#rip to anyone who keeps reading under the cut

[genderlessghoul]

Hey so some while ago I wrote a bit about Dew's elemental transition and him taking it well and NOT HAVING ANGST ATTACHED TO IT FOR ONCE CUZ I'M SOFT!!! (Affectionately to anyone who writes angst, I love you)

Anyway I talked a bit about Rain's summoning in that post and I wanted to write it better so I did! It's under the cut.

~1k of Dew falling in love at first sight

Dewdrop stands in front of his mirror, ceremonial cloak in hand. Anticipation and dread eat at his nerves as he stares at his own reflection. He barely recognizes what the mirror shows him now. Just a few weeks after his elemental transition, he's not yet used to this new version of himself. 

No more gills. No more fins. His silky soft white hair now a more orange blonde, blue eyes replaced with amber. Scorch marks and scars over all his once discernible Water features. 

He doesn't regret his choice. He says it loud and clear to anyone who'll listen. Water was familiar, but never home. Fire embraces him, makes him feel welcomed. That doesn't make it any easier for him to live this new change, to recognize the stranger looking at him from the other side of the mirror. He throws his cloak on with a sigh before heading out his door. Tonight, the Clergy summons its newest ghouls. Air and Water. The Water that will take his place in the band and- No. Dewdrop pushes the thought aside. He cannot, will not, resent the new ghoul simply for existing. He doesn't regret his choice.

The Fire ghoul runs into Aether, also on his way to the room where this ancient ritual will take place. As the new head of the Quintessence ghouls (by default of being now the only one), it's his job to welcome the new summons.

“You doing alright?”

He asks the nerve-wracked smaller ghoul.

“'m fine, just… nervous.”

“You can tell me what's on your mind, you know? It's kind of a big deal, what's happening tonight.”

“I just hope that-” Dewdrop pauses, not sure exactly what he's hoping for. “That we get a good one.”

Aether hums in acknowledgment and the both of them keep walking in silence, picking up Mountain on the way. The last three ghouls remaining after the events following the death of the Emeritus brothers. They make their way to the summoning chamber, where Sister Imperator and the shiny new Cardinal are already waiting, candles lit and sigils drawn on the floor.

The woman instructs them into place, around the circle of candles and explains the ceremony. He can't be bothered to pay much attention, he watches Aether pick up the cloaks for the ghouls-to-be and take place next to him. All Dew has to do is stand there and keep his mouth shut. Should be easy enough.

Imperator stands by the Cardinal as she shoves a book in his hands and reminds him of the incantations. He takes a hesitant step forward, gripping the ancient book in an iron grip that Dew can't help wondering if he'll rip the thing in half. Copia clears his throat nervously before he starts to read with a shaky voice. 

A small wind picks up in the room, slowly growing in intensity as the Cardinal reads until it turns into a tornado that takes out most of the candles around the summoning circle. He finishes the incantation and the tornado disappears, revealing two Air ghoulettes sitting in the middle of the circle, both looking just as confused as everyone else in the room.

Two?

Aether looks at Imperator, wanting confirmation before breaking into the circle. She gives a quizzical look in response and the Quintessence ghoul takes it as his unusual cue to go greet the newcomers. He offers them both a hand and gives them the two ceremonial cloaks he had with him. 

Dew watches as Aether greets them and exchanges a few words, getting them into place around the circle. Now is not the time for long winded explanations, they still have one ghoul to summon. The Fire ghoul fidgets nervously under his cloak. His heart feels like it's going to burst out of his ribcage at any moment, the anticipation slowly killing him.

The Cardinal lets out a dry chuckle while Imperator glares at him with daggers shooting out of her eyes. How do you mess up a spell that badly that you end up summoning two ghouls at once?

Copia does his best to ignore the Sister and flicks the book to another page for the next incantation. He looks up at Dew expectantly and the ghoul gives him a confused expression before he catches on.

Oh, right.

He walks around the circle and relights the extinguished candles with ease before taking his place again. The Cardinal starts to read again and Dew wonders what kind of small natural disaster he's going to conjure, this time around.

Everyone stares in equal parts of awe and confusion when the inside of the summoning circle turns into a puddle. No hurricane or tsunami, no downpour or thunderstorm. Just a puddle of stillwater. After a moment of absolutely nothing happening, the top of a head peeks out of the water, a curtain of black hair sticking to blue skin. A pair of curious amphibian eyes stare down the people in the room while the rest of the ghoul, if it even is one, stays completely submerged underwater.

Dew shoots a glance as Aether, who looks like he's at a complete loss of what to do in this new scenario. Before he even knows it, the Fire ghoul is kneeling in front of the puddle.

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

A voice calls out from beneath the surface and Dew has to fight every single atom in his body not to jump in the water right then and there.

“How you feel about getting outta there, right now?”

“Water's nice.”

“We have better pools.”

The pair of eyes blinks slowly at him. Dew's face becomes incredibly hot and he convinces himself it's from having everyone in the room watching him. A webbed hand with slender fingers reaches out of the water and he takes it, pulling the new ghoul out of the puddle with effort. He takes his own ceremonial cloak off and offers it to the newcomer, covering his naked form in an attempt not to ogle him so soon after being summoned.

“I'm Dew, by the way.”

“Rain.”

Rain. The Fire ghoul repeats in his mind. Sounds like home.

[shellshocklove]

brat two: i might say something stupid | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is continuing to have a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, use of pet names, smut, brat taming?, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, a little exhibitionism? a little dacryphilia, praise, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, edging, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: ok, so a part two to this!! i’m giving reader a backstory in this so if that’s not your cup of tea and prefer the reader to be a blank slate, then maybe this isn’t for you. as always i wanna give a little shout out to @dustydaddyyy for always helping me when i'm stuck! <3 i know it's demure fall soon, but there's still some brat summer left, so happy reading! 💚

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Joel.

Joel. Joel. Joel.

Joel Miller.

Miller. Miller. Miller.

The cicadas rattled in the breeze coming through the window of your childhood bedroom. It was hotter than Satan’s ass crack, and sleep couldn’t pull you under. The hem seam of your ratty sleep shirt was fraying, and you couldn’t keep yourself from picking at it – pulling at the threat.

Pull, pull, pull.

Joel Miller. That was his name on the mailbox, but he’d only told you Joel. Just Joel.

Yes, sir. Please, Daddy. Bye, Joel.

With a huff you sat up, your back resting against the headboard as your eyes rolled over the darkened room. The shadows shapeshifted before your eyes like ghosts, and you wondered if you deserved to be haunted.

It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours.

You could still feel the phantom stretch of his cock inside you, and your cheeks were sore from his spanking, but it was nothing compared to your thoughts plagued by him.

God, you felt crazy, like a little girl with a school crush on the teacher.

Except, you didn’t have crushes, didn’t like, or fall in love, with anyone. People had a crush on you, people fell in love with you, people liked you.

Biting down on the soft skin of the inside of your cheek, you ripped away the thin blanket covering your bottom half as your feet touched the cold hardwood floor.

The switch on your bedside lamp clicked as the warm glow seemed to scare the ghosts away. The ratty shirt fell over your knees as you walked across the room and flung open the door. A triangle of light cut the hardwood floor in two as you made your way down the hall and stairs. The slapping of bare feet against wood echoed against the tall ceiling, and eyes followed you from the faces on the wall.

Stepping into the kitchen, you were alone. Pierre had left right after dinner, and Eva had left early with her daughter. You didn’t like to keep them longer than needed, especially on weekends. Your father would pay them the same, anyway – and it was just you here.

You hated the other house. It was no place to live, it was a place of business, for politics. You hated this house too, but for other reasons – too many memories, plastered on smiles and lies. The dentist had told you to start wearing a night guard when they divorced, but you’d stopped wearing it when you went to college.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, you made your way over to the fridge. Your whole body felt heavy, your head rolling off your shoulder when something caught your eye in the backyard.

It was gone.

“Shit.”

An ice cube escaped the rim of your glass and split into a thousand pieces on the tiled floor. You pulled your glass from the dispenser in the fridge, and hunkered down, ice melting between your fingers.

With a sigh you watched the splintered ice vanish, dripping in an erratic rhythm that added to the small puddle on the floor. You didn’t want to feel like this. Why were you feeling like this?

You left the glass of ice on the counter– let the ice melt on the floor and escaped through the sliding doors into the backyard. The sky was bright with light pollution over the trees, and everywhere the buzzing of cicadas filled your ears. With a sigh, you fell into one of the chairs, the cushion stiff against your back as your eyes landed on the large oak. You trailed your eyes over the branches, the one’s you’d known every crook and cranny of when you were a child.

It was gone.

The small crooked, and probably dangerous, treehouse where you’d spent so many hours hiding away as a child. Not that they ever noticed, your parents, too busy yelling at each other to see where their daughter had vanished.

Of course it was gone.

Gone, like the happy little girl you’d used to be. And what had taken her place? A party girl? A mess of a woman hiding behind the disguise of a sharp tongue?

Jesus Christ, you needed to get your shit together. Distract yourself– pull yourself away from all the feelings you couldn’t control.

Shifting uncomfortably, you fished your phone from where it had drowned in the cushions. The bright blue light burned your eyes as you scrolled, pulling you from everything real to unreality. Plastered on smiles and perfect bodies, sunny beaches, and aesthetic photos. You handed out hearts like they cost nothing, and pretended you hadn’t seen your DMs.

Still, you couldn’t shake the thought of him. The way the weight of him had felt over you, how he’d spoken, voice rough and commanding, but still playful. It was like you were guided by a puppeteer when your thumb hovered over the google search.

Joel Miller.

You didn’t know what you’d expected – Joel Miller wasn’t a one in a million name, and now you were scrolling through every Joel Miller famous enough to throne at the top of a google search. But, you weren’t going to give up that easily. You moved on to Facebook. He was old, he’d have to have one.

Bingo.

There he was. A few years younger, his hair a little messy, smiling bright. His profile was private, and you sure as hell weren’t sending him a friend request, but something inside you screamed to know more about the man you’d let come inside you less than twenty-four hours ago.

You tried to click your way through his pictures, but there was nothing to see. Next, you tried the about page: Lives in Austin, Texas (this you obviously already knew)… born September 26th… Male… Single… You felt a smile tug at the corners of your mouth, as you continued to scroll... Works for Miller Contracting… And finally, his family: Tommy Miller.

His brother’s profile needed a lesson in internet safety. This man shared everything and all for strangers to see. You flicked through photos of neighborhood cookouts, date nights with his soon to be wife, the same graduation pictures of a girl you’d seen hanging on Joel’s wall.

‘Proudest uncle in the world! Congratulations, Sarah Miller! 😄❤️ The smartest and most talented Miller! 🙌’

Your finger hovered over his daughter’s name, curiosity gnawing at your insides. Shaking your head, you clicked away. You could own up to stalking his Facebook, and his brother had basically invited you to stalk, but his daughter? It felt like crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. Back on Tommy’s profile you noticed he also worked for Miller Contracting.

A family business.

Continuing your research, you clicked through to the business’ profile. The profile looked to be run by Tommy, with frequent updates on projects they’d worked on, from renovations to outdoor landscaping, to new condos, Miller Contracting had a broad resume, but the contact person was set to one Joel Miller.

A thought tickled at the back of your brain then, and your gaze flicked from your phone to the low-lit backyard. A smile you couldn’t fight back pulled at your lips.

The sun beat down on the men as they worked. A bright yellow dot in the clear blue sky. From your bedroom window you watched them, how they’d turned the previous green patch of grass into a deep moldy hole.

Convincing your father had been easy enough; he’d shrugged, and given his default answer to pretty much any request you had, which was a bored ‘Yes, sweetie.’ For years now, the rule of thumb with your dad had been: as long as you didn’t bother him and his busy schedule, he didn’t care what you did. 

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. As long as nothing you did reflected badly on him, and especially on the carefully curated image of ‘loving family man’ his constituents seemed to love so much, he didn’t care. The Governor of Texas couldn’t have his daughter’s bad decisions cost him votes, after all.

Your mother had always said it, always complained over her extra dry martinis, that your father only cared about one thing in his life, and it wasn’t his family. Your face soured as you thought about it. 

Votes. 

Your mother hadn’t been right about a lot of things in your life, but she had been right about this. Votes, and power. That’s all he’d ever cared about. It had been like that ever since you were a child, and over time, you’d learned to exploit that fact like you would a weakness, holding it as leverage over his head if he ever told you no, which he naturally never did. The agreement was silent, but clear as day; as long as you got your way, you would cater to his image, and behave. 

And you did; showed up when needed with a smile that hurt your cheeks, kept up his image, and in turn you got your way.

The swimming pool was just another ask in a long line of wishes. He’d questioned you at first, ‘You want to build a pool in the middle of summer?’ The pool you didn’t care for, it was the men who’d build it. You’d given your father your look, the one where you tipped your head down slightly, bit your bottom lip and looked at him with doe-y eyes. He’d had a landscape architect draw up something for you by the end of the week, and by Monday he’d had the city approve the changes to the premises. He’d given you a rise of his eyebrow when you’d pitched the contractors you wanted for the job, but nevertheless, he’d put his assistant on the job right away.

They’d arrived bright and early this morning, their shouts over loud machines pulling you from your slumber. You’d pulled your pillow over your head, dying to catch some more Z’s, it was summer break after all, but the pull of seeing him again was too strong. The excitement bubbled in your chest, and a satisfied grin spread across your face when you’d realized your plan had worked.

Joel Miller was in your backyard, standing under the oak tree with his hands on his hip, as he carefully watched over his crew. His work clothes fit him just as well as the t-shirt and jeans he’d worn at the club, but he looked less polished– his hair messier with a carpenter’s pencil tucked behind his hair. Your eyes trailed over him from where you watched from the house, how he moved about the site, helped his men when needed, evaluating every step, studying the drawings carefully as he ordered his men around with the same authority you’d come to know him for after the night you’d spent together.

If all of this went well, you’d have him again.

“Looking good, guys! But it’s a bit loud,” you shouted over the excavator, one arm raised to shade your eyes from the sun from where you stood at the edge of the veranda.

You watched how the men milled about, squinting up from their work at you. Their gazes lingered over your body, they weren’t subtle about it, and the little outfit you’d thrown together seemed to do its job, a short summer skirt with a matching top– it was hot out in the Texan sun, and you wanted to make it hotter.

“We’ve been disturbin’ your beauty sleep, princess?” One of the men spoke up, and your eyes narrowed at his use of the pet name. His grin was too confident, hiding his laugh between his teeth. You set your eyes on him and gave him a pitying look.

“Yes, actually! It’s hard work looking this good, but you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” you snapped back. A sound of snickering laughs from the men at their coworker’s expense could be heard through the yard, and you felt a saccharine smile cover your face.

“So, who’s in charge of all this noise anyway?” you asked, voice bored, when the laughter had died.

“You gotta take that up with Miller,” another one of the men replied, your first victim quickly forced into silence.

“And who’s that?”

The man nodded his head in the direction of the man you’d weaved into your web. He didn’t look impressed where he stood under the shade of the oak tree watching you. He had his arms crossed over his broad chest, the fabric stretching around his biceps, as he shook his head at you as you walked closer.

“Mr. Miller.” You couldn’t help the pleased smile spreading across your face.

Clasping your hands loosely behind your back as you pushed your chest out innocently, you slowly stepped closer, his jaw clenching tighter with each of your careful steps through the grass.

“We’ll try ‘nd keep the noise down f’ya until nine am, Miss, but after that we’ll need to use our bigger tools if ya want this done before the summer ends.” He kept his voice steady and professional, his southern drawl like soft silk in your ears. His eyes never left your face once, even with the deep neckline of your top.

Standing a little too close to him, to be considered appropriate for someone who you’d just met, your teeth caught on your bottom lip coquettishly. “Oh, I want you to use your big tool that’s for sure.” It sounded ridiculous, and you had to bite down harder to keep from bursting out laughing.

Joel didn’t seem to think it was funny. Something flickered in his gaze, before it hardened, eyes boring into yours as he asked you through his teeth, “Whatchu think your doin’, huh?”

You shrugged playfully with an exaggerated sigh, “I don’t know, Mr. Miller, isn’t it obvious?”

“Oh, ‘s obvious alright.” He shook his head in disbelief, and looked away for a beat, before his eyes found yours again.

“It’s so hot out this summer,” you continued your jest with a hooked finger along the hem of your shirt, tugging at it, “I just wanted something to cool down.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “‘m sure you did.”

Continuing your game, you widened your eyes in an attempt at feigning innocence, “But I don’t mind breaking a sweat if need be.”

“’nd how do you like to break a sweat, princess?” he asked, putting pressure on the nick name his men had given you.

“Oh, I think you already know that, Mr. Miller.”

Joel’s eyes hardened as the flirty words fell from your lips. Shifting his weight from one leg to the other he raised a finger at you. “Listen’ up, brat,” he told you in a lowered voice, “Ain’t nothin’ more happenin’ between us, you understand? It’s inappropriate– you’re my employer and I don’t do that shit.”

It was almost too easy. Biting back a smile, your thoughts wandered back to the last time you’d had him like this; riled up, and willing to put you in your place. A slick wetness coated the gusset of your panties, already, at the thought.

“I understand, Daddy.”

With a sigh Joel turned away from you with a shake of his head, muttering under his breath, “You’re ridiculous.” 

You were, he was right. But it was so fun. 

A smirk tugged at your lips when he turned back to look at you. He wanted to say something, you could see it in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands fidgeting on his hip, but he changed his mind as he shook his head again. 

Victory had never tasted so sweet.

All week you’d played a game of cat and mouse with Joel. One day you’d ignored him completely as you flirted with the crew, exaggerating your laugh at jokes that weren’t even close to being funny, and touching too many sweaty biceps to count. Then the next you never left him alone, buzzing like a mosquito in his ear asking all kinds of silly questions, slipping in an innuendo or two, and teasing him for a reaction other than an annoyed grunt.

He’d have to break at some point. You could see it in his eyes. He might play the annoyance up, but there was a softness to the way he looked at you. It was there– you weren’t making that up!

The sound of the juicer buzzed in your ear as you chewed on your lip. Your hand rested lazily on the kitchen counter as you stole glances out the window as you waited. Pierre was quiet as he worked, only throwing a curious glance your way every once in a while, as he mixed together the jug of lemonade you’d requested.

The day had scorched since early morning, and you’d had no choice but to throw on your skimpiest bikini. A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth at the thought – well, there was more appropriate outfits for this heat, but you didn’t want that.

What you wanted, was to get your brains fucked out.

You’d played all your cards right, but nothing had seemed to make Joel simmer over with a need to put you in your place again. In the need for a new plan, you hoped showing off your body to all his men while serving them a nice cold glass of lemonade would do the trick, hoping he’d get jealous. The pool had already started to take shape, and your time was starting to run out.

“Here you go, ma belle,” Pierre slid a newly filled jug of ice-cold lemonade down towards you over the marble, “let me know if you need anything else, yes?”

Nodding your head in gratitude, you lifted the jug onto the tray you’d prepared, “Merci, Pierre.”

Slipping carefully through the sliding doors you made your way across the veranda to place the tray on the outdoor dining table. The tray was heavy, and you moved fast to make sure you didn’t spill the lemonade all over yourself.

“HEY BOYS!” you shouted over the sound of the heavy machinery, waving a lazy hand at them, beckoning them closer like a siren. “I hope you’re thirsty,” you laughed.

A low whistle could be heard as they came closer. Eyes lingering on your skin, trailing over your body as they gathered around the table, helping themselves to the citrus-y delight.

“If this ain’t the sweetest thing I think a client has ever done for us,” Tommy smiled as he helped himself to a glass, “You mind if I take a picture of this setup? To post on our Facebook page.”

You shook your head, “Take as many pictures as you like,” you told him, but your eyes wandered.

Joel had hung back, walking slower behind the rest of his crew, and was finally walking up the couple steps to the veranda. His work boots echoed over the planks as he walked closer. He didn’t seem happy as he locked eyes with you, his eyes quickly rolling over your almost naked body.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, you poured him a glass; the ice cubes splashing as you poured, cold drops splashing and coating the skin of your exposed chest. Joel pretended he didn’t notice, but you saw the way he looked at you. You’d seen that look so many times, eyes hungry and desperate for something they knew they couldn’t have, shouldn’t have. The only difference this time was that you’d let Joel do whatever he wanted to you.

“Here, Mr. Miller–”

Your voice was cut off by the sound of a phone ringing at the loudest volume. The suddenness of the sound made you jump, spilling the glass of Joel’s lemonade all down your hand and chest.

“Yellow,” you heard Tommy shout into his phone.

“Oh, oops,” you said, your voice laced in an innocent laugh. Drops of sticky lemonade ran down your body, darkening the fabric of your bikini, and making your skin shine with wetness under the Austin sun.

Looking up from your body at Joel, your teeth caught on your bottom lip at the way his jaw clenched, his eyes running down your body like they were drops of lemonade. You laughed again, sugary sweet as you made a show of placing the glass on the table, spreading your arms like you didn’t know what to do.

“Y’need to be more careful, sweetheart,” Joel mumbled as he fumbled for some napkins from your tray.

You shook your head at him when he handed them to you, instead you ran a finger up your chest, catching the drops and sucking the cool drink from your fingers, slowly, licking up every drop. It was bold, and you couldn’t contain your giggle when Joel’s eyes widened at you. It was quick, the wave of shock at how blatantly you’d flirt with him like this, before it crashed into the shore with a stern look. The other men had to be looking too, you could feel the way their eyes burned your skin, but you only cared about one man’s warm eyes on your body.

“That was so clumsy of me,” you giggled, the laugh forced and too sweet, but it didn’t matter, Joel didn’t buy it either way.

“’m sorry ‘bout that,” Tommy’s voice boomed, as he hung up the phone, “It was the missus– or soon to be missus.”

“Oh, you’re getting married?” you queried, the lemonade soaking you forgotten now that the moment had been ruined. Beside you, Joel picked up the glass you’d tried to hand him, drying the sides with the superfluous napkins.

“Yes, ma’am,” Tommy beamed, “tyin’ the knot this Saturday in fact.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful,” you smiled, an idea popping up in the back of your head, “Congratulations!”

“Thank you, thank you,” he beamed, taking a big gulp of the lemonade.

“So…” You stepped closer to Tommy, leaning your hand against the table. Joel’s eyes followed you, you could feel it, so you sneakily popped your hips out, giving him a nice view of your ass. “What’s the plan? Big church wedding?”

Tommy laughed, “Don’t know ‘bout big– we’re doin’ one of those barn weddings, you know? Out on a ranch and everythin’, they got it all on those big ranches nowadays.”

“Really?” you smiled, “Which ranch?”

“Oh, it ain’t far! Only ‘bout a fifteen-twenty minutes’ drive from downtown. Pecan Grove Ranch it’s called. They even got these nice cabins on site, for accommodation– which is nice for close family and those who’ve traveled far. You know, Maria’s family ain’t from Texas, so we got lots of folks flyin’ in.”

“Is that her name? Maria?” you asked. The way Tommy’s face lit up when you mentioned her name made your heart squeeze.

“Yeah,” he nodded, “love of my life she is!”

“I need to talk to you.” Joel cut your conversation off while his hand snaked its way around your upper arm, tugging you lightly towards him. When you turned your head to look at him, one eyebrow raised, his face shifted into a deep frown. “’s ‘bout the tiles,” he grumbled.

A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Finally.

You excused yourself to Tommy, and let Joel drag you with him. Throwing your head back you watched how the rest of the crew enjoyed their small break in the shade sipping on Pierre’s lemonade.

Joel crossed the yard in big steps, making a beeline for the shed tucked away in the back corner of the yard. He pulled at the door harshly, like it couldn’t happen fast enough, and pushed you inside. The door to the shed slammed shut behind him and covered you both in a cool darkness. Your eyes relaxed as you adjusted from the bright daylight to the dim lighting – the only light coming through a small window almost completely overgrown with climbing vines. Joel’s grip around your arm loosened as he pushed you deeper inside.

Taking small steps, you looked around, eyes scanning over the room as a thought of how you couldn’t remember the last time you’d stepped a foot inside the shed crossed your mind. It was hidden away in the corner of the garden, overgrown in a tasteful way, like how you’d see in garden magazines. These days the only person who used it was the gardener, if the miscellaneous tools and garden machines were to be believed.

“Put your hands on the table,” Joel ordered, his voice a low hum.

Outside you could still hear the shouts of his men, laughter, as they lounged about on their break. Every one of his men had seen you step into the shed together, and the thought sent an electric bubbling feeling straight to your cunt.

“Y'got cotton in those ears, girl? Put your hands on the table.”

A shiver traveled through your body, and you had to bite down on your lip to hold back your smile. Finally, finally, finally. With your back turned to him, you shook your head slowly, daring him to put you in your place again.

And Joel took the bait.

His rough hand slid over your waist as he stepped closer. He let it glide across your exposed skin, the dried lemonade sticky as he teased you. His rough hand slid upwards, hooking a finger under your bikini strap, slowly, pulling at it before he unhooked it, letting it fall to the concrete floor.

“Aren’t you gonna behave, princess?” he spat out the new nickname. “Didn’t I teach ya last time what happens when you ain’t a good girl f’me?” The low bass of his voice ghosted over your ear and had your blood buzzing under your skin.

His rough hands continued to explore you, gentle touches over your skin, getting you worked up, but never where you wanted his hands the most. When he pressed himself against you, letting you feel the hard shape of him through his work pants, you let your head fall against his shoulder with a content sigh.

“No, Daddy,” you shook your head.

Joel couldn’t hold back his groan at that word. The gentle hands who’d explored your body, tightened across your chest, pressing you tight into his chest as he bucked his hips harshly into your ass.

“I think I did,” he spoke into your ear, “broke that pretty brain on my cock, didn’t I, and now that greedy cunt wants more, ain’t that right? Can’t get enough of this big cock?”

A breathy gasp escaped you when he bucked his hips against you again, and you shook your head.

“That’s what I thought.”

The speed at which he moved almost gave you a whiplash. He pushed you against the table along the wall, your hands coming down to brace yourself as he pressed your chest down and put your ass, covered only by your skimpy bikini bottoms, on display for him.

“Such a slut for cock she can’t be a big girl and ask for it– no, princess, you’re so desperate for it, you make me come all the way to your rich daddy’s house, bring my crew and everythin’ just so I’ll fuck you again.”

Joel laughed and you couldn’t help but squeeze your thighs together. “That’s ‘nother level of desperate, ain’t it?”

You felt a heat spread across your face at his degradation, but it just turned you on more, and Joel knew it. He trailed a finger down between your cheeks, pressing down to feel how you’d soiled your bikini bottoms in your arousal.

“But that’s just what you are, aren’t you? A desperate whore dyin’ to get fucked?”

The hand between your legs vanished, and you braced yourself for a spanking, holding your breath as the excitement grew, but the slap of his rough hand never came. Instead, he unhooked a rope off the peg board in front of you.

You resisted a little when he grabbed your hands, slipping your hands from his grip playfully, your face turned to watch how his face grew sterner. The tired, disappointed sigh it earned you made you smile.

Gripping both your hands tightly, he crossed one wrist over the other before he tied them together at the small of your back, and you let it happen. Under your skin, the anticipation buzzed. With nothing to help you brace yourself, the hard surface of the table pressed harshly against your naked skin.

“Hey,” Joel’s voice was suddenly gentle as he cupped your face and turned you to face him, “you remember our rules?”

A small ache stung in your heart. Our.

You nodded, “I say ‘red’ or pinch you if I want you to stop.”

A pleased grin spread across his face as he tapped at your cheek gently, “That’s a good girl, baby.”

His hand slid down your body, from your face down your neck, from your neck over your shoulder, and then from your shoulder down your naked back. “How’s this?” he asked, hooking a finger under the rope, “Not too tight?”

You shook your head, or tried to, with the way your cheek was mushed against the table.

“Words, princess, need to hear ya say it f’me.”

The softness in his voice when the pet name left his lips, made a fluttering feeling bubble in your core, and it was hard to fight the grin from pulling at your lips.

“Am I your princess now?” you asked with fluttering eyelashes, “I thought I was your desperate slut?”

Behind you, you could hear Joel let out a deep sigh. A finger traced small circles over your ass, making goosebumps blossom over your skin, before it hooked into the band of your bikini bottoms, tugging them slowly down and exposing your wet cunt to him.

“You know,” Joel sighed again, pausing to let the sound of his fly being undone fill the space between you. You almost moaned at the sound, pushing your ass out, desperate for any kind of friction. “I was plannin’ on bein’ nice t’you, but now…”

The blunt head of him pressed against you, running it up and down your cunt, coating it in your slick arousal, and you almost held your breath. The anticipation like a fist around your chest. Your heart drummed in your chest, almost drowning out the wet slick sound between your legs.

“I don’t want you to be nice,” you almost whispered, your fist tightening around each other at the small of your back.

“I know, princess…” he whispered back, and pushed at your opening, “I know.”

He was too big, the girth of him splitting you in two on his cock. It burned deliciously, and you savored every inch he gave you until he was fully seated inside you. Only then were you able to whimper out a moan, your breath finally released.

His hands gripped your wrists like a handlebar, something to hold on to, something to guide you back and forth on his cock. He pushed himself even deeper, releasing a deep groan in your ear as he leaned over you, the weight of him heavenly as he made room for himself inside you, his heavy balls pressed against you.

This was what you’d wanted. Just to feel him again like this.

“Shit…” you sighed, eyes almost rolling back into your head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered in your ear, “get a cock in you, and you turn into a good girl f’me.”

You wanted to push back, to give him something to prove him wrong, but you had nothing.

“Please,” you whispered, your eyes squeezed shut tightly.

“Please what, princess?” You could hear the smile in Joel’s low rumbling voice.

“Fuck me, sir,” you pleaded, “Fuck me, Daddy, please.”

“Oh, now she’s askin’ nice.” Joel pulled back and thrusted back inside in one hard thrust, pushing your body against the table, a line surely indented in your skin by now.

A whimper fell from your lips.

Joel started fucking you slowly, but hard, the table rattling with each thrust, one hand wrapped around your wrists to keep his balance. Under him you couldn’t fight back your moans, small content squeaks escaping you when he pressed himself firmly against your ass, burying his cock deeply inside you with every thrust.

“That’s it, slut, that’s a good girl,” Joel praised over you, “takin’ that cock so well, princess.”

The world started blurring around the edges with each thrust, a soft, warm feeling wrapping itself around your heart as he thrusted inside you. You were dying to touch your clit. His cock reached so far, pressing perfectly against your g-spot with each push. You were so close. If you could just touch your clit.

“P-please,” you mumbled lowly, your face scrunched tight as you clenched around his cock.

Joel grunted behind you and stepped away. You could almost cry, and maybe you did because rough pads ran over your cheek as he shushed you.

“No-no-no, it’s okay baby,” he mumbled, “calm down.”

“Please,” you tried again. Please let me come.

“I need you to do somethin’ f’me,” he told you as he guided his cock back to your ruined entrance, slick with want.

“I’ll do anything you ask,” you hurried.

“Anythin’?” Joel rubbed his cock up and down your slit as a slick sound filled the air.

“Anything.”

Behind you, Joel laughed, and pushed inside you again, making a big smile spread across your face.

“Alright, princess,” he said with a hard thrust, “what you’re gonna do f’me is when you feel like you’re close, you’re gonna tell me, tell your Daddy, alright?”

You nodded into the wood, head almost delirious with want, “Okay.”

“You wanna feel my cum inside you, don’t cha, want me to fill y’up to the brim?” His voice was so soft, almost soothing, as he fucked you hard.

“Please, Daddy, want you to come inside me, please.”

A grumbling laugh escaped Joel as he continued his harsh thrust – your skin clap clap clapping together as he hauled you towards the edge of your orgasm. It built deep in your core, coiling in on itself as he brought you closer and closer and closer.

“Joel,” you gasped, “I’m gonna come.”

Quickly, and without warning, Joel pulled out, leaving you trembling, and on the edge.

“No, you ain’t,” he told you sternly, “you’re gonna hold it.”

A rough hand smoothed over your right ass cheek, small taps to your skin reprimanding you as he rubbed his cock over the other, soiling you in your own desperation.

You felt like you were heaving for breath underneath him, eyes squeezed tight as you tried to stave it off.

“That’s it,” he praised, “that’s a good girl. Hold that orgasm f’me.”

Focusing on the way his hand rubbed over your skin, you tried to calm down and steady your breathing. It could’ve taken a minute or an hour, you didn’t know, but the feeling of falling over the edge of bliss fizzled out slowly. Joel leaned over your body, whispering praises into your ear, telling you how good you were for him. When you’d calmed down completely, you lifted your head to look at him, to catch his eyes.

Blown out and big, the warmth of them looked back, a deepness to get lost in. A small smiled tugged at his lips before he leaned down and peppered a soft kiss to your shoulder. It lasted only a second, but it made fluttering wings expand in your tummy.

When he pushed inside you again, your tied hands reached for his. His thrust came quicker than before, sloppier, as he chased his own high, his hand interlaced with yours.

“God fuckin’ slut,” he rambled.

“Takin’ that cock so fuckin’ good.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ come– gonna fill that cunt up.”

With a hard slam of his hips against your ass, pushing himself as deep as he could, Joel came inside you with a deep grunt. “That’s it– take all that fuckin’ cum inside.” A warmth filled you from the inside as his cock twitch inside you, coating your walls in thick spurts of his cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, as he thrusted his cum back inside you, making sure he’d emptied himself completely before pulling out, sliding his softening cock from your denied cunt.

“Joel,” you whispered, but he didn’t hear you, too busy with tucking himself back into his work pants, and pulling up your bikini bottoms, soiling them in his cum starting to leak out of you.

“What about me?” you asked, confused, as he undid the rope around your wrists.

“What ‘bout you?” he repeated, helping you up and turning you to face him.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest as he took in your disappointed face, a large hand coming up to cup your chin. “What?” he teased, “don’t like your punishment?” He padded your cheek and pulled away, picking up your bikini top from the floor.

“’f you’re gonna act like a fuckin’ brat– havin’ your daddy hire me to have an excuse for seein’ me again, when you could’ve just called, then you’re gonna get treated like a brat, you understand? You gotta earn your orgasm, and you ain’t earned yourself nothin’ prancing around half naked in your garden while I’m trying to work, princess.” 

With that, Joel threw you your bikini top, and you barely managed to catch it between your fingers before you watched him walk out the shed, leaving you half naked, as his cum leaked down the inside of your leg.

part three -> here!

hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[mxltifxnd0m]

drunken words ↼ d. winchester

summary: drunk you isn't the best at keeping their mouth shut

pairings: dean winchester x reader, dean winchester x gn! reader, platonic sam winchester x reader

requested: yes/no: by @traiitorjoe; thank you for sending your request!

word count: 3.0K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', none really, some cursing, a little bit of fluff, sam being a meddling little shit, some angst, kinda edited

a/n: i got this request in july and i felt so bad for having put it off for so long but here we have it! there is a potential for a pt.2 so if anyone wants that lmk lol

but enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog!! your feedback fuels me!

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

Dealing with the Winchesters always felt like a Herculean task when you would run into them while you were on a hunt. The first time you ran into them was when they barged into the farmhouse that you were staking out for a nest of vampires. They went in, guns blazing, and you cursed them out under your breath as you hurriedly left the hiding spot you were in and rushed into the nest to help them clean out. 

It was safe to say that they were surprised and confused by your anger when you guys had killed all of the vamps. You didn’t recognize them at first when they first ran into the farmhouse, but now that you were standing there and really looking at them, you instantly knew that these were the infamous Winchester brothers you’d heard from Bobby and other hunters.  

Regardless of who they were, you were furious that they had messed up the hunt that you were on, and they were on the receiving end of your fury while they looked at you dumbfounded. After you were done yelling at them, you left the farmhouse fuming and decided to leave them with the cleanup job. 

The brothers were so confused by you that they didn’t even think to ask for your name. They also were slightly scared by your fury, and they failed to realize that you clearly knew who they were, but they had no idea who you were, only that they had taken over your hunt and were really mad about it. Dean only hoped that he wouldn’t run into you ever again. 

But as fate was a fickle thing, you would run into the brothers on your next hunt in a small town in Oregon, where a witch was terrorizing the men of the town, and it just so happened that you had arrived at the station the same time they did. You had to play along with them until you got the information you needed, and then when you tried to leave the station before them, a hand slammed your door before you could get into your car. 

You turned around to be met with emerald green eyes filled with irritation and thinly veiled curiosity. 

“Did you need something Winchester?” You said with a scowl etched into your face. 

Dean scoffed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah, answers. Who the hell are you?” 

“What’s it matter to you?” 

“Because you’re a hunter and we could use some help on this case.” Sam interjected, and your eyes were ripped away from the man in front of you. You almost forgot about the taller Winchester that was lingering behind Dean. 

You raised an eyebrow at Sam while Dean’s head jerked over his shoulder and glared at his brother. Sam stared back at his brother with raised brows, sending him a look that said, ‘What? It doesn’t hurt to ask.’ 

“I don’t think your brother here is keen on working with me.” 

“You’re damn right I’m not. You went off on us for no reason and left us to clean up.” 

You couldn’t help but smirk at the thought of them cleaning up the plethora of severed heads and bodies from that farmhouse. But you ignored Dean's words as you contemplated the offer Sam was proposing. 

“Fine I’ll help, but you’ll have to follow my lead on this one.” 

Sam nodded, agreeing with you, and sent you a dimpled smile. 

Dean opened his mouth to protest but was cut off by you slicing the air with your hand in front of his face. 

“Zip it Winchester, either you listen to me or I leave you high and dry on this hunt.” You waved around the copy of the case file that you convinced the Sheriff to give you before leaving the station. 

Dean all but glared at you and stomped towards the black Chevy Impala that was parked down the street. You couldn’t help but smirk at Dean’s grumpy attitude, and Sam told you which motel they were staying in and followed them to it. 

With three heads instead of one (more like two since Dean barely did any research and stuck you and Sam with it), you guys found the witch in no time and disposed of her swiftly. You had to admit that working with the brothers was more manageable than working on your own. But you knew that this had to be a one-off occurrence because you had heard about all of the craziness that surrounded the Winchesters. You were not keen on being pulled into any of it. 

Once the hunt was over, Sam gave you his number and told you to call if you needed help or vice versa. You took it to be polite, but you knew that you weren’t going to call them unless your life depended on it. The three of you went your separate ways before Destiny decided to play her games, and somehow, you ended up working on most of the hunts the brothers were working on. 

It’s like some higher power wanted you to work the Winchesters against your better wishes. Alas, you ended up working with them every time because you couldn’t resist Sam Winchester’s pleading puppy dog eyes. But you got on quite well with Sam, and he slowly became a good friend of yours. 

But your relationship with Dean, on the other hand… Well, let’s just say you had a mutual hatred for each other. You guys practically fought like cats and dogs anytime you interacted, and the two of you couldn’t help but let snide comments leave your lips each time the other was wrong or messed up. Both of you bickered like an old married couple that should have divorced a long time ago, so much so that Sam had to be the mediator constantly if you were to work with the brothers. If he hadn’t, he wasn’t sure if you were either going to throw a punch or fuck each other. 

Dean Winchester is an incredibly infuriating man, and you hated that you found him attractive. It wasn’t lost on you that both of the brothers were hot, like they should be on the cover of a magazine hot, but there was something about Dean that drew you to him more. You didn’t want him to know that, so you hid your attraction for him through your sarcastic demeanor. Eventually, Sam had enough of your bickering that held so much sexual tension that he locked the two of you in the motel room he and Dean were sharing until the two of you could have a civil conversation. 

Sam had left the two of you for a couple of hours. He was half expecting to find the two of you naked in Dean’s bed, but when he unlocked the door, he saw the two of you on separate beds and watching a random movie that was playing on the TV in the room.

In the time that Sam was gone, you guys had bickered and gotten in each other’s faces, but you eventually admitted that it was tiring to keep up the fact that you didn’t exactly hate Dean since the moment you met him and to your surprise, he admitted the same thing. After that, you guys sat on separate beds, finding some common ground between the two of you, and watched whatever was on the TV. 

After that incident, the two of you still argued like a married couple, but there wasn’t any heat behind your words, and it turned into friendly banter between you and the older Winchester. Months went by, and you found yourself as the unofficial third partner to the brothers, accompanying them on the majority of the hunts that they picked up.  

You didn’t know how it happened, but to your utter shock and horror, along the way of becoming friends with Dean Winchester, you developed feelings for him. Of course, you had no idea when you started to feel like this around Dean. Sam was perceptive, caught onto your change in behavior, and had basically interrogated you when he saw you glare at the woman Dean decided to take home that night, trying to ignore the stinging sensation in your chest as he left the bar the three of you were at. 

You had vehemently denied that you felt anything for Dean, but all Sam said in response was a shit-eating grin and gave you a look that said, ‘Yeah, you’re lying, and I know it.’ 

Once Sam had figured out that you liked his brother, he stopped at nothing to leave the two of you alone in hopes that you’d put on your big kid pants and admit your feelings towards him (spoiler alert, you never did). As much as you loved Sam, you honestly wanted to punch him in the face every time he urged you to tell Dean about your feelings. 

You knew that Dean wasn’t a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you definitely knew that he wasn’t one for love or relationships, as evident with the women he picked up at bars after successful hunts. Did your heart clench any time you saw the satisfied smirk on his face the morning after the night out at the bar? You wouldn’t admit it to anyone but yourself, but yeah, it did. 

Now, after a successful hunt, you and the Winchesters found yourselves at the bar across the street from the motel you were staying in. The three of you were at a booth at the corner of the bar, and you had gotten the first round of drinks for each of you. But when Dean volunteered to grab the third round (Sam had gotten the second one), Sam said he was turning in for the night and shot you a sly smile, and you knew exactly what he meant by it. You glared at him briefly before telling him goodnight through gritted teeth (Dean had seen this interaction between you and his brother and was confused by it but brushed it off).

Sam left, and Dean turned to you. “Still want a drink?” He asked. 

You nodded in response, and Dean shot you a small smile before his knuckles knocked on the table, and he made his way toward the bar. A couple of minutes had passed, and Dean wasn’t back from the bar. You looked up from your empty glass to see him being chatted up by a woman dressed to the nines, and clearly, Dean was into her. 

You let out a harsh breath before shaking your head, getting up from the booth, heading to the opposite side of the bar Dean was at, and ordering a vodka soda. You downed in quickly and told the bartender to keep the drinks coming. You didn’t know how many you had until you heard a gruff voice telling the bartender to give you water instead of another drink. You could vaguely recognize Dean’s voice through your drunken haze. 

You turned around in your seat to see Dean right next to you with furrowed brows. “You alright there, kid?” 

Dean hadn’t seen you this drunk before, so he was half concerned but also half amused by the cute pout you had on your face. 

“M’not a kid.” You slurred out, irritated. You hated the nickname that Dean had given you; you weren’t much younger than Dean, you were the same age as Sam. 

“Then why are you pouting like you didn’t get the candy you asked for?” Dean asked, his tone amused. 

You couldn’t help but scowl at him and look around for the woman he was talking to earlier. “Where’s the girl-*hiccup* you were talking to?” You questioned, dazed. 

Dean’s face had scrunched up. “Turns out she plays for the same team.” He muttered lowly, but you managed to hear it through the bar chatter. 

You couldn’t help but burst out in drunken giggles at Dean’s failed attempt to take someone home. Dean looked at you, slightly embarrassed, but couldn’t help but smile at the sound of your laughter. 

“Okay, we should probably get you back to your room.” Dean coaxed you off of the bar stool you were sitting on before paying for the tabs and leading you out of the bar. Dean had tucked you into his side as you walked on wobbly legs across the street to the motel. 

Once you reached your room (which was coincidentally right next to the boys’ room). Dean asked where you had your key. You were leaning into Dean, so his question was spoken into your ear quietly, and it sent a shiver down your spine. 

“M’back pocket.” You mumbled out. 

You didn’t see this as your eyes were closed as you rested your head against his shoulder, but his eyes widened at the realization that he’d have to grab it from your jeans pocket. 

“If you remember this in the morning, please don’t punch me, I swear I wasn’t trying to cop a feel.” He had muttered something else under his breath, but you were too out of it to notice what he said. 

Dean managed to get your room key out of your pocket and unlocked your door. He led the two of you inside, and when you saw your bed, you quickly ripped yourself from Dean’s embrace and fell face-first into bed, uncaring if you were still in jeans. 

Dean chuckled at you, and you looked up at him with a pout. “Are you laughing at me?”  

He shook his head, trying to stifle his amusement. “No, of course not.” 

You squinted suspiciously at him before sitting up and pawing at your combat boots. You were fumbling with the laces until you felt a warm hand cover yours. You looked up and found Dean kneeling on the floor in front of you. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he untied your boots for you and pulled them off of your feet. 

“You’re pretty.” You couldn’t help but blurt out drunkenly. 

Dean laughed, his green eyes sparkling with mirth. “Maybe I should get you drunk often, maybe you’ll compliment me more.” He sent you one of his smug smirks before standing up and heading toward the small kitchenette in your room.

He filled a glass with water before heading to the bathroom. He grabbed some aspirin that was stored in the medicine cabinet (you had no idea that he knew where you stored your painkillers). He came over to the bed with the water and painkillers and set them on the nightstand.

As he was bustling around your room, you had managed to wiggle off your jeans and get underneath the covers of the bed.  You looked at Dean underneath the warm lighting of the lamp that illuminated the room. His freckles were prominent in this lighting, and you couldn’t help but stare at his side profile. 

Dean noticed your intense gaze on him and smirked down at you after setting the water and aspirin on your nightstand. “See something you like?” He gently teased. Dean felt his hand twitch, trying to resist the temptation to brush back the stray hairs on your forehead. 

“Mhm, I like your face.” You smiled in a drunken bliss before your eyes fluttered. “I like you a lot actually.” You said before you felt the pull of sleep tug at your eyes. 

Your eyes shut, and your breathing evened out as you succumbed to sleep, leaving Dean standing in shock next to you. He looked down at your sleeping form before shaking his head. He’d deny the fact he felt his heartbeat quicken at your drunken admission. Dean quickly left your room and entered his shared room with Sam. 

Lucky for him, Sam was sound asleep in his bed, and Dean quickly got ready for bed, trying to ignore the fact you may or may not have shared the same feelings as he did. 

You woke up with a groan. Your head was pounding. You saw through your bleary eyes that there were some painkillers left out with a glass of water right next to them on your nightstand. You sat up as quickly as you could and grabbed the things off the nightstand. You downed some of the water before taking the aspirin and then drinking the rest of the water. 

You put the glass back on the nightstand before crawling back under the covers, wanting to let the ache in your head subside slightly before getting ready for the day. But fate was not on your side because pounding came from your door, making pain shoot through your head, and Dean waltzed into your room with a bag of food and a wide smirk on his face. 

“Rise and shine, kid!” He said enthusiastically. 

You shot up from your spot on the bed and glared at him. “I hate you. And stop calling me kid.” 

“Well, that’s not what you said last night.” Dean smirked knowingly. 

Your heart dropped to your stomach; what the hell did you say last night? “What do you mean?” 

Dean placed the food on the table before leaning on its edge. “Do you not remember what you said last night?” 

You shook your head. “Nope. Last thing I remember was you leading me out of the bar.” 

Dean's smirk faltered. He wasn’t expecting that. “You don’t remember anything at all after that?” 

“No. Why did I say anything important?” 

Dean cleared his throat, trying to seem nonchalant and hide what he was actually feeling. He shook his head. 

“Uh, no. But I got you some grub, we’re gonna head out in 30 so be ready then.” He said stiffly before leaving the room. Not looking at you once before the door closed with a click. 

You stared at the door, confused. That was probably the most awkward Dean had ever been around you. But you shook it off and decided to pack up and eat the breakfast Dean got you. 

You’d figure out what you said to Dean later. 

[thischarmingmandalorian]

Learn To Share

Teacher!Joel Miller x Teacher!Reader

Summary: Your new coworker is a thorn in your side, until he isn't. This is my entry into @auteurdelabre Trope Off 2024! The tropes I chose were: Only One Bed, Stuck In An Elevator, Office Romance (kinda?), and Love At First Sight IF YOU SQUINT.

Pairing: Gym Teacher!Joel Miller x History Teacher!Reader

Warnings: No-no words, unprotected piv(but not to completion!), facial, cum eating, big on the pet names (doll, baby), reader is a grump, Sarah is mentioned because she is alive and I won't have it any other way. In true Vee fashion, I've read this so much that if I proofread it again I'll get too embarrassed to publish it, so sorry for any mistakes, they're my fault.

Word Count: 6.2k

Your week starts much like any other - arriving at work early on Monday morning to hog the copy machine closest to your classroom.

You were a creature of habit. Each Monday you'd set your alarm a half hour early and skimp on your morning routine in order to get to work at an ungodly hour. You were always one of the first people on your school's campus, and that's how you liked it. You had a system, a schedule: check mailbox, make copies, make and drink your first cup of coffee. This routine was what set you up for success for your week, and you wouldn't let anything get in the way of your rituals.

Until this Monday. This Monday, the new gym teacher gets in the way.

It's 6:15 when you saunter into the teacher's lounge, reams of paper tucked under your arm. Your headphones blare the newest episode of your favorite podcast; if you hadn't been listening, you'd have heard the copy machine's telltale whirring from down the hall, but mercifully, the story keeps you oblivious.

Until you turn the corner into the teacher's lounge and walk right into the broadest man you'd ever met. You shriek, tugging one ear bud out and craning your neck to stare up at the face of whoever is encroaching on your morning.

Fuck, he's handsome.

But fuck, he's using your copy machine.

The mystery man smiles down at you warmly, extending a warm hand for you to shake. "Mornin' miss. Joel Miller, teachin' gym and coachin' the wrestlin' team!" You shake his hand (it is Texas, and you were raised right) and give him your name. You're sympathetic to Joel's plight, you really are - showing up to a new school right after Christmas is hard, you knew that as well as anyone. But he was also throwing off your Monday ritual. It was all you could think about. So instead of a normal, polite response, the next words that left your mouth were less than welcoming:

"I use that copy machine on Monday mornings."

Joel's polite smile falters and he drops your hand. The energy of the entire room changes. "My apologies, miss. Didn't realize there was a schedule."

"Oh, no, there isn't a schedule. It's just… what I do. Part of my Monday routine, y'know. So, how many more copies do you have before I can cut in? This is really throwing off my morning."

"'Bout a hundred? You know, you're the first colleague I've met besides the principal who hired me?"

You're not sure why he's mentioning this, or why he didn't use the copy machine closer to his classroom. "Oh, ok? Hey, in case nobody's told you, there's a copier much closer to your office, it's right…"

"Listen, miss," Joel cuts in, gently grabbing the hand you were using to point down the hall and placing it, palm down, in between his two giant hands, "it's my first day at a new job. My daughter spent the holiday with her mother and I haven't seen her in 3 weeks. I'm nervous, I'm sad, and I showed up here early for some quiet time to get ready for the week, same as you. And honestly - and I'm sorry if I'm bein' too forward here - but honestly, you're being an asshole."

You rip your hand away from his grip, scowling. "Fuck you, dude." You turn on your heel, sarcastically telling your new colleague to "have a nice semester" as you stalk out of the copy room.

You go home that afternoon determined not to let Joel Miller ruin the rest of your school year. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you melt into your couch in front of the TV, determined to reset your week in the morning.

Tuesday gets worse before it gets better.

Tuesday you tweak an old back injury getting out of bed and it takes ages just to get dressed. You gingerly slide your backpack over your shoulders and in the car, you resign yourself to the fact that you're going to have to use the elevator to get to your classroom.

Your school's elevator is rickety, unreliable, and you're claustrophobic; you avoid it at all costs. But there's no way your lower back will allow you to get up the stairs this morning.

Unfortunately when you cross the courtyard to the elevator door, Joel Miller has beat you there, already having pressed the button. When he sees you, he smiles on instinct (because it is Texas, and he was raised right), though you see it falter when he realizes it's you he's about to be stuck in the elevator with.

"Havin' a better mornin' today, miss? Or did someone ruin this one for you, too?"

You roll your eyes and scoff. "Not in the mood today, Miller. Hurt my back, and honestly, after yesterday, you're not really the person I want to share an elevator with."

It's Joel's turn to scoff. "Don't worry, doll, the feelin's mutual."

You cringe at the pet name, and mercifully the elevator door groans open, inviting you in. Joel puts his arm out to hold it open, ushering you in ahead of him. You retreat to the far corner, making yourself as small as possible, foolishly wishing you could manifest yourself out of this awkward situation.

The door closes and you push the button for the 3rd floor.

Nothing happens.

You push again. And again. And ten more times in rapid succession.

Still nothing.

Except the lights in the elevator turn off, leaving you and your new arch enemy stuck together.

This is worse than yesterday morning.

Joel, much more level headed than you, pulls out his phone to call someone for help. You hear the principals voice, tinny through the speakerphone. "Hey, Miller. What's up?"

"Mornin' sir. Look, myself and one of your History teachers are stuck in the elevator. We were trying to get to class and the whole thing shit the bed. We're in here, no lights, buttons ain't workin'. How deep is the shit we're in, boss?"

The principal asks which history teacher Joel's stuck with, and you let him know it's you through gritted teeth. "I'm, uh, not doing too well in here, sir," you admit, trying not to hyperventilate.

The principal sighs on the other end of the call, which is not a good sign, "sorry to hear that, but we've gotta call someone from downtown to come fix it, and that could take… an hour at least?"

You tense up, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "Well, that sucks, sir," you admit, voice shaking. The principal chuckles, agreeing. He promises to call downtown right when he hangs up, and tells you and Joel to hang tight in the meantime. He also lets you know that he'll send subs to both of your classes, which does little to alleviate your anxiety - your morning classes are feral.

Joel thanks the principal and hangs up, groaning as he wipes a hand across his face. "Might as well get comfortable, doll. Sounds like we'll be stuck here a while."

You gingerly peel your backpack off and maneuver your way onto the floor, sitting with your back against the wall. You wince as you try to stretch your tweaked muscles and breathe deeply, trying not to panic.

"You gonna be ok, miss?" Joel asks, a tone of genuine concern in his voice as he follows your lead, lowering himself into the corner opposite you.

"Just… don't talk to me, please. My back hurts, I'm claustrophobic, this is the second morning in a row that hasn't gone my way…" Joel rolls his eyes, but shushes you gently.

"It'll be fine, doll. Just breathe. Want me to distract you?"

"Stop calling me 'doll,' Miller. And absolutely not; don't get any ideas."

Joel barked out a laugh. "Come on, doll, we're stuck in an elevator on a high school campus. What ideas do you think I'd have? What's your problem, anyway? You've been nothing but shitty to me since we met."

"Look, if you haven't noticed, I'm really Type A. I have certain things I need to do in order for my days and weeks to go smoothly, and you threw off my groove yesterday. I use that copy machine every Monday morning, everyone knows that."

"And how exactly was I supposed to know that? It was my first day! Did you ever stop to think that you threw off my groove yesterday? My first day at a new school and the first person I see treats me like shit - that was fucked up, doll."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. You hated that he was right. " Look, Joel, I'm sorry. Really. I didn't mean to ruin your day. I should've been nicer to you. Can we start over?"

"Of course. Good morning, miss, name's Joel Miller. This is my second day of school. I teach phys ed, coach wrestling, and I'm a single dad to a freshman named Sarah who goes to school in the next town over," Joel rattles off. You can see his hand reach out for you to shake in the dark. You take it, shaking firmly with a smile. The first smile Joel's seen cross your face.

You tell Joel your name like it was the first time. "I teach United States history, sponsor the creative writing club, and I have two cats at home who will actually eat my toes if I'm stuck in here past dismissal and they don't get their dinner on time."

Joel guffaws as he releases your hand and your smile widens. It feels good to start over. "Well it's good to meet you, doll. And forgive me if this is too forward, but you said you hurt your back?"

You nod. "I tweaked an old injury this morning and it hurts like a bitch."

"So, I know how this is gonna sound, and I'm not tryin' to be weird, but my degree is in sports medicine. While we're stuck, d'ya wanna see if I can fix it?" Joel lifts his hands, palms facing you, in an attempt at innocence. "No weird shit, I promise. But I know back pain can be a real bitch."

You feel your face flush, happy for the darkness and hoping that Joel won't notice. "What… how would you…" your mouth goes dry and the elevator suddenly feels warmer.

Joel extends his hand out to you again, inviting you to make your way to his corner of the floor, situating you between his outstretched legs. His incredibly long outstretched legs, covered in a pair of gray sweatpants. You'd always silently judged gym teachers for their ability to dress comfortably while you were expected to look a little more put together, but you weren't mad at Joel today. You crossed your own legs and put your palms flat on your knees, hopefully sitting far enough away from Joel that he doesn't feel the heat radiating off you - this is the closest you'd been to a good looking man since… a long time ago.

"So, I'm gonna have to put my hands on you, doll, but I can do it over your shirt, no funny shit. Just tell me where it hurts."

"So it's like, lower? On the right side?" You struggle to explain, flustered at the close proximity. You move a hand from your knee to gesture in the general direction of your back pain, accidentally brushing Joel's knee with your fingers. You push your fingers into where your back aches, rubbing a slow circle before Joel swats your hand away.

"I gotchu, doll. Now, I'm gonna start tryin' to get this knot out of your muscle. If it hurts, let me know. If you want me to stop, say so." You nod and feel the prod of Joel's fingers at your back. The pain is awful and you hiss, trying to take a deep breath but finding it difficult. "'Salright, miss. 'M gonna fix it, just bear with me. In the mean time, what are your cat's names?"

You answer, Joel laughing at how ridiculous the names are. You ask if he has any pets and he says no. "Sarah's more than enough for me to handle. She just turned 15 and is… a handful. I love her, but my god. Teenage girls are somethin' else. Do you have any siblings?"

You tell Joel about your sister who lives in the Midwest, and you hear all about his brother Tommy and the antics Joel always has to help get him out of.

You and Joel spend the next hour and a half learning all there is to know about each other. He continues to knead at the knotted muscle in your back as you chat, learning all about each other's lives, childhoods, failed relationships. You learn that Joel isn't much older than you, but had his daughter young. You tell him about your ex-boyfriend and why his number is now blocked from your phone. All the while the principal is in constant contact with you both, keeping you updated on when the repairman will be on campus (as soon as they can), how your classes are going (poorly), and profusely apologizing for the two of you bring stuck. It's actually not so bad, though, which is not something you'd have anticipated when the morning started.

It's so not bad that when the elevator door opens and you're free, you're actually a bit disappointed. You both stand, thanking the repairman and gathering your backpack. You notice that your back doesn't hurt anymore. You turn to Joel and thank him for his help, and for his company. "Look, I know I said that you weren't someone I wanted to share an elevator with this morning, but all things considered, this wasn't the worst way to spend the morning. I'm glad we were able to start over."

Joel smiles as you both step out into the sunlight of the courtyard. "Feelin's mutual, doll. Hey, give me your phone?" You raise an eyebrow but hand it over anyway after tapping out your passcode. You watch as Joel puts his number into your contacts. "Don't go blockin' this number, now," he quips as he hands you the phone back. You can't help but roll your eyes, but you smile and promise him you won't, giving a short wave as you turned in the direction of your classroom.

During lunch you decide to text Joel while waiting for your leftovers to microwave.

11:05: Hey! It's your new BFF - not sure I thanked you for un-fucking my back. I really appreciate it. Didn't think I'd be able to sleep tonight with that pain. You really saved me :)

11:08: Hey, doll! No big deal - glad I could help you out. Hope you'll be able to get your beauty sleep tonight. Not that you need it.

11:08: Oh shit. Was that too much? Was that weird?

11:08: I made it weird, right?

You snort out a laugh that reverberates through your empty classroom, and decide to make Joel squirm a little. You wait far too long to respond.

11:15: Stop overthinking and eat your lunch, weirdo :p

The next few days go better than the beginning of your week. You're not usually one to make friends at work, but you start to eat lunch with Joel; you'd deny it if asked, but hearing him knock on your door makes your day better. You can't believe that just a few days ago, you thought Joel had ruined your day. He's the nicest coworker you've ever had, and he goes out of his way to prove that. He's also the hottest coworker you've ever had, but you're not ready to go there.

Joel gets a perfect opportunity to be that perfect colleague on Friday. He finds you standing at your car in the parking lot after school, crying and angrily hanging up your phone.

"Doll? What's wrong?"

You watch Joel's face fall as you swipe tears from your cheeks. "It's not a big deal Joel. There was something going on this weekend that I was really excited for, and I was about to head there now to beat the traffic and my car won't start," you sniffle, kicking your tire gently.

Joel places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you close to him. He wraps an arm around your middle and uses his other hand to nestle your face into the crook of his shoulder. "Where ya headed, baby? I'll take ya wherever you need to go," he promises in a whisper close to your ear. You know how this looks, two colleagues hugging in the parking lot of their job, and you know it'll start people talking. But you're not sure if you care.

"It's silly. But an author I really like is giving a talk about his new book at this store in the city tomorrow, so I was headed there to see him. I booked a hotel for the night and everything," you explain, another pitiful sob catching in your throat.

"Hey, it's OK, doll. We'll getcha there. Let me make a phone call real quick, but meantime, grab what you need from your car and get in my truck." You begin to protest but Joel peels you away from him, holding you by the shoulders at arms length. "Let me handle this for you," he says, voice even, no room for argument. You nod and sniffle once more, turning to grab your overnight bag from the back seat.

As you get comfortable in Joel's truck, you watch him on the phone. He has his free hand on his hip and one knee juts out to the side as he explains your dilemma to whoever is on the other end. After a few minutes he hangs up and joins you in the truck. "Alright, doll. My brother knows a guy with a tow truck, and a mechanic. Coincidentally, they both owe Tommy a favor. I got him to cash those favors in for you. Let's get you to the city, and by the time you're back, your car should be good as new."

Fresh tears threaten to fall. "Joel, that's too much, at least -" Joel puts a hand up in front of your face, silencing you.

"Nothing is too much for you, alright? Nothing. If you wanna thank Tommy later, he accepts payment in beer. But I don't want to hear anything right now except the address of the hotel I'm bringin' ya to."

That shuts you up quick, and you reach for Joel's phone to type the address into his gps.

Luckily the hotel isn't too far away, because being in Joel's truck, coupled with the kindness he's just shown you have stirred something in you that you haven't felt in a long time. The conversation flows effortlessly, and whatever sadness and disappointment you had felt before Joel had stepped in to save your weekend were long forgotten.

"Alright, doll, this is your stop. Grab your things and get outta here. Text me when your talk is over tomorrow and I can come getcha. Sarah's still with her mom so I'm free all weekend," Joel explains. If he were being honest with himself, he didn't want to see you go. If he were being honest with himself, he's been in love with you since that Monday - as rude as you were to him, he couldn't help his feelings for you. But he resigned himself to the fact that you didn't feel the same as he pulled into a parking spot and pushed the gear shift all the way up.

"Joel?" Your voice is quieter than you wanted it to be, a little more whiny than you meant it, and you see a vein in Joel's neck start to bulge as he turns to you. "I know how this is gonna sound, and I don't mean to be… forward? But if you're just going to come get me tomorrow, why not just stay here for the night? With… with me?"

Joel starts to sputter an excuse, but you interrupt: "I booked a room with two queen beds! I like to have one to keep my bags and stuff on, but honestly, let me save you the gas," you put your hands up, palms facing him like he had done in the elevator, "no weird shit. I promise."

Joel sighs, hands gripping and kneading at the steering wheel. He seems… conflicted? But after a few seconds he pulls the keys out of the ignition. "Fuck it, yeah, that's not a bad idea, doll. Thank you."

"It's really not a big deal, Joel. We can head in, get dinner, and go to sleep facing different directions in our own beds. Totally normal."

"Alright, alright, but I'm payin' for dinner," Joel relents as you both walk through the hotel doors towards the check in desk. You give the woman behind the desk your information, sliding over your credit card and license, but she will not tear her eyes away from Joel, and it's making you… jealous? Which is a weird emotion to feel about someone staring lustily at your friend. You push the feeling down and try to focus on what the woman is telling you about check out, amenities, and then she tells you that you've been upgraded to a nicer room, free of charge. She winks at you knowingly, but you're confused. You're only here for a night, why would you need an upgrade? And why is this lady winking at you?

You find out the answer to these questions when you open the door. You and Joel stand in the doorway of the hotel room, neither of you sure what to say. Not only does it look like your view has been upgraded - your floor-to-ceiling window and balcony overlook the city skyline and adjacent water - but in place of your two queen beds stands… just one king sized bed.

Joel senses you tense up and gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, "'salright, doll. I'll head out and come back and get you tomorrow like I'd planned."

"No! I mean… that's silly, Joel. Don't go all the way home just to come all the way back. You can go, but let me get an Uber home," you put your palm against Joel's chest reassuringly.

"No way, that's way too far a ride.

'S gonna be so expensive. Tell ya what, doll: I'll stay, I'll buy you dinner, and I'll call the front desk askin' for more pillows. We'll make a wall between us to sleep. No weird shit."

You nod, agreeing, "no weird shit."

"Great," Joel sighs, that vein popping out of his neck again. "Put your stuff down and let's find some food."

When you and Joel return from dinner, there are five extra pillows sitting on the king bed. You chuckle at the sheer volume of them.

"Think they sent up enough for us to make an impenetrable weird shit forcefield?" you joke. This whole day has turned ridiculous, you might as well have a good sense of humor about it. Though, if you were honest with yourself, you wouldn't mind a little weird shit; it was hard to admit, especially since you'd been so mean to Joel when you first met, but you were maybe starting to fall for him. But his whole commitment to "no weird shit" let you know those feelings were one-sided.

"I think we'll be fine, doll," Joel chuckles as he walks to the bed, pulls the covers down, and lines the pillows up the middle of the bed. He fluffs each one before he pulls the covers back up, "see?"

You step around the bed to lay on your side, head propped against the headboard and remote in your hand, "this'll definitely work. Now, for everyone's favorite hotel pastime: trashy reality tv!"

Joel groans, but smiles gently as he lays on his own side of the bed. You watch as he gets comfortable, crossing his legs at the ankle and lacing his hands behind his head. "Tell me about this book you're hearin' about tomorrow, doll," Joel asks, pulling you away from whatever mindless show you've put on for background noise.

"Ooh! I'm so excited, let me tell you everything!"

As you drone on excitedly about your favorite author and his new book, you can't help but notice the way Joel looks at you. He's a really good active listener, but there's more to it; he's actually interested in what you're saying. He reacts to your words, asks questions, and his eyes seem to light up watching how excited you get.

"I'm glad you're so excited for tomorrow, doll. But it's late; maybe we should get some shut-eye," Joel suggests when he senses you've hyped yourself up to the point of exhaustion. His face softens and his stomach flips when you yawn, rubbing your eyes tiredly and covering yourself with the blankets. He can't help but swoon internally as he watches you huddle into your pillow, fidgeting until you're fully comfortable. Joel turns over to shut the bedside lamp off, freezing when he hears you call out to him softly.

"Joel?"

He turns his head in your direction, muttering a short "hmm?"

"Before you find out the hard way, I have a hard time falling asleep. I get real fidgety. I never know what to do with my hands."

Joel turns the light off and turns his body toward you, peering comically over the weird shit barrier. "What do you need from me, doll?"

"Can I… does holding hands fall under weird shit?" You punctuate your question with an outstretched palm resting over the pillow wall.

Joel makes himself comfortable before reaching for your hand in between two of the pillows, lacing his fingers with your own. His thumb rubs soothing circles into your palm, "how's this? Helpful?"

You nod, closing your eyes and sighing deeply, thanking Joel with a reassuring squeeze of his hand.

You're not sure when you fall asleep, but for once, it doesn't take forever. You wake in the middle of the night, though, startled by the TV you'd left on switching from reality trash to a loud infomercial. You look around frantically for the remote, clicking the power button forcefully. Your heart still racing from waking up so fast, you make your way to the bathroom for a drink of water.

When you walk back to the bed, you can't help but stand on Joel's side and stare down at his sleeping form. His face is angelic, so calm, and his body is curled in on itself, hands pulled under his chin. At some point while you slept he had taken his shirt off, and you made a note to memorize the smattering of freckles on his shoulder. His pants, those fucking gray sweats, hang dangerously low on his hips. You resist the urge to touch him, to run your thumb across his plush lower lip, and try your best to tear yourself away.

You almost succeed.

"Like whatcha see, doll?" Joel's groggy voice breaks the silence, a sleepy smile spreading across his face.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Joel. Would you believe it if I told you I was sleepwalking?"

Joel's eyes finally open as he chuckles, "I wouldn't believe that, no. But you didn't answer my question."

You roll your eyes, "if I didn't like what I see, would I be standing here gawking at you?"

Joel holds his hand out to you, and when you take it he pulls you closer to the bed, "whatcha gawkin' at, baby?" His gentle smile had turned teasing, almost feral, and his brown eyes grow somehow darker. "These?" Joel brings your hand to his lips, kissing the pad of your thumb gently. "This?" His hand drags yours down the column of his impossibly thick neck, fingertips brushing over his bobbing Adam's apple. He's stretched out to his full height now, laying on his back, watching your eyes intently as he continues to pull your hand lower and lower. "Gawkin' at these, doll?" Your fingers are trailing down Joel's abs, dipping into the valleys between each muscle.

You're mesmerized. You can't break the spell of Joel's gaze on you, of his gravelly voice, of his touch. "Joel…"

"'S ok, baby. Want you to look. Been waiting for you to see me," Joel drags your hand to the waistband of his sweats, stopping to gauge your reaction.

Your fingers twitch, wanting so badly to dip below that waistband, but confused by Joel's words. "I do see you, Joel."

"Not like I see you. You see me as a colleague, a friend. Someone you eat lunch with. You don't see how I feel about you. If you did, this wouldn't be a surprise to you."

"Joel, do you think I'd have asked you to stay if I didn't feel the same way? Think I'd be standing here if I didn't? Do you think I'd…" you trail off, letting your actions speak. You take the lead, slipping your hand, still entwined with Joel's, past the waistband of his sweats to palm at him through his boxers. Joel groans quietly, bucking up into your hands. You feel him grow harder beneath you as you let him guide your hand around him through the thin fabric of his boxers. He unlaces your fingers and places his hand on top of yours, curling it gently against his length. His hips buck again and your hands twist together on the upstroke, your thumb catching right beneath the head of Joel's cock. He hisses, removing his hand from his pants and grabbing both your hips, maneuvering you on top of him, grinding you down against him. Your hands grip his shoulders as you lean down to kiss him, frenzied, messy. You move to trace your tongue across the freckles that had so mesmerized you a minute ago as Joel brings a hand from your hip up to the back of your neck.

"Shit, doll. Need to see you," Joel breathes into your ear as he toys with the neckline of your shirt before he pulls it off over your head; the world seems to stop spinning as he watches your tits spring free. Joel dips his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth, palming at the other, pinching gently. You moan softly, and the sound goes straight to Joel's cock, growing impossibly harder.

"Joel," you whisper, his response coming as a quick bite to the nipple in his mouth. "More, need more… need you."

Joel unlatches from your tits and grabs at your shoulders, rolling you both over and right into the wall of pillows. As you both maneuver yourselves around them, you giggle "these didn't really work, did they?"

Joel chuckles before he grabs two of the pillows, giving you one to place under your head. He wraps one arm under your waist, pulling your entire bottom half off the bed as he places the other pillow under your lower back. "Guess not, doll, but we'll put 'em to good use. Tell me whatcha need."

You shimmy out of your bottoms, tossing them somewhere to find later. You hear Joel's breath hitch as he drags his eyes down your whole body. He places his hands gently on your bent knees, giving a slight push and encouraging you to open yourself to his gaze. You don't resist, your legs falling open. You take one of Joel's hands, dragging it from your knee and up your inner thigh. You feel his fingers flex as they slide up your thigh, feel them try and stall when you drag them through your glistening arousal. "Need you here, Joel," you whimper, pushing his fingers against your clit and encouraging him to circle it agonizing slowly.

Joel is entranced. His eyes can't look away from your dripping core, mouth going dry as he sees how you flutter at even his most gentle touch. He uses his free hand to swat yours away, and he continues his slow strumming against your clit. "Lemme hear you, baby," he grunts, "who makes you feel good?"

"You, Joel. Fuck, feels so good," you writhe on the mattress, hips rolling, aching for more of Joel. "Inside, please, need you inside," you whine, grabbing for the waistband of Joel's sweats to pull them down, his heavy cock springing free. You can't help but stare, needing to touch him without the confines of any fabric. You try to fit your hand around him, but can't get your fingers all the way around; you give an experimental stroke, reveling in the way Joel's fingers slow to a stop on your clit, in the way he finally pulls his eyes away from your cunt to gaze at your hand struggling to fit around him. He watches as you swirl your thumb across his leaking tip, muttering a soft, "goddamn." He watches as you line him up with your entrance and he notches the tip in, holding a hand firm on your lower stomach to hold you still.

"Gotta see you come first, doll. Gotta hear you," Joel whispers, dropping his head so his ear rests close to your mouth. His fingers resume their firm circles on your clit, resisting the urge to thrust his length into you. He listens to you moan softly, revels in the steady stream of warm breath that fans against his face. He whimpers, actually fucking whimpers, when you deliver a gentle nibble to his earlobe.

The whimper is what does it. That fucking whimper sends you over the edge. Your vision whites out, your upper body lifts off the mattress, and you sob into Joel's ear, "I, fuck, Joel, I'm…"

"I know, baby, I know you are," Joel coos as he rocks his hips harshly into yours, sheathing his full length inside you in one quick thrust. You grab a discarded pillow, putting it over your face to muffle the loud moan that escapes you. "That's it, baby, shit, you're takin' me so well."

The praise makes your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Joel sets an unforgiving pace, heavy balls slamming into your ass, his hands under your thighs, pressing your knees up to your chest.

You're so full of Joel, so fucked out already, you start to babble. "So - so sorry I was mean to you, Joel. Don't deserve - shit, so fucking good - don't deserve this."

"Know how you can make it up to me, doll?" Joel asks through gritted teeth. You stare up at him, searching his face for an answer. "Gimme another one, baby. Come all over my cock again and I'll forgive ya. You can do it, come on," Joel continues his encouraging monologue as he pounds impossibly harder and faster into you. He pushes two of his fingers into your mouth and you diligently suck. Joel removes his fingers with a wet pop and pushes them right back onto your clit. He doesn't move them until you beg. "Where ya gonna want me, baby?"

You blush. "My face, Joel."

That fucking whimper again.

You see stars. The pillow is back against your face as you shriek in ecstasy, going rigid before going completely limp against the pillows under you. Before your orgasm had a chance to subside, you feel empty, pussy fluttering around nothing as Joel shimmies up your body, cock in hand. He grabs the pillow from over your mouth and throws it away from you.

"Open up, baby, gonna come on that pretty face."

You moan, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, keeping your eyes on Joel until you feel the first warm splash hit your tongue. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel Joel poke your cheek with the head of his cock, stroking as it spurts wave after wave of hot spend against your skin. His voice is gruff, whispering "oh my God, doll," and "so fucking pretty covered in my cum."

After what feels like an eternity, Joel moves from on top of you. You feel him drag two fingers through the mess on your cheek, then place the fingers onto your tongue, groaning quietly as you lick and suck his fingers clean. He chases the taste of himself, leaning down to kiss you, his tongue invading your mouth, battling yours for dominance. When he pulls away, you whimper; Joel chuckles. "You're a mess, baby. I'll be right back."

You hear the sink running in the bathroom, then feel Joel swipe the remaining mess off your face with a damp washcloth. When he's finished, you open your eyes, committing his post-fuck face to memory. He's flushed, tired, but wears a goofy, lopsided smile. His eyes are back to their everyday deep brown, big and warm, but crinkled at the edges from his grin.

You're too tired to look for your clothes, pulling the blankets over you, reaching for Joel as you feel him lay down beside you. He lays on his back, pulling you against his side.

"I meant what I said, Joel. I am sorry for how I acted when we first met."

"Doll," Joel chuckles, "'m gonna need you to keep being that mean to me, if this is how you apologize."

[squigglewigglewoo]

Can I request for where Yandere dazai is down bad for reader/fem. That when reader finally allows him to have her, he rips multiple orgasms and keeps her panties for later use..

(✧) warnings: half of these warning depend on his you see the fic, perv behavior, slight noncon, possible drugging, intoxication, alcohol, mentions of stalking, mentions of violence, yandere behavior, manhandling, overstimulation, possible manipulation? Dazai not listening when you say no more, dacryphilia, slight blood play? sadistic dazai bc have you seen that man? he was literally in prison and has 138 counts of aggravated murder, no way he's not a sadistic fuck. mentions of masterbation, mentions of head (male receiving). fem bodied reader, pet names, degradation, praise, sugar coated degradation, Dazais a liar, mentions of chuuya, dazai literally covers his darling in marks, bruises, bites, hickeys, cuts, claw marks, hand prints. readers mentioned to wear a dress, I wrote this with my cunt and it's not proof read. lowercase writing, english is my first language but I suck at it(beware, shitty gramer), bare with me. ik ur reading this bestie, u a little freak but ily<3 NSFW below the cut, MDNI, ageless blogs will be blocked!

(✦) summary: oh, when you finally agree, although with a little bit of help from being under the influence, who is Dazai to say no? 519 words~

(✧) (a/n): I'm sorry I've been silent for so long! got a little too silly and almost got sent to a mental hospital, I'm back though!! exams are coming up so if there's radio silence again, I apologize!! this'll be short, it's 3:46 and my anemia is killing me.

(✦) pairing(s): yandere!Dazai x fem bodied!darling!reader

(✧) listening to~ Poison by Bell Biv DeVoe

the empty sake bottle forgotten on the ground, Dazais hand eagerly undressing you and near tearing your sundress off as he presses you onto the couch, your head thrown back against the armrest, head spinning from both Dazais lips on your neck and the affects of the alcohol. you usually don't get drunk this easily, nor does your head spin like this. what was going on?

"it's alright, pretty girl, I got you, I'll make you feel good." Dazai shushes you whimper and squirm, one hand firm on your hip, the other slides up your back, unclasping your bra and kneading at your breasts. his hands rest at your hips once more, pulling your panties off and stuffing them in his pocket, a little keepsake for later. he kisses you, his grasp tight on you as he bends and folds you, his belt falling to the floor before he rams into you, making you cry out from the sudden wave of both pain and pleasure.

your legs wrap around his waist, his lips swallowing your pained moans as he fucks you at a brutal pain, murmuring something about "god, you're taking me so well.. should've done this ages ago if you felt this good the whole time.." that your fuzzy, intoxicated brain can't understand. done what? what's he talking about? Dazais nails dig into the fat of your thighs, your pussy squeezing around him as he fucks your cervix, making your tummy twist and turn, your body flushing. cumming with a loud cry, you claw at his clothed back, the man having been to impatient undress himself, whining out for him to stop, that it hurts, and he only laughs, fucking you harder, and you feel another orgasm build up.

"c'mon, didn't you want this, why're you asking me to stop now? don't you wanna feel good?" he taunts, his nails drawing blood, his hold so tight it bruises your thighs. his eyes gleam at the sight of your tears and the small pearls of blood, kissing the tears away as they roll down your cheeks. he kisses you, pulling away and licking at your swollen, red lips, and he can't help out Imagine what they'd look like around his cock. he'd kill anyone else who even thought of you like this, he was sure of it, you where his, his belladonna and his alone.

what will chuuya think when he sees you with Dazai, covered in hickeys and bite marks that the brunette most definitely isn't going to let you hide, why would you, anyways? there's no need to hide if he's the only man your seeing, right? Dazai cums inside you as your second orgasm rushed over you just minutes after the first, Dazai slows, pulling out and watching his cum flow out of your abused hole before flipping you over, sliding right back into your cunt and grabbing the fat of your ass, squeezing as he leans over your figure, whispering in a hushed, near scolding tone. "oh, you didn't think we were done, did you? we still have the whole night left, sweetheart. get comfortable, your not getting a break any time soon."

masterlist!

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[iamespecter]

I know you probably gave up on the Glamrock Chica AU as Gregory's guardian, but I personally think you should continue. Many people prefer to do it with Roxy or Monty, and there are very few with Chica as the guardian. I think this AU of yours has the potential to be very good.

sigh.... I still love Glamrock Chica...

but I feel like the whole universe is against me at this point for being a Chica fan and I just know that either 1.) no one's gonna pay attention to a Chica-based AU, or 2.) just shit on it because it doesn't match the popular headcanons.

So unfortunately, My Guardian Chica AU is cancelled.

If you would like to know the rough concept of it that I've written down because you're curious, then click "keep reading" to read below the cut.

The Guardian Chica AU is actually a simple morality test.

Beginning:

It starts off with the normal SB route: Freddy is the child's starting guardian, and he is helping the child escape. Chica is under Vanny's control, and is actively fighting against this, but is too powerless to break free from the virus' hold.

... Until Fazer Blast. Freddy and the kid find themselves on the catwalks, where a glitching Chica with an axe has them cornered. Freddy, not knowing how to end this peacefully, decides to bring Chica down with him while removing the chip that's causing her to be controlled in the first place.

Chica then wakes up, and Freddy is HEAVILY damaged because he (mostly) cushioned her fall. Chica, still not fully herself, hallucinates Freddy as Vanny; and she begins tearing him apart out of frustration and fear, ripping his head off because she wanted to see who was underneath the Vanny mask.

THIS is where the story begins. You take control of Chica (instead of a kid protagonist), where Chica must ensure the child's survival, and get them out in time for 6 AM. But there is a catch.

The more you use brute force, the more Chica's morality goes south. And you'll always have two choices, either which you:

Kill the Day and Nightcare Attendants to gain access to the Daycare, or use their environmental weaknesses (the light, and the darkness) to refrain them from catching the kid.

Eliminate the PARTY PASS BOTS to get into a venue much easier, or find PARTY PASSES, while avoiding the kid's hunters.

Destroy SECURITY BOTs to lessen chances of the kid getting spotted, or use the BOTs' blind spots strategically to prevent them from alerting anyone.

Refrain from attacking Roxanne Wolf and let her take one of the chicken's eyes, or defend yourself and damage Roxanne Wolf enough to send her running back.

You will then encounter Montgomery Gator, who is now guarding Gator Golf with an iron fist. Monty will taunt Chica for the remainder of the boss fight:

either telling her how WEAK and COWARDLY she is because she isn't fighting back (Peaceful route);

being confused about her methods because it feels like she's constantly changing her mind (neutral route);

or praising her for finally, FINALLY using her features for something "worthwhile" (morally numb route).

But regardless of what path Chica has chosen, Monty will end up revealing a morbid truth as yet another taunt: that he killed Bonnie, because he wanted his spot in the band. And that he'd kill Bonnie over and over again, if it meant he would remain popular. That now Freddy has been reduced to nothing but a head, HE'LL be the number ONE.

And regardless of what path Chica has chosen, Monty will ALWAYS end up dead.

and depending on how much you've been using brute force, Freddy's head will either:

Be BEYOND mortified by Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, but believes she can still refrain from doing this in the future (peaceful route)

is taken aback by Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, and is starting to doubt Chica's capacity of ensuring the kid's safety (neutral route)

Gets angry at Chica's decision to kill Monty without mercy, and refrains from speaking to her. (morally numb route)

Roxanne Wolf is then up next, and depending on how you reacted to earlier choices, you can either:

Convince Roxanne that she doesn't have to do this, that she doesn't have to keep living under Vanny's shadow out of fear and don't strike her (peaceful, only possible if you let Roxanne take Chica's eyes)

Fight and defeat Roxanne but spare her, making her go rogue and not choosing any side between Vanny or Chica (neutral)

Kill Roxanne emotionally and physically, taking her eyes as revenge (morally numb, only possible if you defend yourself)

ENDINGS/POSSIBLE ROUTES

The "MORALLY NUMB" ending (bad):

You chose the easier path and ignored Freddy’s plea, let Chica kill Security Bots to keep the kid safer in the plex, kill Roxy as well out of pure anger for taking out her eye, and take her upgrades for yourself.

Freddy begins to be distrustful of Chica, and soon even resent her and her actions at the end.

This leads to Vanny getting killed, but not without consequence.

Freddy will ask Chica to leave him behind instead of following her any longer. He can’t bear to see the monster that has become of his friend, and Chica will comply with his request, leaving Chica numb.

Chica’s objective becomes less and less of keeping the kid safe, and more of the desire to get revenge after what happened to her and Bonnie.

Semi-open ending.

"You were no better than them. Better to leave me here to rot, than to accompany you on your bloodlust." - Freddy

The "GUITAR HERO" ending (neutral):

You chose to listen to Freddy’s plea, Chica retains her moral codes, and keep the kid safe the harder way.

Vanny is turned in to the authorities to be helped with her mind control situation, and her plans are thwarted until a new "Vanny" shows up.

Chica DOES NOT manage to get Roxy in your side, and Roxy will act rogue, picking no sides this time.

The Pizzaplex does not burn down. Instead, Monty, Chica and Freddy are replaced by Mr. Hippo, Happy Frog, and Nedd Bear.

Chica, Freddy and the kid runs away from the plex to live on their own, but still end up dying via energy depletion.

"You promised to stay with me... why did you lie instead?" - the kid

The "SUPER POPSTAR" ending (good):

You chose to listen to Freddy’s plea, Chica retains her moral codes, and keep the kid safe the harder way.

Uncover the shady past of Fazbear Entertainment, uploading their dirty secrets onto the internet, shutting them off for good. (this guarantees this ending)

Vanny is turned in to the authorities to be helped with her mind control situation, and her plans are thwarted for good this time, no Vanny comes replacing the old one.

Chica progressively gets more and more damaged as time goes on.

Chica manages to get Roxy on your side.

The Pizzaplex burns down.

Chica deactivates amidst the flames, with Freddy by her side at the very, very end.

The route ends with Roxy and the kid finding Chica’s body after the fire, and she takes her head along with Freddy’s.

The most ambiguous ending out of the three.

"Don't blame yourself kid. It's not what they would've wanted you to think. Not what she would want you to think. (...) We'll find a way. That's a promise." - Roxy

....Yeah, the Guardian Chica AU has no happily-ever-after ending. Sorry.

[xsister-serpent]

Whispers Of Power

Summary: Y/N, a gifted Force-sensitive student at Luke Skywalker’s academy, struggling to control a rare power called “The Voice.” Their bond with Ben Solo deepens as they explore their abilities, but a dangerous confrontation reveals Ben’s darker tendencies and Y/N’s growing dominance.

Years later, Y/N is part of the Bene Gesserit sisterhood, having mastered her powers. When Supreme Leader Kylo Ren arrives, specifically requesting Y/N, their shared past resurfaces, setting the stage for a fateful and powerful reunion.

Warnings: Dark chapter/ Intro, Bullying, Eventually this is have smut but it will be tagged as so/ Slowburn/ y/n is a bit prideful but every woman should be/female reader pronouns/ A/N at end Word Count: 1954

Flashback: Planet Ossus 

You were in the quietness of space now. Your eyes closed, and you felt your soul within the low, pulsating heartbeat of the Force. Your senses heightened—picking up the shuffle of birds and the shifting blades of grass. This was your solace, a small hideaway from the other students, who you knew were secondary in Luke’s Academy. Except for one student: Ben.

You knew something had changed in you, and you were certain it wasn’t just puberty. You felt it the day you met Luke and his nephew Ben on your lush, oceanic home planet of Pelagora. Something cracked in your psyche a month after settling in—something even Ben couldn’t understand.

But little did you know, you could use it. Hone it.

“Y/N!” Ben’s voice pierced the silence, jolting you out of your trance.

A heavy sigh left you as Ben’s footsteps approached. You were introverted by nature, and since Ben was the only boy in the academy who was only two years older than you. The two of you had become friends through Force proximity.

“Y/N—” he paused, seeing you in the soft glow of the sunlight. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Mh, and now you’ve found me,” you said, shifting your legs.

Your eyes went to the books he carried under his arm with a spark of excitement. “Did you find anything?”

Ben’s lanky legs folded as he sat beside you, pulling out a leather-bound book. “Not much, but it’s something. From what I’ve researched, it’s a rare gift—one that very few possess. By ‘people,’ I mean women.”

You took the book from him and opened to the page Ben had marked for you. Your eyes scanned over the text, mumbling a few words.

“Bene Gesserit,” you read faintly, your hand going to your neck. “Are they Nightsisters or something?”

“No, they’re a secret organization, almost like us, except it’s only women,” Ben explained with a shrug. “They have all kinds of cool abilities, including the one you have.”

Ben’s eyes drifted to your profile as you read over the page again. Reverence flickered in his gaze as he watched your lips silently form the words.

“The Voice,” you read aloud at the bottom of the page.

You felt a hint of resolution, but it was cut short as you turned the page to find it blank—or, rather, ripped out.

“What? Where’s the rest of it?” you asked, skimming through the book.

Ben sighed and took the book from your hands, his slender fingers grazing yours. “That’s all I could find. I searched everywhere, even sneaking into Luke’s study. Sorry, Y/N.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line as his words faded into defeat. You wanted to understand this gift—this power. It set you apart from the others, possibly even from Luke. You got up, pacing slightly as you glanced back at the book.

“Do you think he ripped out the pages?” you asked, pausing mid-step.

Ben’s eyes snapped to you, one brow raised. “What? Why would he?”

“To keep it hidden. You said you had to sneak into his study, right?” you questioned, kneeling in front of him. “Luke only keeps important things in there. If your uncle ripped it out, it means he didn’t want anyone to find it.”

Ben hesitated, his posture stiffening under your scrutiny. You knew he could sense your longing for control over your abilities. Even if he wouldn’t admit it, you knew he’d help. He always did.

“My uncle has been acting differently lately...” Ben pondered, crossing his arms and creasing his forehead.

You shrugged, glancing around the forest to ensure no one else was near. Luke had been apprehensive lately, and you didn’t need to tap into the Force to feel that something was stirring in the unknown.

Your eyes fell on the smaller book in Ben’s hand, which he suddenly tucked away.

“What’s that?” you asked.

“It’s nothing,” Ben retorted, clutching the book tightly and avoiding your gaze.

You scrutinized him, noting the tension in his posture and the slight gulp in his throat.

“Let me see it,” you demanded.

“Y/N, it’s just my calligraphy book. You’ve seen it before,” he stammered, standing abruptly.

“Your calligraphy book is blue. This one is brown,” you countered firmly. “If it’s nothing, why does it matter?”

Ben’s eyes darkened into a glare as he sneered, “Y/N, it’s just a book. You wanted answers for your so-called gift, and that’s all I could find.”

He moved closer, invading your personal space. An electric pull seemed to spark between you, drawing you both into an unspoken standoff.

A sudden Force pull snatched the book from Ben’s hand, landing it in Khal’s grasp. Khal, a boy who often bullied Ben, grinned as he thumbed through the pages.

“Yeah, come on, Solo. Let’s see what’s in the book,” Khal taunted, standing beside you.

You glared at Khal as he began to read aloud in a mocking tone.

“Y/N and I were training today—” Khal read, attempting to mimic Ben’s voice in an exaggerated mockery.

“Shut up,” Ben cut him off, anger lacing his tone.

“She moves so gracefully and powerfully... Oh no way...” Khal chuckled, continuing to read, “I can’t look away. I don’t know if I want to be her... or want her…” “Stop it!” Ben shouted, his voice ripping into the air.

Your eyes snapped to Ben, and his gaze met yours in return. You knew it was forbidden for Jedi to form attachments, to have any tether to another. But in that moment, as you both locked eyes, something shifted in Ben’s expression. The mask of anger fell away, revealing vulnerability.

“Ben... I—” you gasped, but Ben’s hand shot out, gripping Khal and lifting him off the ground.

Khal flailed, desperately clawing at Ben’s wrist, but Ben’s face darkened as he held him suspended in the air, his eyes now glowing brighter than before.

“I told you to stop,” Ben warned coldly, his gaze scanning Khal’s terrified face. “I warned you.”

“I-I’m sorry...” Khal gasped, looking up at Ben with pleading eyes. Then he turned to you, “H-help me, Y/N! Make him stop!!”

You stood motionless, unsure whether to step between the two boys. But something clicked inside you as you glanced from Khal to Ben. With a sharp inhale, you tapped into the hidden power—the one that was dangerous, powerful.

“LET HIM GO!” you commanded, feeling the voices swirl in your throat.

Like a marionette, Ben released Khal, dropping him roughly to his feet. Khal scrambled up, stumbling over a fallen stump, his eyes wide with fear.

Ben’s eyes widened in shock and awe as he stared at you. “What did you do??” he asked, his voice laced with both trepidation and veneration. “How?”

You ignored Ben’s question, keeping your gaze fixed on Khal, whose fear was palpable.

“No, please, I won’t tell anyone! I swear I won’t tell Luke or anyone!” Khal pleaded, clinging to the dead wood for support.

Perhaps it was that protectiveness that sparked within you. You remembered finding Ben alone in a room once, his lip split open as he wiped the blood away. He never wanted to talk about it, but you knew... you knew who caused it. You placed a reassuring hand on Ben’s forearm—a small, silent understanding between you two. Your eyes locked onto Khal’s.

Taking a deep breath, you tapped into the power once more. “KNEEL.”

Without hesitation, Khal sank to his knees, trembling in his sweat-soaked clothes. Ben’s gaze shifted from the scene to you, filled with awe. He’d heard voices in his dreams, but this voice was different—ancient.

You spoke again, your voice carrying a dangerous authority, “BREAK YOUR THUMB."

A loud snap echoed through the forest, followed by a sharp, agonized cry.

Present Day, Planet: Rossak

You observed the younger Bene Gesserit training, watching them move with their blunt knives. You kept your focus on a few who showed potential, making mental notes to report to your superiors. There was a slight sense of pride in knowing you had mentored a few of them. They had also become your whisperers, reporting on the life you had left behind.

But there was nothing to be found.

A sigh escaped you as you pulled your gaze away, shifting your focus to the trainees. The hushed voices around you grew quieter as you entered the study, where your fellow sisters awaited. The familiar scent of ink and parchment reminded you of the academy—its large bookcases and the sense of peace it once gave you. But as you settled into the space, something shifted. A subtle ripple in the waters of your mind.

You stopped, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. A quiet tug. A whisper. The voice that carried it froze you in place. Ben’s voice...

A sudden, distant boom above the keep caused some of your sisters to pause in their tasks. One of the younger girls approached the window, looking out with curiosity.

“Lady Y/N...” she called, looking over her shoulder. “Have you ever seen a ship like that?”

You raised an eyebrow, walking over to the window with quiet steps. In the distance, a gunmetal black command shuttle stood, surrounded by a squadron of Finalizers. Standing at attention to receive them was Reverend Mother Gala, her face stoic and unwavering. But what caught your attention was the tall, imposing figure who emerged from the shuttle. His black robes billowed in the rain-tossed wind, giving him an ethereal, almost phantom-like quality. His helmet, obsidian black with silver accents, hid his face, but his body language spoke volumes. He bowed his head to the Reverend Mother before approaching her alone.

Your mind raced in different directions as you tried to piece together the mystery of this masked man.

“He specifically asked for you,” spoke Elder Sister Mya, her brown eyes following you closely as you walked beside her. “The Supreme Leader was very... insistent that it must be you. He refused other, more experienced sisters without a second glance.”

“Did he?” you murmured, glancing over your shoulder as you rubbed your thumb over your knuckle—a nervous habit you tried to break. You could see the troopers moving your boxes carefully toward the command shuttle.

“He knows you, Y/N,” Mya said, her voice soft but firm. “The Reverend Mother has sensed it, and so have I. But you have no idea who he is?”

“I have a few theories, but they’re far-fetched,” you replied, rolling the tension from your shoulders as you braced yourself to meet him.

“Hmm. Regardless, the Bene Gesserit and myself have approved your relocation within the First Order. Having one of our own in that fractured part of space is enough to pinpoint its weaknesses,” Mya continued as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “Remember... we Bene Gesserit do not hope—”

“We plan,” you finished for her.

With a steady, slow exhale, you set your mask of stoicism in place, your veil securely shielding you from the rain that cascaded from your robes. Through the thunder that rumbled across the sky, you heard faint footsteps approaching. Your eyes tracked them, seeing the Supreme Leader draw nearer. His steps echoed in the gray corridor, each one deliberate, imposing.

He was even more monumental up close. His broad shoulders and towering height gave him a predatory grace. He stopped in front of you, allowing you to take him in. His face hidden, but his body language clearly inviting your inspection. It was as if he was silently offering you a form of parity acknowledgment.

Power recognizes power.

A deep, metallic voice emerged from behind the mask, carrying a single, simple word.

“Come.”

A/N: Got inspired by Dune and Dune: Prophecy so I figured why not mix two sci-fi epics together? This will be a multi-chapter fic, please lmk if you'd like to be tagged.

[redamancyys]

Three Moments - Kaz Brekker

SUMMARY ◆ Three moments in which Kaz shows his love for you.

WARNING(S) ◆ fluff, implied smut, unedited, me word vomiting.

WORDS ◆ 2k

»»————-　✼　————-««

You were certain that you were always meant to burn together. To love him was to love the hot embers of a forest fire, pressing your hands farther and farther into the flames no matter how much your body screamed to let go. It was all consuming, a love that suffocated you like smoke and left you burning for days. He was always burning, and sometimes you wondered if you just got caught up in the flames. Heartstrings woven together, not sure if you were the anchor or he was . . . Saints, who were you kidding? He definitely was not the anchor. 

It took him a long time to understand that he needed you. 

He was the bastard of the Barrel, unafraid of getting his hands dirty because he hid under a pair of gloves. On his worst days when he came home, they were caked with dirt, dust, and blood. It wasn’t his blood, he rarely had a cut on him. Most of the times when you stayed up until he returned, he would glance in your direction, give you a small nod, and make his way up to his room at the tallest point in the Slat. The next morning he never acknowledged it. His hair was slicked back, porcelain skin perfectly clean on his face and his gloves were as well. Fine, black leather worn down on the fingertips in the same places he gripped his cane. You wondered why he never let even those closest to him see him in any way disheveled. You didn’t understand the danger of looking weak the way he did. It wasn’t your fault, no one had ever understood what he had been through. Not that they ever could know anyway.

One night you were awake once again, making an excuse that you couldn’t sleep and had to make tea, though many knew that you stayed up until all members of the Crows were back home. You sat in the corner, a favorite book in hand and sipping on some mix of tea when you heard the door open and you thought for a moment your eyes were playing tricks on you. Because there he stood, cuts on his face and parts of his shirt ripped off at the arms. He was beaten, bloody, unlike anything you had ever seen before. He stood there, looking at you, watching as you took another sip and waited for him to go up the stairs like he always did. But this time he kept standing there, watching, as if he was waiting for your attention. He glanced over at the box on the table where you all kept bandages, and then back at you. 

Soon enough you were both sitting at the table, you were reaching for the tiny bottle of alcohol and white wrap up bandages. 

“Who was it this time?” You asked, dumping a cloth in a water bowl to clean his wounds. He looked at you, as if to say, it doesn’t matter. Though you kept pressing on, your eyes peered into his coffee brown ones, eyebrow popping up in question. “I waited up for you, which means you can’t keep any secrets from me, Kaz Brekker.” 

His name seemed to pop him out of his thoughts, pushing him back to reality in which he was there, sitting with you, rather than in the future thinking about plans or in the past pondering about the people he’s lost. Kaz glanced down at his gloved hands and then turned his attention back to you, watching your face carefully. 

“Someone didn’t pay me back for a favor,” He said. “It wasn’t an easy confrontation but it’s over now.” 

That was all you needed. You knew it was all you would get right now. Empty words were his forte that no matter how long you spent trying to read in between the lines of his metaphors and hyperboles, you were left feeling more confused than how you began. It took you so long to understand that it wasn’t about what he said, it was what he did. He never told any of the members of his crew how much they mattered to him, how important it was that they stuck around. In fact, sometimes you wondered if anyone mattered to Kaz Brekker, or if he was destined to keep himself alone, closed off, coldhearted. 

Your hand with the towel came up to his face and he flinched, making you falter for a single second. You waited for him to say something, but it never did, and you finished your motion by slowly wiping away the dried blood from the cut on his face. It wasn’t deep, it wouldn’t scar, and for some reason that made you glad. He would still look pristine in the morning, with a little help from you. You wondered if this is what he did alone in his room when he came back, healed wounds that never saw the light of day. Some part of you wished that he would show this side of him more often, the one that was vulnerable. Both of you stayed silent while you wiped the blood away and bandaged up your arm, though soon enough he was on his way back to his room, leaving you downstairs. 

~

You two took care of each other. It took until a heist went wrong that you saw that for sure. Too many things were against the group that day. Jesper’s guns stopped working when he had to take a critical shot, Nina was almost taken hostage . . . You yourself had suffered a striking blow to the stomach, becoming winded and almost passing out from lack of oxygen. Everyone ran away, knowing to meet up later at the Crow Club when they got the opportunity. You ran into an alley, head spinning, gasping for air as you leaned against a wall. Men ran past, most likely looking for you and your partners, though were not smart enough to look down the dark alley to their right. You could barely walk, knowing that several of your ribs had to be broken. 

“You need to keep moving,” A voice spoke from behind, startling you enough to grab the gun from your belt and aim it in the direction of the voice. Your eyes caught up with your target and realized it was Kaz, able to sneak up on you because he was without his cane for the blown heist. “Guards are looking all over for us.” 

You huffed, shaking your head. You couldn’t do it. All you wanted to do was lay there until you got better, not caring about the dirt and grime on the ground. When you tried to walk it felt like someone was stabbing you in the lungs, you stumbled a little and would’ve fallen if Kaz’s hands hadn’t grabbed you and kept you upright. 

Your vision was spotty as you both stumbled out of the alley, slowly making your way back. “I can’t do this,” You said, tears welling up in your eyes. “It hurts so much, Kaz, it hurts.” You were rarely this emotive, you were the glue of the group, keeping everyone together even through the toughest of times. Everyone always came to you, you’re the strongest one of them all. Every single second you wondered if your caved in ribs would puncture one of your organs and this would be your last day. Your last time with the people you cared so much about. The world was spinning, but Kaz’s arms and touch brought you back to reality, and soon enough you were within feet of the Crow Club and you collapsed, letting the darkness consume your mind. 

It was a few hours before you woke up in your room, opening your eyes to the soft glow of a candle near your bed. The softness of your blanket gave comfort, though the moment of relief that you were alive seemed to wash away as the pain came back to reality, a bandage wrapped around your torso that impeded your motion. 

For the next couple of days you were in and out of consciousness, Inej came to visit you a lot in order to give you food and some company, sometimes Jesper would tell you about his day and about Wylan. But still no sign of Kaz. You hadn’t seen him since he had brought you back to safety. At first you thought nothing of it, though the idea that he was avoiding you began to boil and fester, leading you to question Jesper the next time he arrived in your room with tea in hand. 

“I understand that comfort isn’t his thing, but I thought that Kaz would at least come and visit once,” You stated to Jesper, sucking in your bottom lip whilst moving to sit up, minding the tiny pain in your chest. 

Jesper’s eyes widened, shaking his head a tiny bit in a way that made you think he was hiding something from you. You gave him a puzzled look, urging him to speak his thoughts to you. 

“He’s been sitting outside of your door every chance he gets. I thought you knew.”

~

His kisses were soft despite his tough exterior, but they were not without intention. Every time his lips made contact with a piece of your skin you could feel his want, his desire, like he couldn’t get enough of you no matter how hard he tried. It was like you were his church and he was on his knees, praying for forgiveness for his sins, praying to your body that he worshipped unlike all the faceless saints in the world. Your hands collided with his hair, intertwining the soft locks of dark brown and pulling on it, pulling him closer. 

He would only kiss you in the confines of the Crow Club, where others couldn’t see. It bothered you at first, wondering if he didn’t want others to see that underneath all the cold and hard exterior he put towards the world: Dirtyhands could love. But that was just the thing, he didn’t want any of his enemies to come for you like he knew that they would. He didn’t want to put you in the face of danger anymore than you already did for him on a daily basis. To love him was to have a target on your back. 

At this point you knew of his aversion to touch, how his brother died, how it pained him to feel the skin of another upon his own. Instead of pulling away from his scars like he thought you would, you brought him closer, vowing that you understood, that you were sorry, that you would do whatever you could to make him feel better. Kaz thought for so long that he was a monster, and that may be true, but you weren’t a child, you weren’t afraid of the darkness that he had enveloped himself in for so long. You were willing to love him for who he was, no matter how much he tried to hide you from his truths. 

He could handle your kisses, finding solace in your mouth, the way it tasted like warm tea and the softness of your lips. And he accepted your small touches, starting slowly with tracing your fingers across his skin. You felt along his veins, taking extra care with his scars, pressing a kiss on the ones that looked particularly new. His gloves would come off and he would do the same to you. Eventually more clothes came off, more skin against skin. He found solace again in your tiny sighs and moans that left your lips when he kissed there and there . . . and especially there. Neither of you had ever surrendered yourself to another person in this way, it was intimate and sent you both over the moon. It was just you both, alone in either of your rooms, loving each other no matter what. 

After both of you would lay in one another's arms, the glow of the candlelight enveloping both of your bodies. There wasn’t much talking, maybe some if there was something particularly on either of your minds. You idly traced patterns on his skin, comforting him when he flinched, reminding him that you were there. He would be okay. 

[smileysuh]

NiceGuyJohnny : nct

🌙 staring. Johnny x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “You know,” he sighs as his fingers pump into you, “I was a little worried that- since it’s been so long since I fucked you properly, maybe it would be harder to make you cum, but-” he applies more pressure to your gspot and you’re crying out, pussy clenching ridiculously tight around his digits, “you’re squirting just as easily as I remember.”

cw/ tw. 69ing, oral, unprotected sex, size kink, manhandling, dirty talk, fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, dumbification, praise, slight cum play/kink, etc... I petnames. (hers) sweetheart, baby, etc... (his) daddy.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 7.5k

🍭 aus. cam girl reader, poly idols, idols sharing a fuck buddy, dirty boy idols, etc...

☀️ mlist + an. camroom directory here - final chapter! when I started this series, I always knew John would be the endgame and I know some of my foreshadowings have tipped people off- thank you to everyone who's been here throughout this long endeavor- happy easter and happy John day!

“You keep checking the time.”

“Am I?” Johnny sighs, tearing his eyes from his phone to look at Mark.

“You know…” the Canadian averts his gaze, “no one would blame you if you want to skip the party tonight.”

“Skip our ‘tour ended and we’re back in Seoul’ party?” Johnny scoffs. “Why would I do that?” 

“Well, I mean… you haven’t seen y/n in a while-”

Johnny cuts his friend off, “She’s invited tonight.”

“I know but- you just keep checking your phone, so I sort of assumed-”

“Don’t do that.” Johnny hates how curt he’s being with Mark, but he can’t help himself. “Assume things, I mean.”

He hates how his deepest secrets are so painfully obvious to his best friend, hates how Mark can be much more observant than anyone gives him credit for. 

“Fine, I won’t,” Mark sighs. “But seriously- if you wanted to skip tonight… no one would blame you.”

Johnny only wishes this was true. As observant as Mark is, he hasn’t seemed to pick up on the fact that both Jaehyun and Haechan have a thing for you- something that goes beyond what anyone sees on cam. 

People will - in fact - blame Johnny if he skips tonight, especially if it means him going to your apartment, knocking on your door, and saying whats been on his mind for over two years now. 

As time ticks by and Johnny gets increasingly uncharacteristically anxious, so does his need to rip the bandaid off. It’s not like his thoughts can go unsaid any longer- even if he was to wait to the party to see you. If Mark can read the emotions on his face, Johnny has no doubt you’ll see right through him, and is a party really the best place to have the conversation he needs to have with you?

Johnny sighs and checks his phone again.

“John?”

He loves it when you answer your phone like this. His name sounds right coming from you- as right as anything Johnny has ever known.

“Hey you,” he can’t help the smile that appears on his face, and he looks down, twiddling with the sleeves of his sweater. “Still coming to the party tonight?”

“You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

He loves that he can hear your own grin- and he endevours to be the source of your smiles for as long as humanly possible.

“Do you need a ride?”

“I was gonna call a cab-”

“Don’t,” he tells you, “let me drive you.”

“Are you sure? Don’t you need to be getting ready for the party?”

“Nah, Doyoung and Taeyong are dealing with that- I just get in the way, like always.”

“Very naughty of you, John.”

There’s that smile again, and he can almost visualize it in his mind’s eye.

It’s been much too long since he’s seen you in person, and if he has to wait any longer, he might just combust.

“So you’ll let me pick you up?”

“Something tells me even if I said no, you’d show up anyways.”

“You’re right about that,” he grins to himself.

“So I guess I’ll see you at eight?” 

“Maybe before,” Johnny says under his breath.

Another laugh that sounds like music to his ears, then, “Just text me when you’re in front of my building.”

“You got it, baby.”

“Bye, John.”

“See you soon.”

At ten to eight there’s a knock on your door, and you pull yourself away from your vanity to go see who’s arrived at your apartment. There’s not text from John, so you’re prepared to see a neighbour or even your land lord-

Your breath catches as you open your door to reveal the windswept idol, his hands resting on either side of the frame. He’s so big- you’ve almost forgotten how big he is, how tall-

“John-” you watch his eyes dip to your lips, and the next moment he’s cupping your face, stepping into your apartment and pressing his mouth to yours. 

You grab at the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. With a quick motion of his foot, he’s closing the door behind himself, and one hand leaves your face to click the lock into place-

“Wait- John,” you say again, biting gently at his lip-

“Just let me kiss you-” he pleads, words breathy as his mouth ghosts over your own.

You want to let him just kiss you- but this is definitely not something you’d exprected on your agenda tonight- especially without warning, and the shock at suddenly seeing Johnny again causes you to be as firm as you’ve ever been with him. You press your hands flat to his abdomen, giving a small push- and your favorite idol pulls away from you without another word of protest.

There are a million questions on your mind, but the first one that comes out is; “How did you even get into the building?”

“Someone was leaving and when I approached they just held the door open-”

“They’re not supposed to do that-” you sigh, “the land lord posted a whole invoice about letting people in without keys- and hey! You’re not supposed to do that either! Walking into my apartment- you’re an idol, what if someone recognized you-”

“Are you that disappointed to see me?” Johnny is smiling down at you with all the ease in the world. 

You’re amusing him, and he’s at his most handsome when amused like this. 

“Why didn’t you just text me?”

“I don’t know…” for the first time, he looks thoughtful, “maybe I wanted to surprise you.”

“How long were you waiting?”

His gaze has shifted to your lips again, and there’s something of a dreamy glint in his eye when he sighs and says, “Longer than you can imagine-” 

“John-” you groan.

“I’m serious-” He catches your jaw between two fingers, and you find yourself looking up into eyes that have suddenly turned sincere. “I’ve got something to tell you.”

“You do?” Your voice comes out a squeak, and your heart is thundering in your ribcage like never before. 

“Uh huh.” His tongue swipes over his lower lip. “But aren’t you going to invite me in first?”

The energy shift gives you something like whiplash, and you blink up at - arguably - your most stable lover. “Invite you in?” You take a small breath. “Aren’t we going out?”  

“I think I need some water actually.” Johnny’s hand drops, your chin released, and the large man shifts past you to head to your kitchen.

“John-” you give your head a little shake, moving to follow him. “Are you okay? You’re acting a little…”

“Acting a little what?” He fills a glass with water, cocking an eye brow at you.

“Off?” you suggest, doing the best to make sense of his erratic behaviour. He takes a sip of his drink, and you sigh. “Look… if you’re here to do a cam show before the party-”

“I’m not.” Johnny puts his water down, studying your face. 

You’re not convinced, and he knows it. 

“Really-” he insists, “I’m not here for a cam show- fuck- even if you had suggested one…” he looks like he’s considering it but ends up shaking his head, “no, even then- no cam show.”

“No cam show,” you repeat his words, still not fully satisfied. 

“Why do you sound like you still don’t believe me?” He grins at you. 

“I just- I don’t think we’ve ever been in a situation where you don’t want to fuck me-”

“Who said I don’t want to fuck you?” 

Your brows furrow in confusion. “You did- you just said no cam show-”

“True- no cam show, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to tear your clothes off- why do you think I had to get water? Needed something to distract myself-” His eyes move up and down your form, and he takes another sip of his drink. 

“John-” you feel a rush of wet between your legs- it’s funny how easily this man can make a mess of your panties. 

“So what do you want to do, princess?” Johnny asks. “Do you still want to go to the party? I know I’d prefer having some time alone here with you first… I still have something I need to talk to you about but-”

“Can it wait?” 

He pauses for a moment, studying you. From the way he breaks out in a grin, you can tell he’s read you as easily as ever- read the horny warning signs- 

“It can wait,” he confirms. “No camshow, just us?”

“Please, just get over here-” you reach your hands out for him and all it takes is two strides for Johnny to press his lips to yours again. 

You melt into the kiss this time. You’re still not a hundred percent sure what’s going on with him- but enough of your questions have been answered. And you suppose you can only stand in the same room with Johnny Suh for so long before jumping his bones-

You’re shocked you’ve lasted this long.

It feels amazing to have his large hands on you again- and his lips are as familiar as your soft pillow, or your favourite blanket. It feels like home to be wrapped in his arms- to be the main focus of an idol adored by countless fans all over the world-

But more than that- it feels like nothing else because this is Johnny- and there’s no one else like him.

Your heart aches in your chest when Johnny simply reaches down and lifts you up, forcing your legs around his hips while he carries you off in the direction of your room. 

You can tell by the way he’s kissing you that he’s missed you more than he can say- and you’ve missed him just the same, wordlessly communicated through the way you kiss him back, tongue swiping against his bottom lip as a groan works its way out of your mouth.

 Before you know it, the two of you are falling onto your bed, and it’s another familiar feeling. 

How many times has he fucked you here? How many times has he made you cum-

It’s been much too long since you last saw Johnny, but your bodies are moving in sync as if he’d never even been gone.

Everything has always just been easy with Johnny- and it’s fun too. 

When mid lip lock his exploritive hands discover your dress has a zipper up the back and it won’t be easily tugged off, Johnny pulls away from you just long enough to flip you onto your stomach, and you find yourself giggling at the manhandling.

“Sorry baby, give me one second to get this dress off of you-” he says, breath hot against your exposed back as he tugs the zipper down. 

Johnny’s straddling your thighs, and it’s an easy enough position for you to tease him with. You push your ass back and up, rubbing it against his crotch while releasing a sigh. “I can’t believe I dressed up all pretty and we’re not even going to the party-” 

“We can still go to the party,” he assures you, warm fingers gliding against your spine to undo your bra clasp.

“No, daddy,” you smile, “we can’t.”

“No? And why’s that, baby?” His lips ghost over your shoulder. 

“Because we have an entire tour’s worth of time to make up for- and I’d like you to fuck me till I can’t walk.” 

You feel him smile against your skin and his mouth moves to your neck. “I think that can be arranged,” he says, teeth dragging by your ear lobe and making you twitch. He pulls away much too fast. “And actually- now that you mention it, how about you stand up and let me see your dress one last time before you take it off- you know, to appreciate it.” 

“Really?” you groan. “Can’t you just tear it off me?”

“Daddy wants to see his princess, now be a good girl for me and let me appreciate you.” 

How could you resist a request like this? 

When Johnny moves to sit on the bed, you’re free to stand up, and you turn to face him. 

He’s breathtaking- leaning against the pillows, his eyes warm and his smile affectionate. “It’s a pretty dress baby, I should have told you that when I got here but- well,” he shrugs, “I was distracted by your lips.”

“You and your sweet talking,” you smile, shaking your head. “Should I strip for you, daddy? The way you stripped for all your fans on tour?”

Johnny laughs, and the sound is music to your ears. “Jealous, baby?”

“Not any more than you watching my cam shows, I bet,” you say, meaning for it to be a dismissive comment- because you know Johnny doesn’t get jealous seeing you with others…

Right?

“You’re funny, a funny baby” he chuckles, but there’s less joy in this sound than the one previous. “Take that dress off, funny baby, daddy’s getting impatient.”

“Yes sir-” you tease, slipping your staps down so your dress and bra can fall to the floor. You step out of the fabric, toying with the waistband of your underwear. “What about these, daddy?”

“Take them off now or risk them getting torn, your choice.” Johnny’s working on the buttons of his own shirt, jacket already discarded by the door- 

You lose focus for a moment, too distracted by each strip of the beutiful idol’s newly exposed skin- 

“Tick tock, darling,” your soft dom reminds you, grinning at the way you’re standing there frozen. 

“Right- sorry,” you slip your panties off and the coolness of the room rushes over your wet, hot, pussy. 

God, you need to be filled- you need to be filled so bad it hurts.

You hop onto the bed, reaching for the waistband of Johnny’s pants. “I missed your cock so bad, daddy-”

“Yeah?”

“Missed it in my mouth, and in my pussy-” 

“Mmm-” Johnny groans when you squeeze him through his pants, tracing the outline of his hard cock. “If you missed my dick so much- and I’ve missed that pretty fucking pussy of yours- maybe the only way to make sure we both get what we want is to start with you sitting on my face while you take me in your mouth- or at least, as much of me as you can fit.” 

69-ing is not a position you generally do with Johnny- but you suppose it’s been a long time since you’ve fucked. Maybe he’s picked up some new tricks? Maybe this just shows that you’re both absolutely insatiable- neither of you had the patience to wait much longer and Johnny definitely knows it. 

“Have you really missed me that much?” you ask as Johnny lifts his hips to pull his pants down.

“More than you can imagine,” he admits, shuffling down the bed, “now be a good girl and come sit on Daddy’s face.” 

His hands help you get into position, and before you can even lower yourself down, he’s applying pressure to help you sit onto his mouth, his tongue pushing into your pussy-

Johnny groans loudly against your core, and you think it must be from discovering how wet you already are. Or maybe he’s missed the taste of you- either way, the sound makes you even more turned on, the hands on your hips urge you to grind down-

“Fuck, Johnny-” you moan, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock, ready to guide him to your lips-

A gentle smack on your ass is a reminder that Johnny expects the title of Daddy- at least, he does right now, and it brings a smile to your face. You like that he doesn’t stop eating your pussy- he has his priorities straight, and you think you should too, as you wrap your mouth around the pretty head of his cock-

Another groan from Johnny has your pussy throbbing, clit needing his attention- in a 69 position, you can’t just grind yourself against his nose, and it frustrates you as you take more and more of him into your mouth. 

When he’d suggested this- you’d thought it would be just a little foreplay- you’ve never cum in a 69 before- but when Johnny applies more pressure to your hips, forcing you down against his mouth- you realize you’re in very real danger of cumming sooner than you’d expected.

There’s something about the duality of being stuffed with his cock in your mouth, and his tongue in your pussy- 

You’re not quite sure where to focus, but you’re turned on enough that you’re drooling all over his dick, and your pussy is throbbing with wetness that Johnny eagerly laps up-

You moan around his cock and Johnny’s hips twitch, forcing more of him into your mouth. 

He’s the one who moans next, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking-

Your toes curl as pleasure courses through you, and you begin to pump the base of Johnny’s cock, using your drool as lube. 

Part of you wants to make him cum from your mouth if he’s going to do the same to you, but another part of you knows that’s unrealistic- Johnny’s got a big cock, he cums big loads, and it always takes a big little while to get him there, but damn, you enjoy the ride. 

It’s becoming harder and harder for you to breathe while focusing on everything- and you take your mouth off Johnny, groaning loudly while you continue pumping his cock with your hand. “Fuck- Daddy- feels so good-”

He growls against your pussy, switching between lapping at you and sucking on your clit. 

“Just like that- please- fuck- daddy- I think I’m gonna cum-” You close your eyes, allowing yourself to get lost in the feeling of your stomach muscles tightening- “Yeah- I’m gonna cum from your tongue- don’t stop, please-” 

Not only does Johnny not stop, he eats you out with even more vigour, groaning against your pussy and sending you into a frenzy.

“Fuck- daddy-” you hardly have time to say much else before you’re cumming on his tongue, core muscles clenching as pleasure consumes you. 

The orgasm feels kind of like a firecracker, an eruption of jittery ecstasy that fizzles over your form, making your hair raise from your skin before heat is left in it’s wake. Sparkly waves of fire crackling energy erupt through your from with each suck and lick of Johnny’s tongue against your pussy, working you through your high like the diligent man he is.

“Fuck- please- need to be full-” even in your orgasmic haze, you have your priorities, and right now, the only thing on your mind is Johnny’s delicious cock being inside your pussy, the one hole that can truly take him the way he deserves- “Need your cock so bad-”

Johnny’s hands shift to your ass, and he squeezes you gently, giving one last harsh suck on your clit that has you crying out before he pushes you off his mouth. “If you need my dick so bad, you should sit on it next.” 

“What?” You’d been expecting him to fuck you- not the other way around. 

“Oh so you can ride Mingyu and Yunho but not me?” Johnny laughs, his breath teasing your wet pussy and making you twitch as you clamor off of him. 

“I-” you swallow thickly, adjusting so you can straddle Johnny, who sits up against the pillows, grinning while you stumble over your words. “I just-”

“You want Daddy to do all the work, huh?” he teases.

“Maybe-” you admit, feeling almost bashful as you reach between your bodies to grab his cock, lining it up with your pussy-

“Well, baby-” Johnny’s hands find your hips, and he steadies you as you begin to sink down on him, pussy swallowing him up inch by inch- “I guess you’re just going to have to wait.”

It’s as if a handful of your fuck buddies came to an agreement to make you wait for things, and you’re not happy about it. 

But honestly- as you take more and more of Johnny- you start to not care so much. It’s not like you’re going to be able to ride him for very long- you’re already gasping and you’ve hardly even moved yet.

This position hits deep- you suppose that’s one reason a few idols have liked having you on top recently. When you lean back, swiveling your hips, you can see the slight outline of his cock in your lower abdomen and it has you going feral-

“Fuck- look at you, baby,” Johnny groans, watching your every movement. “How’d you ever get so perfect?” 

“Shit, daddy, you’re so deep-” you whine, leaning forward again to grab at his shoulders, an anchor for when you begin to bounce-

“And you’re taking me so well-” the man under you breathes, hands settling on your hips to help you with your movements. “So well, baby- so perfect-” 

“Fuck, John-”

A gentle smack to your ass has you crying out and he smiles up at you. “Am I really John again?”

“Uh huh-” you nod, heart and pussy clenching tight, “missed you.”

Johnny sits up better against the pillows, and then he’s grabbing at you, cupping your face with one hand to draw your lips to his own. 

“I missed you too,” he says, kissing you deeply and making your mind go blank as you roll your hips.

It’s as easy as anything to get lost in John- but you suppose it’s always been this way.

There’s just something about the two of you that works, you can’t really explain it. 

Maybe it has to do with his brilliant non verbal communication - large hands guiding you to fuck him faster and harder - or maybe it’s just his perfect, gorgeous lips, the lips you could kiss for hours and not get bored- 

“Fuck, you feel so good, princess-” Johnny groans, digging his fingers into your hips. “Missed this.” 

“John?” you whimper when he shifts his hips, thrusting up to meet you.

“Yes, darling?” he asks, leaning in to press his lips against your throat while you bounce on his cock.

“My thighs-” 

His hands find the body part in question, and he massages the sore muscles. “Your thighs?” He grins against your neck.

“Please-” You know he’s just playing with you- it must be clear to him by now that you’re starting to get tired, and it’s harder to focus on his massive cock splitting you open when your thighs are burning from effort.

“You ready to be fucked properly now?” Johnny smiles up at you, as coy and confident as ever. 

“Yes, please-”

“Ready to be fucked the way only I can fuck you?” 

You’re suddenly reminded of what he’d said to you all those months ago when you first started your cam girl journey; “Fuck whoever you want,” he’d told you, “but no one is ever going to fuck you the way I can.”

“Yes, daddy” is the only answer that truly suffices as your body tingles with intense energy- Johnny has always been your rock, and he always will be. 

You love how easy it is for him to wrap an arm against the small of your back and flip you, pinning you to the bed and pressing his hips flush to your own. A moan is torn out of you as you grab at his shoulders, eager for his lips.

Each kiss is like magic, and he takes a test thrust that has your toes curling.

“Mmm-” you whimper against his mouth, and Johnny breaks the kiss to press his hot lips against your throat, sucking on your sweet spot and making another rush of wet flood to your core. “Johnny- feels so good-”

“You feel so good,” he retorts, pressing his hips against yours so you can feel him feeper, the head of his cock hitting the spot that makes you want to scream.

“Shit- right there,” you tell him, digging your nails into his strong shoulders, your eyes closing as you allow the feeling to engulf your whole being.

“Here?” He thrusts into you harder, hitting the spot again and making you cry out. “How could I forget this spot?” Johnny grins, pulling away from your throat to look down at your pleasure controrted face. “It’s going to make you cum, right? You’ll be a good girl for me and cum again?”

“Fuck, yes John- shit, I want you to cum too-”

“Not yet baby, not yet,” he assures you in a voice that’s much too controlled. “I’ve been thinking about you for months- I don’t want to cum until I’m sure you’re satisfied-”

“I’m satisfied-” you try to tell him, but Johnny simply laughs at you.

“Haven’t even made you squirt yet, baby- just give in to the feeling right now, and let me do the rest, yeah?”

“Fuck-” you’re clawing at his skin, his cock repeatedly teasing the spot deep in your core- “John-”

“Come on baby, I want you to cum for me,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, his nose brushing by your own in the most domestic way- “I can feel you squeezing- you feel like heaven, princess- just let go, I know you want to, let me take care of you.” 

“I’m so close-” you can feel your stomach muscles twisting in tighter and tighter knots, and you’re teetering on the edge-

“Here,” Johnny licks two of his fingers before slipping his hand between your bodies, and you cry out when he makes contact with your clit. “Those are the sounds I like-”

“Fuck, daddy-” you’re gasping now, body alight with electric energy-

The chord in your abdomen snaps, your orgasm slamming into you full force, and Johnny presses his lips to your own, muffling the noises of pleasure that threaten to fill the room and bug your neigbours- 

“That’s it, baby, that’s my good girl-” Johnny coos, fucking you through your high, his fingers unrelenting on your clit even as you wiggle bellow him, helplessly pinned by his weight.

“Johnny-” you whimper his name loudly than you’d intended, and he grins down at you.

“There you go, princess, let your whole apartment building know who’s fucking you-”

At this point, you can hardly bring yourself to care about noise complaints, and you allow your sounds of pleasure to fill the room while Johnny takes care of you, working you through your high as expertly as ever.

As your sounds slowly come to an end, Johnny’s thrusts slow down, and you cling to him, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “John-”

“Can I flip you onto your stomach baby?” he asks, lips ghosting over your cheekbone. “I’ve been missing your ass like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Really?” Your stomach flutters with pleasure from the praise.

“Uh huh,” Johnny nods, removing his fingers from your clit. “No doggy, just going to have you laying flat-”

“Fuck-” you groan. Images of all the times he’s done the ‘on your stomach legs closed position’ flash through your mind’s eye, and your pussy twitches at the memories- 

“Yeah- it’s nice and deep, that’s what you want, right?” Johnny asks. “Want Daddy nice and deep when he cums and fills you up-”

You’re nearly crying already- you want it so badly. “Yes, daddy-” 

“Come on angel, let’s flip you over-” He’s so caring, so calm and precise with you. You’ve missed his large hands, missed the way they so easily move you from one position to the next-

The next moment he’s pulled out of you and you’re on your stomach, resting your face against the pillows as Johnny shifts on the bed behind you. 

You press your thighs together, arching your back and lifting your hips ever so slightly to expose your pussy to him-

“Fuck, you have no idea how pretty you look-” he groans, large hands grabbing at your ass to pull your cheeks apart, revealing more of you to his eager eyes. “How could I have you in this perfect position without-” two fingers slip into your wet heat and you cry out from the unexpected intrusion, “making you squirt a little first?”

His digits begin to move against your wet walls, curling down to find your gspot- a squelching noise makes your skin tingle, and you realize how wet you really are-

But he intends to have you wetter, and you know Johnny’s preference for ‘slip and slide pussy’- it’s one of the way’s he makes sure you’re having a good time even when preparing to take his massive cock deep inside of you-

“You know,” he sighs as his fingers pump into you, “I was a little worried that- since it’s been so long since I fucked you properly, maybe it would be harder to make you cum, but-” he applies more pressure to your gspot and you’re crying out, pussy clenching ridiculously tight around his digits, “you’re squirting just as easily as I remember.” 

“Fuck, daddy!” you cry out at the unrelenting speed and force of his fingers, and you can feel a rush of new wetness between your thighs with each pump-

Your bed is going to be ruined after this, and you should have remembered to put a towel down - this is Johnny after all - but it’s another worry that soon slips from your mind as you give yourself in to the pleasure he’s providing.

“It’s cute that you can hardly speak,” Johnny says, and you can hear him smiling. “I think you’re just about ready for me.”

The pleasure he gives feels amazing, but there’s only so much you body can take, and while his fingers are large- you’re already starting to miss his cock-

“Please-” you whimper, feeling a hot, wet, tear slip down your cheek-

“Hmm?”

“I said, please!” you repeat, pushing your hips back and wiggling your bum at him even as his digits continue in your core- 

“That’s my girl.” He removes his hand from between your legs and you let out a sound of relief, only to brace yourself for the intrusion that will come next. “Just relax,” he tells you, voice soft as he presses his palm to your lower back, anchoring himself while he guides his cock to your wet hole.

“Johnny-” you whine his name as he pushes into you. Despite having taken him already, your core is still recovering from being made to squirt, so now, his cock feels even bigger, and you’re not sure what to make of it. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight, baby,” he leans over your back, pressing soft kisses to your shoulder blades, “I told you to relax.” 

You let out a groan as he pushes in deeper, shaking your head, “Can’t- you’re too big-” 

“Too big?” Johnny laughs. “You know, I thought with the recent cam shows that you’d been taken care of, but if you’re already clawing at me over this- maybe I misjudged the situation.”

He’s using big words, and you can hardly think coherently right now. The most you can do is moan, pussy twitching around his long cock as he sheiths himself into you, hips now flush with your ass.

“You can take it, right, baby?” he asks, lips returning to your shoulder and then the nape of your neck-

“Yeah- please-” one thrust has you stuttering, grabbing at the pillows in an effort to anchor yourself-

You’ve missed this position- missed it more than you’d ever realized.

You’re not sure if it’s the angle, or if it’s simply because it’s Johnny fucking you like this, but either way, it feels delicious. 

You can feel the beautiful vein that runs along the underside of his massive cock with each thrust, and it has you going feral.

A large portion of his weight is pressed to your lower back, keeping you pinned to the bed- it’s almost a little suffocating, but that only adds to your pleasure.

“Shit, I could do this forever-” Johnny groans behind you. “Could fuck this pussy till I die-” 

“John-” 

“You’d let me right?” Hot lips graze by the junction between your neck and shoulder, and a tingle of pleasure skitters from the spot he’d kissed. “You’ll let me keep fucking you- let me keep making you cum, over and over-”

“God, yes-” you push your ass back to meet his thrusts, “Please-” 

“Please what? Use your words, pretty girl, if you have any left.” 

“Need your cum-” you whimper, “need you to cum with me-” 

“Yeah? Is my good little cock whore already close?”

You nod desperately against the pillows.

“Is this position that good for you?” he taunts, fucking into you harder. 

“Yes, shit- please, John, I can feel you everywhere-” 

“Everywhere?” 

“So deep-” you confirm, biting into your bottom lip to muffle some of the moans that threaten to be torn out of you with each rough motion of Johnny’s hips smacking against your ass- “Please, John-”

“I like it when you say my name like that-” he groans, fingers digging into your hips, breath hot against your shoulders.

“John-” you moan louder, “John, John, John!” 

“I’m almost there- almost there, sweetheart-” 

You’ve missed the sounds he makes when he’s close, and your pussy flutters around his cock, so near to the edge that you think you might die if he doesn’t let you cum-

“Please, John,” you beg, “please cum with me- fill me up till I’m your stupid little cock drunk baby-”

“You’re already my stupid little cock drunk baby, angel,” Johnny chuckles, but the laughter turns into another sound of pleasure. “Fuck- okay, let go- let go for me angel, I wanna feel you-” 

That’s all you need to let yourself release the tension in your core, and your pussy clamps down on his cock while you squeal into the pillow, muffling the loud sound that matches the pleasure coursing through you. 

Johnny lets out an equally noisy groan, and his rhythm falters slightly-

“Fuck-”

You can feel him coating your inner core with his cum, can feel yourself becoming incredibly full as he struggles to keep rutting into your tight pussy, your walls milking him for all he’s worth-

You gasp at the feeling of being completely satisfied, burying your face in the pillow as Johnny rides you through your highs. 

“You feel so good-” he groans, rhythm slowing as the both of you begin to come down from the pleasure. 

“No, you.”

Johnny laughs at your fucked out, easy submissive retort, and a moment later his hips are stilling all together, his cock burried deep inside of you as he presses his chest down against your back.

He’s hot, both of you are, but there’s comfort in the pressure of his large body covering your own- he’s something like a safety blanket, and you could truly doze off at any second-

“Hey, don’t go falling asleep on me, baby.” His lips brush by your throat and a shiver of stimulation runs through you, making you grin.

“I’m tired,” you insist.

 He continues pressing soft kisses to your skin. “Don’t you want to hear what I was going to tell you when I got here?”

“Oh right-”

“Can you flip over for me though? I want to see your face.” 

“Johnny-”

“Please?” He nuzzles your ear with his nose, and it tickles you, forcing you to laugh and shrink away.

“Fine- but as soon as you pull out of me, and I flip over, your cum is going to start dripping out of me-” 

“Should we do this in the shower then?” Johnny chuckles.

It is something of a post sex ritual for you. You’ve found that showering with a sexual partner can be the perfect aftercare, and it doubles as clean up.

“A shower sounds good,” you agree.

With one last kiss to the nape of your neck, Johnny pulls out of you, and you stifle a whimper at the loss. 

The next moment, you feel his cum begin to dribble out of you, and you groan at the way Johnny always fills you up to the brim. Without even thinking twice, you slip your hand between your legs, plugging your pussy with two fingers.

You roll onto  your back, and Johnny is quick to scoop you up in his arms. He’s chuckling, and it makes your skin heat with embarrassment. “Hey,” you reprimand him, “don’t laugh at me!” 

“I’m not laughing at you,” he promises.

“Yes you are!”

“I’m not,” he says again, still grinning. “I’m just thinking- that I could get used to this.”

He sets you down in your shower and you look up at him with a cocked brow. “Wow Suh, I didn’t realize how much you missed me while on tour-”

“Hey-” now it’s his turn to reprimand you, but most scolding that comes from Johnny includes a note of playfulness. “I’m being serious.”

“Really?” 

Instead of answering, you watch him quickly reach past you, turning on the shower. The spray hits by your feet, and you shiver from the cold temperature, skittering further away from it. 

“Johnny-” you groan, seeing right through his feeble attempt to derail the conversation.

“What?” He grins at you. 

“You’re being weird today- something’s off with you and I know it. Wish you’d just say what you want to say.” If he keeps tiptoeing around the thing that’s on his mind, you might just put your dress back on and go to the party where his members will actually talk to you. 

“Right-” Johnny tests the water, stepping into the shower to join you. His hands find your hips and he pulls you close. “I guess- I’m just nervous.”

“You? Nervous? Okay mister stripper-” 

He grabs  your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “Sometimes you make it hard to be serious with you, do you know that?”

“Me? How?!” You insist, feeling personally attacked.

“Don’t call me Mister Stripper when less than ten minutes ago you were calling me Daddy, okay?” 

“Okay, daddy.” 

His gaze shifts down to your lips, and he releases your chin. “Now give me a kiss for goodluck.” 

“Okay, daddy,” you say again, grinning as you lean up to press your mouth to his. 

His arms wrap around your body, pulling you to join him under the spray of warm water. 

It feels good to be doing this with him, but the heated kiss only lasts a few moments before he’s pulling away from you. He shifts so his back is blocking the water from you again, and you cling tighter to his warm body, pouting up at him-

“Maybe the shower isn’t the best place for what I’m about to say if you’re pouting at me over water hogging.” 

“Oh my god,” you groan, “just tell me what the issue is or I might start to think you’re in love with me or something.” 

His eyes search your own, and when he doesn’t immediately open his mouth to contradict you, something tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head. 

“Wait, Johnny-” 

You can’t finish your sentence because a second later his hands cup your face and his lips press to yours. You can taste something like desperation on his tongue- 

“John-” you whisper again.

“Just let me kiss you,” he insists, and you almost want to laugh. This is what he’d said when he came into your apartment too-

Is he really this afraid of your reaction? 

You’ve never known Johnny as the kind of guy to lack confidence- and it’s almost cute that he’s worried about this.

“John-” You press your hands to his stomach, and he moves away like he always does the moment you give any push back. 

His eyes hold the same desperation that his kiss had, and they’re sad, as sad as you’ve ever seen them-

“God,” you can’t help but laugh a little, “stop looking so worried!” you take a breath and feel your expression soften, “I love you too, you big dummy-” 

“You do?” His lips part in shock.

“Of course- I mean- how could I not?!” 

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?!” you fire back. 

“Well- I mean-” he rubs the back of his neck, “when you said you were picking up cam girling again after a hiatus-”

“I needed to be fucked and you were on tour! For ages! Besides, why did I get into cam girling in the first place, you big buffoon?” Part of you wants to laugh, and part of you wants to cry- “How long- how long have you-”

“A while,” he admits, swallowing thickly. “Sometimes I think about what would have happened if I’d never suggested the cam stuff- if I’d just manned up and offered to be your sugar daddy or something-”

“John-” you groan, hiding your face in your hands at all this new information. You’re in shock- and after a breath, you look up at him again. “How does a guy that loves a girl suggest for her to camgirl and fuck all his friends?”

“Well you see…” he licks his lips, “I’m not the jealous type?”

“You’re not the jealous type, oh my god-” 

“I mean, to be fair-” Johnny reaches for your hand, “you have so many idols wrapped around your finger that- maybe I thought it would be presumptuous to think I might stand a chance-”

“Johnny, that’s where you have it all wrong,” you say firmly, looking up at him with a stubborn set to your mouth, “no one ever stood a chance to you.”

“Really?”

“Not one person,” you confirm.

“I mean, you and Jinyoung were pretty close-”

“But he could see we were closer- he must have seen it- and he’s not the only one, John. Jaehyun’s asked me about us before, and Seungcheol seemed to know something about us last week-” you shake your head, still in disbelief. “I always thought maybe this was one sided-”

“Because of the whole thing about me suggesting you become a cam girl?”

“Yes!” 

“Well- I’m sorry.” When you look at him you can see that he’s being genuine. “I’m sorry that I gave you mixed signals.” 

“And that now I’ve fucked a few of your friends and things are way more complicated-” you add.

“They don’t have to be that complicated,” Johnny insists.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Are you sure about that?”

“Okay, John Cena-” your lover jokes. “I guess maybe things are a little messy-”

“A little?”

Johnny just looks at you for a moment, and then he smiles. “I love you.”

“And I love you, but-”

He kisses you before you can speak more, and for the third time today, you find yourself wanting to melt into the kiss even while your mind rages with unanswered questions. 

However, unlike the last two times, this time, you allow yourself to give up control. You give in to his tongue as it swipes across your lower lip, and when his hands slip down to your ass, you let him lift you up, legs wrapping around his waist-

“I love you,” Johnny says against your lips, harder this time. 

“I love you too-”

“Do we really have to talk about all this-” he asks, showing you that he’s aware he’d cut you off with a kiss, “or can I just fuck you now?” 

You laugh, shaking your head a little. “You can ‘just fuck me now’- but you better keep telling me you love me-”

“I was planning on it.”

“Good!” 

“Good,” he echos, mouth moving to your neck while he adjusts his hand to slip it between your bodies, grasping his cock to line it up with your entrance-

“Fuck, Suh, I love you so much that some days it’s made me want to scream-”

“Well, you can scream now if you want,” he smiles against your throat, “in fact-” he begins to push into you, “I’d really like to hear you scream for me tonight.”

“You’re-” you whimper as he fills your core in the most perfect way, “you’re insatiable-”

“I’ve got time to make up for,” he says simply.

There’s no way to fully describe the surge of emotion that runs through your body, it’s something like shock, awe, wonder, elatedness-

You can’t believe you’re here- can’t believe that the forbidden feeling you’ve been trying to ignore for over a year has been reciprocated- 

“Johnny?”

“Yes, my love?”

You shiver at the new petname, heart warming in your chest. “I just wanted to say I love you.”

“I love you too, my perfect little cam baby, I love you too.” 

☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This series has meant so much to me- a number of people wanted to give Jaehyun an ending, as he was very angsty for cam baby, so I've given an optional bonus below that ties up Jae's storyline and gives a little more cam baby closure :)

🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 

🔮 preview. “It would be a one-time thing,” Johnny says, with a dismissive wave of his hand, “but- I know you were missing her while we were on tour too, and you guys have always been long-term friends-” By ‘long term friends’ Jaehyun knows Johnny means ‘fuck buddies,’ and he reaches down to pinch his own arm, making sure he’s not dreaming.

cw/ tw. threesome, dry humping, spitroasting, oral, protected sex, quickie, praise, dumbification, overstim, etc...

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 4k I teaser wc. 200

🌙 staring. Jaehyun & Johnny x afab!Reader  

It’s been over a month since you and Johnny made your relationship official, and Jaehyun still can’t get used to seeing you two be so overtly loving with each other. Sure, he’d always had suspicions that you and Johnny’s affections ran deeper than you’d let on, but suspecting it and seeing it are different things.

He hadn’t realized seeing it would hurt this much. Hadn’t realized how deep his own feelings for you had grown- how used to you he’d become. 

And he’s not the only one. Haechan had thrown a royal fit when you’d skipped their ‘back from tour’ party, and Jaehyun is glad neither you nor Johnny had been around to see it.

“Maybe she’ll still want to fuck though-” Haechan had insisted, 4 bottles deep into his Soju, “Johnny’s not a jealous guy-”

At the time, Jaehyun had scoffed, rolling his eyes as Mark rubbed his best friend’s back and tried to be sympathetic, but now, as Jaehyun watches you and Johnny putter around the dorm, he starts to have the same hopes that Hyuck had. 

☀️to read the full 4k bonus, subscribe to my Patreon - then - click here

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interact with those who've cum before

› [nct] NiceGuyJohnny - online

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› [got7] TheJinyoung - online

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› hiatus…

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› [nct] NiceGuyJohnny - now in server

[amywritesthings]

I love the Hallo-sleepover idea! Can I request "my friend abandoned me at this halloween party and I don't know anyone. But you look as miserable as I feel" at a bonfire with Levi (:

hallo-sleepover '24!

of course!! this was the most requested prompt in 5 separate asks, so of course i wanted to present you a little levi on halloween day. xo hope you enjoy!

homemade.

pairing: levi ackerman x reader word count: 1.2k tags: modern au, adult language, halloween parties, first meet, levi ackerman as ghostface, reader as bride of frankenstein, mention of annie as your friend credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

read on ao3.

Everyone’s too loud. The Halloween music keeps repeating.

Not even swirling the bright orange plastic cup in your hand can salvage the separation of pineapple and white rum.

At least the warm crackle of the open fire pit in the backyard feels nice.

You’re not sure why you agreed to come to this Halloween party with Annie — you knew she was going to see one solo cup and run for the pong table to demolish the competition — but you’d worked tirelessly on your costume this year.

Not that you had anywhere to go to show it off — cons got too expensive this year, work days blurred into nights, and before you knew it the date of October 31 was sitting impatiently on your doorstep. 

Waiting on your front porch handing out candy to little ones wasn’t a bad idea.

Trick or Treaters are cute.

(Except you can’t imagine any of the kiddos willingly taking a Snickers bar from the hands of a screen-accurate rendition of the Bride of Frankenstein.)

So you'd get dressed up, fill a pumpkin bucket, and hang out for the night, right?

Wrong.

That plan wasn’t acceptable to your friend, Annie Leonhart.

The moment she arrived at your doorstep in full costume, Annie acted as if staying home was a cardinal sin.

“You didn’t have a plan for this?” Annie asked incredulously. “Are you joking, dude? Come on. This costume is sick.”

Before you stood an elaborate (see: terrifying) rendition of Lady Death: Annie’s blue eyes were sunken in by copious black eyeshadow, her lips cut into the illusion of teeth under a terrifying black veil obscuring most of her face. On her body was what looked to be a dyed thrift store wedding dress, dark as the night sky above.

She gestures to your wrapped mummified dress and large cylindrical white-and-gray wig — all hand-sewn, all homemade — with equally blackened fingertips, gooey with fake blood.

“What?” you murmur, looking down at your dress like something has gone astray.

“What?!” she repeats with a snort. “Oh, no. You’re not wasting this on sitting on a porch. C’mon, we’re going to Reiner’s thing.”

“Annie,” you groan, giving her a pleading look. “You know I hate parties.”

“Yeah? And I hate idiots who waste good costumes,” she retorts, grabbing your hand with hers to fly into your house. “What do you need? Grab your keys and phone, we’re going.”

(Yeah, you’re used to her bulldozing by now.)

It’s what brought you here — stuck at a bonfire, waiting for an appropriate time to ditch and call a Lyft back to your house.

Annie’s no doubt in the semifinals of the competition, so you can’t imagine you’ll see her for the rest of the night.

It’s fine.

It’s fine, you’ll just wait another ten and—

A flash of black clothes shuffles past you to flop unceremoniously into a lawn chair. With a grunt, their legs extend towards the bonfire, the tip of their boots tapping the brick surrounding the pit. 

Slumping into the chair, you recognize the costume right away: it isn’t a traditional Ghostface given the dark denim jeans and the black henley shirt with rolled-up sleeves, but the elongated white and black ghoulish mask is unmistakable.

Unable to help yourself, you watch as the fire illuminates the veins in their forearms. His gloved hand palms the entire mask and rips it off of his face, causing your whole body to have a hot flash.

Oh.

Oh, no.

The Ghostface at the party is hot.

Immediately his bluish-gray eyes find you when he sits back in his chair once more. The black fringe of his hair clings to his forehead like the mask had been suffocating him to a sweat, complimenting his high cheekbones. 

Lips parted, you note the way he gives your costume a once over before speaking in the most rumbled, honey silk voice.

“Bride of Frank, right?”

Blinking twice, you continue to stare. When a few beats of silence pass, the stranger’s chin drops closer to his chest, brow expectant with an arch.

“You’re looking at me like I missed a reboot this year.”

Wait.

He’s talking to you.

Clearing your throat, you sit up taller and absently reach for your tall wig to make sure it’s in place. 

“No, you’re right. The Bride from the 1935 film.” 

You try to smile, though it gets lost somewhere in your anxiety. 

“And you’re Ghostface, right? From the movie Scream?”

The stranger nods. 

“Sort of. Found a mask half-off at the store, but I wasn’t wearing a damn nightgown.”

“The black clothes still fit the look,” you try to reassure, and he snorts.

“You’re far more forgiving than the Michael Myers I came here with,” he states, “but that friend abandoned my ass at this Halloween party, and I don’t know anyone else here, so.”

Crossing his legs by the ankles and his arms over his chest, he continues to observe your costume. From the flicker of the fire, his expression almost seems appreciative of your work.

“You did a damn good job,” he adds, “which is a shame, because you look as miserable as I feel.”

The surprise praise causes your face to heat up.

“I wouldn’t say miserable.”

“Bored?”

“Oh, definitely bored.”

He snorts. “Yeah, me too. I hate this shit.”

“Parties?”

“Halloween parties,” the stranger clarifies. “If everyone showed up to this shit dressed as elaborately as you, then I’d probably eat my own words.” He tosses a thumb back to the house. “I can’t tell you how many goddamn half-baked Jokers there are in that house.”

Somewhere in the midst of his rant is another compliment.

Toying with one of the ends of the mummified dress you wear, you find yourself shrugging a shoulder. “Not everyone has busybody time like me to make a costume, to be fair.”

“Wait.” He sits up more, sitting the Ghostface mask on his lap. “You made that?”

When you nod, you feel your body match the bonfire’s temperature. Annie gave you compliments by the plenty, but that was Annie. Everyone else at this party had been too busy getting drunk or too occupied to notice.

But he did.

“How’d you do it?” he asks with what seems to be genuine curiosity, though you wave it off.

“It’s boring.”

“Doubt it.”

“No, it really is,” you state, but the stranger leans closer with intrigue. You can’t move away, too mesmerized by how damn gorgeous he is. “And knowing me, I could ramble on for hours, so—”

“Hey, I have time.”

The man clears his throat and holds up the Ghostface mask as if it’ll somehow convince you.

“Might as well make the most of this damn thing while we’re stuck here, right? If anything, you’d be saving me from another goddamn Scary Movie reference inside, so you're doing me a favor by rambling for hours.”

The mention brings a slow and relaxed smile to your lips.

Right.

The ye ol’ wasssssaaaaaap to anyone with a Ghostface mask.

“Fine,” you relent, and you swear your mind is playing tricks on you when it sees a half-smile form on his own face, but the fire swipes it away just as fast. “But at least tell me your name — unless you want me to call you Ghostface.”

The man shakes his head, the fringe of his black hair following with him.

“Levi,” he introduces, softer this time. “Just call me Levi.”

[multiwreckedmess]

February Filth Fest Day 22

Prompt: Masturbation Pairing: Gymrat!Yeosang x fem!reader WC: 1,760 Summary: Yeosang has an embarrassing problem. Have you ever heard of a core-gasm?

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Yeosang or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. By clicking the “Read More” you agree that you are of age to interact with my works.

TW/CW: Male masturbation, sort of subby Yeosang, lots of praise for yeosang, yeosang called handsome and big boy, reader called “hot” and has breasts. tbh not much to warn about.

 Yeosang has started wearing two pairs of pants to the gym. It’s not really a notable change to anyone, simply adding some compression leggings to a pair of sweats or loose shorts wasn’t revolutionary fashion. If anyone asked, he’d planned to joke that it was “pump cover” or something like that. As if the problem was that easily explainable.  No no, the problem had only started recently, as he worked to define his abs further. Yeosang wanted to fulfill his title of the “statue of Ateez '' to perfection. It was the addition of hanging leg lifts, pushed into the workout by his trainer, that were the culprit. Meant to better define his v-cut and improve his posture, it seemed the exercise provided other less welcome effects. In particular and perhaps most curiously, was seemingly spontaneous orgasm.  Almost always on the 2nd to last rep of the final set, as Yeosang trembled and fought against gravity, he’d feel the familiar dangerous twinge in his core. Unable to stop it, endorphins would flood him as warmth spread into his underwear. The first time it happened he jogged to the locker room to change, horrified at the thought that he’d pissed himself. It wasn’t, he hadn’t. Instead sticky white clung to him as he peeled back his clothing. Embarrassing.  And then it happened again, two days later. And it kept happening, not every time but enough. Enough that Yeosang had to wear two pairs of pants to hide the stain as it soaked through.  “I like those pants!” You remark as you pass Yeosang who is drinking feverishly from his water bottle. Track pants with snaps up the sides to the very top, mostly unfastened, allowing the fabrics to billow between his legs. “Very ‘Magic Mike’ if you wanted to just rip them off. Heeeyaw!” You mimic the motion and giggle.  Yeosang chuckles and nods, but you’re already halfway to another machine. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as you work in between sets together. Energetic yet reserved, friendly but solitary. In a way you remind him of Wooyoung. You have more of an ass though, and certainly more of a bust. He chides himself for noticing, it’s indecent of him to ogle, but it’s hard to miss how the tight spandex hugs every curve so beautifully.    “The way you’re staring at me I’m gonna think you want to fight me or fuck me,” you blurt in passing from machine to machine. Yeosang’s ears go red and he stammers.  “So sorry,” his eyes burn holes in the floor. “I was just spacing-” you’d already moved on to your set, but he keeps going, keeps apologizing and stuttering and blushing. For some reason he can’t stop himself from it, having so egregiously breached so many unspoken rules of the gym recently, he rambles on like a kid in a confession booth for the first time.  Pausing mid set, you laugh, startling him. “You’re actually really cute for a gym bro.”  This stops him, looking up at you again incredulously. “I’m not aiming for cute!”  Your eyes are kind, “oh? So you’re just naturally flusterable?” You ask as you giggle.  Yeosang’s mouth flaps open and closed, unable to form a coherent sentence.  “Okay handsome, I’m going to go finish up on the treadmill if it’s all the same to you.”  It’s your turn to stare as Yeosang finishes up his workout, rounding out with leg raises. He’s really beautiful when he does each exercise, nose crinkling with effort as his muscles shake. Closing his eyes and knitting his brow, his pouty lips begin to tremble, jaw slackening. All of his muscles seem to seize at the top of the leg lift, eyes flying open as he lets out the most pitiful whine.  Yeosang’s expression changes from pleasure to panic as you look at each other. He starts to try to scuttle away, tail between his legs as he strategically speed walks to the locker room.  The room has never felt farther than it does as Yeosang feels you breathing down his neck. The sanctuary of the men’s locker room where he can clean up the mess he’s made both literally and figuratively. Maybe even cancel his membership as he sits in a stall.  A small hand with a firm grip gets his shoulder as he reaches the door.  “Did you just cum?”  “Don’t ask that so loud,” he whimpers. “Someone could hear you.”  “Who? The teen at the front desk with his headphones in? There’s not exactly a ton of people here right now. But wait,” you shake your head, “you didn’t answer, did you cum?”  Feet stuck to the ground by a supernatural magnetic force, Yeosang nods shamefully with a high pitched whine. “It just happens sometimes, it’s not- I’m not a perv.”  “But you aren’t even hard,” you start to wonder aloud, eyes locking to the crotch of his pants. Yeosang is fully flushed, beat red from his chest to the tips of his ears.  “I know, it’s so-it looks like I-” Yeosang stutters, his cock twitching in interest so suddenly he jolts a bit more upright. It’s a small comfort that if anything you look fascinated by him instead of horrified or angry. Your hand migrates down his arm, tracing a vein from his bicep to his wrists where he fears you can feel his pulse pounding wildly.  “Show me. Can you do it again?”  Yeosang’s eyes roll back as blood flows into his rapidly engorging member. If the post workout high didn’t have him dizzy, this certainly did. The husky purr to your tone melodically curling around his ears. It’s the opposite reaction that he’d never planned for. All of the time he’d rehearsed in his head what to do if someone noticed but never had he thought about if a person wanted him to do it again. He starts to shake his head, he’d only ever done it once a workout. “You wanna see me cum?”  “I’m sorry if i’m being too forward but I’m-I’m interested,” you stammer, the weight of your question finally hitting you like a ton of bricks. “I thought you-sorry if i misread-”  It’s Yeosang’s turn to panic, eyes wide as his hands spread open palmed in front of him. “Ah! No! I’m-I’m-you’re-” he gulps, mouth dry as the desert. Brow furrowing he doesn’t even register the decision he makes. It happens so fast. He tugs you with him, back pushing through the locker room door, into a stall. “I’ve only ever done it once like that but I can-”  “I could help!” You offer as you watch him tug his first layer of pants off his body. There’s a large splotch, not obvious on the black fabric from afar but mere inches away its hard to miss the shiny dampness of the area. Instinctively you reach forward to touch him, already at half mast and growing.  Yeosang nearly yelps, “no! If you do I’ll-” the blush on his cheeks darkens, “you’re really hot.”  You smirk, “okay then handsome, I’ll watch.”  Unceremoniously, Yeosang tugs the second pair of shorts and his boxers down to his thighs, the mess of cum and sweat still coating his pubic area and cock. Purple and blue veins run prominently up his member all the way up to the flare of his red tapered tip. He pulls his tight black tanktop up enough to expose the muscles of his torso. Taut abs, defined vlines and muscles you didn't even know the name of all on full display as he drags his fingers up the underside of his shaft.  “God you’re beautiful,” you murmur, sinking to your knees in front of him.  His eyelids flutter and quads tense, the refractory period is much shorter than he thought. “Ah! Ha, you-you-too,” Yeosang gasps and giggles at the same time, leisurely pumping his cock. “Your tits are really-oh my god- from here- they’re so-” he shudders and gasps, a weak spurt of precum erupting from the tip.  You scoot closer to better admire him. His hands are just as veiny, large around his equally girthy member. “Where’d you hide all that?”  He whines a tiny high pitched sound from the back of his throat. You can see his abs tense and kick his diaphragm up as a wave of endorphins hit. Almost a direct opposite of his ripped physique, the vocalizations that escape him are small and squeaky, the product of both pain and pleasure.  “You like it when I call you handsome? When I tell you how big and thick your cock is?”  “Ghnughn- yes,” he chokes back a moan. The praise immediately goes to his head, his grip tightens and pace speeds up.  “Moan more for me, you sound so pretty.”  A guttural groan escapes from him as he shakes, followed shortly by a hiccuped inhale. “I’m close.” His cock is almost purple with engorgement, precum flowing out of the tip easily. Hips working in tandem with his fist, the sounds of his whining and mewling that flood the bathroom are unmistakable.  “Hurry, cum. Cum for me,” you urge him, scooting just a bit closer, close enough to feel the warmth of the air around him.  “Shit- wha-where-”  “On me on my face on my tits, wherever you want, big boy, coat me in it.”  The twinge of desperation in your voice sets him off. He’s beautiful when he cums, head tilting back to expose his muscular neck and sharp jaw, drawn out high pitched whimper is the cherry on top. A forceful jolt of release erupting forth from him and coating your cheek, hot and sticky. The next spurt drops from your jawline to your tits which is quickly followed by another volley aimed squarely at the center of your chest.  Yeosang’s vision swimming he could swear he still saw you slowly rubbing the liquid against yourself, lifting a finger to your mouth to clean it with your tongue. The thought makes him nearly black out, hand slamming into the wall of the stall to catch his balance.  “Which locker is yours?” Your breath is hot on his ear. He didn’t even know you’d stood up. His head swims again under the spell of your proximity.  “117.”  “Wait a sec before you come out, it’ll look less suspicious.”  He nods, and collapses back onto the toilet, he needs to collect himself anyway. The entire encounter feels like a fever dream, it’s not until your note falls out of his locker that he starts to concede maybe it wasn’t.

Sorry this is so late. Lightly based on someone at some point saying “what if Yeosang cums when he works out.” I don’t remember where i saw this but whoever you are, yeah, what if?

[perlelune]

Tag, You’re It | Ethan Landry | vii.

Happy, carefree college days meet their abrupt end when every guy who approaches you mysteriously turns up dead.

Warnings: NON-CON, Stalking, Bimbo!Reader, Clueless Reader, Loss of Virginity, Incel Ethan, Cheerleader Reader, Skin Carving (w/knife), Canon Typical Slashing, Voyeurism, Kidnapping, Forced Masturbation, Filming, Blackmail

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

The brightness of the floodlights beaming across the stadium rivals that of the stars' peppering the sky. The bleachers are packed, students waving and cheering from the crowd at the lined up players. 

Tension hangs in the air, so thick and palpable you feel the weight of it clogging your airways. 

Shaking your shoulders and strengthening your spine, you rush to join the other cheerleaders at the edge of the field. 

The minute she notices you, Alana makes a beeline for you, her blonde ponytail swinging from left to right and her forehead creased with a deep wrinkle of displeasure. 

You go still and keep your gaze low as she approaches. A lion might cower beneath the sharp coolness of her glare. 

If anyone can make someone flinch with her eyes alone, it's Alana. 

"Where the hell were you?" she blurts out without ceremony, sternly planting herself before you with her arms crossed.

Words stumble out of you in a nervous heap.

"I-I ran into a friend and-" you start but she interrupts you with a dismissive wave of her immaculately manicured hand. 

"Nevermind, the game’s about to start," she says, gripping her temple and releasing a deep, irritated sigh. She squints and mutters below her breath, "Just because I moved you from flyer to backspot doesn’t mean you get to slack off."

Your heart pinches at that. After Halloween night, nothing was the same. While Alana agreed to let you remain a member of the squad, she shifted your position when the rumors about you being in cahoots with Ghostface spread around campus like wildfire. 

She didn’t want you to sully the squeaky clean image of the team. So you were relegated to the bottom of the pyramid where you could blend in and not bring too much attention to yourself.

You don’t mind it excessively. The looks people give you are one thing. You’ve learnt to brush off the unfortunate scrutiny. 

But being part of the team…it’s the one thing in your life you’re actually good at. 

Damn near everything else, you have spectacularly failed at. 

Cheerleading makes you feel good about yourself. 

You don’t want to lose that. 

Lisa tosses a questioning glance your way, green eyes flicking to Ethan up in the bleachers, diligently snapping pictures. 

He notices you peering up at him and smiles at you but, unlike every other time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and he quickly looks away. 

When your focus settles on Lisa again, confusion etched on features, your heart sinks. 

You mouth the word 'later' to her. As she nods at you, your stomach knots at the prospect of the conversation ahead.

If only you could tell her now, rip the band-aid…but the game's about to start. 

You held high hopes for it to work out. Lisa was voted 'hottie of the month' more times than anyone else on the team. 

Everyone who meets her instantly falls for her charm and stunning looks. 

She also has many hobbies outside of cheerleading, from video games to card games you couldn’t understand anything about if you tried your hardest. 

You thought she and Ethan would click and make such an amazing couple. 

It never occurred to you he might already like someone else. You can’t remember getting a glimpse of him with any girl no matter how much you scratch your mind to recall. 

Now your curiosity is piqued about this mystery girl.

Ethan sounded so taken with her. 

She must be quite the girl to have stolen his heart like that, probably as cool and smart as he is. 

Maybe you could try to set them up instead. 

You're still hell-bent on figuring out a way to thank him for how much he's been there for you lately.

Helping him gather the courage to pursue the girl of his dreams could be one way to do that.

Alana claps her hands, her attention pivoting to the whole team, the other girls’ tense expressions mirroring yours. "Everyone, showtime!" she finally announces.

Thoughts vacate your mind as you lift your pom-poms and concentrate on performing the routine to perfection. You don’t miss a single step, losing yourself to the beat played by the band.

You can’t help but bask in pride when you land a perfect pirouette, never faltering once. 

Everything’s right again. Simple and easy. 

The thrill of the game. The bated breath each time the opposite team tilts the odds in their favor. 

The rush of victory. 

Victory.

Before you know it, the game’s over and the elated clamor of the crowd is filling the stadium. 

Amidst the overflow of joy erupting around you, Tyler fights his way through the crowd to reach you. 

He’s still in his football uniform when he effortlessly lifts you from the ground and whirls you in the air.

"You’re my good luck charm, gorgeous," he beams. 

You laugh as your head spins. "Ty, put me down."

He does as you say, keeping his hands on your waist to steady you when your feet touch the grassy floor again. 

"Sorry," he chuckles. "Got carried away."

As he bends over you and his lips graze your cheek, your stomach flutters. 

He rears back, blushing while holding your hands. "I’m sorry. Was that okay?"

Mouth agape, you blink up at him. "It’s totally okay," you stammer, heat rising in your cheeks. 

You’d missed that feeling, the simplicity of casual flirtation and having a crush. 

The euphoric bubble is popped when your gaze locks with Lisa’s in the background. As you watch her go back inside, your chest twinges. 

You squeeze Tyler’s hand apologetically. 

"Can we pick that up later?"

He gives a swift nod, his bright grin intact. 

"Of course. You’re coming to the OKB house to celebrate, right?"

"Maybe not. My friends and I kind of had plans."

He cups the side of your face. 

"Okay. What about Saturday night then? We can do dinner and a movie." He pauses and studies you. "I’m just not about games. I like you and I’d love to take you out sometime, that’s all."

His straightforward admission curves your lips skyward. But the smile on your face quickly dies as a chill blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward and freezing you in your spot. 

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl and inspect your surroundings.

You’re astonished to find nothing barring the excited people celebrating around you. 

You could have sworn you felt…something. 

Like someone watching you. 

The strange sensation clings to you as Tyler inquires, his tone rife with concern, "Is something wrong?"

You shake your head and slot a wobbly smile onto your face. 

"Uh…not at all. I’m free on Saturday," you chime. 

"Awesome. I’ll text you the details."

You hum your approval and he brushes another soft kiss on your cheek. 

Part of you is over the moon. You’ve wanted this for weeks since Tyler and you started hanging out. 

But something is off, though you can’t pinpoint what. A wrongness you can’t define or explain. 

Even as you stroll down the hallways toward the girls’ locker room, your nerves are frazzled, thrumming in alert. 

It’s been weeks since you’ve been this tense. Since…him.

"You’re coming, babe?" Mindy says, grabbing your hand as she runs into you in the hallway. 

Anika’s by her side and gives you a tight hug. "Hey, it’s been a minute," she observes.

You can’t deny that. Between cheer practice, Ethan tutoring you and all the assignments you need twice as much time than everyone else to complete…you’ve neglected hanging out with your friends. 

Before you can open your mouth to explain, Mindy rolls her eyes. "It’s because she spends all her time with Ethan now."

Anika giggles as your best friend pretends to gag at the mere mention of Ethan’s name. 

Usually, you’d respond to her antics but you’re too distracted tonight. 

Besides, there’s a conversation you need to have as soon as possible, much as you dread it. 

"Don’t wait for me. I’ll catch up," you tell Mindy before making your way to the girls’ locker room. 

Chad tries to stop you on the way to share his excitement but you promise him you’ll see him later. While disappointment paints his features, he lets you go.

Ethan’s nowhere to be seen and you remember about the trash he mentioned before the game. Your brow furrows in befuddlement. What an odd time to pick to handle his garbage. You suppose Ethan’s just this obsessive about having a clean space. Maybe he’s one of those ODC people. 

Gnawing on your lip, you sluggishly drag your feet inside the changing room. Most of the girls are wrapped in bubbly chatter, the excitement of the night coating the air. 

You clear your throat and sit on the bench near one particular redhead with a dour look on her face. 

Twiddling your fingers, you clear your throat before trembling words spill out of you. 

"Hey, Lisa. So I-"

She cuts you off while buttoning her shirt, "Don’t bother. I can already tell from your face."

Your brows draw together.

"My face?"

"Yeah, you just…you wear your heart on your sleeve, you know?" Her voice cracks as her mouth twists in a hollow smile. "He said no, didn’t he?"

Your shoulders sag. "I’m so sorry."

She flips her hair and releases a heavy sigh. 

"Don’t be. Plenty of fish in the sea and all that." She picks up her backpack and stands, hands on her hips. "Bummer, but it is what is."

"He said he already likes someone else," you explain, hoping to soften the blow. 

She gives you a pointed glare before scoffing, "Someone else, huh?" She exhales and folds her arms. "Do me a favor…Let him down easy, will you?"

Your lashes bat as you tilt your head sideways. "What do you mean?"

She sighs again and sidles closer to you to gently cradle your face.

"Sweetie, there aren't a lot of girls Ethan hangs out with…"

Your confusion grows tenfold. You noted that too. Was she trying to hint at the identity of the mystery girl? Did she figure it out before you could?

"Uh?"

Lisa scrutinizes you before an acrid laugh peals from her lips.

"I envy you sometimes, you know," she says, letting go of your face as a forlorn smile pulls her lips. "Maybe if I were more like you…I wouldn’t feel as crappy as I do right now."

"Lisa…"

She takes a step back when you reach for her, flashing you a huge grin. 

"I’ll see you at practice. Thanks for trying."

Lisa leaves and you change out of your cheerleading outfit and back into a regular one. You elect to shower at home on the way to meet up with your friends, too down in the dumps to properly bask in Alana congratulating you for your performance tonight after giving her usual post-game captain speech. 

As you gather your things from your locker, preparing to leave, your phone rings. 

You scowl at the unknown caller ID, picking up without much thought.

"Hello?"

"I thought we had something special. I’m so disappointed in you, princess," a distorted, tragically familiar baritone rumbles on the other end of the line.

Your heart drops to your feet. 

"I didn’t do anything. Please…" you whimper, tears already collecting in your eyes. 

You thought you were done with him…or rather that he was done with you. After giving him what he asked, you thought you were off the hook. 

You were so stupid.

Ghostface unleashes a sinister laugh, turning your blood to ice. 

"Didn’t do anything? Giving away what’s mine to some lame alpha bro. Opening your legs for some dickhead who doesn’t deserve you."

You sniffle, your fingers quaking around the phone.

"We haven’t done anything, I swear."

"Good…And you never fucking will."

His foreboding inflection makes your insides wrench. Abruptly, the call ends. 

Your phone clatters to the ground as you rush outside, tears streaming down your face. Every single thought in your head is turned to Tyler and the danger he’s in. 

You don’t get far, pandemonium unleashing around you as you leap into the hallway. Panicked students bump into you. You zigzag through them as the thunderous beats of your heart grow louder in your ears. 

A frantic scream reaches you from the other end of the hallway. 

"Somebody calls an ambulance," they shout. "Ghostface shanked one of the players in the shower."

Your eyes go wide as you stumble and collapse, the room swiveling off its axis through the veil of your tears. 

~

[berryjoong]

✩ devil by the window - hwang hyunjin ✩

read part two here!

pairing: demon!hyunjin x angel!afab reader

summary: you’re an angel, hyunjin’s a demon, and you’re both after the same soul. you hate each other, but you just can’t stay away from him.

song: devil by the window ~ tomorrow x together

word count: 3k

warning: smut under the cut, minors do not interact!! oral (f receiving), angel x demon things, unprotected sex (lol don’t do this), creampie, kinda hate sex ?? really i’m unsure about what warnings to put tbh, use of the pet name “angel” (kind of a pet name, the reader is literally an angel), some degradation, some praise

small a/n: 3k words i’m so proud of myself lmao this was kind of all over the place rip i tried. if you liked this, feel free to like and reblog and drop a request if you want !!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

“we shouldn’t be doing this.”

the hushed words fell from your lips in between hurried kisses pressed to the neck of the man before you.

“you know you’re free to leave, angel, but you never do,” hyunjin chuckled lowly. he leaned his head back to allow you more access to his perfect neck. it was sinful, how devastatingly perfect and beautiful he was. only one of the many reasons you couldn’t stay away from him.

you knew you should, you knew what would happen if anyone on either side found out, but you just couldn’t stop yourself. the two of you were pulled together now and there was no way in your long, eternal life that you could imagine ending what the two of you had, no matter how precarious your situation was.

it had started as most things do, slowly and then all at once. the two of you were on a mission, you were on heaven’s side, while hyunjin was trying to pull that same soul down to hell. you quickly got in each other’s way, making for an interesting life of the human you both were after. good after bad after good, the poor human’s soul was tossed back and forth between sides in the wicked game of keep away you played.

you and hyunjin often found yourselves at each other’s throats as you fought over the human’s soul, both of you unwilling to relent to the other. hyunjin taunted you endlessly, always trying to see what would get a rile out of you. he’d poke at you, go on about how boring and “holier than thou” you were and how much easier it would be if you both were just on the same side.

you hated each other, that’s how it was always supposed to be. well, you weren’t supposed to hate him, just shrug your shoulders, rolling his insults off and have the patience of a saint. unfortunately for you, patience was never one of your strengths. slowly but surely, his words began to pick at you, making cracks in your own perfect facade.

he picked and chipped away at you until one day, you snapped completely. the utter anger and rage you felt toward him was supposed to be unknown to you but there was no denying how entirely infuriated the demon made you. he had been making progress on the soul you both were after and had been teasing you nonstop for who knows how long.

“the prissy little angel, aww, look at you.”

“you really think you can take this soul from me? how cute.”

“you know, it would be easier if we were just on the same side.”

never ending, the teasing and nagging continued prompting you to shove the pesky demon backwards, into the wall of the room where you both were. at that, he quirked an eyebrow, a devilish smirk crossing his lips.

“what, you have something you have to say, angel?” his voice was low, more taunting than he’d ever been. he had you now and he knew it, right in the palm of his hand.

“i fucking hate you,” you ground out, looking at him with such burning intensity it’s a wonder something didn’t get set on fire.

to this, he just chuckled. “big words from the perfect little angel. do they even let you use those words where you come from?” he shrugged your hands off of him, turning to pace the room you were in. your human, blissfully, was asleep so neither you nor hyunjin had much to worry about. you could infiltrate their dreams, pushing them one way or another, but right now, all you could do was focus on the smug demon in front of you.

“you’re despicable,” you spat back at him, watching him carefully as he walked around the room your human was still in.

“that is my middle name, i didn’t know you knew it.” the nonchalant manner in which he treated the situation just infuriated you even more. he just paced around the familiar room, hands behind his back and eyes half lidded.

“you aren’t even taking this mission seriously, you’re a joke,” you scoffed and crossed your arms.

faster than the blink of an eye, hyunjin was in front of you again, pushing you against the wall, his face only inches from yours. “oh, trust me, angel, i’m taking my mission very seriously.”

the seemingly permanent cocky smirk that adorned his face was the last thing you saw before he kissed you.

and that was how it started.

now here you were, pushed against him as you kissed him like your whole eternal life depended on it. you weren’t sure how long it had been since the first time something like this happened, it had probably been a few human months, not that either of you were really counting.

“my sweet little angel,” he murmured into your mouth, his voice taunting, “how far you’ve fallen.” you felt him smirk against your lips as he pushed back against you.

it was true, if anyone found out about what you two did in the shadows you were doomed. you knew exactly what the punishment was, you knew it and hated it. what you were doing was irredeemable and yet you just couldn’t make yourself stop. it was addicting, he was addicting.

“just shut up and kiss me, demon.” shut up and kiss you he did. he kissed you until you were dizzy and your mind was only filled with him and what he could do with you, to you. his hands were everywhere, pushing and pulling, grabbing at any part of you he could.

it wasn’t long before he moved away from your lips and pressed sinful little kisses to your neck as he worked his way down toward your chest. soft, short breaths escaped your lips as you tried to keep yourself still from pushing against him more.

hyunjin smirked against your skin, hearing the sweet noises that fell from your lips. “you like that, hmm?”

unable to help yourself, you tilted your head back farther, a small whimper breaking free from you as you nodded. “don’t- don’t rub it in, you filth.”

the demon that had you pinned against the wall slowly brought his face up next to yours, his lips right by your ear. “i’m nothing but filth, am i? that may be, but it’s nothing compared to how filthy we are together,” he hissed, ending the sentiment with a nip at your earlobe.

you shivered under his touch and rolled your head away from his, giving him unobstructed access to your neck to do whatever he pleased. he hummed in amusement, placing another searing kiss onto the skin there.

“someone’s needy today, hmm?” he chuckled darkly, teeth lightly grazing over the skin of your neck. you kept your mouth closed, not wanting to give him any more ammunition to use against you. he pushed you back farther onto the bed of the spare room you were in, climbing on top of you and caging you in between his strong arms.

“just eager to be done with you,” you grumbled out, even as your arms came up to wrap themselves around the back of his neck.

“oh really? then maybe i should just leave you here then if you’re that ready to get rid of me.” he went to move away and you nearly whined, tightening your arms around his neck.

“no.” the word was soft but firm at the same time as you tugged hyunjin’s face down to yours once again, your lips colliding together. he kissed you with so much fervor you were positive you could never recover. he was all over you, ensuring that he was the only thought in your head.

slowly but surely, the demon above you ground his hips down into yours, ensuring that you knew just how great his need for you was. he let his hands trail down to your hips and squeezed the flesh there tightly. his fingers moved to fiddle with the hem at the top of your skirt as he kissed you deeply.

he pulled back just enough to smirk at you, loving how red your face already was, despite him barely having done anything to you yet.

“what a good little angel, always so perfect for me,” he murmured, his voice smooth as his dark eyes raked over your laid out form. “gonna get you out of these pesky clothes now, okay?”

your head began to grow fuzzy and you felt yourself nod, followed by the feeling of hyunjin pulling back further to tug your skirt and undergarments down. he tossed them haphazardly onto the floor behind him, turning back to you with an almost hungry stare. his perfect lips curled back into a devilish grin as he gazed at you, rubbing his hands over your now bare thighs.

“now, be a good angel and spread those pretty legs for me, hmm?” he smirked down at you as your knees fell outwards almost involuntarily. hyunjin quirked an eyebrow at your eagerness, shuffling between your legs and placing small kisses down your front as he did so.

he situated himself between your legs, chuckling at just how wet you were for him already. he placed light kisses and nips here and there, working his way up your thighs before pressing his lips to where you needed him most.

“so needy for me already, you’re absolutely dripping, pretty one,” he breathed out, the feeling of his warm breath against your core making you buck your hips up toward his face slightly.

“just- just get on with it,” you groaned, not having the willpower to completely act like you didn’t want him as badly as you knew he wanted you.

“ah, ah, what do we say then, angel?” he placed another all too soft kiss to your thigh, acting completely nonchalant.

you glared down at where he sat between your legs, suddenly unwilling to say the little word he wanted from you.

“come on, my little angel, you know what it is. just one tiny word and i can give you whatever you want.” he nudged his nose lightly against your inner thigh, smirking up at you once more.

“fuck- fuck you, p-please.” your eyes rolled back in your head as he immediately dove in, attaching his lips to your clit. he devoured you like a madman, as if you were the last meal of his long life. you were quick to reach down, bunching your hands in his long hair and tugging on it as you tried pulling him in closer to you.

he hooked one of your legs over his shoulders for easier access to you, not wanting to waste any more time. he moved from your clit, down to your soaking entrance, tongue greedily lapping up the juices that coated your folds. you couldn’t stop the noises that flowed freely from your own lips as wave after wave of pleasure rolled over you. you wriggled your hips, trying to get more friction against him, and his large hands immediately came up to hold you down. he looked up at you, one eyebrow raised and he uttered a single “no,” firm, with no room left for questioning.

you just nodded quickly, throwing your head back as he began his movements once again. already you could feel pressure building up in your lower abdomen, pushing you toward your high. as if he could read your very thoughts, hyunjin pulled away a moment later and you whined at the loss of contact. you could see the evidence of your arousal clearly on his chin as he rose from his spot between your legs.

he climbed on top of you again, still smiling wickedly and leaned down to kiss you. you moaned at the taste of yourself on his lips, your hands coming up to grab at his hair. all too soon, he leaned back and pulled your shirt up and over your head.

“love to see your pretty tits when we do this, angel, can never get enough of you,” he breathed, hands tracing up and down your sides delicately. it was such a contrast to how he had been behaving with you, only moments ago. his fingers pinched at your nipples, rolling the sensitive buds between his fingers. you were completely unable to help how your hips bucked at the feeling, another loud moan leaving your lips.

“don’t worry, angel, i’ll fuck you real nice now, alright?” you whimpered at his words, hands trying to grab at any part of him you could. the demon that loomed over you merely chuckled and made quick work to rid himself of his own clothes.

you watched as he shrugged off his clothes, another wave of arousal flooding you when you see his pretty cock hit his lower stomach. it was long and flushed pink, the tip leaking sticky drops of precum, a clear signal of his own need for you.

hyunjin pumped his cock a few times before lining himself up with you, smirking at the subtle way your hips push against him. leaning over you on one hand, he uses the other to guide his cock to your entrance, slowly sinking into you. you let out a load moan at the stretch while the demon above you groaned at your tight heat now around him.

“fuck, angel, you feel so good,” he breathed out, voice low as he restrained himself from utterly wrecking you the way his instincts told him to. instead, he kept the drags of his cock in you slow, just wanting to enjoy the feeling of you.

as soon as he started moving, your hands found their way to his shoulders, just trying to pull him closer. you hated how you loved the way his skin felt on yours, but you couldn’t deny it, no matter how much you wanted to. you knew after the night was over you’d both go back to hating each other the way you did before but for now, you were going to lose yourself in the moment.

hyunjin leaned down, burying his face in your neck as another low moan escaped him. “so perfect, angel, like you were made up there in heaven just for me.”

your head lolled back and you whimpered out loud at his words, back arching up and pushing your chest against his. he continued his powerful thrusts, leaning back just slightly to pull your legs around his hips. you clawed at his shoulders, his cock hitting deeper every time he buried himself inside you.

hyunjin rested his large hands on your hips, holding them tight enough to leave bruises the next day as he pulled you close to meet his sharp thrusts. he let out a long groan before chuckling, feeling you clench around him. “close already? i thought you could last longer than that, angel.”

“close? n-no way.” you shook your head defiantly, refusing to look at him. even so, you couldn’t help the way you started to tremble slightly as hyunjin picked up the pace of his hips snapping into yours.

“oh really?” he taunted, dark eyes fixed on the way your tits bounced with every push. “we’ll see about that.”

he thrusted harder, letting go of your hips and looming over you with one hand while his other moved down to thumb at your clit. you moaned out loud at the new stimulation, your hips bucking up involuntarily. you opened your eyes to see him grinning down at you, his perfect smile positively devilish at your reaction.

“come on, be the good little angel that i know you are for me,” he urged, his words and movements pushing you toward the orgasm you’d been holding back the whole night.

“and just so you know,” he whispered in your ear, “you were my mission all along, angel.” he leaned down and kissed you harshly, the feeling of him nearly suffocating you. any other time, your mind would be reeling at the words he said, but now, you vaguely realized it, brain too muddled with pleasure. instead, the feeling of him everywhere overwhelmed you and nudged you over the edge into that place that made you see stars. you couldn’t hold back the loud whine that escaped as your climax hit you like a train, making you clench repeatedly around hyunjin’s cock. you raked your fingernails down his back as he kept pounding into you, chasing after his own high.

“fuck yeah, angel, that’s- that’s it.” he wanted to enjoy it, make it last longer but with how you tightened around him with every thrust, hyunjin knew that would be impossible. he gave a few more rough pumps before emptying himself in you, painting your snug walls white. he let out another loud swear as his own orgasm hit, pleasure washing over him and his mind fogging up slightly.

you whimpered in overstimulation as the demon above you rode out his high, pulling out of you after a few more shallow thrusts. hyunjin let himself kiss you once more before pulling back completely to clean himself up. he found a rag in the next room and wordlessly tossed it to you to clean yourself up with.

as you began cleaning yourself up, the words he’d whispered to you registered in your head. “what- what did you mean earlier, hyunjin? about me being your mission?”

to that, hyunjin just chuckled lowly. “isn’t it obvious? what do you think it means?”

he didn’t meet your eyes as he started dressing himself, just shaking his head as he wandered around the room searching for the rest of his clothes.

“you’re not stupid, angel, you know what it means. anytime you wanna give up and come home with me, you’re welcome,” were his final words before he walked out, leaving you where you were, brain whirring as you tried to process all of what he’d told you. 

[conchcronch]

Making a Mess Part 2

Sanji x Zoro

It may have started with a night of drinking, but the morning after starts with a migraine and ends with something much nicer.

If you haven’t already, please read part 1 before!

NSFW Below the Cut

Spotify Playlist for the Vibes

“He’s been like that since I got up this morning.” Nami whispered to Robin as they picked at the breakfast that had been prepared by the cook with less love than normal.

Sanji had woken up with a hangover, the kind of hangover that makes it feel like your stomach is full of magma and all you want to do is crawl under a rock and hibernate for a week and a half. Unfortunately Sanji didn’t have that luxury, at least he didn’t award himself with it. He quietly worked on breakfast for the crew, the only thing keeping him from throwing up was his undying refusal to waste food and the half a pack of cigarettes he’s smoked his way through since rolling out of bed.

“He’s barely said a sentence in an hour” Robin said between bites of fruit that had been cut into hearts and stars.

“I almost miss being fawned over,” Nami said with a giggle. She noticed Zoro climbing down the ladder and braced for the impending argument between him and the clearly off cook, but when he quietly sat down at the end of the table she shot Robin a look. Sanji walked over to the table from where he had been preparing food and silently put a plate of Omurice in front of Zoro before returning to preparing more food for whenever Luffy rolled out of bed. “What the hell is going on here?!” Nami finally gets sick of the tension that’s stifling the air.

“N-Nami-swan? What do you mean?” Sanji looked up from the fruit he was delicately chopping. His eyes were tired and a cigarette was loosely hanging from his lips.

“You’re acting so weird!” He smiled gently, shaking his head.

“I must just be hung over from last night, thank you for your concern. Let me prepare you two something special for caring so much for me!” And that’s when he made a mistake. He brought a hand up, loosening his tie so he could rub at his neck.

Robin was the first to spot his neck. She sipped at her tea, her expression unchanged. Nami walked over to Zoro who was quietly (for once) eating, she snatched the spoon from his tired grasp. “What do you want, woman?!” Nami held the spoon just out of his reach.

“What did you do to Sanji?!” Without even looking up Sanji heard Zoro snort before continuing the battle for his spoon.

“I didn’t do shit!” He finally managed to rip the spoon from Nami’s hand and resumed eating as he bickered with his mouth full.

The arguing faded into the background of Sanji’s mind as he tried to focus on cooking, something that normally helped him clear his mind but today it felt more like a chore than anything. He was in his own world, paying no attention to anyone around him even though Nami and Robin had been talking about him as though he wasn’t even there. But he might as well have been in another room since he was giving them no attention. It wasn’t until Robin cupped his face in two hands and felt how warm he felt that she became very concerned. Despite Sanji reassuring her that he was fine and was perfectly capable of finishing breakfast she walks him to Chopper’s office. This is how he ended up getting sent to bed having only finished half of the breakfast prep, falling asleep the moment his head touched his pillow despite his shirt and pants crumpling on the floor while his tie was still loosely tied around his neck.

“Only you could manage to get your dick sucked AND told to nap all day,” Zoro grumbled as he quietly padded across the shared boy’s room to where Sanij was going in and out of sleep. Slowly waking up when he heard the sound of a glass being set down on the small table next to his cot.

“W-wha are you doing?” Sanji asked, half annoyed, half confused as his head was still throbbing.

“Brought you water.” Sanji rubbed his eyes as he sat up enough to reach over for the glass.

“Since when do you bring anyone water?”

“Drew the short straw.” That was, in fact, a lie. But Sanji didn’t know that. “I didn’t think I’d live to see the day you got a hangover.” Sanji half smiled as he gulped the water down, setting the glass back on the table and reaching for his pants that were just out of his grasp on the floor. He dug through the pocket of his pants until he found the crumpled carton of cigarettes in one and his lighter in the other. He opened the carton pulling out the last one, lighting it and inhaling as though it was going to be his last breath.

“It takes a lot, that’s for sure.” His voice was still scratchy from his midday nap. As he pushed himself up into an upright sitting position, his blanket slid down into his lap leaving his chest bare to the swordsman. Zoro tried to fight the proud smirk that forced its way across his lips as he saw the roadmap of bruises left from the night before. ”Can’t say feeling like this makes me want to drink again any time soon.” Sanji huffed out a lazy laugh, not noticing how Zoro was staring at him like a hungry lion stares at a hearty gazelle.

After a few moments of comfortable silence between them Zoro decided to take his leave, knowing that if he sat much longer he might be inclined to repeat the night prior, and he couldn’t say for sure whether the other man would remember the events let alone want to repeat them. As he turned towards the door he leaned down and grabbed Sanji’s discarded dress shirt and hurled it in his direction, “You’ll probably want to put this on, Chopper’s gonna’ come check on you next and I don’t think you want him to see all that,” Zoro’s hand gripped the handle to the door, pausing for a second before saying, “Shame you won’t be drinking anytime soon, was hoping for another round.” Zoro allowed himself to look over his shoulder just to see the realization smack Sanji before his face turned a bright shade of red, mouth agape as Zoro closed the door so he could be alone with his hazy memories.

Sanji should have known that was more than a drunken dream. The more he recalled, the more clearly he remembered everything. The way Zoro’s calloused hands had felt on his thighs as they slid around to grip the meat of his ass. He recalled thinking how good Zoro looked between his legs, the way his eyes watered every time Sanji’s cock hit the back of his throat but never pushing him away. The more he thought about the previous night the more his cock stirred. Part of him was begging him to call Zoro back, to lock the door, slam the larger man against the wood and do anything in his power to get Zoro to make those sounds again. But despite Sanji’s will being weaker than normal with each ebb of his migraine his resolve was still strong enough to force himself to lay back down and deal with the issue at hand his own way.

He scooted back down into bed, pulling the blanket over his body and fishing out his aching cock from his boxers. He knew it wasn’t going to feel as good as Zoro’s hand, he would never admit that, going as far as to silently vow to take the fact to his grave. He slid his hand along his shaft, closing his eyes as he tried to imagine his last sexual encounter with a woman. No matter what he thought about, his mind would always go back to Zoro, how every possible sexual act would feel with him in a woman’s place. Surely his pecs could work in place as tits, he wondered if Zoro would have the same reaction to having his nipples toyed with as his last partner did. If circling them with his tongue would have Zoro begging for more, how would Zoro sound if he begged. Would Zoro beg? He definitely seemed more submissive than Sanji would have expected. His orgasm caught him entirely by surprise, ripping a loud moan from his lips that he normally would stifle with ease.

Zoro couldn’t help the pride that swelled in his chest as he heard his name be moaned as he walked by the shared men’s quarters in the direction of the shower. As if his cock weren’t straining enough against his track pants, he couldn’t get to the empty shower fast enough after hearing that. After knowing that Sanji was thinking of him. That he was so caught up in his fantasies that he couldn’t catch Zoro’s name before it pushed past his lips as he came. The why didn’t matter much to the swordsman, what mattered was the fact that Sanji had gotten so aroused by the memories that had flooded back that he came in less than 5 minutes since Zoro had left his side. He was desperate and so was Zoro.

[metalmonki]

Objection! Part 9

Rafael Barba x fem!Carisi!reader

5.3k word count

Summary All you wanted was to be a lawyer like your big brother Sonny. So what happens when you get a job working under the famous ADA Rafael Barba

slow-burn, colleague to friends to lovers

Authors Note: I am not happy with this chapter. I might come back to it after Christmas. I might edit it while I'm away who knows. I feel like it could be so much better.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Sonny brought the car to a screeching halt in front of the DA’s office, the tires protesting loudly as we stopped. I barely waited for the engine to cut before throwing the door open and sprinting toward the building. Sonny and Olivia were right behind me, their footsteps pounding in unison with mine.

We burst through the doors, startling Carmen, who was seated at her desk with a cup of coffee in hand. Her usual calm demeanour faltered as she looked up at us, confused by our urgency.

“Carmen!” I barked, my voice sharper than I intended. Her eyes widened in alarm. “Has anyone been in my office today? Did anyone leave anything for me?”

“What—what’s going on?” she stammered, clearly thrown off by my tone.

“Just answer the question!” I snapped, running a hand through my hair as my nerves got the better of me.

She frowned, clearly trying to process my outburst. “There was a delivery earlier. A box—it’s on your desk.”

My stomach dropped. I turned toward my office door, already dreading what I might find. A cold sweat prickled my skin as my mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last. God, please don’t let it be a piece of her. Not like this.

But Sonny had already shoved past me, charging into my office with no hesitation. He grabbed the box from my desk, ripping the lid off in one swift motion.

For a moment, none of us breathed. Then Sonny pulled out… a plush chinchilla.

Olivia blinked, breaking the silence with a deadpan, “Is that a rat?”

“It’s not a rat!” Sonny shot back, glaring at her as he held the plush defensively. He studied it with an intensity that would have been comical if the situation weren’t so dire.

Meanwhile, I was struggling to keep up. “What the hell is this supposed to mean?” I muttered, stepping closer to the desk. My eyes landed on the folded piece of paper still inside the box. I snatched it up and unfolded it with shaking hands.

Olivia leaned in, reading over my shoulder. “For the next six clues, you’ll have to ask—but be quick, or she’ll pass.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy and ominous. I felt my stomach churn. “Ask who? And what does ‘she’ll pass’ mean? Is he threatening her life, or is this another one of his games?”

Sonny, still holding the chinchilla, finally spoke up. “It’s not a rat—it’s a chinchilla. And I’m pretty sure the only place in the city with chinchillas is the Bronx Zoo.”

“The Bronx Zoo?” Olivia asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sonny nodded firmly. “It was Y/N’s favourite place growing up. She’d go there every chance she got. And every visit started and ended with the chinchillas. It has to be the zoo.”

We didn’t waste any time. Back in the car, Sonny took the wheel again, his driving just as reckless as before. The urgency in the air was suffocating, every second ticking by like a countdown to disaster.

As the car sped through the city streets, Sonny spoke over the roar of the engine. “When we were kids, our parents would take her to the Bronx Zoo for her birthday. Every year. The first and last thing she’d do was visit the chinchillas. She loves them.”

I stared at the plush in my hands, trying to reconcile the sweet memory Sonny shared with the grim reality we were facing. My fingers tapped anxiously against my thigh as I tucked the Chincilla away with the book from earlier. “The note,” I said, turning back to Olivia. “What do you think it means? ‘Ask’? Ask who? Ask what?”

Olivia shrugged, her expression tight with worry. “It could mean anything. Marco’s been deliberately vague this entire time. He’s toying with us, and he knows it.”

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling beneath the surface. Every step of this chase felt like a slap in the face, a reminder of how helpless I was in protecting Y/N. But there wasn’t time for self-pity. We had to stay sharp.

Sonny glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Whatever it means, we’ll figure it out. We have to. Let’s just get to the zoo first.”

His voice was steady, but I could see the tension in his grip on the steering wheel. We all knew the stakes. And with every mile closer to the Bronx Zoo, my determination solidified.

I couldn’t let Marco win. Not this time.

…

Sonny pulled the car to a jerking halt outside the Bronx Zoo. I barely had time to exhale before Olivia was already out, her badge flashing as she approached the ticket booth.

“We’re NYPD,” she said briskly, showing the man behind the glass her identification. “Has anyone left anything for us? A package, a message?”

The man blinked, startled by her intensity, and shook his head. “No, ma’am. Nothing’s been left here.”

I stepped forward, pulling out my phone to show him a picture of Marco. “What about this man? Have you seen him recently?”

The guy leaned closer, squinting at the screen. “I don’t think so. But I can’t say for sure. We’ve had a lot of visitors today.”

It was frustratingly vague, but there wasn’t time to press him further. We headed straight through the gates, the familiar smell of popcorn and animal enclosures hitting me as we walked. Despite the urgency of the situation, I couldn’t help the faint pang of nostalgia that tugged at me. Y/N had spoken about this place before, about how much she loved it as a kid. And now, it felt like Marco was using that love against her—and us.

“Where to?” Olivia asked, glancing around the sprawling zoo grounds.

“The Mouse House,” Sonny answered, as if it were obvious. “Chinchillas. Let’s move.”

We navigated the winding pathways, dodging families and strollers, my eyes scanning every face we passed. My nerves were taut, every sound and movement setting my heart racing.

The Mouse House was dimly lit, the soft chatter of visitors echoing off the walls. The smell of hay and sawdust hung in the air as we wound our way through the narrow corridors. My pulse quickened with every step, my eyes darting to every corner, searching for anything out of place.

When we reached the chinchilla enclosure, I stopped short. There they were—tiny, fluffy creatures with twitching noses, hopping around in their habitat like nothing in the world could bother them. Y/N’s voice echoed in my mind, her excitement as she’d once described them to me after I asked her about her computer background, the only reason I had recognised the Chincilla plush for what it was.

But there was no sign of Marco. No sign of Y/N. Just the glass enclosure and the animals inside.

Sonny was already scouring the area, checking behind benches and trash cans, while Olivia questioned a zookeeper standing nearby. I stood frozen, my gut telling me we weren’t in the wrong place—but we were missing something.

“Barba,” Sonny called, his voice sharp. He was crouched near the edge of the enclosure, holding something in his hand. A folded piece of paper.

I moved quickly, snatching it from him and unfolding it. The message was written in Marco’s now-familiar scrawl:

“You’re halfway there. Keep following her heart, and you might just save it.”

My grip tightened on the paper as frustration bubbled up inside me. “Her heart?” I muttered aloud, staring at the words. “What the hell does that mean?”

Olivia glanced over my shoulder. “Could be literal, could be figurative. Either way, it’s cryptic as hell.”

Sonny stood, brushing off his pants. “Her heart... what else did Y/N love? Something she always talked about?”

The weight of the chase pressed down on me like an anchor, each step feeling heavier than the last. Marco was toying with us, stringing us along with vague clues, and Y/N’s life was slipping through our fingers. Every moment wasted felt like a step closer to losing her.

As we reached the far end of the Mouse House, I spotted a man standing behind an ice cream cart, his colorful setup a jarring contrast to the dimly lit surroundings. He greeted each passerby with an enthusiastic grin, cheerfully handing out cones piled high with creamy swirls.

I approached cautiously, hope flickering weakly in my chest. Maybe he had seen something. Maybe he held another piece of the puzzle.

"Free ice cream today!" the man announced as I neared, his voice full of warmth. He held out a cone toward me, the scent of vanilla and sugar wafting in the air. "Some generous guy came by this morning and paid for the whole cart—said to make sure everyone got one."

I forced a polite smile, though the tension in my chest made it impossible to enjoy the gesture. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” My tone was clipped, businesslike. I pulled out my phone and held up the screen, showing him the photo of Marco. “Was it this man? Did he pay for the ice cream?”

The vendor leaned closer, squinting at the screen. After a moment, he nodded with a bright smile. “Yeah, that’s him! Paid in cash, too. Real nice guy, seemed like he just wanted to spread some joy.”

I clenched my jaw, my frustration barely contained. The ease with which Marco charmed people was infuriating, his calculated moves cloaked in harmless gestures. “Did he say anything else? Leave anything behind?”

The man shook his head, his cheerful demeanor unshaken. “Nope, just told me to give out the ice cream. That’s all.”

I nodded tightly, stepping back from the cart as a dull ache settled in my chest. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice devoid of the gratitude I should have expressed.

“Have a good day!” the vendor called after me, his voice far too bright for the grim thoughts swirling in my mind.

I turned to Sonny and Olivia, who were already watching me. Their expressions mirrored my own—a blend of frustration and helplessness. The ice cream clue was another dead end, another cruel twist in Marco’s game.

Sonny ran a hand through his hair, pacing in agitated circles. “What now? Ice cream? Are we supposed to figure out some connection to ice cream now?”

I exhaled slowly, the weight of the situation pressing down harder. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But Marco’s not doing this without a reason. There’s something here. We just have to see it.”

The thought gnawed at me as the three of us stood there, the clock ticking relentlessly in the background. We had to figure this out—and fast.

“What now?” Olivia asked, her tone edged with impatience.

“He paid for the ice cream and told the guy to give it out for free. That’s it.” I ran a hand down my face, trying to think. “Nothing else. No clue.”

Olivia looked at Sonny. “Anything? Does Y/N have some connection to ice cream? A favourite parlour or something?”

Sonny shook his head, his hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. “Not that I can think of. She likes ice cream, sure, but nothing stands out.”

The thought of involving Amaro stung, like a sharp jab to an already tender wound, but I swallowed my pride. It wasn’t about me—it was about Y/N. If he could help us, I’d endure it. My voice came out lower than I intended, weighed down by reluctance.

“Maybe we should ask Amaro,” I said, each word feeling like it dragged itself out of me. “He knew about the bookstore—maybe he knows something we don’t.”

Sonny’s eyes widened, but not in surprise—more like a light bulb had just gone off. He snapped his fingers, his expression shifting to determination. “Wait. What if Marco means we need to ask the people around her? The ones who know her best.”

Before I could respond, he was already pulling out his phone, his fingers moving fast as he dialed.

Amaro picked up after just a few rings, his voice calm but questioning. “What’s going on?”

“We’re at the zoo, following Marco’s trail, but we’re stuck,” Sonny explained, his words rapid and urgent. “Do you know if Y/N has a favorite ice cream spot?”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by muffled voices as Amaro apparently relayed the question to others nearby. I clenched my fists, waiting, frustration bubbling beneath my skin.

After a brief silence, Amanda’s voice came through, clear and confident. “The Museum of Ice Cream,” she said firmly. “Y/N takes Jesse there all the time for girls’ days. It’s their go-to spot. The sprinkle pool is Jesse’s favorite part.”

Sonny’s face lit up with relief. He snapped his fingers again, nodding. “That’s it. Amanda, you’re a genius. Thank you.”

Amanda’s voice carried a hint of urgency now. “If Marco’s sending you there, don’t waste time. Go.”

“We’re on it,” Sonny promised, already moving toward the car.

I followed, my chest tight with a mix of emotions. Gratitude that Amanda knew the answer, frustration that I hadn’t, and an undercurrent of desperation to get to Y/N before it was too late.

…

The ride to the Museum of Ice Cream was suffocating. The only sound in the car was the hum of the engine and the occasional impatient sigh from Sonny as he maneuverered through the city streets. I sat in the back, staring out the window but seeing nothing.

My thoughts churned like a storm, each one landing heavier than the last. Amanda and Nick had known Y/N’s favourite places, her habits, her joys. Nick had known about the bookstore, Amanda about the Museum of Ice Cream. Even Sonny, her brother, had insights into her world that I could never claim.

I was her colleague, her partner. We worked side by side every day, and yet, what did I know about her? Not enough, that much was clear. Somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that knowing her professionally was enough. Now, I wasn’t so sure.

The sharp screech of brakes jolted me out of my thoughts. Sonny brought the car to a halt in front of the brightly coloured façade of the Museum of Ice Cream.

“Let’s go,” he said, already climbing out.

We moved as one, a silent agreement to head straight for the sprinkle pool. If Amanda knew it was Y/N’s favourite, Marco did too.

Inside, the museum was alive with colour and laughter, a stark contrast to the grim tension between us. We weaved through the exhibits until we reached the sprinkle pool, a massive pit filled with foam sprinkles where kids dove in gleefully while parents looked on.

As we stood there, scanning the room for any sign of a clue, a woman in a pink uniform approached us with a broad smile. The logo on her shirt marked her as a museum employee.

“Good afternoon!” she said brightly, handing each of us a card.

I glanced at it: One Free Family Meal at a Restaurant of Your Choice.

Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you handing these out?”

The woman kept her smile, but there was a hint of confusion in her expression. “A courier dropped them off this morning with a note. It said to give them to everyone who enters today as part of a promotional event. It’s unusual, but we followed the instructions.”

The moment she walked away, Olivia turned to Sonny. “What’s Y/N’s favourite restaurant?”

Sonny rubbed a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “There was this place we went to as kids, every Sunday with our parents and grandparents. It became a tradition, and Y/N kept going even after the rest of us stopped. But I can’t remember the name.”

His fingers were already flying over his phone as he tried calling someone. After three attempts, he cursed under his breath and scrolled through his contacts again. This time, he paused and hesitated before dialling.

“She’ll know,” he muttered.

The line barely rang before it connected, and he began speaking rapidly in Italian.

“Mamma…sì, ho ricevuto il tuo messaggio…mamma…mamma...sì, saremo lì per Natale, non ce lo perderemo, lo sai…ascolta, qual era il ristorante dove andavamo con i nonni? Pensavo di prendere un buono per coccinella per Natale…Grazie mamma… Ti voglio bene, ciao” (Mum yes I've been getting your messages, Mum Mum, yes we'll be there for Chrismas we wouldn't miss it you know that, listen what was that restaurant we use to go to with Grandma and Grandpa? I was thinking I would get a gift certificate for ladybug for Christmas. Thanks Mum. Love you bye)

Olivia and I exchanged a glance, neither of us able to follow the conversation. But we didn’t need to. The tight set of Sonny’s jaw and the relief in his expression told us all we needed to know.

When he hung up, he turned to us, his voice firm. “La Nonna Restaurant. Let’s go.”

He didn’t wait for a response, already heading back toward the car. Olivia and I followed without question, a new wave of determination driving us forward.

…

Sonny drove with single-minded focus, weaving through traffic as the city flew by in a blur. La Nonna was etched deep in his childhood memories, and now it was the thread we followed, hoping it would finally lead us closer to Y/N.

The weight of my inadequacies pressed harder against my chest as the car sped toward La Nonna. I sat in the back seat, silent, letting the others talk around me. I was haunted by my lack of connection to this piece of Y/N’s life. La Nonna, a place that seemed etched into her family’s history, was foreign to me. While I worked alongside her every day, Marco had exposed just how shallow my understanding of her truly was.

The car came to an abrupt stop outside a cozy, brick-fronted restaurant. The windows glowed warmly against the fading daylight, and the air was rich with the scent of freshly baked bread and garlic. It should have been inviting, but urgency overrode any appreciation for its charm.

We pushed through the door, and the sound of light chatter and clinking plates greeted us. Behind the counter stood an older woman, her kind eyes lighting up in recognition as she saw Sonny.

“Sonny Carisi? My goodness, it’s been ages!” she exclaimed, her voice tinged with both surprise and affection.

Sonny managed a quick, polite smile, but his tone was sharp and efficient. “Mrs. Marinelli, I’m sorry, but we don’t have time to catch up. Did someone leave something here for us? A note, a package—anything?”

Her expression shifted to concern as she studied his face. “A young man did stop by this morning. Left an envelope and told me to hold onto it. Said someone would come for it later.” She reached under the counter, pulling out a plain white envelope and handing it to Sonny.

His fingers trembled as he tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of paper with Marco’s familiar cryptic handwriting. Sonny handed it to Olivia, who read aloud:

“Music spins memories and history unfolds. Find what was lost where vinyl molds.”

Olivia’s brow furrowed as she lowered the paper. “Music and vinyl? What does that even mean?”

I clenched my fists, frustration boiling just beneath the surface. “It’s vague on purpose. Marco’s playing games, and every second we waste gives him more power over us.” My voice was tighter than I intended, but the clock was ticking, and Y/N’s life hung in the balance.

Sonny began pacing the narrow space in front of the counter, muttering fragments of the clue under his breath. Olivia pulled out her phone, her fingers flying as she searched for connections. I stared at the note, willing it to make sense, but the answer danced just out of reach.

A buzz from Olivia’s phone broke the tense silence. She glanced at the screen and frowned before answering. “It’s Finn. I sent him a picture of the clue.”

She put the call on speaker, Finn’s steady voice cutting through the static. “You’re looking for Academy Records,” he said without hesitation.

Sonny stopped pacing, turning sharply toward the phone. “What? How do you know that?”

Finn’s tone was calm but certain. “Y/N loves that place. She’s dragged me there a few times. She’s got a thing for vinyl—old classics, rare finds. If Marco knows her as well as it seems, that’s where he’d send you next.”

Sonny exhaled sharply, already moving toward the door. “Thanks, Finn. We owe you one.”

The three of us piled back into the car, the engine roaring to life as Sonny floored the gas pedal. The urgency in the air was almost suffocating, but my thoughts spiraled inward.

Academy Records. Another corner of Y/N’s world I had never stepped into. Finn had shared moments with her there, moments I couldn’t even imagine. I didn’t belong in her life—not the way these other people did.

But there was no time to dwell on regrets. I could make up for my failures later. Y/N’s life depended on us moving faster, thinking smarter, and staying one step ahead of Marco’s game. I forced my focus back to the road ahead as the city blurred by, the cryptic note burned into my thoughts.

Marco’s game wasn’t over yet, but neither was ours.

…

We reached Academy Records in what felt like record time, the tires screeching as Sonny brought the car to an abrupt halt. None of us waited for a complete stop before flinging our doors open and rushing inside.

The store was small and chaotic, a maze of tightly packed shelves stuffed with vinyl records. The faint crackle of an old jazz tune played over the speakers, mixing with the smell of aged cardboard and faint traces of incense. Behind the counter stood a young man in his early twenties, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he barely glanced up at the jingling bell above the door.

“Can I help you?” he asked lazily, his tone oozing disinterest as he set down a cup of coffee.

Sonny stepped forward, the urgency in his voice cutting through the young man’s nonchalance. “We’re looking for something that might’ve been left here—a note, a package, anything unusual.”

The man blinked, finally giving us his full attention. His expression turned thoughtful, and then he shrugged. “Some weird guy came in this morning. Didn’t buy anything. Just left this.” He ducked behind the counter and came back up holding a folded piece of paper, slightly crumpled, as if it had been handled with as little care as possible.

Olivia took the note, her movements cautious, as though the thin piece of paper might hold a detonator. She unfolded it and scanned the words before reading them aloud: “Where the horses run and the waves crash loud, her laughter lingers under the clouds.”

The riddle hung heavy in the air, its poetic phrasing a stark contrast to the stark reality we faced.

Sonny groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “Another damn riddle. We don’t have time for this!” His voice was sharp, frustration spilling over as the minutes ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity.

I clenched my fists, staring at the note as if I could will it to reveal its secrets. Marco’s games were wearing us down, but Olivia’s sudden shift in expression caught my attention.

Her lips parted slightly, a flicker of recognition lighting her face. “I know where this is,” she said, her voice steady.

Sonny and I turned to her simultaneously, disbelief and hope mingling in our gazes.

“It’s Coney Island,” she continued with certainty. “The carousel. Y/N takes Noah there all the time. He talks about it all the time— the way Noah’s face lights up when he tells me how they ride together.”

Her words hit me like a gut punch. Another place Y/N had shared with someone else, another moment I’d never been a part of. The hollow ache in my chest grew, but I shoved it aside.

“Then we go now,” Sonny said, his tone clipped as he turned and headed for the door.

Olivia and I followed close behind, my mind racing as we climbed back into the car. The streets blurred past the windows, but all I could think about was the clock ticking down and the desperate hope that we weren’t already too late. Sonny drove like a man possessed, weaving through traffic with a focus that bordered on reckless.

In the backseat, I sat in silence, my thoughts a chaotic storm. I couldn’t help but feel like I was failing Y/N in more ways than one. She had shared so much of herself with the people around her—Sonny, Olivia, even Finn—and yet I had missed so much.

Olivia’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Rafael, don’t beat yourself up.”

I looked up, startled. She wasn’t even looking at me, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, but somehow she knew exactly what I was thinking.

Olivia continued. “What matters is that we get to her in time.”

I nodded, though her words did little to ease the tightness in my chest.

…

The car skidded to a stop at Coney Island, and the carousel loomed ahead, its brilliant lights casting flickering reflections on the damp boardwalk. The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and purple, but I couldn’t spare a moment to take it in. All I could think about was Y/N—her life hanging by a thread, and the clock relentlessly ticking down.

The salty breeze hit me as we stepped onto the boardwalk, the faint sound of crashing waves blending with the distant laughter of families enjoying the evening. But the carousel's joyful melody felt like a cruel juxtaposition to the dread coiling in my chest.

We ran, the weathered planks of the boardwalk groaning under our hurried steps. The carousel lights grew brighter as we neared, their spinning patterns like a beacon pulling us forward. Sonny, Olivia, and I spread out immediately, questioning everyone within earshot—carousel workers, parents corralling their children, teenagers clustered with ice cream cones. But every inquiry met with a blank stare, a shake of the head, or a polite, “Sorry, haven’t seen anything.”

Frustration mounted like a storm inside me. My breaths came heavy, each one laced with the weight of Marco’s cruel taunts. Standing in front of the carousel, I repeated his chilling words aloud, barely realizing it: The longer you take, the more water fills her space.

Sonny spun on his heel, his face a mask of fury. “Are you serious, Barba?” he snapped, his voice cracking with anger. “We’re standing next to the damn ocean! How the hell are we supposed to figure this out from those stupid words?”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came. My throat tightened as Sonny’s frustration boiled over. He marched toward me, jabbing a finger at my chest.

“This is all your fault!” he shouted, his voice raw. “You’re the reason she’s in this mess! Marco didn’t just pick her out of nowhere—why? Why did he go after my sister?”

Olivia shot me a desperate look, shaking her head as if to warn me against saying what I knew I had to. But the truth had been clawing at my chest for weeks, and it wouldn’t stay buried any longer.

I lowered my gaze, my voice barely audible. “Because I’m in love with her.”

Sonny froze. His hand hovered in mid-air as if the words had physically struck him. Then, in an instant, the shock gave way to a surge of anger. He grabbed my collar, yanking me close, his face inches from mine.

“You’re in love with her?” he spat, his voice shaking with rage. “And because of that, she’s lying out there somewhere, maybe drowning while we waste time chasing riddles? You didn’t even know anything about her, Barba. Her favorite things, the things that make her, her. You didn’t even know where she got your coffee. You think loving her makes up for all the ways you failed her?”

Each word hit harder than Sonny’s fists ever could, and I knew he was right. I had been so wrapped up in my feelings for Y/N, so afraid to cross a line, that I had let someone else exploit the space between us.

“You put her in danger because you couldn’t keep your feelings to yourself!” Sonny yelled, his voice cracking. “And now we don’t even know if she’s still alive!”

The punch came out of nowhere, his fist slamming into my jaw with a force that sent stars dancing across my vision. Pain exploded across my face, but I didn’t raise a hand to defend myself. I didn’t move at all. I deserved it.

“Enough!” Olivia shouted, stepping between us and pushing Sonny back. “This isn’t helping anyone!”

I touched the corner of my mouth, feeling the warm stickiness of blood on my fingertips. “It’s fine,” I rasped, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me. “I deserved that.”

Sonny’s chest heaved as he let go of my collar. He turned away, his anger still palpable, and pulled out his phone. “I’m calling backup. I want every available unit down here now. We’re combing every inch of this place until we find her.”

…

The flurry of officers and emergency responders that followed was both chaotic and a small comfort. Red and blue lights danced across the dark waves as search teams spread out along the beach, the docks, and every hidden corner of the area. Voices called out over the roar of the surf, flashlights sweeping over shadowed nooks and crannies.

But Marco’s words kept gnawing at me: The longer you take, the more water fills her space. My mind turned the phrase over again and again until a horrifying realization struck.

“The tide,” I whispered, my stomach twisting. Then louder, I shouted, “We have until high tide! Wherever she is, it’s going to flood!”

The words sent a ripple of urgency through the search teams. Everyone moved faster, their voices growing sharper and more determined.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a voice shouted from beneath the docks, “Over here!”

We all ran toward the sound, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst. Beneath the wooden structure, in a small crawlspace created from rocks barely visible in the growing shadows, lay Y/N. The water was already lapping at her face. A paramedic was already down with her checking for signs of life. When he yelled back that she still had a pulse I released a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.

“Get her out of there!” Sonny yelled, his voice cracking with desperation.

Officers scrambled to free her, lifting her carefully onto a stretcher. My breath caught as I saw her face—so still, so unlike the vibrant woman I knew. But the faint rise and fall of her chest told me she was still fighting.

The paramedics arrived in a flurry of motion, stabilizing her as they carried her toward the waiting ambulance. Sonny climbed in immediately, his hands shaking as he gripped hers.

Then, to my utter shock, he turned to me. “Barba,” he said gruffly, his voice tight with emotion. “Get in.”

I hesitated for only a second before nodding, climbing into the ambulance and taking the seat across from him. The ride was silent, save for the beeping monitors and the hum of the engine. Sonny didn’t look at me, his focus entirely on Y/N, but his invitation spoke volumes.

All that mattered now was that we had found her. She was alive. And we would do whatever it took to keep her that way.

Tag List!

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Severed - Worm Fanfiction Review

CW: Suicide and canon typical gore.

I don't think I've so eagerly anticipated an imaginary and, likely unwritten at the time of this post, scene in fanfiction than @heyitschartic's Severed. I've been following this series since it was posted three years ago. I'll avoid spoilers and the scene I'm imagining in question will be under the cut, but the basic premise is that Jack Slash chooses Skitter as his nominee during the Slaughterhouse 9 arc, rather than Oni Lee, who was disappointing, and Golem, who he later contrived the entire S9k arc for.

I will say that this work is a beautiful plunge into What Ifs which look all the more horrifying if you compare them against canon. You get flashback snippets of the S9 arc retold from a few perspectives before being thrust into post-GM, maybe pre-Ward? era with modern Skitter. I can certainly say that Severed blows all other S9!Taylors out of the water, Taylor is authentic in ways I haven't seen with anyone else. 10/10, each chapter is at it's absolute peak and it has 11 chapters as of this post. Each gut-punch has me anticipating the next chapter, only for the next chapter to explain why Taylor's friends and enemies hate her so much. I gasped when Tattletale said that to her. I strongly recommend Severed to anyone and everyone who hasn't already read it yet. Here's the link:

Oh wait does this count as the first of my Worm fanfic reviews--

So, I've read chapter 11 and I've been having Taylor and her clone rotating in my head endlessly, but the scene I'm anticipating is the one hinted at in Chapter where Defiant wants Taylor to go under the knife with Bonesaw again so Riley can fix all of Taylor's everything that is physically wrong with her, because her body is practically bio-tinkertech, even after they ripped almost everything else out.

I can only imagine Taylor reiterating that she refuses to be put under for the procedure, and using every moment to vent her anger and frustration on a Riley that is likely seeing marked improvement in her therapy (maybe). But Taylor keeps hitting her with blow after blow. "They'll never let you work on anyone else ever again, so you had better not kill me." and "Nobody will ever let you willingly touch them, I'm the only one who you can use your tinker abilities on, and that can change if I don't need you anymore." "If you ever find someone you can trick into letting you touch them, hold them, or even work on them, I'll kill them. It'd be better than the fate worse than death that letting you touch someone inflicts, and I should know, I'm living through it."

Maybe Chartic has something else planned, but I would like to see this Bonesaw cry. An unshakable, unmoved Taylor just heaps on the abuse through her own tears of pain, holding Riley hostage even as she roots through her guts to put her back together. It's very Taylor to fight through pain to force people to help her. The last time they saw each-other, Riley was doing well. I don't think she'll be doing very well after they meet again.

Maybe an overseeing team of surgeons and Capes become increasingly uncomfortable as Riley is tormented. They find themselves defending Bonesaw of all people, from one of her former victims too.

I'm sorry if this is unsolicited Chartic, but I can't wait to see their reunion, whatever form it takes. Severed's way of making Taylor suffer the consequences of her own actions, while invoking sympathy simultaneously with disgust at Taylor's betrayals; the depths she's sunken to, and then to finally wrap it up with shame and admonishment of her friends, turned victims, is masterful. How dare either they or I judge her for what she had to do to survive. Each chapter reveals that it got worse and worse. At some point, I suspect that (one of) the reasons that Taylor is being given such little leeway by the rest of the cast and remains constantly under the threat of harsh re-imprisonment or execution by vengeful kill-teams is because she somehow became the worst member of the Slaughterhouse Nine or even surpassed them in notoriety.

Tattletale telling Skitter to kill herself was such an insane scene that I stood up and covered my mouth. I was in disbelief. But knowing now that Skitter had betrayed the Undersiders to a slaughter by Mannequin (after having sacrificed her own father and, essentially, her own pre-cape life and innocence with him. The Taylor that she did not want to be, embracing the Skitter she chose to become) and then at some point caused the remainder of the Livsey family to kill themselves the same way Reggie did, with gunshot wounds, really clarifies that Taylor did something unforgivable. She exploited her friendship with Lisa to injure her in a way that can never be repaired. Lisa in canon never really had much to do with her parents ever again, but she probably didn't want them dead for neglecting Reggie.

I may edit this later, or reblog it, as new thoughts on the work come to me.