner reservation if we don’t leave soon.” You nodded in agreement, hardly thinking about the fact that Yoongi couldn’t see the action.

“Y/N? Is everything okay in there?” Yoongi’s voice was raised slightly, his tone starting to become more alarmed at the lack of response. He tried jiggling the door handle again. “Jagiya, please open the door.” You were snapped out of your reverie at his panic, sliding across the tile floor in your socks to get to the door before your husband could truly freak out.

Now unlocked, you opened the door, your husband looking at you with wide eyes at your frazzled state. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that you were unharmed.

“You’ve been in there for half an hour, I thought you were getting ready.” Yoongi tsked at you, taking in your casual appearance. He had obviously gotten ready at work before coming home, his dark hair gelled back away from his forehead, gray suit contrasting against his pale skin. He gestured to his suit jacket by way of illustration. “See? I am ready for a romantic evening.” He chuckled, smile fading when he saw you gulp, dark eyes scrutinizing you.

“Y/N, have you been crying?” He reached his hand up, thumb running against the wetness on your cheek. “What’s going on?”

“I-I have something to tell you.” You grabbed Yoongi’s hands, walking backward as you led him further into your shared bathroom. You stopped in front of the counter where you were previously frozen. Grabbing the white stick, your fingers trembled slightly as you showed Yoongi what you had been staring at for so long.

Two pink lines. 

Yoongi blinked as he stared at the pregnancy test. Once. Then twice.

And then you were in his arms, engulfed by the smell of his cologne, the sound of your husband’s laughter echoing in the room. You hugged him back, fresh tears springing to your eyes in excitement.

“Are you…Y/N, are you sure?” Yoongi asked as he pulled back to look at you.

“It’s the third one I’ve taken. They’ve all been positive.” Yoongi’s face broke out into a gummy smile. His hands came up to your cheeks, bringing your lips to his in a long kiss. His forehead came to rest on yours, his eyes closed as he whispered to you.

“We’re going to have a baby. We’re going to have a family.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Yoongi.”

---

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[skinnyducky]

unexpected visits // v.h.

I got this idea from a movie (She's Out of My League). This scene in particular was one that nearly made me piss my pants and I knew I had to write something similar to it. I just really wanted to do something so kooky and funny and I felt this definitely fits that. I categorized this as fluff but idk. N E ways, here it is. Hope y'all enjoy it!

link to part 2

Word Count: 1420, slightly edited

WARNING: sexual themes, heavy make out session, language (once again...I think), mention of alcohol, and a very flustered vinnie

---------

You threw your head back in laughter as Vinnie had cracked another joke. You two had just left your date at BOA Steakhouse and due to the night being so great, you decided to invite Vin back to your apartment to hang out. Granted, you had no intentions of giving him the goods, at least not yet. You didn’t want to rush into that with this relationship. With so many of your previous relationships, you’d give it up and then they’d leave. You didn’t want that with Vinnie. Hell, you at least wanted him to meet your parents before any of that.

“You are a mess,” you giggled, stopping in front of your apartment door.

“Eh, I try to not to be.” He replied, making a funny face.

You rolled your eyes and pulled out your keys. You fumbled a bit before finding the key to your apartment. As you opened the door, you immediately dropped your bag and headed straight for the kitchen.

“You want anything to drink? A soda or water?” You asked, opening your fridge. “I think I may even have a White Claw or two.”

“Just a water’s fine.”

You nodded and grabbed two waters. You watched from behind the kitchen island as he glanced around your apartment, admiring the décor.

“This is a really nice place.” He gasped. “It’s even nicer than-…”

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at the horse of a dog that stood right before him. He gulped and backed away as the male Doberman began to growl at him.

“What the hell is that?” Vinnie asked, holding his hand out in defense.

Giggling, you walked out from behind the counter. “That’s Mac. I’m watching him for a while until my family gets back from Puerto Rico.”

“Oh wow,” Vinnie replied, “he’s got some teeth on him.”

“Yeah, you should sit down. He hates when people stand up; makes him antsy.”

Vinnie wasted no time taking a seat on your sofa. Mac took note of this and laid down. Taking your place on the sofa next to Vinnie, you passed him his water before taking a drink of yours. The two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, not knowing what to do or talk about. That was until you grew tired of the quietness and decided to make a move. You leaned in close to him and grabbed his chin to make him face you. The two of you stared deep into each other’s eyes, slowly moving in closer until your lips brushed against each other, but before you could get any closer, you pulled back.

“Wait…wait,” you breathed. “I’m really want to, but I don’t wanna move too fast, y’know?”

“No, no…I get it, I totally do.”

“Believe me, I want to so bad, but…I just don’t want you to leave.”

He furrowed his brows. “Wha-…Why would I leave, Y/n?”

“Because everyone else does. Every time I meet someone nice, I get pretty generous and give it up within the first couple of days and then never hear from them again. I just don’t want that with you.” You explained, cradling yourself.

Vinnie sighed, wrapping an arm around you. He gave you a comforting smile and pulled you into his side.

“Y/n, I like you so much, I didn’t even think it was possible to like someone so much. So, regardless of whether or not we do anything, I have no plans on dipping anytime soon. Heck, I tend to be pretty generous too.”

You smirked to yourself. Never once has someone made you feel so secure, so warm inside. You knew Vinnie was definitely the one, and you also knew that you wanted him here and now. Without a thought about, you straddled him—much to his surprise. You tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before attaching your lips to his. As expected, the kiss was better than you ever could’ve imagined. All you could focus on was how amazing his lips felt against yours. It was like they were sculpted for each other. Not to mention, his were so soft, it made you nearly faint at the slightest touch.

His hands gripped your waist tightly, causing you to whimper in pleasure. Your lips then found their way to his cheek, to his jawline, and then ended at the base of his neck. He groaned and moaned, wrapping his muscular arms around your frame. You continued to nip at his neck, all while steadily grinding in his lap.

“Oh my god,” he breathed against your ear. You mentally smiled at this and kept up with what you were doing.

Poor Vinnie felt helpless against you. Never had been with someone who could make him feel the way he felt with you. It was as if he was merely nothing but putty in your hands. And he like it.

He swallowed a large lump in his throat, feeling himself nearing the edge as you proceeded to roll your hips. He couldn’t help it, he knew the longer you worked your magic, the sooner he would burst.

And that’s exactly what he did.

Though, as he practically creamed his drawers, the doorbell rang. You immediately stopped what you were doing and hopped off of Vinnie. To his dismay, he glanced down at the crotch of his jeans to find a small dark spot. With a groan, he tried rubbing his hand against it, hoping the spot would go away.

You were completely oblivious to what was going on with the boy. You had adjusted yourself and then ran to open the door, revealing none other than your grinning parents.

“Mom, dad!?” You squealed as they pulled you into a hug.

Vinnie nearly lost his shit as he heard those names leave your mouth. What the hell could your parents be doing here, especially at this hour of night. “This can’t get any worse,” he thought to himself.

“I thought you guys weren’t coming back until tomorrow?” You said as you led your parents into your living room.

“Well, we were but your father’s job called, and we had to leave earlier than expected.” Your mom spoke. Her eyes went around the room before landing on Vinnie, who now sat cross-legged on your coach. “Y/n, who’s your little friend?” she smiled.

“Oh, this is Vinnie!” You laughed.

Your dad stepped up beside you sticking his hand out at Vinnie. “Y/f/n Y/l/n,” your dad greeted, obviously trying to intimidate Vinnie.

Instead of getting up to shake his hand, Vinnie remained seated with his arm out. The distance between the two wasn’t small enough for him to reach, and knowing your dad, he wasn’t about to move. Once Vinnie figured this out, he retracted his arm and shook his head.

“U-uh, nope. I’m not really a, uh, a handshaker. You know, germaphobe and all of that.” said Vinnie. “I’m sure you guys are uh…tired and worn out from your flight. You should, um, take a seat and…stuff.”

You and your family stared at the boy in confusion for a minute. After a few seconds of awkward silence, your mom took a seat at the end of the couch.

“Germaphobe.” Your dad huffed to himself, sitting next to Vinnie.

You contained your embarrassment—not only for Vinnie, but for yourself—and sat down in the armchair. Vinnie began at attempting to make small talk, hoping that he could still win your parents over, but that was cut short when Mac found his way over to Vinnie. The large dog began sniffing at the stain as if he was smelling a homecooked meal.

“Oh no, Mac.” Vinnie whined.

You and your family watched in bewilderment as the dog proceed to growl during his sniff session.

“Mac.” Your dad said, snapping at him to get his attention.

Trying to push Mac away didn’t help either in Vinnie’s case; Mac was too determined to get to the bottom of what he was smelling. So, doing the only thing he could do, Vinnie stood up onto your couch and stepped over your parents. Reaching the end, he hopped off and turned to look at the frowning couple.

“I, uh…thank you for having me. This has been really great.” He said, turning to look at you. “Goodnight.”

And with that, the boy rushed out of your apartment, nearly tripping over himself along the way. You could do nothing but look at your parents with a worried grin.

“That’s, uh…that’s Vinnie for you.” You chuckled.

[cynettic]

Hello, can I request a reaction with childe, albedo, xiao and diluc where their SO is pretty clumsy and one day, they (the characters) just snap and say mean things? Please end it with comfort or something nice, my heart isnt strong enough to handle full angst :')

Clumsy S/O x Genshin

Summary - As someone clumsy, the genshin boys often pay special attention to your little accidents and mishaps. One day they snap, comforting ending though ;-;

Pairings - ClumsyReader x Childe / Albedo / Xiao / Diluc

Warnings - A bit of possessive behaviour for Xiao- but otherwise, a tad bit of angst at the beginning of each one.

A/N - After I wrote Albedo’s hc I realized that seeing him angry… would be really hot. Might write up a degradation one after-

Childe

“Stop it! It’s not funny anymore!”

It wasn’t surprising that once again, you’d managed to trip on your own feet and now somehow the vase sitting on the stool next to the couch had fallen… and broke.

But it was the first time you’d heard those words come from him.

“What do you mean… stop?”

Childe had never said anything about your clumsy antics, always picking you up and laughing or teasing the situation off. On the occasion that you got hurt, he’d tend to your wounds and make you promise to be more careful. Of course there was always a next time, and next time, and text time…

Until Childe had enough.

“From falling- tripping over your feet and taking down everything with you! No one tumbles around this much… so either you’re just doing this for fun or- or…”

He began to realize after those words that he’d taken it too far. When glancing at your teary eyes and how your figure started to shake he knew he couldn’t take those words back.

He knew it wasn’t your fault, he knew you tried to be as careful as you could.

But it was so frustrating.

You were still laying on the ground from the fall, and he bent down to help you up. You didn’t look him in the eyes, and an empty feeling buried itself in his stomach when you stood up.

“I’m… sorry.”

It was you who spoke these words, shoulders still shaking. You knew it might’ve been frustrating or annoying for Childe.

The two of you are just standing there, Childe feeling ten times guiltier because you apologized, and you feeling terrible because you’d broken another vase and he’d yelled at you for it.

The two of you feel so bad about it- ;-;

It isn’t till Childe acts out and pulls you into a hug that you realize he felt bad for yelling at you. Sure he may have been frustrated, but it was only cause he was worried about your well being, he didnt want you getting hurt.

“Im sorry Y/n… I didn’t mean to act out like that. I know you're trying your best.”

Albedo

“What happened.”

It was supposed to come out as a question, his eyes trailing over the mess of his lab and the sorry pitiful state it was in.

It didn’t come out sounding like a question.

Seeing Albedo angry of all things was only a myth among the knights of Favonius, a joke to Klee, and a topic never brought up to the citizens of Monstadt.

Albedo? Mad?? Impossible.

Well, you were living proof that it indeed wasnt a myth to see the alchemist angry.

“I fell…” was all you said in response to his glare. “I wasn’t paying attention and I tripped against the table… I’m sorry…”

Of course you were sorry, just waiting for Albedo to get home and maybe scanning the lab and all his experiments while he was away. No bad intentions, but unfortunately your bad habit of tripping over your own feet summoned itself at the worst moments.

Usually, Albedo would catch you with utmost ease. A reflex he’d learned from Klee before she went sprinting out to cause more of a ruckus. If you were to get hurt, he’d usher or carry you back into his house before patching you up. It was always quick and painless, but he made you repeat why you’d fell and how to avoid it.

Albedo wouldn’t be comforting you now.

“You fell?” He simply asked, his tone menacing enough to know that it was something important in that jumble of experiments. “You seem to do that a lot nowadays don’t you?”

You’re at a loss for words, “I’ll help you clean it up… I didn’t mean to-”

Not wanting to mention how the glass shards had cut your hand, you stood up with wobbly knees to start picking up the pieces of glass. You were sure your boyfriend had put a lot of work towards this, and you felt terrible for having ruined it all.

Albedo isn’t a savage tho.

He notices the cut on your palm, and your shaky figure as you begin to clean up the mess you’d made. He knows that cleaning up the lab as soon as possible is important, but you’re still his top priority.

“Come here.”

When you don’t immediately go to him, he walks to you. Taking your wrists and getting a good view of the injury. He tugs you to the doorway to get you fixed up, and realizes that you’re shaking, a little bit too much…

“It… seems I was a bit too harsh earlier.” He fully faces you, expression softening. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t mean to, none of the items on the table were of any importance if it makes you feel better.”

Please let him wipe any stray tears if you do cry, he didn’t mean to sound so angry, and really doesn’t care too much about what was on that table. Poor man’s just had a tough day at work.

Xiao

“I worry for you, every single minute of every goddamn day- every moment that my eyes aren't on you! Why don’t you make it easier for me and just sit still?!”

Xiao is protective.

That fact is known, its accepted, you might even find it endearing.

But Xiao has lived a much longer life than you, he’s seen the people he loves crumple and drain away. Watched them fade from his life one at a time, so he’s dedicated to making sure you stick around.

He knows that eternity isn’t an option for you, so he makes sure that the time you both have together is s a f e . Which means yes, he will catch you every single time you fall. Especially if it’s off the Wangshu stairs that you somehow always trip on?

The poor boy worries excessively for you, so much that he will try to hurry up the process of clearing out the normal hilichurls or threats that lie around Liyue Port.

But on the very rare occasion that you somehow end up into trouble without him there…

You don’t yell “Xiao” like he told you to, you know he makes such an effort on making you safe, a bit too much… you don’t want to summon him to every trouble you have. You’re independent, one scrape isn’t going to kill you.

“I’m fine,” you simply say when he comes back to find your whole hand encompassed in bandages. “Just tripped.”

Xiao is not impressed.

He worries too much, far too much, and seeing you brush it off when he tries so hard to make sure you’re never in pain- he wishes you’d just sit still, wait for him and not trip on your own feet when doing such mundane things.

“I worry for you, every single minute of every goddamn day- every moment that my eyes aren't on you! Why don’t you make it easier for me and just sit still?!”

You’re obviously taken aback by the statement, “Xiao?” You offer him a comforting hug, trying to loosen his stiff muscles. “It’s impossible from protecting me from everything y’know… I appreciate your worry but I’m fine.”

But that’s a matter that is strained between the two of you, and will continue to be that way until either Xiao somehow lets go of his protective anxious faze, or you just accept it.

Either way, the boy will continue to catch you when you fall. Even if you broke apart from him, left him, you’d still occasionally feel the lightest touch when you trip over your feet and feel yourself steadied.

Diluc

“Are you doing this on purpose?!”

Just like Xiao, Diluc is fairly protective over you, especially if it concerns your health.

He’s often not quick enough to catch you, but instead picks you up in his arms and sits you on the table to make sure you’re not hurt.

You often get bruises, but nothing more serious. He makes sure to kiss them better- something you jokingly stated once, and he’s actually taken it seriously.

“Kissing it will make it feel better? You’re sure?”

Overall, Diluc was very understanding to your clumsy antics. Maybe even find it endearing on a hard day of work, either way, he’d never yell at you for it.

Until he had enough.

It’s exhausting, to hear something clatter and know that you’d probably tripped. Tripped and harmed yourself in one way or another, the options were infinite, and Diluc’s anxiety could heighten at the slightest crashing noise.

“Are you doing this on purpose?!”

Eventually it became too much and he asked you that exact question, hands tangling through his hair as he stared at you wide eyed, furious. There you were on the floor, just a single chair knocked down as you were beginning to shakily stand back up.

“No… of course not. I wouldn’t do these things for fun-“

It’s not like you enjoyed absentmindedly stumbling into objects, it just… happened. Diluc was usually so patient and understanding… so why?

“I know… it’s just...” he rubbed the temples on either side of his face with his thumbs, frown set in a line. “I keep worrying and worrying- every time I hear a noise like that…”

It doesn’t take long for him to sort this out through a conversation, and then settle that you need to be more mindful and careful, something you have to improve on. He will simply watch on the sidelines, catch you when he can, and coax you when you end up hurt.

[cloud-9ine]

Cable Shocks

⤷ pairing - denki kaminari x reader

⤷ fandom - bnha

⤷ warnings - slight angst, hurt/comfort, illness, exploitation

⤷ summary - you notice the other class 1-a students using denki’s quirk for their favours, and you catch him later paying the price

⤷ word count - 3.2k+

Denki Kaminari was a giver.

He gave his help, he gave his laughter, he gave his love, and recently, he was beginning to give himself, too.

It started off innocently: he showed the Class 1-A students his party trick- look at that, he can charge phones! After that, the others had regularly come to him in need of their devices being charged, or electricity constantly pumped into something that only he could provide. And Denki, being a giver, well, he never said no.

It didn’t matter to him that it would make him short circuit, it didn’t matter to him that they would laugh, it didn’t even matter to him that all he could taste every evening was acid.

Denki Kaminari was a giver, and he was prepared to give his life.

Your class common room was never empty. At any given time, there was always at least two of your classmates in there- no exceptions. If you wanted to make tea in the early morning, Iida and Yaoyorozu would greet you with beaming grins unbecoming of such an unnatural time. Alternatively, if you wanted to cry at 3 AM, you would lay your eyes on Tokoyami and Jirou plunged into the darkness, leaving you to wonder whether they were just acting off or if they were summoning a demon to curse those who have wronged them.

At this moment, Denki was sat on the centre sofa, three cables stuck between his teeth. Beside him sat Mina, eagerly chatting to Kirishima who sat opposite to her on a plush chair with Sero lounged over the arm of it. The three looked content, but you couldn’t help but notice the stiffness at which Denki was disposed, concentration knotting his brows as he worked on keeping the sparks flowing through the wires.

You slipped into the room, deciding on the space on the other side of Denki. The other occupants of the room gave you a quick hello before returning to their previous conversations. With the exception of Denki, obviously, who seemingly forgot his task the moment he heard your name mentioned. His eyes sparkled once he saw you, his head turning to the side as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Hey, Kaminari, you’re dropping the wires!” Sero snickered, eyeing up the way Denki looked down in alarm.

“Only 27%? Come on, I need more than that!” Mina whined, shoving the cables back into the spooked boy’s mouth. He looked at you apologetically, attempting to convey something with wild gestures that you couldn’t begin to comprehend. You laughed, patting the top of his head to quell his struggles.

“Don’t worry about it. Let’s just chill, yeah?” He paused, dropping his hands to his lap and nodding. You grinned, bumping your shoulder against his before pulling your phone out. Denki squinted at the object, as if it had personally offended him. Grinning, you shook your head.

“Fully charged. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” His expression softened, cheeks glowing a slight pink at your words. You shifted slightly to get more comfortable, ending up slumped against Denki’s side, who in return leaned into you.

“And so basically, I told him he was nuts, right?” The careless ramblings of Mina was enough to get you to relax, scrolling aimlessly through your friend’s Instagram posts. Ochako had posted a weirdly aesthetic picture of mochi, Midoriya had posted a picture of Ochako, Iida was posting about cyber-bullying, the works.

Being in physical contact with Denki while he was in charging mode, you noticed, made your hair float up like static electricity. You didn’t mind this, taking to flattening down your hair every once in a while during your relaxation. It was easy to let go with your classmates- the gentle lull of the voices of the others mixed with the pleasant buzz of Denki’s skin against yours made for a comforting experience that almost made you fall asleep.

“Hey dunce face!” Denki jumped at the sound of Bakugo’s voice, his elbow jutting into your side and forcing you to tense up. He didn’t seem to notice your subtle glare, however, as his attention was focused on the other boy that had slammed open the door (not that Bakugo seemed entirely angry today, but it was just his natural disposition that made every action of his aggressive).

“H-Hey bro! What’s up?” Bakugo didn’t respond to Kirishima’s words, further ignoring the similar muffled greeting that Denki managed to let out.

“I need this charged,” he grumbled, moving to Denki and shoving a fourth wire in his mouth. You frowned, eyeing up the two boys wearily. The screens of the current phones flashed, an indication that he wasn’t putting in enough charge. He gulped as Bakugo stomped back out the room, his eyes squeezing shut as he amped up the electricity.

As if a switch had been flipped, Denki’s blonde locks frizzed up before succinctly falling back down to his head. You stared at him, eyes widened as the wires dropped to the ground.

“Wheeeee!” His body fell into you, thumbs sticking out with a goofy smile painted onto his face. A small smile pushed passed your lips as you grabbed a pillow and placed it under his head just as he fell off your shoulder and into your lap.

“Oh my god! He’s buzzed out!” Mina cackled, grabbing her phone to snap a couple of photos as the others laughed.

“I love the guy, but my god is he dumb.” You bit your lip at Sero’s grin, angling Denki’s head away from the camera and raking your hands through his hair. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling his face into your stomach as he rambled about something to do with being okay. It was hard to understand him in this state.

“Come on guys, not cool.” You mumbled, using your sleeve to wipe away a bit of drool on Denki’s chin.

“Ah, cheer up (Y/N)! He does this all the time- it doesn’t matter!” Kirishima’s words made a pit coil in your stomach, nausea prickling your throat.

“It doesn’t matter. Leave him alone.” Mina rolled her eyes.

“God, it’s not a big deal. It’s his own fault, anyway.” You couldn’t help the annoyance that fuelled the glare in your eyes, but you pushed it down with a harder bite to the inside of your cheek. There was the burst of something metallic that tinged your tongue, but you ignored it.

“Come on, Denki. Let’s go,” said boy didn’t seem to recognise your words until you propped him up so you could stand up before pulling him off the sofa. Seemingly slightly resigned by your actions, Mina dropped her phone into her lap, looking away. This didn’t stop the other two from laughing, however, the volume of their cackles only increasing as Denki fell into your back.

With a groan, you shoved your shoulder into the door to open it and letting Denki clamber through. You painstakingly led him into his dorm room, redirecting him away from every wall he tried to run into and each piece of furniture he rammed into his abdomen. Your phone was blowing up with notifications, but you elected to ignore that as you made sure he didn’t hit his head as he fell onto his bed.

You wrote him a quick note and stuck it on his door, turning around to make one last check that he wasn’t going to kill himself the moment you stepped out the door.

Come find me when you’re back to normal.

“(Y/N)…” he whined, hands reaching out for you as he rolled onto his side, eyes sparkling once he saw you. You sighed, moving to brush a strand of his hair behind his ear.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” It didn’t seem like he quite understood what you said, but the compliant nod and shining smile was enough to convince you he would be okay.

AlienQueen: [ATTACHMENT SENT]

[TheRaven, StarMan, MyChemicalHeadphones and 10 others liked this photo]

PinkQueen: guys!! look at kami asjadoawdhd

ALiteralRock: haha! you shoulda been there

Froggi: He’s been doing that more lately

Invisibitch: Good! It’s so funny!

PinkCake: hes so cute <33

GreenCake: It’s interesting how Denki has been ‘buzzing out’ more, but I suppose if he’s been using his quirk more often outside of training he could be slowly building a resistance.

BoomBoomBoy: Shut up.

IidaTenya: I sure hope he is safe!

TapeMan: nah, (Y/N) got im

You didn’t see Denki for the rest of the day.

When you stirred from your sleep, it was still dark. You felt a warmth building below your skin that spurred you to strip of your blanket, allowing it to fall into a crumpled heap onto the floor before creeping out the room. In the dead silence of the night, each one of your footfalls sounded like a bang to a drum.

The common room was empty that night. You squinted through the darkness, feeling your way to the sink to pour yourself a glass of water. You stilled in the quiet for a moment, letting the movement settle as you took a sip. There was always a sort of ringing once it got quiet enough, a small reminder that despite the fact you were alone in the dark, there was still something going on.

Click.

At the end of the hall, a light turned on, the orange glow a stark contrast from the deep shadows that plagued the area. You heard a quiet shuffling, before a muffled gagging sound rang out.

Eyes widening, you rushed as quietly as you could down the hall, nearly crashing into the door as you shoved your way into the bathroom.

Hunched over the sink, chest racking with coughs and gags was Denki, his eyes teary as they struggled to focus on you. A dark substance, almost completely black if it were not for the slightest translucency, dripped from his parted lips and into the basin, clashing against the pure white marble.

You clapped a hand to your mouth, willing down the tears that welled in your eyes.

“Denki… what?” You choked out, voice hoarse from the dryness that stung your throat. Denki attempted to push himself up, hands trembling and knuckles white as he gripped the side of the countertop.

“(Y/N)…” his voice shook as he reached up to wipe his mouth, taking a step back from you in a vain bid to pass you and leave. You quickly snapped the door shut, no longer caring whether you woke anyone up.

Click.

Denki weakly chuckled at the look on your face. The lock. He closed himself into the corner of the room, pressing his back against the wall.

“Look, I’m fine-“ He was cut off by himself, lurching back over the sink and coughing up more of the liquid.

“What is that?” You questioned, silent horror pinching your features. He turned on the tap, filling his hands with water and washing out his mouth. Darting to the toilet- and struggling to move in such closed quarters- you balled up a handful of toilet paper and wiped his mouth. He leaned into your touch, skin emanating heat and covered by a thin sheen of sweat.

“Battery acid.” You felt your knees go weak.

“What?”

“It’s battery acid. The more I overuse my quirk, the more likely this stuff is to accumulate in my throat,” he looked away from your piercing gaze, “it’s okay, really.”

“What part of this is okay?” You spat, voice wavering. Denki winced at your tone, turning to washing his mouth out with more water, “Does it hurt?” He paused, and that was all the confirmation he needed.

The two of you stood in silence for a moment, only the sound of running water interspersed the atmosphere. You reached over and turned it off, not acknowledging the shrill screech of the metal as you levelled Denki with an even stare.

“It’s from the charging.” He muttered, and your knuckles clenched.

“Of-fucking-course.” He cringed, a clammy palm feebly gripping your forearm. His eyes were desperate, frown twisting his expression into something you couldn’t bear to look at.

“Please, (Y/N), it’s okay,” he begged, a tear slipping out of his eye just at the same time you felt one trail down your cheek.

“It’s not okay, Denki. How long has this been happening?” He fell silent, and you could feel the anxiety coiling in the pit of your stomach.

“Four months.” In a split-second decision, you lunged forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and pushing your body into his. He nestled his face into your neck, hands coming to rest on your hips. Seemingly unable to keep it together any long, he crumbled, chest stuttering with every breath and his tears soaking the skin that was exposed by your nightshirt.

The silence of midnight began to creep in once again, only broken by the soft whimpers and sobs of the boy practically clutching onto you. You waited as long as you needed to until Denki had caught his breath, not counting the minutes yet painfully aware of each one as it passed.

“From now on, if someone asks you to charge anything, you say no, okay?” Denki frowned, rubbing away the tears in his eyes.

“I-“

“From now on, if someone asks you to charge anything, you say no, got it?” You spat, voice much firmer and tone a lot more sharp. He gulped, resigning to nodding with a sullen expression on his face.

“Are you good to go back to sleep? Or is there anything I need to do first?”

“It’s fine. You can go back now, don’t stay up for any longer.”

“I will do what I want, thanks.” you seethed, eyes glinting. Denki looked taken aback, glancing over your expression wearily.

“Uh…” “I am not going back to sleep unless you’re coming with me. You’re such an idiot-” you paused, “-but you’re my idiot, and there’s no way I’m letting the others treat you like this,“ you cupped his face, fingers pressing into pink cheeks as you angled his face to look at you, “if they want anything else from you, they have to go through me first.” Agape, he only nodded again, allowing you to grab his hand and pull him out the room.

Once he flicked the light off, the two of you were awash in darkness once again, but this seemed not to deter you. Rather, you traipsed across the corridor with a ridiculous amount of determination, only narrowly avoiding the various obstructions in the shadows.

“Here, let me light-“ Despite the little he could see, Denki could practically feel your burning glare. Bringing his hand down, he murmured an apology, musing in your little nod of satisfaction he could feel the motions of.

It only took you a few minutes to get to your room, pushing him inside and closing the door behind you. In spite of everything, Denki could feel heat rushing to his cheeks for an entirely different reason than his fever.

“(Y/N)?” He squeaked, hearing you fumble around the room yet not finding courage to stay anything but completely frozen.

“Yeah?” You questioned, voice low but feeling remarkably pleasant to his ears.

“This isn’t my room.”

“I know.”

“So why am I here?”

“Because I’m not leaving you alone. Come on, I’ve got the spare pillow.”

Denki currently didn’t have the energy to feel shame about the sparks excitement that welled up inside of him as he rushed to the sound of you getting on your bed. You held the blanket up for him, and he all but fell down next to you. The pounding of his heart was almost enough to distract him from the acrid burning of his throat.

You were warm, almost too warm as he shifted to be closer to you. Now that his eyes were getting adjusted, he could make out the expression on your face, eyebrows knotted in concern and eyes scanning all over him, as if searching for some sort of answer that he could only long to give you.

“I’m sorry.” He said it as if it meant anything. If it counted, he truly was. Denki didn’t want to make you worry- he wasn’t worth it. But that’s what you did. He would give too much, and you would worry tenfold.

It didn’t help that his eyes were still stinging and red-rimmed, or every once in a while a dry cough would tickle his throat. It didn’t help that he would wince every time he had to swallow, or that his palms were still clammy and he had to try to subtly wipe them on his shorts. It didn’t help that the pain almost became too much to handle, and he loved you too much to even lie about it.

He loved you- of course he did. How could he not? It was you. You, who stared at him with such adoration, even though he knew you were pissed off. You, who stood up for him even to his friends. You, who worried for him the first time he was buzzed out, and a thousand times later, still stayed with him and ran your fingers through his hair when he was barely conscious.

He watched your eyes strain to stay open, to keep watching him as he was watching you. Finally, they fluttered shut, your breathing evening out as you shuffled closer to him.

You, who got up in the middle of the night to protect him from himself.

He tucked your head under his chin, wrapping his arms around you waist with a gentle sigh. Under the cover of darkness, he confessed this. His words fell on deaf ears, but he couldn’t find it in him to care.

You, who, unlike anyone else, was determined to make him stop giving.

He couldn’t help but fall asleep, the sound of your soft breathing and the gentle rise and fall of your chest like a lullaby willing his eyes to close, comforted by the presence of your figure cuddled to his chest.

Denki Kaminari was a giver. And if there was anyone worth giving anything, it was you.

Extra:

Bakugo was not expecting to start his day in a chokehold.

It had started off innocently, Denki was playing a game on his phone, smug grin on his face, you were napping next to him, and the other losers he called his friends were on the sofas, eyes wide and backs straight. Sure, you could say he questioned the strange way his friends were acting, but he didn’t particularly care.

“Pikabitch, I need my phone-“

Bakugo prided himself on his quick instincts, but you were quicker.

In a second, your arm was wrapped around his throat, face dark and pressure increasing through his gasps.

“Say one more fucking word and you’re dead.” You growled, Bakugo’s fingers gripping your arm in a vain attempt to release himself from your hold, “Got it?” The blonde just managed to nod, coughing out once your arm withdrew from his neck. You settled back in your place beside Denki, sending him another sharp glare before returning to your nap.

Bakugo could only stare wide eyed, not quite sure what happened. All he could gather was that Denki was now off limits, and the others seemed to realise that too, if them cringing was anything to go by. With a gulp, he stormed out the common room.

Now he had to go get his charger.

[xutokawa]

I really love your s/o finding scratch marks, so I was wondering if you can do one for Bokuto & Hinata- if not Hinata you can do Akaashi uwu please crush my soul ~🥝

pairings: akaashi x reader, hinata x reader

genre(s): fluff to angst, cheating

warnings: langauge, cheating

wc: 2.4k

» masterlist

a/n: anon!! tysm for this request hehe. sorry it took so long to write :( but I hope you enjoy!! since i already wrote one for bokuto, it’s just hinata and akaashi in this one! also tysm guys for 400 followers!?!!??! i def don’t deserve it since i barely post oops but i still can’t be grateful enough for your support!

atsumu and oikawa ver.

osamu and iwazumi ver.

kuroo and sakusa ver.

suna and bokuto ver.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Akaashi

Excitement bubbled in your stomach as you checked your appearance in the mirror. 

“How do I look?” you teasingly asked your boyfriend. Looking up from his phone, his face immediately formed into a smile.

“Ethereal,” Akaashi replied, taking in your appearance. You giggle as you walked over to where he was sitting on your shared bed, wrapping your arms around his waist, snuggling into his chest. His scent filled your nostrils as you felt his hand reach up to smooth your hair. Warmth spread through your body. 

“You ready to go then?” Akaashi asked you.

“Ready when you are,” you replied, tilting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes filled with adoration.

“Let’s go then.”

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The two of you were seated in a nice cafe, hunger satiated as the two of you talked. Your conversations were filled with smiles and laughter. Yet Akaashi’s smiles never seemed to truly reach his eyes. How could they when nothing but guilt filled his mind, when evidence of a drunken escapade was marked on his body?

Akaashi had noticed your intense gaze on his neck, shifting uncomfortably. Panic and dread rose to his throat at the thought of there being a hickey on his neck from the night before. Despite checking in the mirror countless times, he still couldn’t help but feel panicked at the thought of missing one.

“Is everything okay, y/n?” Akaashi tentatively asked, rubbing his hand over his neck. Snapped out of your trance, you meet his eyes before laughing it off.

“Yeah, just zoning out,” you tried to laugh off. You couldn’t shake it from your head. That couldn’t have been a hickey. Even if it was, Akaashi wouldn’t be so careless to not cover it, right? Unless he wanted you to see it. Tears pricked at your eyes. You quickly excused yourself to the bathroom, not wanting Akaashi to see your tears. 

As soon as you left his sight, Akaashi hurriedly checked his camera on his phone to see what you were staring at. Sure enough, a purple splotch was peeking out from underneath his shirt. Akaashi cursed as he wracked his mind with what to do. All he could come up with was pulling his shirt collar to one side.

His heart hammered in his chest. Would you break up with him when you came out of the bathroom? He felt his heart crumble at the thought of you leaving him. Akaashi was hoping he would eventually forget about his mistake and move on with his life with you. He just wanted to move onto the moment he got down on one knee, the moment the two of you would buy a house for the first time, the moment you held your children in your arms. He just needed to get past this moment.

He knew as soon as he saw you walk out of the bathroom. Your red eyes and blotchy cheeks gave it away. You saw, and now you knew how shitty of a person he was.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you sat back down.

“So you saw,” Akaashi confirmed. All you could do was nod in response.

“Wh-what do you want to do now?” Akaashi choked out. He truly didn’t want to lose you. It was like living in a nightmare, but the most he could do now was respect your wishes.

“I-” you started off, taking a breath before continuing, “I want to go back to the apartment.”

Akaashi silently nodded in understanding before gathering his things and leaving to pay. You buried your face in your hands, not fully grasping the situation at hand. Why was he acting so guilty? This was Akaashi, your boyfriend since your third year at high school. Never once did you doubt the love you held for each other during your relationship. 

“C’mon, y/n, let’s go,” Akaashi said, tentatively reaching his hand out to you. You debated whether or not you should take it, still unsure of everything going on. Finally, you gave him, letting his long fingers intertwined with yours. You almost wanted to laugh at how easily your unease washed away at his touch, how you immediately felt comforted, when the man who made you feel this way had traces of another on his skin. 

The two of you drove in silence, neither one of you sure of what to say in this situation. Confusion swarmed Akaashi’s mind. You obviously saw the hickey on his neck, yet you weren’t lashing out, demanding to break up with him. Yet he could see you were visibly troubled, your history and past with him getting in the way of your rationality. Guilt and shame pooled in Akaashi’s stomach. He shouldn’t be using his familiarity with you as a way to keep you with him. He was unfaithful, and deserved all the consequences. He knew that, no matter how heart wrenching it was to have you leave him.

Silence continued to envelop the two of you as you walked up to your shared apartment. As soon as you entered the threshold of your home, Akaashi attempted to start some sort of conversation.

“Y/n, I think we need-” Akaashi attempted to start.

“Baby, I’m really tired, can this wait till after I take a nap,” you cut him off. Maybe if you continued to pretend you saw nothing, that this was just another day, everything would be okay. You and Akaashi would be okay.

“You can’t just ignore what just happened, y/n!” Akaashi reasoned. Your detachment from the situation honestly scared him a bit. He would’ve expected you to demand him to move out, maybe even a smack across the face, but your reaction was unexpected and unsettling.

“Nothing’s wrong, Akaashi,” you said, tears beginning to pool, “I still love you, and you love me, right?” 

“Y/n-” Akaashi started, “of course I love you, which is why I can’t stand to see you like this! I fucking cheated on you! I don’t deserve your love! You shouldn’t be forgiving me! I don’t deserve you anymore!”

Tears began streaming down your face at his words.

“No, no no no, Akaashi, no! We’re supposed to be together! You wouldn’t hurt me like that, Akaashi, you love me too much to do that to me!” You tried to reason. Deep down, you knew. Even if the two of you somehow got past this moment, new insecurities from this moment would arise. Your relationship would never be the same.

“Y/n! Get it through your fucking head! I cheated on you! I’m a fucking scumbag who forgot how fucking amazing you are! I’m the asshole here! You can’t just forgive me like this! How are you going to forgive me when I’m never going to forgive myself?!” Akaashi’s voice broke at the end.

“Akaashi, stop it! There’s no proof!” You yelled back, not wanting reality to hit. Your eyes widened when Akaashi moved to pull his shirt over his head.

“Is this proof enough?” Akaashi started, “What will it take for you to realize? Did you want me to call them up? Have them tell you? Y/n, please, don’t put yourself through this! Fucking wake up and realize!”

You collapsed to the ground, sobbing as you took in his appearance. Hickeys littered his neck and chest, red scratches on his shoulders. It finally hit you. Akaashi cheated on you. He left you for another. 

“Why? Why did you have to ruin this, Akaashi!” you yelled, “was this not enough?”

“I don’t know, y/n,” Akaashi began breaking down, “I regret all of it. I would give anything to turn the clock back, but I can’t! This is reality, and we both have to face it whether we like it or not!”

Pain flared in Akaashi’s chest as your eyes met his. He watched as the love you held for him slowly dissolved from your eyes. His heart fell into pieces as you walked into your shared bedroom, only to emerge moments later with a small duffle bag. He recognized it. It was the duffle bag you used when the two of you took trips. You were leaving.

Tears freely flowed down Akaashi’s face as you wordlessly brushed past him, nothing sounding in the room except your hiccups. 

“Y/n,” Akaashi started, “where are you going?”

“Away,” you replied, giving no other explanation. The coldness and sadness in your voice sent knives into Akaashi’s heart, but it’s what he deserved. He couldn’t beg for your love again, or have the right to yearn for your warm embrace. He’s the one who ruined everything, so Akaashi could do nothing but helplessly watch you walk away from him, leaving him alone in a cold apartment.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Hinata

“Y/n~” Your boyfriend whined, plopping his head into your lap. Your hand instinctively went to comb through his orange hair.

“What’s up?” You replied, not looking up from your phone screen. Your eyes finally met his, however, when he pushed away your hands, forcing you to look at him. One look at his pleading eyes was all it took for your heart to melt.

“Can we please go out today? The weather looks so nice,” Hinata pleaded, “Don’t you want to go to the beach?”

“But I just want to watch Netflix,” you whined.

“C’mon, baby. Please?” Hinata looked at you, bottom lip sticking out, “Let’s go outside and enjoy the sun! We can buy ice cream!”

You hesitated for a second.

“Ice cream and smoothies,” you said, “and we go to the mall tomorrow.”

Hinata sent you the brightest smile.

“Deal!”

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

“Ugh, y/n, I love you so much,” Hinata mumbled out around a mouthful of ice cream. Giggling, you wiped the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too, baby,” you cooed back, heart swelling at the sight of his smile. Hinata didn’t understand how you still managed to give him butterflies after five years of dating, but he wasn’t complaining. The way your eyes crinkled and your nose scrunched when you laughed made him feel warm inside, and he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life like this with you,” you said, eyes shining with adoration as you looked at your boyfriend. The amount of love you held for the spiker in front of you was unexplainable. All you knew is he made you feel like you were on top of the world, the only thing that mattered to him.

Gasping dramatically, Hinata replied, “That’s insane, because I’ve been thinking that too!”

“Stop teasing me,” you laughed off. Hinata’s chuckles blended with yours. The spiker’s joy was cut off as guilt began rising in his stomach. Of course he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. You were his everything, the reason he felt like he could breathe easier, the reason everything in his world was so bright. But he knew he wasn’t faithful during your relationship. Hinata didn’t even know how it happened. All he remembered was waking up in a hotel room, his legs tangled with another’s. He remembered the feeling of his stomach plummeting to his feet once he saw the mangled marks on his back.

Hinata was pulled out of his thoughts by your voice.

“Is that Bokuto?” You questioned, gaze pointed at the sandy beach. Sure enough, the wing spiker along with Atsumu were there, standing on opposite sides of a volleyball net.

“Yeah, Kageyama and Hoshiumi are there too!” Hinata excitedly pointed out, already walking towards the volleyball match. You recognized a couple of other players standing around the area.

Hinata bounded towards them, yelling out, asking if he could join. You laughed as you watched him immediately settle into a disagreement with Kageyama before he came running back towards you.

“Y/n!” Hinata panted out, “I know this was supposed to be a date, but do you mind if I play a couple matches?”

You giggled as you saw the excitement shining in his eyes. 

“It’s no problem, I’ll just go shopping around the boardwalk! Call me when you’re done, but don’t play for too long,” you said, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“Yes! You’re the best! I love you,” Hinata said as he enveloped you in a hug before taking his shirt off and running back to the volleyball net. Your eyes immediately fell on his shoulders. 

“Shoyo, what’s on your back?”

Hinata stopped in his tracks as his stomach fell to his feet. He had completely forgotten about the evidence of his infidelity on his back. The prospect of playing beach volleyball with his friends overtook his rationality, and now he was paying the price for it. He whipped around, eyes now wide, panic replacing the excitement that was there moments before. The hurt swimming in your eyes was enough to make his heart shatter.

“Y/n, I-” Hinata breathed out, unable to form a complete sentence. The spiker felt his knees go weak as he watched you turn around and walk away from him, shoulders shaking. It wasn’t until he heard you say, ‘I won’t be going back to the apartment tonight, don’t wait up’ that he scrambled for his shirt, shoving it over his head as he attempted to catch up to you.

“Y/n, please wait! Let me explain-” Hinata ran after you. He stopped in his tracks, eyes wide, when you turned around. Nothing but hurt blazed in your eyes as you looked him in the eyes.

“Explain what, Hinata? Did you want to go into detail about how you fucked someone else? Was simply cheating on me not enough? You don’t get to hurt me more than you already have,” you spewed back at him, venom laced in your words. Hinata’s face crumpled into sobs.

“No, y/n, that’s not it at all. I never wanted to hurt you, not ever! I’m so pathetic! I can’t even remember how it happened. It never should have happened, I can’t lose you like this,” Hinata sobbed, falling to his knees at your feet. The thought of losing you sent Hinata’s mind into a panic. His hands scrambled to find yours, clasping to them for dear life. You scoffed at his actions.

“Get up,” you said, looking away from his figure. Hinata hopefully looked up, hoping you would give him the chance to make it up to you. His hopes were shattered, however, when he met your eyes. Instead of the care and affection he was hoping to see, he was met with nothing but embarrassment and putrid hate.

“You’re making a scene. People are staring,” you said, looking around you, “I told you, I’m not going back to the apartment tonight. I’ll grab my stuff later.”

“I’m sorry,” Hinata choked out, “I’m so sorry for everything. Please, you deserve better. Someone who won’t forget what he has in front of him. Someone who will cradle your heart and give you everything you deserve. I love you, y/n. I’m so sorry.”

“I wish I could believe you when you say ‘I love you’, but we both know it’s not true at this point. No loving boyfriend would cheat,” you said lowly, energy drained from the situation.

“No, y/n. Please, if anything, trust that I love you with all of my being, and I would do anything to try and fix this. I can’t imagine my life without you, let me fix this!” Hinata sobbed.

“You should’ve thought about that before you ruined everything,” you said as you looked into his eyes. Tears pooled in both of your eyes. The hurt and regret was evident on the spiker’s face, but you couldn’t give in.

“Goodbye, Hinata.”

[spencerswhoreclub]

I HATE YOU

By- Spencerswhoreclub

I LOVE THIS TROPE, it's enemies to lovers so enjoy

This chapter contains- arguing, degrading, praise kink, mommy kink, choking, sub Spencer, dominant reader, over stimulating, orgasm deprivation, (male) anal fingering, (male receiving) oral sex, (female) penetration, and a sub drop.

Wc- 2280

—————-

Your POV

—————-

Spencer and I have had it out for each other since day one. When I first met him and he refused to shake my hand. I wasn't too worried because I knew he was a germaphobe and was going to refuse, but it didn't hurt to try.

To my surprise every single time I talked to him he would brush me off. He would come up with an excuse like him being swamped with work or he would get up to get coffee.

But when every time I would even look in his direction or even open my mouth to say something to someone I could hear him scuff like I just insulted his mother. That is when I decided I'd give him the same energy he gave me.

So then every time he talked I would roll my eyes or let out a small laugh. He obviously caught onto it because he decided to escalate his antics.

Soon after he started closing doors just before I could walk through them or even interrupting me in the middle of my sentence. So I decided I'd make sure to time when I got to work just right so I could shut the elevator doors before he arrived. If he came earlier I came earlier, it was a vicious cycle.

It escalated to the point where everyone on the team noticed, they would even pull us to the side and constantly ask what's wrong and of course we both just said it was nothing and chalked it up to us being tired of having a bad day.

Eventually after three months of us hating each other hotch had enough of us. When we were in the middle of bickering about what the unsubs motive was he intervened.

"Y/n, Reid, the team and I are all tired of you going back and forward. I don't know what happened to cause this feud but until it's resolved you guys will be sharing a hotel room, I don't care how long it takes so you better play nice"

Both Spencer and I tried to defend ourselves but it was no use hotch had made up his mind.

After a long day of arguing with Spencer I had to go back to my shared hotel room with him. When we finally got to the hallway I did what anyone In my position would do.

I took off sprinting down the hallway, he obviously caught onto what I was trying to do because he ran after me. Just before he caught up I unlocked the door and shut it behind me.

"Y/n you know I have a key too right"

He sounds out of breath from running, why is it low key hot- no, y/n you hate him

My thoughts were interrupted by the door opening. Before I could realize what was happening my back was against the door and his body was pressed against mine.

"What the fuck was that"

Are you fucking serious, did he really ask what that was after he went from icing me out to being just plain rude to me.

————————

Spencer's POV

————————

I asked her what was up but honestly I knew I had been a jerk to her from the moment she stepped into the building.

In the beginning she really just did catch me at a bad time. I had planned on properly introducing myself the next day but after I had time to think about it I figured I wouldn't be able to shake my first impression so I decided I'd just stick with being an ass.

But to be honest I did really like her, she had always been in the back of my mind. I constantly imagine her tying me up or edging me until I had tears in my eyes. But I also want more than that, I want to be the reason she smiles, I want her to be the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see at night

I was thrown out of my daydream when I felt her push me off of her

—————

Your POV

—————

I pushed him off of me and started yelling at him pushing him further and further while doing so

"WHAT WAS THAT? You mean what you're been doing to me since you met me, for a genius you're really fucking stupid. I've don't nothing but match the energy you gave me"

I finally pushed him down onto the bed and I heard him whimper making me smile.

"God I fucking hate you"

I smashed our lips together and we ripped each other's clothes off eager to see each other naked after being deprived of each other for months.

Once we were both in our underwear I attached my lips to his neck and grabbed the growing bulge in his boxers, then he let out a loud moan.

"Damn baby boy I've barely touched you"

"Ik m-mommy it just feels s-so good"

Before I could even register what he said his eyes went wide and he tried to sit up

"I- I'm so sorry I don't know what I was-"

I cut him off with a kiss, I tried to put as much love as I possibly could into it just so he knew it was alright

"Baby it's fine, I wouldn't want you to call me anything else"

I made my way down to the bed so that I was eye level with his dick and slowly pulled down his boxers. Of course his dick is like the rest of him, absolutely beautiful.

I take my time kissing everywhere around where he truly wanted me, I could lie and say it was to tease him but I really wanted this to last as long as possible.

Finally I gave in and wrapped my lips around the tip. I brought my head up and down, taking more and more each time earning more small whimpers from him.

"Mommy I'm about to cum"

"Oh no you're not, not yet at least. You've been such a bad boy and bad boys get punished. Turn around and get on your hands and knees."

He does so immediately not wanting to make it any worse for himself. I leaned over him while pushing his shoulders down so that his back was arched.

"Is this okay?"

I whisper in his ear while pushing two fingers against his entrance

"Y-yes pl-please mommy I need it"

I applied more pressure, slowly pressing my fingers into his hole earning a loud moan. At first I went slow then I started going faster and deeper until I hit his prostate.

"Fuck- mommy can I please cum"

"Of course you can baby"

Even after he released I kept going, I figured I'd fuck with him more. Since he was already sensitive it didn't take him long to get close.

"Mommy I'm close, please can I cum"

"Yes baby boy"

Even after he finished again i still didn't stop

"Please mommy stop, it's too much"

He saw with tears streaming down his face

"No, you're going to cum for each month you insisted on being a dick to me"

"B-but I c-cant"

"Yes you can, you want to be my good boy don't you?"

"Yes m-ma'am"

"So cum for me"

His legs started shaking and he finally released onto the bed for the third time of the night.

"Turn over onto your back, I'm going to ride you and you're not going to cum until I do, got it?"

"Yes ma'am"

"Good boy"

As soon as he got onto his back I wasted no time taking off my bra and underwear, he was so busy staring at my tits he didn't even notice me climbing on top of him

"Hey my eyes are up here"

I said while snapping in his face

"Sorry mommy you're just so pretty"

"Yeah yeah shut up so I can fuck you"

I took his dick in my hand and teased him by rubbing his tip up and down my opening

"P-please mommy"

"Fine, but only because you're cute when you beg"

As soon as the words came out of my mouth I sunk down on his length earning a loud moan from Spencer. I started bouncing up and down but I couldn't help but notice his hands balled into fists gripping the sheet so hard I'm surprised it didn't rip.

Then I realize I never gave him permission to touch me, he's trying so hard to be a good boy for me.

"Baby boy it's okay, you can touch me"

His hands were immediately on my waist gripping hard enough to leave marks.

"How do you think the team would react if they say you like this huh? What do you think they'd say if they saw how much of a little slut you are"

He opened his mouth but all he could get out was high pitched moans. So I wrapped my hand around his throat

"I asked you a question, what do you think they'd say"

"I-I d-don't know"

"They would say you're pathetic for letting a girl take over and use you"

I leaned forward to get a better angle and he saw this as a perfect opportunity to suck on my tits.

"Shit- baby boy if you keep this up I won't last"

"Please cum for me mommy, I want it so much"

I reached down and rubbed my clit in circles then I felt a familiar feeling in my stomach

"Fuck Spence I'm cuming, please fill me up"

We both came at the same time and I collapsed next to him. I went to get up to go pee but he pulled me back down.

"Spence I-"

"Please, please don't leave, I-I'm sorry I was so bad to you I didn't mean it. I really like you a-and I just didn't know how to-"

That's when I realized he had been crying

"Shhh Spence it's fine-"

"No it's not fine-"

"Don't ever interrupt me again"

"Yes ma'am"

"Good, now I understand Spencer and I promise I won't leave you. Come here"

I scooted back on the bed so I was leaning against the headboard. I sat there with open arms waiting for him to come to me.

He crawled up to me and curled up on my chest. He looked at my boobs and back at me silently asking permission and I nodded my head. He took my nipple in his mouth and started sucking.

This poor boy has some serious mommy issues and abandonment issues.

"Spencer I understand why you did what you did and I'm not going to hold it against you"

Then I felt something wet roll down my chest

"Baby why are you still crying"

"B-because I want t-this to be more than a o-one time thing. Just because you forgive m-me doesn't mean you like me"

"Spence look at me"

Grab his face and kiss him softly

"I promise you're not the only one that wants this to be more than a one time thing"

"Really"

"Yes Spence, I'd love to call you my boyfriend if that's alright with you."

"Yes please"

He attached his lips to my neck sucking harshly

"Baby boy we have to be up early tomorrow and if you don't stop I won't be able to resist fucking you again."

He still didn't stop so I shot him a glance as a warning and he stopped, god I love how submissive he is.

Before I knew it I was getting woken up by my alarm. I took a second to admire how cute he looked before I woke him up but eventually I had too. We had to meet the team downstairs for breakfast.

We both took our time in the shower, and ended up fucking so we had to rush to get dressed. So much so we both forgot about the marks we left on each other.

When we finally got downstairs the whole team was there, all was normal until Morgan noticed something.

"Damn pretty boy I didn't know you had it in you"

"What, what are you talking about"

Spencer asked

"You and y/n over here both have marks, y'all definitely fucked last night."

His face turned a deep shade of pink and as cute as it was I had to step in.

"Okay and? We fucked this morning in the shower too"

Unfortunately this barely phased him and he kept talking

"So y/n how's his dick game"

"I wouldn't know, I was the one in charged"

"No way"

"I'll prove it"

I walked over to Spencer and slightly pinched his butt and he let out an involuntary whimper

"Mommy"

It was barely audible but it was just loud enough to the entire team to hear

Now it was his turn to be speechless

But eventually hotch finally broke the silence

"You know this isn't what I was expecting when I made y'all room together but anything is better that that bickering"

This time the entire team chimed in

"Most definitely"

"Agreed"

"Yes."

I was about to defend myself but Spencer interrupted me

"Hey-"

"Y/n it's fine"

"What did I say about interrupting me"

"I'm sorry, ma'am"

"Good, now let's go solve this case"