#retched brother tag

[muppetjokerfanofextinction]

mituna just fainted should I be worried?

[muppetjokerno1haterrr]

Nope that2 not happeniing

[girlyliondragon]

I DID NOT JUST SEE LIZBERT X FILBO SHIP SHIT ON AO3.....

I THOUGHT WE STOPPED THESE PEOPLE HOLY SHIT

They made her CHEAT with EGGABELL too?? What the FUCK and why is that here????!

[chucky-vs-the-giant-tortoise]

i’ve got you

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

summary: an anxious Y/N feels overwhelmed while partying with the pogues at the boneyard, and JJ does his best to calm her nerves.

warning(s): underaged drinking, panic attack

a/n: a big thank you to anyone who enjoyed my last maybank!sister snippet. i hope to write a lot more for JJ in the future, so feel free to leave any requests if you have any specific ideas of what you’d like to read!

also please let me know if i should make these shorter. lol. i'm never sure.

Y/N screwed her eyes shut, trying and failing to keep her hands from trembling as they dented her red solo cup. Her heart was beating so fast that her head could barely keep up, the loud music and sweaty bodies that enclosed her doing nothing to ease her mind.

It was a picturesque summer night out in the boneyard, which of course meant that the Pogues just had to have a kegger. Y/N had grown used to the routine by then, tagging along as they went out to buy the keg and an insane amount of plastic cups that Kie always complained she found littered all over the beach the morning after. Y/N typically helped in the prep for whatever wild evening lay ahead, and had even served as a DD the few times that the Pogues got plastered enough to willingly allow a 15-year-old to drive the Twinkie. However, despite her brother's constant pleading and nagging, she'd never actually attended one of their infamous beach parties.

At least, not until tonight.

Y/N had always been shy, the complete opposite of her elder brother and all of his wild impulsivity. She hated big crowds and loud noises, and even though she would occasionally drink one while out on the Pogue, she wasn't even the biggest fan of beer. But JJ had begged her to join them all day long, poking and prodding at her nerves in his attempts to finally get his baby sister out of her shell.

"Come on, Y/N. You really wanna spend the rest of your life cooped up in the chateau?" he'd said dramatically, throwing his hands up in desperation. "You really oughtta live a little sometime."

You really oughtta live a little sometime.

His words had haunted her well into the evening, and at the last minute she'd finally decided to bite the bullet. JJ was right, after all. While most kids her age were busy making memories and taking risks, she spent her evenings curled up with a book in her lap.

Sure, it wouldn't be the most comfortable experience, but what was the worst that could happen? After all, like her brother always said, stupid things had good outcomes all the time.

She made a mental note to correct JJ on that stupid motto as someone pushed past her, blowing chunks into the bushes only a few feet away from rigid form.

Y/N covered her nose, averting her gaze just in time to notice a familiar head of blond hair breaking through the mess of bodies whooping and grinding on one another.

"Holy shit!" JJ hollered wildly, dimples painfully visible in his state of drunken bliss. "Tom, that's some gnarly shit, man! Trust me, you're gonna feel that tomorrow." He gave the boy a pat on the back as he retched, though thankfully the steady stream of vomit had ended.

Y/N only stood and watched. It was clear that JJ hadn't seen her, but maybe that was for the best. The last thing she wanted was to ruin his night.

"Yo, Y/N/N!"

Too late.

JJ made his way over in sloppy strides, and Y/N turned up her nose at the stench of alcohol clinging to him. He pulled her into him with an arm slung over her shoulders.

"Hi, Jay." Y/N hoped her brother was drunk enough not to notice the tremble in her voice.

"Where'd you go, kid? I've been looking for you all night." He was leaning on her now, gleefully unaware as he slowly crushed her beneath his weight. Y/N groaned with the effort it took to keep her brother upright, struggling not to remind him that it was in fact he who left her to do some shots and never returned.

"Yeah I was . . . I was j-just--"

"Shit, I didn't know you were drinking. That's my girl," he slurred with a wink, pointing at the cup Y/N was damn near close to dropping. It was all getting too much for her—JJ's weight boring into her side, the overwhelming stench of beer, the screaming mouths and dancing bodies slowly closing her in. She felt like a caged animal, her lungs tight and chest heavy.

"Hey, you seen Pope yet? I lost him an hour ago—saw him walk off with some blonde chick with a tramp stamp. Oh, you need a top-up? You should go now, 'm pretty sure the keg's getting low."

JJ continued to ramble on as Y/N crumbled underneath him, her eyes searching desperately for somewhere to go.

"Aw man, I love this song!" Y/N gasped as JJ began jerking her around, forcing her to sway back and forth with him. "Yo, Kurt! Turn that shit up bro!"

Y/N felt blood rushing to her ears, her hands growing clammy as her nerves took over. You're fine, she told herself. You're fine, you're fine. But it wasn't working—she couldn't hear herself think over the music blaring from the speakers.

"Come on, loosen up Y/N! Let's dance!"

"No!" Y/N reached her breaking point, escaping from beneath her brother's outstretched arm. JJ stumbled, just barely managing to catch himself and get a good look at the fear etched into Y/N's features.

"What? Y/N—" He held out a hand that she cringed away from, breathing raggedly as she did.

"Just leave me alone!"

"Y/N!" JJ called after her as she ran off, not knowing exactly where she was headed but intent on getting away. She wound up crouching behind a small hill across from the bustling core of the party, far enough away that the music finally fell to an acceptable volume.

Y/N brought her knees to chest and buried her face in them, fingers tugging at her hair as tears spilled from her eyes. Stupid, stupid, stupid. How could she be dumb enough to let JJ convince her that this would be a good idea? Y/N forced her breathing to slow as her chest tightened, coughing in her feeble attempts.

Y/N had listened to a few songs run their course by the time she managed to get a grip on herself, her breaths steadying as she counted eight-second inhales and eight-second exhales. Still Y/N rested her forehead against her knees, so dead-set on staying calm that she didn't notice the sound of JJ's footsteps in the sand.

"Hey." Y/N gasped, her head shooting upright as she scrambled to back away from whoever had found her. "Hey, calm down. It’s alright, Y/N." She sighed in relief when she recognized JJ's outline in the dark, her brother crouched before her shrunken form. "It's okay. Just me."

"Oh," she mumbled. "Sorry."

"'S okay. Didn't mean to scare you." He awkwardly held out another cup to her, which she observed warily. "Don't worry, it’s just water. Figured it might help more than beer."

Y/N smiled, accepting JJ's peace offering gratefully. "You'd be right about that." She greedily drank it all in one gulp, only then realizing how dry her mouth had gotten. "Thanks, Jay."

"Least I could do, since I forced you to come her." Y/N sighed, noticing the guilt swimming in her brother's blue eyes.

"You didn't force me."

"Well, I might as well have."

"it's not your fault, JJ." He rested a comforting hand on her knee.

"Sure it is. I knew you didn't like this kind of scene and I dragged you here anyway." He ran his free hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut as regret consumed his intoxicated mind.

"It's okay." Y/N shuffled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. JJ ruffled her hair. "Sorry I can't be a party animal like you."

"Ah, don't sweat it. Makes my job a lot easier, anyway." Y/N giggled, shoving him lightly, and JJ couldn't help but smile. "So, what's the plan? Want me to drive you home?"

Y/N scoffed. "I don't even think you could if you tried."

"Oh, Y/N," He teased her with a smile, "you severely underestimate my driving skills."

"And you severely overestimate my willingness to die." JJ chuckled at that. "Plus, who said I wanted to leave?"

"You’re gonna stay?'

"Yeah, why not? I mean, I've made myself a pretty comfy hideout over here." JJ pouted.

"I guess . . ." He looked down at his sister with a smirk. "Or you could try the party again."

Immediately Y/N felt that skin-crawling uncertainity take over once more. She bit at her bottom lip. "I don't . . . I dunno, Jay."

"Look, I promise I won't leave you this time. We can just sit around the campfire—maybe try to find Kie or something. What'd'ya think?" He held out a hand to her. "We'll take it slow."

Y/N considered this for a moment, eventually taking hold of her brother's hand. "Okay."

"Sweet!" JJ tried his best to stand, but only wound up falling back on his ass. "I'm gonna need some help getting up, though."

Y/N laughed, hoisting her brother to his feet with a grunt, and JJ smiled as she allowed her hand to linger in his while they walked. The very same way she did when they were little.

Just like JJ promised, he found the two of them a space to sit by the blazing campfire and never left Y/N's side.

・❥・

Hours had passed before the kegger had begun to die down, their beer long gone and speakers long dead. The rest of the Pogues had finally joined the Maybanks around the fire pit, and the group listened comfortably as Kie plucked at the strings of her ukulele. "Y'know what, Jay? I wouldn't mind trying this kegger thing again."

JJ smiled. "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it." She snuggled closer to his chest, absorbing whatever extra heat his body offered. "As long as you're there to hold my hand."

[lipglossanon]

Crazy On You

Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader <one shot>

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, stepcest, oral (m receiving), dirty talk

not proofread, just a smutty little fic 😉 tagging @nvoirs cause it’s stepbro Leon 🤭 no plot, seriously

title from Crazy on You by Heart (sick guitar playing in this song no lie)

“I was wondering if I could just.. play.”

“Play?” The side of his lips tic up into a half smile, “what kinda play, princess?”

You fidget with your fingernails, eyes cast down in embarrassment, “I, uh, was hoping to suck you off? But f-for as long as I want.”

You hear his sharp intake of breath and look up to gauge his expression. 

“Sure, sis,” he grins, hands already unbuttoning his jeans, “don’t let me stop you from having your fun.”

As he slides off his jeans and briefs, your cunt flutters to see his half chubbed cock resting against his thigh. Leon readjusts until he’s sitting against the headboard of his bed, legs spread for you to lay between. His fingers snag under the hem of his tee shirt, slowly pulling it up to rest on his chest. Your eyes greedily take in his pecs and toned stomach before dropping down to his dick. 

Biting your lip, you crawl onto the bed and kneel between his legs. You shuffle down onto your stomach, mouth kissing along his thighs as your fingers softly trail behind your lips. You nuzzle your face against his cock as it throbs against his stomach, drooping under its own heavy weight. Precum pools against his skin and leaves a sticky puddle as you rub your face against his cock. 

“So slutty, baby,” he grunts, “c’mon give it a little kiss.”

Without waiting any longer, you listen and kiss the drippy tip before running your tongue all around the head. Mewling, you suck him into your mouth but pull away and spit on his drooling cock to wet his dick for you to stroke. He grunts but keeps his hands to himself, letting you control the situation. 

“Damn,” he chuckles, “didn’t know you were gagging for it, baby sis. But don’t worry, you can suck my cock for as long as you need.”

Settling more comfortably against the mattress, you sigh and messily kiss down his thick length. Reaching his balls, you give each one a small sucking kiss before licking the seam. Fingers form a tunnel as you stroke him, the spit from earlier making it a smooth glide up and down. Your tongue flutters and laps at his sac while your eyes watch his changing expressions. Pleasure sits prettily on his face, you think. 

“Baby, god, what did I do to deserve such a sweet girlfriend, huh?” He lets his head fall back, allowing you to see when he swallows heavily, his adams apple bobbing with the motion.

Heat licks up your spine as you grind down into the bed, a delicious pressure on your swollen clit as you mouth across his dick, sloppily licking the soft skin. You kiss the crown before swallowing the first couple of inches into your mouth, hearing Leon curse under his breath as you suck roughly before pulling away with a pop. 

“My pretty little sis,” he groans, “look so fucking sexy with my cock in your mouth.”

Pulling away to catch your breath, your fingers wrap around his dick and stroke as you lap at the crown. 

“So big, Leon,” you sigh, breath gusting across the damp skin of his cock and making it twitch in your hand, “love sucking you off.”

“Then suck me, little sis,” he groans as you sink your lips down around him halfway, “suck me into that slutty mouth, ngh, fuck, that’s it, that’s it, suck me, suck me, suck me.” 

Leon groans, fingers digging into the sheets as you try to throat his cock but pull away with a retching cough. His dick blurts precum steadily, the wet tip a siren call for your hungry tongue. 

“Fuck,” his stomach tenses as your tongue laps across the fat head, dipping into the slit to coax more of that bitter flavor into your mouth, “so fucking good at that, g’nna make y’r big brother cum all over your mouth.”

You whine, eyes fluttering, before sucking him back into your mouth, tongue lashing against his cock as it throbs against your lips. Choking yourself, you sink down around his thick length, pressing the head of his dick into your throat. He tastes so good it makes more saliva pool on your tongue as you pull away to suckle on the tip. 

Eyes hazy, you hear Leon laugh and it pulls your attention up to his face. 

“Cockdrunk already,” he grins, a mean glint coming into his eyes, “it’s cute you’re that excited for me to nut in your mouth, baby.”

Moaning, you bob your head down, sloppily sucking him off as drool spills from your lips to drip down his dick onto his sac. Pressing yourself even further, his cock sinks deep into your mouth, drooling tip leaking against the back of your throat. Swallowing to prevent yourself from coughing, makes Leon groan, cock flexing and kicking inside your mouth as more precum blurts from the head. 

“I’m close, princess. That hot little mouth’s got me worked up,” he runs his hands through his hair, blonde strands sticking up like bedhead, “gonna swallow for me? Let me creampie your throat?”

A high reedy whine vibrates through your stuffed mouth and he clenches his eyes shut, hips jumping as he buries his dick into your throat.

“Fuck, love when a girl deepthroats me,” he pants, blue eyes lidded as he stares down at you, “s’only fair you sit on my face later, suffocate me with that hot messy princess pussy.”

You moan so hard you gag, spit dripping from the corners of your mouth while Leon’s thick cock grinds into your throat. Pulling back, strands of saliva web between his dick and your swollen lips. 

“Goddamn look at you,” his stomach muscles flinch, “really wanna fuck your cunt right now. Bet you're all soft and wet, tight little hole feeling so empty.”

Slick has leaked through your panties to the point your shorts have a huge damp spot. Pressing your thighs together only serves to highlight how turned on you are from all of this. 

“Later,” you promise, kissing down his cock as it twitches in the cool air of the room, “wanna suck you til you cum in my mouth, big brother.”

Bobbing your head forward, you swallow his cock eagerly into your throat as far as he’ll fit. You pull away only to suck him back into your mouth, tip kissing the back of your throat. Letting yourself get lost in the motions, you hum pleasurably, letting your own hips grind into the bed as your lips stretch around Leon’s fat cock. 

Your fingers softly fondle his balls and he’s groaning loudly. 

“Gonna cum, fuck, that’s gonna make me cum, princess,” he grits out, fingers gripping the sheets so he doesn’t press down on your head, “my loads gonna stuff that little throat full.”

Whining, you gag on him for as long as you can, tears beading in your eyes until he cums with a shout, hot spurts of cum hitting the back of your throat. Moaning with him, you swallow quickly, throat clicking as rope after rope of his thick load fills your mouth up until it drips past his cock. 

“So sloppy, princess,” he grins at you, the roots of his hair dark with sweat as you slowly pull of his cock with a wet squelch. 

He watches as you swallow what you can, wiping your mouth and chin with the bottom of your shirt for any you missed. Reaching forward, he pulls you into his lap, licking into your mouth greedily. 

“Fuck, you’re so slutty,” he sighs happily, “you’re so perfect for me, princess.”

Shivering, you grind down against his softening cock. 

“Ready for me to return the favor?” He coos in your ear, kissing the lobe gently, “then after, I’ll be hard enough after to wreck that sweet little pussy.”

Nodding, you kiss him until he has to pull away. 

“Please, big brother,” you murmur, “need you so bad.”

With a mean laugh slipping past his lips, Leon slaps your ass. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll get what’s coming to ya.”

[adverbally]

A Shot Right Through Into a Bolt of Blue

Written for the @steddieangstyaugust prompt “Temporary Character Death” | wc: 605 | rated: T | cw: temporary character death, vomiting | tags: AU, canon-divergent, what if Steve took Eddie’s place, pre-relationship, canon-typical violence and gore, hopeful ending | title from “Bizarre Love Triangle” by New Order

Keeping this one short and sweet so I can post it while it’s still the 11th in my time zone 😬

———

It’s not a surprise to anyone when Steve insists on staying with Dustin for their mission back to the Upside Down. The kid is like a little brother to him, and Steve’s mile-wide protective streak isn’t about to let him out of his sight. They’ll balance each other out, he argues. The brains and the brawn. It just makes sense.

So Eddie goes with the girls and tries to throw Molotov cocktails like he’s done this before. He stands there and watches Vecna burn and feels something like pride, like a promise fulfilled. This is for Chrissy.

But then Dustin comes on the radio, hysterical and incomprehensible, and any thoughts of victory are erased.

By the time they get there and find Dustin kneeling in the dirt with Steve propped up in his lap, Eddie’s stomach is in his throat and he’s shaking from running all the way here and he just knows they’re too late. It’s like reliving the horror of Chrissy being broken apart right before his eyes.

Unlike before, Eddie doesn’t run. He does something even worse.

He freezes.

He stands there uselessly as Robin tries to comfort Dustin while he wails on the ground. Her eyes are dry but there’s no light behind them, her spirit snuffed out with her platonic soulmate’s death.

He watches Nancy take stock of Steve’s injuries with her typical no-nonsense attitude, finding the spots where he’s bleeding the most, using her belt as a tourniquet, trying to figure out some way to fix this.

Eddie should offer to do CPR or apply pressure to Steve’s wounds or even just pull Dustin into a hug and make sure the kid can’t see any more of the horrors surrounding him. He just can’t make himself move.

His eyes are glued to Steve— the demobat bites covering him with blood, the way his body is limp under Nancy’s efficient hands, the lack of tension in his perpetually furrowed brow, the beloved nail bat that has rolled just out of his reach.

At least his eyes are closed. He must’ve known at the end that it was coming, shut his eyes to save Dustin the memory of his vacant stare—

Suddenly, Eddie is spinning around and lurching to his knees as he retches into the gravel.

He knew Steve, is the thing.

As horrible as everything was with Chrissy, they had only spoken for the first time that day. But Steve… He had time to get to know Steve, saw how kind and brave and real he could be, talked with him about the kids and how utterly fucked up this whole situation was. He wasn’t just Harrington anymore, complete with a derogatory snarl. He was Steve.

Maybe it was stupid to start falling for the first cute straight boy who was nice to him for a couple of days. It wouldn’t be the stupidest crush Eddie ever had. Sure, the chances of it going anywhere were practically zero, but Eddie Munson is nothing if not stubborn. He thinks he would’ve seen it through, at least became a friend to Steve and soaked up his sunshine from a distance.

But as Eddie empties his guts onto the ground, he is suddenly aware that now Steve will just be Steve forever. Not “sweetheart” or “Dad” or “Coach Harrington” or any of the things Steve might have dreamed of. Not Eddie’s friend. Definitely not something more.

Eddie’s not sure if the tears that sting his eyes are from throwing up or from grieving those possibilities.

Then suddenly Nancy is yelling, “I think I feel a pulse!” and they become tears of relief.

[hanckocks-dagger]

Well fed

masterlist

John Hancock x trans masc!Reader

Description: After a scuffle on the road involving his knife, Hancock takes care of you.

Word count: 3.4K

Tags: smut!, oral (m recieving), knife play, praise kink, no pronouns used for reader but masculine nicknames (brother, good boy), no y/n, service top Hancock (or at least adjacent to it). He's whipped, bros

Warnings: Canon typical violence, mentions of blood

Words used for reader's genitals: core, cunt, entrance

Requested by: @kin-of-kin

Crossposted on my ao3

Notes: I went for a bit more of a service top Hancock in this one. I do think he’s down for whatever, living life the way he does, but I also think he’a s big softie who just wants to take care of u and shower you with all the love he has. Smut starts right after the cut!

Also just because we’re all ghoul girlies (gn) here, I do want to let y’all know this was partly inspired by a pretty good blowbjob I gave, which was going fantastically until I suddenly got the worst bloody nose of my life, right in the middle. Ruined the mood a bit, but a funny story in hindsight. 

"So perfect for me, hmm?" Hancock's words came out half strangled, one hand trailing over to tangle in the hair at the back of your neck, still matted with blood and sweat.

You breathed through your nose, sinking further down his cock. Slick with saliva, the back and forth bob of your head was easy, the sure glide of him in your mouth. You felt him hit the back of your throat, hollowed your cheeks in an attempt to take it down better, desperate to pull as many sighs and moans as you can from him.

Down on your knees, on a leaf covered forest floor, the edges of your armor digging into your skin. It was easy to ignore, over the hum of your blood, the electricity that seemed to flow through you, the shocks of pleasure you felt every time Hancock uttered some breathless words.

Your hands itched to get a good grip on him, but you settled for holding onto his bare thighs, pants and underwear pulled down to his knees, letting you grab onto scarred skin every time he pushed your down just a bit further, digging your nails in as you choked,

You went down just a bit too far, having to pull back to gasp and retch, panting as your oxygen deprived brain tried to take what it needed. Hancock's hand grasped your hair hard, pulling you until your chin rose, so you were staring up at him, dark eyes meeting your own. Your chest heaved, you could feel the slick texture of spit on your lips and cheeks as you nuzzled his cock, shining in the low light, covered in your saliva.

Your hand moved to grasp him, but Hancock swatted your hand away gently, instead taking the opportunity to grab you by the chin, "Such a good boy for me, aren't you?"

You nodded at him through heavy lidded eyes, desperate to regain your composure and get him back inside you, whether it be your mouth or further south. His hand moved to cup your cheek, a moment so sickeningly sweet you had to swallow a lump in your throat. You tucked your wet face into his palm, pressing a soft kiss there.

"You look so handsome down there, hmm?”

It seemed ridiculous to blush at such innocuous phrasing, but blush you did, face heating up to the tips of your ears. The eye contact made you shy, so you dropped your head back down to get him back in your mouth, his hands moving to grasp at your hair again.

You groaned against him when his fingers tugged, gentle pressure against your scalp shooting pleasure down your spine. His hands eased you forward, taking him gently further into your mouth, inch by inch.

You hollowed your cheeks, finding the right amount of pressure. It didn't take long to have him groaning against you again, whispering your name between swears and grunts, fingers occasionally slipping from your hair to caress your cheek.

"Shit- baby I'm gonna–"

You felt his hands back in your hair, tugging gently in an attempt to get you off, but you did the opposite, pressing down just that little bit deeper, fingernails pinching down into the meat of his thigh.

He came with a groan, shooting into your mouth. His cock alone had made you feel full, but as your mouth filled even more you found yourself gagging again. You pulled off with a slick pop, tilting your head to the side to spit into the grass, feeling it dribble over your lips as you did.

You took a moment, hands clutching at dead leaves and dirt, breathing through the slight wave of nausea that accompanied the metallic taste that settled in the back of your mouth, the uncomfortable electric tingling of your tongue.

Behind you, you could hear the shifting of clothes, the clinking of metal. Hancock's hands on your back, that ever present worry, never able to put your welfare away.

"You alright, brother?" He asked, voice soft, his hand sliding across your lower back, skin smooth against the fabric of the shirt you wore.

"I'm good," You breathed, wiping off your mouth with the back of your hand, "Just– You know how it is. Always forget just how bad it tastes."

He snorted, hand slipping momentarily down to your ass for a gentle squeeze, "Well, you did a fantastic job, as always."

The praise, lightly tossed out there, settled in your core, spreading heat out like a struck match. Suddenly, his touch was electrifying. "Could we–" You started, but were interrupted by the rustle of trees in the distance, the hoof beats of a radstag rushing past you. In a moment, the two of you went from loose limbed and giggly to standing and alert. You dove for your gun, reloading and cocking it, lining up your sights with the noises.

Hancock was beside you, one hand held up in front of your chest, like he was protecting you, his knife in his other hand, held in a tight grasp.

You went still, deadly silent, tracking the distant shape, tucked between curtains of trees. You struggled to make out what it was, whether human or a sluggish Yao Guai, maybe even just a startled Radstag.

According to your mapping, this was unclaimed territory, avoided even by the enclave, hours from the next checkpoint. You held your breath, chasing the shape with your scope as it traveled behind trees, stumbling unnaturally, unrecognizable movements.

"Can you tell what it is?" Hancock murmured, posed to strike but waiting for your signal.

"No," You whispered back, trying to tell if the movements looked like a feral ghoul, a straggler fallen out of his group, woken by the movements in the forests. "I think we should get a closer look. You ready?"

"Always," he replied, falling into step besides you. You set a slow, creeping pace, rifle still firm in your grip, hand itching on the trigger, prepared for a sudden attack.

You weaved through trees, distancing yourself from the little camp you'd made. Its movements were still erratic, but it didn't seem to have noticed you, bouncing from tree to tree. Sure enough, as you closed in, you recognized those familiar snarls, saw the flash of red, angry, exposed flesh. A lone ghoul, clad in a dark black cloak, stumbling around, looking for who knows what.

Finally, about ten paces away from it, it reared its head, snarling. You raised your rifle, finger on the trigger, but before you could even line up the gun Hancock was in action, knife striking the ghoul's heart, torso, then with a powerful thrust, the blade pierced its skull. Dead.

You backed yourself up against a tree, scanning the ground for any other threats.

"Poor guy," Hancock mused, examining the corpse as it bled out, dampening the ground. "Do you have any winter clothes?" He asked, tugging at the cloak the ghoul was wearing, flapping the spare fabric.

Sure enough, it looked like thick, well insulated fabric.

"Mmm, maybe," You said, raising your pip-boy to check your inventory. The pair of you were on a smaller run, only two nights on the road. You had yet to make it to where you were heading, you had a parcel to deliver, some buildings to clear on the way for the Minutemen.

"Let's store it somewhere. If we spot it on the way back, I'll take it."

You watched as Hancock examined his knife, scarred fingers following the blade, cleaning the blood off it as he went. The adrenaline in your blood slowly faded, replaced by the gentle thrumming of electricity in your veins.

He yanked the cloak off the dead ghoul in a smooth move, bundling it up in his arms as he fell back in step with you, heading back towards the camp you'd made.

The campfire crackled, sending bright sparks up into the darkened sky. It was overcast, only a few of the brightest stars peaking through, the waxing moon disappearing behind gray clouds. You dropped down onto your bedroll, going through the motions of unloading your rifle, tucking the bullets back into your bandolier.

Hancock settled next to you, his shoulder bumping into yours, setting his hat onto his knee. 

He pulled the knife back out, running his nimble fingers over the sharp edge, testing the blade for dullness. You watched him through half lidded eyes, mouth salivating despite yourself. Something about seeing him throw himself in front of you without thought, even knowing how well you could defend yourself. Putting your well being ahead of his own.

He flipped the knife in his hand, the blade glinting silver in the firelight. You could almost pinpoint the moment your blood flow changed course, sending a thrum to your core, the momentary distraction quickly forgotten. You leaned your head on your palm, eyes following the blades motion as Hancock fidgeted, nails picking at a dried speck of blood. You pictured the tip of it pressed to your skin, mapping out a scratched path. Catching on your chest, your neck, maybe even delving further downwards.

"Someone in there?" Hancock asked, cutting through your reverie, having clearly been trying to speak to you.

"Hmm?" You asked, struggling to move your gaze from the knife, your tongue darting out to wet your lips.

He gave a snort, a grin stretching over his face, "Never mind. What's got you so distracted?"

You puffed your cheeks out. You'd never hinted at an interest in bringing weapons into your sex life, seeing as it was plenty exciting as is, but something about the image of that knife in his hands...

"How would you feel about using that knife... on me?"

His eyes flickered downwards to where he was still fiddling with the knife, then back up at you, "Why? You thinking about going feral on me?"

You could, if he wanted you to, but, "Not exactly," You raised yourself, crawling over on your knees to climb into his lap. You nipped at that spot behind his ear, the one that always made him shudder. "Maybe you could..." You brought your hands under the hem of his shirt, fingers running over his warm stomach, "Cut off my clothes," You kissed at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, "or run the blade over my skin," you rutted against his hips, feeling the hardening bulge in his pants, "I'm sure you could find something to do with the handle."

He cleared his throat, pliant under your touch. His free hand came up to squeeze your ass, push your hips even closer together.

"You sure about this?" His voice was calm, not nervous, just a casual check in.

"Of course. I know how good you are with that blade. I know what those hands can do. Seems a shame I've never gotten a demonstration, is all." You trusted him implicitly, not only with your heart, but with your life. He could tie you up and leave you blindfolded right here in these woods and you'd trust him to keep you safe.

You bit down on his earlobe, just enough to elicit a hiss, before he turned his head and captured your mouth in a kiss. You reveled in it, the warmth of him against you, the taste of cigarettes and grape mentats.

He pulled away with a grin, said: "Well, that I can provide," the rumble of his words passing through your sternum. Then, with a quick movement, he had you on the ground, back to your bedroll, his arms bracketing your head. From the corner of your eye, you could see the glint of the blade, inches away from your skin.

Then the dull edge of it was pressed into your cheek, cold metal making you give a little shiver. Your eyes stayed on Hancock, watching his focused gaze as the knife traveled lower, pausing over the arteries in your neck, the sharp point of it digging into the underside of your jaw. When you swallowed you felt it dig just a bit deeper, not enough to break the skin but enough to feel the threat of it.

"So good for me, hmm?" Hancock's whisper was a ghost across your skin, so close you could almost reach up and kiss him. "Trusting me like this."

You were sure the wetness in your underwear had spread to your pants, could feel your heartbeat in your clit. Your fingers twitched, desperate to relieve the pressure, to rut against something while Hancock had his fun. He was on his knees, his hips just out of reach, but you thought... maybe if you shifted, you could trap one of his thighs between your legs.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I've been neglecting you," In a flash, the knife was gone from your throat, the hilt of it pressed right against where you needed it most.

You let out a little whine, hands coming up to grasp at Hancock's arms to try to give yourself some leverage, pressing your clothed cunt against the knife for some added pressure.

His smile was wicked, knowing exactly what he was doing to you, reducing you to a pliant mess in his hands, content to let him do as he pleased.

He sat up onto his knees, knife gone for a moment as he shrugged out of his coat, then made quick work of the buttons on his vest before that followed too.

The knife's hilt returned to where it had been pressing, leaving you to grind down against it, trying to find that perfect angle through your clothes. Hancock brought his free hand to your mouth, hooking two fingers into your bottom lip, "Open up for me, that's a good boy."

You did as you were asked, went about sucking them without needing instruction, tongue running along and between the digits. Once he was satisfied, Hancock pulled them out, a strand of saliva following.

The knife was laid flat to rest on your stomach as he undid the button on your jeans. It wobbled with every inhale, cool steel sending goosebumps up past your navel. Gentle hands pulled your pants down, pausing in a moment to shuck off your boots as well, the whole of it adding to the pile of his clothes.

He pulled your underwear to the side, pausing just a moment to stare, that truly reverential expression on his face that you'd never seen with any other partners.

"John," You whined, deciding he was getting a touch too distracted, rolling your hips up towards his face in an attempt to get him back on track. Sure enough, those wet fingers were quick to dip beneath your folds, teasingly dipping into that wet, tight, heat before retracting, moving up to rub at your clit.

You gasped at the contact, back arching right up off the ground, breath turning to a soft moan as he found his pace. He leant right over you, pushing back a strand of hair that had fallen into your eyes, before capturing your lips again. Some added pressure from his fingers had you groaning into his mouth, one hand reaching up to grab him by the back of the neck, pulling him closer as his tongue flitted into your mouth.

He licked into you, greedily swallowing any noises that escaped, his free hand slowly crawling under your shirt, sliding over your stomach and your chest, coming to a pause to pinch a nipple between his fingers.

"Always so wet for me," He breathed against your mouth, fingers vanishing off your clit again to dip inside you, "Hard to believe you're mine sometimes, sunshine."

"I am," You panted against him, "All yours."

You whined again as he crooked his fingers inside you, his other hand moving to play with your neglected nipple for just a moment before he removed his hand from under your shirt.

The knife, momentarily forgotten, had tilted off your stomach and fallen beside you in the dirt. Hancock picked it up, wiping it quickly off on the sleeve of his shirt before placing the tip of it right onto your sternum, held with gentle pressure.

It caught on the fabric of your shirt, your gentle rocking against his fingers, your heaving chest. The first tear made you gasp, the steel suddenly against bare skin. You watched Hancock's eyes follow the blade, could see the glint of it reflected in his black eyes. It traced down your chest, tearing through more fabric on the way down, until the entire thing came apart, exposing the entirety of your torso.

It traveled over your hip bone, catching on the seam of your panties. A quick slash, blade singing, and you're exposed to the world.

Hancock bent over you again to take a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing ever so gently against the nub on it, tugged on it with just enough pressure to meld pleasure and pain, until you're pushing your chest out to follow his mouth.

He pulls off with a pop, running his tongue along your sternum, up your neck, your jaw, right up to meet your lips again.

His fingers stilled inside you and you bucked against them, desperate to keep him going.

He pulled away from your lips to whisper against them, "Let me take care of you, sunshine?" You nodded against him, as if there were any other answer, mewling when you felt his fingers pull out. You hear the familiar sound of his belt buckle, the shifting of fabrics, and then he was pushing against your entrance, head bowed low as you gave way, the first inch of him sliding in.

You moaned against the intrusion, bringing one leg up to hook around the back of his thigh, encouraging him to keep going. Slowly, he did, sinking in with his usual care, eyes taking in every micro-expression on your face, always looking for signs of discomfort.

You had to tap him on the shoulder to encourage him to move, slowly at first, but quickly picking up speed, encouraged by your moans. It wasn't long until you had both legs hooked around his waist, crying out as he found that perfect spot inside you, hands fisting the back of his shirt as he whispered words of praise.

"Taking me so well, baby, feelin' so perfect around my cock–" He gasped as you squeezed down around him, hiding his face in your shoulder.

"God, fuck, John–" You moaned as his fingers find their way back to your clit, rubbing in time to the snap of his hips, each thrust somehow feeling deeper, the slick drag of him heavenly as your orgasm approached fast, ramming into you with the force of a pre-war train car, leaving you clawing at his back, seconds away from ripping through his shirt as well.

Hancock is hot on your heels, hips stuttering, thrusts going sloppy. You barely have the sense of mind to release your legs, letting them fall to the side just in time for him to pull out and come all over your bare stomach with a deep groan.

He collapsed on top of you, heedless of the sticky come now smeared over your skin and his shirt. You brought him up for a kiss, rolling the two of you over so that you could pull the tatters of your shirt off and use it to mop off the mess on your skin.

After more lazy kisses, Hancock leant down and pulled his heavy coat over the two of you, too spent to bother with the rest of your clothes. Your chests are still heaving as you settle into the crook of his neck, buzzing pleasantly, warm with the fire on one side and Hancock pressed against you.

Through heavy breaths, Hancock managed to pause long enough to ask, "Hey, you do have a spare shirt, right?"

You snickered, hiding your face in the collar of his coat, "Yeah, I've got one in my bag."

"Hate to have seen what you'd've done to me tomorrow if you'd let me ruin your only one."

"Mm, nothing too bad," You poked your head out to press a kiss to his cheek, "Too soft on you for that."

Notes:

My first request!!! So much fun to do, thank u for requesting and feel free to shoot me any ideas you have.

Thanks for reading! Please leave me a comment, or request something, or just come chat with me!

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 5: Dead Man Walking

Blood Runs Thicker than Water - Joel & F!Reader (Platonic DBF!)

Summary: Joel suffers in the new world without his girls.

Word Count: 1.1k

Tags: Grief, mentions of loss, Joel is a mess, suicidal thoughts (joel), depressed!joel, the birth of Raider!Joel, Joel not coping with grief.

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on AO3

Chapter 5: Dead Man Walking

Joel's heart sinks as he drops to his knees before her teddy bear, its once fluffy fur now drenched and stained with blood. Desperation grips him, and he finds himself pleading to whatever powers that be, silently praying that the crimson splatter doesn't belong to the child he failed to save, failed to come back to.

He picks up the bear, his breath growing labored as he notes its limp form, a chilling resemblance to the way Sarah's lifeless body hung in his arms just moments ago. The sight brings an overwhelming sense of grief and helplessness as Sarah’s blood still clings to him.

The weight of the situation becomes unbearable, and Joel finds himself unable to contain the sickening feeling within him. His stomach turns, and his mind is gripped by a flurry of horrifying scenarios of what could have happened to her, each one more devastating than the last. In his torment, Joel bends over, unable to suppress the urge to vomit. The acidic bile burns his throat as he retches onto the floor, his eyes watering from the intensity of the experience. Tommy's hand comes to rest on his back, a silent presence providing both support and comfort during this moment of despair.

With a gentle touch, Tommy takes the bloodied bear from Joel's trembling hands, his grip tender yet firm. In that moment of anguish, tears stream down Joel's face, the weight of his loss and grief overwhelming him in waves.

Joel's voice breaks as he speaks through tears and gasps, his words escaping amidst a torrent of emotion. "I told her I'd come back," he chokes out, the weight of his promise crashing down upon him like a wave.

Joel's voice trembles as he looks up at Tommy, his desperation evident in the rawness of his tone. Between gasped breaths, his question echoes with a poignant mix of anguish and longing, "Why didn’t she wait for me?"

Tommy, sensing the depth of his brother's pain, instinctively crouches beside him. His grip firm and supportive upon Joel's shoulder, attempting to offer some semblance of comfort as he watches his brother break in front of him for one of the first times in his life.

Joel doesn’t talk for a few days.

Doesn’t sleep.

Doesn’t eat.

His mind is consumed by the weight of grief and guilt. The memory of his daughter's death hangs heavily over him, along with the loss of his best friend’s little girl who he loved as if she was his own.

Did she even know that? Did she know how he fought to not lose her too? His knuckles bloody before he reached the empty diner he left her in. How broken his skin was after he left. How Tommy, bruised and bloody had to drag him out screaming because he thought you would come back.

Did she know how he still sees you in his dreams? That when he finally collapses into sleep, that all he can hear is you screaming his name and Sarah’s blood drowning him?

Did she know that he still sees her in the trees, the sunsets, the streams, everywhere. He sees her everywhere, always out of reach. Disappearing before he reaches out for her.

Did she know he tried to leave this world, unable to cope with the loss and guilt? Did she know that he saw her eyes in her teddy bear, staring back at him as he was ready to end it all? Did she know that he’s still fighting for the possibility he finds her again?

Did she know that the loss of her is tearing him apart from the inside as he tears people apart from the outside?

Or does she think that he just left her without a second thought? If she’s thinking that, at least she’s alive.

As they leave the city behind and enter the desolate landscapes, Tommy makes a valiant effort to break the silence. His words float through the air, but find no echo in Joel's heavy silence. Joel's mind is immersed in a world of torment, his thoughts consumed by the weight of grief and guilt. His deafened ears don't register Tommy's attempt at conversation, leaving the air filled only with the echoes of nature and the unspoken pain within Joel's soul.

His soul torn and draining through his skin at the loss of them.

As weeks go by, Tommy and Joel find themselves encountered by a group of people who call themselves raiders. Tommy rejects the idea of joining this group, not finding alignment with how they navigate the new world. Joel echoes his brother's sentiment, choosing to part ways with the group. However, as time unfolds, Joel starts to see the harsh realities of their solitary survival. The world has become a dangerous place, and their own chances of making it unscathed are slim.

He can’t lose Tommy too.

He wont lose Tommy too.

As their resources dwindle, Joel and Tommy find themselves approaching the point of no return, the strain of survival weighing heavily on them. In a moment of desperation, they stumble in the path of the raider's group once more, who quickly acknowledge their impressive fighting skills after they caught the brothers by surprise. Recognizing their potential value, the raiders reluctantly agree to take them in, albeit with some misgivings. In the harsh world they now inhabit, survival often hinges on alliances built on mutual needs, even if trust doesn’t come easily.

Joel keeps a vigilant watch over Tommy, never taking his eyes off his brother. Suspicion and distrust fill every glance, and he scans their surroundings with a watchful gaze, wary of the potential threat lingering within the raider's camp. His grip on Tommy tightens, a protective gesture fueled by a desire to shield his brother from any harm. Any hint of hostility or ill intent from the other raiders are met with a sharp and deadly glare, signaling Joel's readiness to defend his brother at any cost.

By the second week, no one dares to look at the brothers. Word spreads through the camp about the violent and brutal attacks initiated by Joel, leaving broken bones and mangled bodies in his wake. Eventually, the other raiders begin to steer clear of the two men, their fear-driven avoidance a testament to the raw power and anger that simmers within Joel. The atmosphere grows tense, a dark cloud of anticipation hanging over the camp, each individual haunted by the lingering shadow of Joel's relentless wrath.

The world ended for Joel the night he lost his girls and now he’s a dead man walking among the living.

Click here for Chapter 6

Notes

Last part of part 1! This was a little hard to write just because it’s depressing lol. But it was just a stream of thought tbh, kinda just started and didn’t stop. So I hope its represented well. I hope you enjoyed the first part of the series!

Next chapter Sneak Peak!

With gentle and soothing motions, Joel's hand begins to stroke the length of your back, offering a comforting presence. Your gaze remains fixed on the still form of the dead man, his lifeless eyes staring back at you as blood drips from the hole in his neck. Joel's voice breaks the tense silence, whispering reassurances once more. "Everything's alright." The repetition of his words serves as a soothing mantra, a lifeline that grounds you in the face of shock and terror.

If you want to be tagged, please comment on the masterlist for this series and I will add you. If you want to be taken off, please DM so i don't miss your request.

Every comment, like and reblog means the world to me. please let me know your thoughts about this, i want to ramble about this story so much.

tags: @sunandmuun , @rain-soaked-sun , @frootloops1213 , @samarav , @geralallfandoms , @joelmillersblog , @severussimp

[nicohischierz]

twins??: nico hischier x devs!player

tagging: @ivy-34, @francesfarhadi, @hzstry8, @cixrosie, @itsnotgray, @estapa94, @trevs-swiftie, @heartz4hischif you want to join the taglist let me know!!

"this is really good shea," you praised the boy.

the newest member of the hischier household was showing off his newly acquired cooking skills. it was also because nobody was in the mood to cook.

seamus had decided to join the devils after completing his four years at michigan. saira was now two years old and thrilled to have another 'brother' along with connor.

the little girl had started speaking occasionally, her first words being "con-con".

saira sat on your lap as you fed her some of seamus eggs, taking bites for yourself as well when a wave of nausea hit you. you passed your daughter to her father and ran to the nearest bathroom.

the boys could hear the sound of your retches and promptly pushed the eggs away from them. "hey I had nothing to do with that," he whined.

nico placed saira on the floor before following you to the bathroom. "schatz, are you okay?" he asked, peering his head around the door.

you flushed the toilet and washed your mouth before facing your fiance.

"do you think we can make an appointment with doctor michaels?” you whispered.

nico stared at you.

"dr michaels? your ob/gyn. why do you need to see your ob/gyn?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

it took a second for your words to click in his mind before nico was wrapping you up in his arms. nico bent down and kissed your lips.

"are you sure?" nico asked, gently pressing a hand to your stomach.

you shrugged. "i took two tests, one said negative and the other was positive. then when lindy was talking about dates I realised I missed my period, so I got to wondering if I was actually pregnant or not," you explained.

nico brought you in for another kiss. “whatever she says, we do this together” he promised.

you nodded and kissed him one more time before going out to your friends.

isla gave you a look asking if you were okay and you nodded. “do you guys think you can watch saira for a bit? neeks and i are going to the doctors for a quick check up,” you asked your friend.

“woah why can’t connor and i watch her?” seamus asked, just as he dropped a pan. the boy smiled sheepishly and turned away.

“is everything okay?” connor asked.

you nodded and squeezed his arm. “i’ve just not been feeling well so we’re going to see what’s wrong,” you told them before grabbing your things.

the group stayed in your home, looking after your children whilst you and nico headed to your appointment.

“well y/n, i’d like to say congratulations on your pregnancy,” dr michaels congratulated when she checked the ultrasound.

nico grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“if you see over here, this is baby number one and right there is baby number two,” she pointed towards your two babies.

“hold on did you just say baby number two?”

“twins?”

you and nico asked. dr michaels looked at the two of you and smiled.

“i’d say you’ve got a week of hockey left at best,” she advised.

you and nico looked to each other.

it wasn’t ideal that you were pregnant in the middle of the season but you and nico knew what you had to do.

“is everything okay?” connor asked as soon as you guys walked into your apartment. timo had saira laying on his chest as the two of them slept. isla and jack were looking at baby’s names for their little boy whilst luke was on the phone with his girlfriend.

nico handed him the ultrasound and smiled.

isla caught sight of it and squealed.

“no way!” she ran over to you and hugged you.

you nodded and hugged her, tears streaming down your face.

“we’re having twins,” nico announced.

[valiantstarlights]

[The Proposal AU] The Bachelorette Party

Previous Chapter: The Babymaker Blanket

I told @valeriianz I imagined Corinthian being the stripper character in this AU, and this is me having no self-control because I just started writing about it as soon as I said it. 😂 (Also tagging @voukkake because this AU is inspired by her art. 😊)

The song playing at Dream's bach party is Pony by Ginuwine because it's the most stripper-y song I could think of rn 🤷‍♀️

CW: Stripper Corinthian, strictly hobsexual Dream, tabletop games, and as a treat, seductive Dream (towards Hob) 😏

"Bye, Hob!" Jo calls as she drags a very confused Dream behind her. "We're going to see Cori for Dream's bach party!"

Dream hears a crash from the kitchen as Hob rushes towards them, still holding a potato peeler, looking wild-eyed and frantic. "You're going to see Corinthian? For Dream's bach party?"

"That's literally what I just said," Jo says as she starts to put on her shoes. Dream just stands between them, baffled at Jo's flippancy while Hob looks increasingly apprehensive. "You gone deaf or something?"

"Absolutely not," Hob says. "Dream--"

"--is allowed to have a bach party organized for him even when you declined to have your own," Jo continues. "And besides! I wanna get some calamari from The New Inn after. We'll be back soon." She glances at Dream and smiles innocently. "Or maybe it's just me and Gran who will be back soon."

Dream turns to Hob. "Corinthian?"

"He's a part-time stripper," Hob says.

"A very sexy one," Jo adds. "He might make you rethink marrying my brother, actually."

Dream doesn't know who this Corinthian fellow is, but he definitely, definitely thinks he's not going to cheat on Hob with him. Even if he and Hob aren't actually a real couple.

"I doubt it," Dream says to Jo. "I am quite set on marrying your brother." To Hob, he says, "I will be back soon, my love. Do you wish for me to get you anything while we're out?"

"No," Hob says. There's an intense look in his eyes that Dream doesn't know how to decipher. "I don't need anything else. I just want you to come back home to me."

Dream...doesn't quite know how to handle that, but he's pretty sure the tips of his ears are getting redder by the second.

Jo makes a retching sound. "Both of you are disgusting, but I'm still taking Dream to his own bach party. Now come on! Even Gran is already there!"

"I'll see you soon, love," Hob tells him, and leans forward to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. His eyes are dark, and more than once Dream sees him glancing down towards his lips.

He nods mutely, wishing he had the courage to reciprocate--for pretend purposes, of course, since Jo is considered part of the audience they're trying to sell their romance to--but in the end, he does nothing and just puts on his shoes before turning around to follow Jo out of the house.

--

Corinthian, it turns out, is the flirty waiter from the welcome party.

"I thought you were a waiter," Dream says as Corinthian slowly stalks towards where he's sitting in the middle of the stage, sexily taking his shirt off. Around them, people (mostly the women of the town) started hooting and hollering as Corinthian's muscled upper body is revealed, and he bodyrolls a little to the music, one hand on the backrest of Dream's chair.

"I can be anything you want, dreamboat," Corinthian says huskily. Dream cringes at the nickname, but allows Corinthian to dance nearer. "No? Too on the nose?"

"Quite," Dream says. "Do you really have to do this entire routine?"

Corinthian shrugs, but even that looks seductive when paired with his half-lidded eyes. "It pays the bills better than being a part-time waiter."

Dream sighs as Corinthian starts grinding and humping the air in front of his face. Dream understands that he must endure this for the sake of wedding traditions, but the music playing over the speakers irritates him, with the hook sounding like someone saying 'bleugh' over and over again.

"This doesn't do anything for you?" Corinthian asks. When Dream shakes his head, he chuckles but still very professionally continues his routine. Dream blanches as Corinthian moves his pelvis closer to Dream's face--still not making physical contact, but definitely too close for comfort. "A pity. 'Cause, not gonna lie, dreamboat, you're pretty cute."

Dream lifts his left hand where Hob's fake engagement ring sits prettily on his ring finger.

Corinthian just lifts both his hands up in a peaceful gesture, then starts unbuttoning his trousers and swaying side to side, his long legs straddling Dream's thighs. More hoots and cheers as Corinthian unzips and teasingly runs the tips of his fingers over his bulge.

"Noted," he says, as the song keeps 'bleugh'-ing in the background. "But feel free to spank me anyway. It'll get me extra tips for the night."

Dream doesn't like the way Corinthian winked when he said the word 'tips,' but what he says next is even worse. "And hey, I promise I'll try my best not to cum when you do. Your fingers look so pretty I want to choke on them."

"This is sexual harassment," Dream says futilely as, with a single rip of the fabric, Corinthian tears his trousers off completely and throws the ruined clothing towards the crowd, where Grandma Johanna successfully catches it one-handed.

"Spank me," Corinthian says to Dream as he starts to gyrate in front of his face again, this time while running his hands over his abs and pecs. "Before they inevitably peer-pressure you to do it."

"What?"

Right on cue, a large beefy guy in the crowd yells, "Spank him!"

"Smack his ass!" an old lady's voice adds. Dream recognizes it as Grandma Johanna's friend Betty's voice.

"Give him a proper lap dance, Cori!" Jo shouts.

Corinthian helpfully turns around and bends over, looking over his shoulder coquettishly as he gives Dream quite the view of his toned legs and shapely buttocks. His black thong doesn't really leave much to the imagination, especially when he's bent over like this. "Go on, dreamboat," Cori says, smiling widely and lasciviously. "It's a show. But if it makes it easier for you, spank me like how Hob spanks you."

And. Of course, Dream thinks. Of course it's a show. This entire trip is a show, and he's supposed to be acting like his life depends on it. Because it does. His life--everything he built for himself away from his toxic parents, depends on how well he acts like the beloved fiancee of this small town's golden boy.

Dream imagines Hob, with his lazy morning smiles, and his strong arms, and his capable manner in the workplace. If Hob ever spanks him, it would be because of something Dream had done. Something unforgivably naughty. If Hob ever spanks him in a sexual way, it would be like--

Dream lifts his dominant hand and strikes Corinthian's ass like how he imagines Hob would spank him if he had been a brat all day. It's easy to imagine, because Dream often feels like a brat, especially when he orders Hob around unnecessarily, asking him to get complicated coffee orders and making him work overtime even when Dream is fairly sure he can get the work done by himself. It's just, Hob is so competent and amazing at what he does, and surely two heads are better than one. And if Hob sometimes unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his shirt sleeves up, exposing his forearms--

The sound echoes throughout the room, and Corinthian's small moan of "oh fuck," and "Daddy," is lost as the crowd goes absolutely wild.

--

"Hey," Hob says as Dream enters his bedroom. He's sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, open book held in one hand. He doesn't look like he has made much progress. "Welcome back."

"You shouldn't have stayed up," Dream says as he looks at the wall clock pointedly. It shows that it's well past midnight. He and Jo just got back, with Grandma Johanna returning hours before they did.

Jo had dragged him over to The New Inn to get her calamari and, as luck would have it, it turns out that tonight is game night at the inn--a fact that Johanna definitely knows--and Dream was roped into playing Cards Against Humanity and half a dozen other tabletop games with names like Carcassone, which was probably inspired by the French city with the same name, and Tsuro, which means 'route' in Japanese.

(Jo called him a nerd when he took out his phone to get the English translation of the game's name.)

(And yes, apparently, Corinthian also part-times at The New Inn during game nights, where he becomes the DM to a group playing Dungeons and Dragons. Dream was mortified when Corinthian saunters up to him and leans over to whisper in his ear, "Fancy seeing you here at my other workplace, Daddy Dreamboat.")

(He's pretty sure Jo and everyone at their table heard everything.)

"Yeah, well," Hob says, which isn't much of an answer at all. "How was your party?" he asks, when Dream takes off his coat and hangs it on a coat hook behind the door.

"Exhausting," Dream replies honestly. He didn't think Jo would have that much energy in her body, but apparently, he was wrong. She must have drank more than ten cups of coffee before they went out today.

"Yeah?" Hob says, his voice sounding strangely tight.

"Yes," Dream says. "Your sister has too much energy and the appetite of a blue whale. She must have eaten three family-sized plates of calamari by herself, and beat me thoroughly at Sheriff of Nottingham. It's a pity The New Inn doesn't have Scrabble, or I would have decimated everyone at the table."

"Oh," Hob says, and now he sounds relieved. Dream is too tired to parse out what the tone of his voice meant at the moment, but he will definitely be examining it at a later time. "Yeah, no. I can't beat Jo at Sheriff of Nottingham either. She always knows when I have contraband cards."

Dream huffs a laugh as he goes to the ensuite, keeping the door cracked open a little as he changes his clothes and does his nightly routines. "I managed to smuggle golden apples past her tonight, and she accused me of trying to start a war, which was very nice of her."

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Hob says from the bedroom. "Game nights at The New Inn are really fun."

Dream hums and starts washing his face. "I saw a game that looked promising on the shelves, but the owner wouldn't take it down for us to play because Jo already borrowed too many."

"What was the game?"

"Betrayal at House on the Hill."

Hob laughs a full-bellied laugh at that, and the Dream in the mirror blushes and ducks his head at the sound. "Of course it's Betrayal," Hob says. "Remind me to bring you to the New Inn next game night, and I'll play with you."

Dream's hand pauses as he applies his night cream on his face. He knows Hob meant 'I'll play with you' in an innocent way, but the note of warm laughter in his voice made the chill from Dream's bones melt entirely.

It's a sensation he did not feel even when Corinthian explicitly told him he wanted to choke on his fingers while dirty dancing in front of him.

He hurries to finish his nightly routines.

"So?" Hob asks, when Dream had been quiet for too long. "You interested?"

He is, but perhaps not in playing the horror-themed game they're currently talking about. Still, he says, "Yes," and is glad that his voice does not shake, even when his hands do as he arranges the creams and serums in his travel toiletry bag. "The game looks very intriguing."

"If you like that, then I think you'll love the other dark or horror-themed games available at The New Inn. Like Nemesis, which is...a lot, or Gloom, which I think you'll win every time. Or, hey, maybe they still have Unspeakable Words. It's not quite Scrabble, but Jo will agree to play because she adores the little Cthulhu minis."

Dream re-enters the bedroom just then, clad in Hob's old university shirt and his own side split shorts, and watches as Hob's Adam's apple bob as he takes him in. "Will you play with me?"

Hob blinks and his eyes lift from looking at Dream's legs to his face. "Wha--huh?"

Dream smiles. "All the games you mentioned," he says, then crawls into bed--not seductively, he doesn't think he can quite manage that, but slower than usual. More intentional. "Will you play all of them with me? Teach me all the rules and go easy on me?"

"Yeah," Hob says, and shifts a little to make more space for Dream on the bed. Or perhaps to shift the fall of the blankets over his covered lower half. Dream unconsciously licks his lips. "I'll...yeah."

"Then I'm looking forward to it," Dream says. Then, with the courage he lacked earlier that evening, he leans closer and kisses Hob's cheek. "Good night, Hob," he says, lips brushing against Hob's stubble, their breaths mingling together.

"Good night," Hob replies belatedly, when Dream is already lying in bed and has turned on his side so he's facing the windows. He turns off the lamp on his side of the bed and says in the dark, "Sweet Dream."

Dream smiles and subtly nuzzles against his pillow--Hob's pillow, which smells like Hob, and pretends that he's actually resting his head against Hob's strong chest.

He falls asleep with a small smile on his face.

[muppetjokerfanofextinction]

ii new u’’d 2how up

I can sense your smugness

[muppetjokerno1haterrr]

WHAT THE HELL HAZARD

[no1frogfan]

Impending, part 3

Matsukawa Issei x afab reader

Word count: ~3.4k

Tags & warnings: SMUT-MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v. There is cum. Pubes exist in this world. A little angst, pining, guilt, and desperation (my four favorite flavors).

Note: Finally finished this mini-series. The word counts have grown too much each time, but what can I say? — I want him emotionally, spiritually, biblically.

part 1 | part 2

You can’t stay in bed forever.

Probably.

Not unless you can convince Hiro to bring you something for dinner, but that’s never going to happen.

A particularly angry gurgle from your stomach makes you roll out of bed and pick your way to the kitchen. The tackiness of your skin is proof you made the right choice to sleep the day away. Summers are always stifling, and the humidity lingers even after the sun has set, preventing the air from dropping to comfortable temperatures.

A cool gust from the fridge provides a welcome relief, though it’s unfortunate the shelves are empty. That’s the worst part of being at home — the isolation. The trees and hills are beautiful, even the warbling of the birds at 4am is nice, but grocery stores and restaurants are few and far between. You could walk to the ancient ramen place a few streets down, or the sukiyaki place a few streets up, but neither sound at all appealing in this heat.

“Did mom and dad leave us anything for dinner?” You shout toward the open basement door.

No answer.

“I know you can hear me.”

You can’t see the middle finger Makki holds up. “I’m getting pizza later.”

“Can we order now? I’m starving,” you pad downstairs with a whine.

Sprawled on the couch, Hiro is sporadically illuminated by some anime show on tv. While you don’t recognize it, you can at least pick out the white-haired guy Hiro likes landing a couple of (over)dramatic punches on a black-haired guy.

“How are you even hungry? You’ve just been sleeping all day.”

Your brother doesn’t take his eyes off the tv where the black-haired one finally managed to dodge, and now the white-haired one is strategizing (at length) about his next move.

“You’re one to talk! As if you’ve mov-”

“I’m hungry too,” a deep baritone chimes in seemingly from below you.

You leap back with a yelp, squinting into the darkness at your feet. Out of the shadows, Issei’s form slowly takes shape. Honestly, you’re shocked you didn’t step on him.

“That’s not what you said 5 minutes ago,” Makki grumbles, but picks up his phone to place the order.

Issei shrugs, reaching his arm out toward you.

You dodge beyond his fingertips and beat a hasty retreat back up the stairs, calling out over your shoulder, “order me a Hawaiian pizza.”

“No way in hell. That’s disgusting.”

Fake retching sounds follow you to the top.

The cold spray of the shower is calming, necessary even, to wash the stickiness from your skin and quiet your frazzled nerves.

That happened almost a week ago, and seeing him in your house every day has only made things more fraught. While you haven’t exactly been avoiding Issei, you haven’t tried to talk to him either. For your brother’s sake you should probably make clear that it was a mistake; one that will never happen again. You could blame it on the beer or the weed, but the truth is, Issei plagues your thoughts even while sober — his breath hot on your neck, fingertips digging into the fat of your hips, the utter fullness when he pushed into you.

Before that night, the image of him as a gawky preteen was all your mind could conjure up. But now… Your fingers aren’t enough to relieve the pressure anymore.

Your encounter unleashed some latent magnetic field, prickling your senses and hopelessly drawing you toward him at every turn. You welcome his attention more than you care to admit, so, unsurprisingly, it’s been hard not to make it weird, and harder not to second-guess every single interaction these days. Since when did he know your favorite snacks? Did he used to stare at you so much? Had he always been this touchy?

Or is he just hoping for a repeat of the other night?

The possibility stirs up both anxiety and relief. Except for the teeny, tiny detail of being your little brother’s best friend — you know, the one person outside of family that Hiro places 100% of his trust in — Issei would top your list of fuck buddies (and if you’re honest, maybe even more than that).

What’s been most confusing is that Issei doesn’t seem bothered, and you’re not sure why that irritates you so much. He’s never seemed like the kind of guy who would treat you like a notch in his bedpost, but then again, best friend’s sibling is a perennially popular porn trope for a reason. Surely he’s not immune.

None of that really matters though. Hiro’s been acting strange lately, like he knows something’s up. Half the time, he books it out of a room as soon as you walk in. God knows how he’d react if he found out what happened. Issei said he wouldn’t care, but how true is that? You try to imagine how you’d feel if one of your friends told you they’d slept with Hiro, and you can’t help but be…one, grossed out because you really don’t want to think about it. And two, well…protective, angry maybe. He might be an ass, but he’s still your brother, and you’d never do anything to actually hurt him.

A knock breaks into your anxious musings.

It’s then you notice you’re standing vacantly in the middle of your room. Somehow, you’d finished showering and walked back while lost in thought.

“Go away!”

Hiro is the last person you want to talk to right now; especially not before you can get your thoughts under control.

Footsteps shuffle away, but instead of the telltale creak of the stairs, they pause, then turn back toward the door.

The door jiggles and clicks open.

“What part of-”

Except it’s not Hiro. It’s Issei.

His audacity dumbfounds you, but only for a second.

“The hell?! Get out!”

Hesitation flickers across his face but he takes a step forward.

“Can we talk?”

“NO.” You wrap the towel tighter around yourself.

When he doesn’t move, you reiterate the point by whirling on your heels and stomping toward the dresser. The underwear drawer suddenly captures your full attention, and you rummage through it with single-minded focus.

The door shuts behind you with another click, and you let out a shaky breath.

The relief is short-lived.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Goosebumps break out all over your skin at his words.

“That’s not true.”

The lavender scent of your shampoo tickles his nose. With you faced resolutely away, he steps closer and allows his eyes to sweep over the droplets gleaming across your shoulders.

“No?”

His lips brush against the base of your neck, and whatever retort you had fizzles on your tongue.

“Issei,” you whimper, “you said you wanted to talk.”

You lean back into his touch and feel him grin against the juncture of your neck. His hands, big and warm and firm, slide up under the towel to knead at your soft thighs, rapidly emptying your brain.

He gives you a gentle nudge toward the bed.

“I don’t think we should do this,” you protest, but your lack of conviction is apparent in how eagerly you obey, practically tripping over yourself to perch on the edge of the mattress.

He raises one thick eyebrow. “Why?”

“Hiro’s going to find out.”

Issei unbuttons his shirt with unhurried movements, unveiling the smooth musculature of his chest. Its slopes and dips are made more dramatic thanks to the yellow-orange light of the single desk lamp. You swallow thickly, eyes drawn to the sharp cut of his collarbones and the faded scar on his right hip.

“Makki knows. He doesn’t care.”

His shorts and underwear quickly land in a pile on the floor.

Even in the harsh light, his dick is nothing short of mouth-watering. A pretty flush tip sits enticingly over its thick, veiny length. Coarse hairs curl tightly at the base, trimmed short to reveal more of him.

He kneels and shuffles forward to tug the towel from your clutch, uttering an appreciative groan before he tosses it aside.

“Fuck, just look at you.”

Your objections devolve into gasping moans when he pushes you back to lay open-mouthed kisses across your collarbones and down your chest, sluggishly mouthing over your hips, down the tops of your legs and back up, licking a stripe along the tender skin of your inner thigh as he splays your legs up and out. He dives in to suck on your clit and you almost choke.

Your entire body tenses with pleasure when he starts to lap at you. But it’s the way he meets your gaze with hooded eyes — intoxicated from a single taste — that kickstarts the last ounce of resistance left in your body.

“Issei, if you- fuck that’s ahhh- you’re just looking to get your dick wet…”

That stills his tongue. Even though you’re the one protesting, you can’t help but whine now that he’s actually stopped.

“That’s not…” He frowns, a mixture of your juices and his saliva glistening on his chin. In one fluid motion, Issei slides you off the bed and onto his lap. A shudder runs through him when his erection glides against your folds, though it doesn’t distract him.

“Is that what you think this is?”

You’re not sure what answer he’s looking for, so you stay silent, head turned to avoid his eyes.

He scrutinizes you for what seems like an age. How could you not know? All the times he’s tried to impress you? All the things he’s done in the hopes you’ll notice him? All the years he’s trailed behind you — to your house, to university, and even to Sendai?

“Do you remember when your parents made you start watching us after school?”

Your face scrunches in confusion at the change in topic, but he’s insistent.

“Do you remember? Right after you started high school?”

“Ok…yeah,” you indulge, “I remember. I’d just joined photography club and had to quit like a month later. I was pissed — they’d never cared about leaving us home alone before so I didn’t understand why I had to babysit you guys.”

“They didn’t actually care. I made up some lie — I don’t even remember what it was now — to convince my parents we needed a sitter. I figured they’d make you do it, and they did.”

You look up in confusion. Is he…blushing?

“And in eighth grade, when I needed help with math… I actually bombed my tests on purpose for a month because I knew my parents would ask you.”

Wait… “Was that what your fights were about?”

Hiro and Issei were thick as thieves, the only exceptions being in your first and last years of high school. Their fights got heated too, though neither ever told you what set them off, no matter how many times you tried to pry it out of them. The second time, Issei didn’t come over for almost a month afterward (you remember because you had to go to his house to tutor him) but things always eventually went back to normal.

Issei huffs a soft chuckle. “Yeah, Makki figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

“It’s not obvious?” Issei drops his head onto your shoulder with something between a groan and a laugh. “I liked you. A lot. I still do.”

He admits it so casually, like he’s commenting on the weather. Like he and Hiro haven’t kept this secret for over a decade. Like it’s hardly a confession at all.

For once, you’re the one struggling to keep up.

“Wait…you like me?”

You feel a muffled snort. “That’s literally what I’ve been saying this whole time.”

“And Hiro’s…not mad? But he’s been acting so weird lately,” you point out.

“Oh that. He keeps trying to ‘give us space’ or something. I told him to cool it.”

“Oh.” Huh. Maybe it was obvious. You were just too worried about Hiro to notice that every time he flew out of a room with some flimsy excuse, you were left alone with Issei. Issei, who you like more than you expected. Who’s had a crush on you for more than a decade. Whose lap you’re currently nestled in, naked.

“Does that mean we can…” You shift, jerking when your clit catches his spongy tip.

He laughs, grinding his hips up to meet you.

“We sure can.”

You’re still wet, really wet, you’re reminded when your pussy glides against him, and getting more aroused by the second as Issei stares, mesmerized by the slick trail you leave along the length of his cock.

His hands slide down to give your ass an excited squeeze before lifting you up onto the edge of the bed.

Dextrous fingers part your puffy lips as he rests his cheek against your thigh, giving him the perfect view of your dripping cunt. He thumbs lightly at your clit and heaves a sigh of contentment when your hips buck in response.

“Didn’t get to enjoy this last time.”

You bite back a moan when he slides one long finger into you. It reaches deep, and you squirm in encouragement when he sinks a second one in. He works them nimbly, curling and scissoring them while rolling your clit, breaking you down into a whiny mess in seconds, until you’re dripping down his wrists and onto the sheets.

You’re so distracted by his fingers that you don’t notice him dive in, just feel his lips wrap around your clit with a slurp. He licks and sucks at you eagerly, and you can only gasp and writhe, trying to steady yourself with a fist in his soft wavy hair. The walls echo with your cries mingled with Issei’s enthusiastic groans and the wet suction of your cunt around his fingers.

It catches you by surprise when you cum, cresting fast and hard, pulling your body taut and whiting out your vision. Before you realize it, you’re already quaking with aftershocks, trying to twist away from the overwhelming sensation of him licking and suckling dreamily as you come down.

When he finally pulls his fingers out, he makes a show of sucking them clean, stroking himself as he smirks up at you.

He pushes himself up off the floor and god, fuck. He’s irresistible, his cock bobbing heavily between his legs as he gets on his hands and knees above you.

Issei leans down, humming happily when he wraps his mouth around your right nipple. He massages your chest with one hand and grips his cock with the other to smear his tip along your sopping pussy.

It feels good, but you squirm and push at his shoulders. “Want you in my mouth,” you beg.

He placates you with a hungry kiss. “Next time, ok? Next time. I can barely- I don’t think I can last long,” he admits wryly, “but next time we’ll do anything you want.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in anticipation when he lines himself up.

He pushes in slowly, first the fat mushroom tip, then the whole thick length of him, rocking himself in, out, in, inch by inch until he’s pressed flush against you. Issei groans when your face contorts with pleasure. The stretch is incredible. He stuffs you so full, finally hitting that place you’ve been unable to reach.

He takes things slow. Too slow. He wasn’t able to savor you before, but he’s not about to make the same mistake again. His long, languid strokes are just enough to have you grinding against him in frustration with every thrust.

“Let me enjoy this for a minute,” he rasps.

His hands trail restlessly across your body, caressing and squeezing every inch of skin he can reach. He kisses his way down your neck to roll his tongue around your nipple, biting and sucking one before moving to the other, and back again.

After what feels like hours, your patience finally gives out.

You smack him hard on the ass. “Issei! Fuck me already.”

That jolts his hips into action. The length of his body is laid on top of you, pinning your legs up against your shoulders as he pistons into you with surprising force. Wet slaps alternate with the loud squeak of the mattress.

You begin to quiver, your whole body shaking as the heat builds in your core. He reaches deep, so so deep, making you wail every time he bumps your clit and his cock hits that perfect spot inside of you over and over again.

“Ohhh- fuck, Issei please I’m-”

He barely has time to blink before you’re falling apart at the seams again. Wave after blinding wave of ecstasy crash over you, relentless.

Your pussy clenches hard, gripping his cock so firmly he can barely move. Not a second later, he pulls out with a shout. Through hazy eyes, you see his mouth drop open. He fists his cock only once before his body stiffens, convulsing as jets of hot cum shoot out to land on your cheeks, shoulders, chest, stomach, dribbling out to coat your pubes, before finally leaving him twitching.

The room fills with hoarse pants.

You laugh weakly at the mess. “Wow, you came a lot.”

“I think I almost blacked out,” he croaks.

With great effort, he pushes himself off the bed and returns with the box of tissues from your desk. He cleans you up with care, just like last time.

“I wanted to last longer,” he mumbles, pressing a sheepish kiss to your sternum before collapsing on you, pinning you down with his weight.

It does something funny to your heart to witness him like this, so different from his usual confidence.

“Next time,” you assure him.

“Next time?” He looks up, almost reverent.

“Yeah.” You smile and brush the damp curls away from his eyes.

Next time. He breaks out in an obnoxious grin. There’s going to be a next time. And if there’s a next time, there might be a time after that.

“You won’t even need to introduce me to your parents.”

You snort. “Ok, pump the brakes.”

When you finally make your way back to the kitchen (with Issei practically holding you up as you wobbled), you find one Hawaiian pizza and two-thirds of a pepperoni pizza sitting on the counter.

Issei loads up a plate for you both before heading down to the basement. You grab some cold beers and follow suit, pausing in the doorway to take a few calming breaths.

You don’t hear any yelling or scuffling — a positive sign. Hopefully, that means Hiro isn’t too angry.

You take one wary step, then another.

When you reach the bottom, your eyes hesitantly find Hiro’s. There’s an uneasy moment when he frowns at you from where he’s seated on the floor before he gives you a curt nod. It’s stiff, but definitely not angry, not even upset.

Your shoulders untense.

Issei waves you over to the couch where he settles you securely in his lap, his arms encircling your waist. You cast another wary glance at Hiro who just rolls his eyes.

“Glad you’re finally done ‘getting some water,’” Makki snipes. “I’ve been waiting forever to start the next episode.”

“I’m definitely not thirsty anymore if you know what I mean.” Mattsun wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Hiro’s face twists, revolted. “Ugh- I- ugh god, I don’t want to think about-” he sputters. His eyes flick to where Issei’s hands grope at your thighs and ass. “Whoa, ok rule number one: not when I’m right here. And rule number two-” there’s an uncomfortable pause before he mutters, “keep it down next time.”

Mattsun’s not at all chagrined. In fact, he puffs out his chest proudly.

You, on the other hand, shrink in absolutely mortification. Right when Issei opens his mouth to make another (probably vulgar) retort, you shove a slice of pizza in…with a little more force than you intended.

He chokes in surprise and your brother lets out a mean snicker. “Perfect timing! Serves you right.”

You expect him to continue bickering with Hiro, but Issei instead flashes you a dopey grin. “Thank you baby,” he says sweetly, muffled though it is by a mouthful of food.

The gleeful smirk drops right off Makki’s face and he whirls back toward the tv with a loud gag.

“You’re welcome,” you giggle. Your brain’s still playing catch-up with everything that’s happened today, but you think you like where this is heading.

[milkytheholy1]

Day 13: Scars

"Catch me!" The youthful tween said, diving inbetween tunnels and ducking below pipes that lined the walls of the sewers. April O'Neil had known the turtles through her first formative years as a young teenager, but she took a special interest in Donatello. The two had grown close, practically best friends, he would help her with her math homework and in turn, she would teach him the social skills he lacked due to little exposure to the real world.

The two would spend hours together, having fun within the sewers when the turtle brothers would get grounded, watching movies illegally on Donnie's computer and overall just having a blast when left to their own devices.

As the boys started getting older, April noticed a shift in Donatello, he was more cautious around her. At first, she tried to ignore it, hoping it was just hormones being hormones. Whenever the boys trained, April would often sit and watch, gasping in awe at the tricky moves they performed flawlessly. Although Donnie would often try to show off, and more often than not face consequences because of it, April repeatedly found herself laughing at his antics.

Master Splinter soon took note of April's interest in martial arts and began training her, much to the aggravation of Donatello. There was a long lengthy argument that followed between the pair, which ultimately led to April leaving the lair and not coming back; complete radio silence.

Donnie felt awful, months and months of not seeing his best friend. And for what reason? He was jealous other people were hanging out with her, it was always meant to be just them, just Donnie and April hanging out. It was definitely not meant to be just Donnie, April, Leo, Raph, Splinter, etc, etc.

But now April was gone and all Donnie had was the memories of their time together. Running through the sewers playing tag and hide-and-seek, daring each other to try out Mikey's newest recipe and he couldn't forget movie night, it was some slasher movie Raph had put on, Donnie will never forget the way April jumped into his arms after a scare.

'Isn't She Lovely' interrupted his passionate thoughts, "That's April's ringtone!" Donnie shrieked, shuffling things around his desk until he found his shell-phone. He stared at her name for only a moment before answering, "H-hello, April? I'm s-so glad you called me, I was actually just thinking about yo-"

"Donnie! Help me!"

He bolted upright from his relaxed position in his swivel chair, "April, are you alright? What's going on?" his thoughts were frantic, a million possibilities all playing out in his head. April's panted breaths echoed down the phone, "The Foot, they're chasing me. They broke into my home, I managed to get to the rooftops." she was getting tired.

"Don't worry, I'm on my way!" he had promised her that. Donatello grabbed his bo and booked it out of the lair, leaving behind some very confused brothers. Still on the phone, Donnie kept in contact with April, "It's okay, April, I'm nearly there!"

What perspired was a full-on battle between one turtle and fifteen Footbots, each carrying their own weapon. Donatello put up a brave fight, as did April. Even though her training was never fully completed she could still hold her own, that was until...

"Heeya!" April panted, kicking a footbot over the edge of the building, she was almost proud of what she had done here, she couldn't wait to tell Master Splinter how she had kept up her training. But the Footbot was reluctant to die, grabbing April by the ankle, it dragged her over the edge with it. Both of them now dangled above the streets of New York.

"Donnie!" She screamed, clutching onto the concrete. In seconds, Donatello and finished off the final bot, jumping to April's aid. Grabbing her hand, he tried pulling her back up "It's okay, April, I've got you!" he kept repeating; he wasn't sure if it was for her benefit or for his.

The retched Footbot clawed his way up April's leg, leaving scratches and scars along her blood-soaked trousers, "Donnie!" she cried, tears streaming down her face. Donnie heaved, the stupid bot was too heavy, he couldn't pull them both up, "I-I got you, I promise I've got you!"

More Footbots started waking up, all swarming an attack on Donatello, now they were really in trouble. April kept kicking the head of that stupid robot, it made sounds and grunts with each impactful force. Donnie's grip on April loosened as he defended himself from the monsters with just his bo.

And that's when it happened.

"Catch me!" The girl cried out, her grasp on his hand faltering until she couldn't hold on anymore. Her fingernails dug deep into his three-fingered hand, scratches full of blood that would later develop into scars. Her screams echoed off of the buildings as her body hit the concrete below. Ginger locks lay limply across her bruised face, her body cold and lifeless.

All Donnie could do was stand and stare, screaming out into the roaring traffic of New York. All he had to remember her were the scars she left behind.  

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Types of Childhood Friends (Aki & Denji Edition)

tags: gn!reader, headcanons

a/n: i’m a sucker for friends to lovers, sprinkle in some childhood friend elements? i’ll ascend to a new plane of existence. i’ve been on a csm kick (back) lately so here are some hcs because of that

aki: the one you grew apart from. there weren’t any explosive fights or. aki was a constant presence in your life; whether it was sleepovers or going to his younger brother’s birthday party, the two of you were buddies. you bullied him into quitting smoking when he picked up the habit when you were in middle school and aki was always there to drag you away from your gaming console when you needed to do your homework. then one day all that just stopped. text exchanges slowed weekly until they halted entirely. high fives as you passed each other on the way to class turned the occasional nod of acknowledgement. having different lunches didn’t help either. the final nail in the coffin seemed to be graduation. aki went out of state and you stayed home to work for a year before tackling university. anything you heard about aki was indirect knowledge shared to you by your mom who still gabbed it up with mrs hayakawa. “you two were so close when you were little, what happened?” you weren’t able to give your mother an answer.

denji: your best bro you fell in love with and you can’t let him know. this is denji, denji. you took baths together when you were 5. he would draw on your face after you fell asleep when you were 7. the guy who accidentally drank spoiled milk and spent hours on the toilet while you loyally stayed to continuously give him fresh toilet paper rolls in spite of the retched smell when you were 13. one moment you’re rolling your eyes as he tells you an overly exaggerated story about a ferocious attack he suffered (you were there, he suffered no such thing), and the next you’re noticing the hazel flecks in his eyes and how his messy hair looks softer than usual and you wanted to kiss him. you refuse to act on these feelings, you can’t. he’d never shown any levels of romantic interest in you in the past and you weren’t going to risk your friendship by confessing your feelings and hoping nothing changed. you just had to get over it somehow. you just had to avoid him for a while and hope your feelings fell off before your friendship did, fanfiction says that’s a terrible idea but you’re sure things will be fine. it’s denji, he’ll be fine. 

[marvelmymarvel]

Guardian (Part 12)

Jiraiya x Sarutobi!Reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Synopsis: Your brother gave you an assignment, "Go ask Sakumo Hatake if he needs help with his newborn." It was a simple task, but it snowballed into so much more.

TW: Panic attacks, war

Tags: @twilightlover2007

Naruto Masterlist: Here

Spoilers below regarding Obito Uchiha. Proceed with caution.

-- 1 Year Later --

A crack of thunder shook the house, and you jolted awake, breath heavy as you tried to calm yourself from the nightmare you were in. It was only once your adrenaline came down that you realized your nightmare wasn't just a dream and it was very much real.

You glanced at Jiraiya sleeping peacefully beside you, not sure how he could sleep at a time like this. Around a year ago, shortly after Kakashi joined his new team, the nations waged war on one another. Throwing Kakashi head first into a war you feared he would end up in. Tears welled up in your eyes as panic settled in your bones. Minato promised to keep him safe, but it wasn't enough.

You rose from the bed, stumbling towards the ensuite as the panic tightened its bony grip around your throat. The air coming into your chest had a wheeze to it, and you prayed that your panic attack wouldn't wake Jiraiya. You held your breath and looked back towards the bed where Jiraiya still laid. Part of you wanted him to wake up, to comfort you and remind you that Kakashi was strong.

Your shaking fingers flipped on the light switch as you slinked into the bathroom, slowly and carefully closing the door to make no sound. Blood rushed through your ears as your world tilted; it was then that you realized you were still holding your breath, only making the panic worse.

Everything was muffled as you bolted towards the toilet, mouth opening as you dry heaved into the bowl. Nothing came up. Nothing could. You hadn't eaten anything since Kakashi took off for his mission some days ago. Your tears blurred your vision, and you gripped your throat, scratching at it as if trying to free yourself from the tight grip of dread.

He's not coming back. You'll have to bury another person you love. You'll be alone. You did this to him. This is your fault.

Your thoughts circled round and round as your dry heaving grew more forceful. You tried to take in oxygen between the forceful retches, but you knew from the light-headed feeling taking over that you weren't doing a good job.

"Hey. What's going on?"

You inhaled sharply as your head whipped to the door, chest rising and falling quickly as you began to violently hyperventilate, your brain trying its best to get the needed oxygen. Jiraiya's face was full of concern as he moved towards you, "It's okay. Come here, Y/n…" he whispered before dropping down beside you

Your arms wrapped around his neck, and you let him pull you into his warm and steady embrace. It was as if his presence alone pried the fingers of doom from your throat because your breathing once more began to grow stable and less frantic.

Jiriaya's hand dragged up and down your spine, eyebrows crinkling as he looked at how you curled into him. He didn't need to ask what was wrong; he knew by the way you shook that you had dreamt of Kakashi again. "He's going to be okay, sweetheart. Minato won't let anything happen to him-"

"You don't know that for sure. I could get him back in one piece, but he may not have a pulse. I don't… I don't know what I'll do if that happens" Your words sounded strong at first but slowly morphed into a panicky exclamation. Your shoulders shook, and Jiraiya shushed you before pulling you deeper into his chest. "Why don't we take a bath? Will that help you calm down?"

Your breathing once more leveled out, and you weakly nodded at his proposition, knowing that it would bring you out of the darkness of your mind.

Jiraiya nodded before pressing a kiss to your head and sitting you on the ground. "Let me run us a bath then."

You raced towards the gates, eyes wide as you took in the shinobi coming in. You caught sight of Minato right away and let out a breath of relief at the sight of Kakashi, but the smile fell as you noticed the absence of the Uchiha child. Not only that but Kakashi's left eye had been wrapped. Despite knowing he would be upset with you, you pushed through the crowd to get to him. His eye widened at your frantic appearance, and he braced for the tight hug he would receive.

Kakashi gulped as you hauled him into your arms, a cry falling from your lips as you praised the gods above for bringing him back. The men and women continued to walk past as you knelt before him, hand wandering to his face as you looked at Minato for answers as to why he was wounded, but he remained silent. Looking back at Kakashi, you found his eye trained on the ground. It was only then that you processed what had happened to the Uchiha child. "Oh. Kakashi… I'm so sorry-"

He pushed past you, face blazing with fury as he stormed inside the village. You looked back at Minato, who shifted his weight from side to side. The worried look he was giving you made you stand swiftly to rush after the young child. You didn't know yet what went down on this mission. But you knew one thing and one thing only.

Something in Kakashi changed.

Kakashi sat quietly in his room when you entered, your breathing was labored from running after him, and you tried to catch your breath, but you relaxed seeing him sitting there alone. You sighed at him before closing the door, shutting the two of you away from the world outside. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

Kakashi's brown eye was steely, and screamed that he didn't want to remember anything that had happened. "Okay. We don't have to talk about what happened to your comrade… But we need to discuss your bandaged eye." You stated firmly as you walked towards him. He huffed in exasperation but let you grab at the cloth anyway. Your shaky hands slowly unwrapped it before you were greeted with the nasty scar that cut through his left eye. "Oh. Does it hurt?" You cooed as you let your thumb softly run over the ridge. He shook his head but hissed as you hit a sensitive part. "Sorry, buddy. Can you still see?"

His breath hitched, and his right eye slammed shut, memories of being temporarily blinded racing through his mind. Your eyebrows furrowed as you cupped his chin and cocked his head up, "Open your eyes, buddy."

"I don't want you to see it, mom."

Tears cascaded down his cheeks as he relived the entire scene of Obito giving him his eye. He shouldn't have sacrificed himself. He shouldn't have given up his life or eye so willingly. It wasn't fair.

And now he had a reminder of the selfless act his comrade did so that he could come home.

"Kakashi. Honey, let me see it-"

You inhaled sharply as the red eye shone in the dimly lit room. "He sacrificed himself for me, Mom." Kakashi wailed out, hands shaking as he searched your face for any sign of hatred.

But you simply cocked your head down at him, wiping away the tears as you sat beside him. He didn't have to tell you everything that happened. The statement, alone, with the sharingan told you everything you needed to know. "Why would he do that?!" Kakashi roared out, eyes blazing with anger as he searched your face for an answer to something he couldn't quite grasp.

Your eyes flicked to the floor, chest bubbling with a desire to spew out an 'I told you so' to him. But you never wanted to be right in the first place. As a matter of fact, you hoped he would prove you wrong. "Because he cared for his comrades enough to risk everything for them. Even if it meant death, that's a true shinobi. You should be proud of him for being so selfless-"

Kakashi inhaled sharply as it all started to click—lip trembling as more tears fell down his cheeks, wetting both your hands and his mask. You sighed at him before pulling him into a hug, hands shaking as you ran a hand through his hair. It was only a couple of months ago that you asked Kakashi to bring his comrades over for dinner. It became an everyday occurrence to see the three together, and despite the amount of arguing, you could tell that Kakashi had grown fond of the Uchiha. You had to admit that you also enjoyed when the Uchiha was around. At one point, you contemplated adopting him as well. Now that he is gone, you're unable to thank him for being a real friend to Kakashi. Not only that, but for being so unapologetically selfless for his comrades. Without Obito, you wouldn't have Kakashi safe and sound in your embrace. It was bittersweet, and you didn't know how else to help Kakashi through the pain he was experiencing.

But you figured holding him close was a good start.