#she can kill men with her bare hands but I still wanna wrap her in a soft blanket and baby her

[slimybeth69]

Part 2- Cave In

Series Masterlist | Part 1

Summary: After the civilized world you once knew came to an end-- the men that survived... well they just take, take, take. Growing tired of having things taken from you-- you have a hankerin' to take somethin' for yourself... and make him perfect.

content warnings: Reader (no descriptions besides having hair that can be pulled) is in a weird mindset; hears voices, talks to herself. non-con/dub-con (if you're looking for enthusiastic consent, ya wont find it here) smut, cock-warming, unprotected P in V, creampies, oral (m&f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, pussy and peen pronouns, alcohol consumption (altered mental state). Joel wears a shock collar and other various horrible things that would keep him in check-- and he doesn't fucking like it.

Reader warning- flashbacks of readers graphic and sad past!!!

While it looks real pretty, this is a Dead Dove, Do Not Eat. If ya do and then come complaining to me that you ate a dead dove-- I'm gonna fight you. I warned you!

Joel’s mind drifts off to the days and nights he spent teaching Ellie how to play guitar– watching her learn, grow more confident in the way she held the instrument. Then hearing her play her first song is one of his favorite memories. He wonders what her, Dina and JJ are doing right now. 

He wonders if Tommy and Ellie are looking for him– Joel can’t imagine they wouldn’t be. Not after what they did in Seattle a couple years ago. His daughter and his younger brother would come looking for him, and eventually they’d find him- and rescue him.

The three of them- Joel right alongside them, would kill you in the process, he’d make sure of it. 

That’s all he can think about– being rescued and watching you die as you wrap a second layer of duct tape around the oven mitts on his hands. 

As much as Joel hates you, he can’t deny that you’re resourceful. 

With the shock collar still around his neck, and now, two pairs of oven mitts secured to each of his fists, Joel watches you untie his arms from the chair. 

He is stiff, and misses the fucking sun. Joel just wants to the feel the warmth on his face- but he can’t really even think about that now, he’s thinking of all the ways he’s going to fucking knock you out the minute you crawl into his lap. 

He’ll knock the shock collar remote out of your hand, headbutt you– a real one, he’ll go right for your nose and try and break it– then he will wrap his big strong arms around you, and squeeze until he can feel your ribs snap.

He’s got it all planned out- until he hears the sound of more duct tape ripping, and he wonders what part of him you’re going to tape next. 

Joel watches in horror as you tape the remote to your palm, your thumb gingerly laid across the button that would shock Joel probably into next week. You wrap the tape until Joel can barely see the remote anymore. 

You’re more resourceful than he thought, and that’s terrifying. Joel is almost sixty years old– he’s being outsmarted by some insane woman who lives in a mall in what now is the woods outside of Jackson. 

How did you get here? Where’s the rest of your group or community? Joel hasn’t seen a single other person since he got here, and he hasn’t seen or heard you interact or say you had to go meet up with anyone since he’s been here. 

There is no way you’re surviving out here all on your own on peanut butter, raspberries and whiskey. 

“Let me go,” his voice croaks. “C’mon. Y’don’t really wanna do this.” He’s pleading. He hasn’t fully begged yet, not pathetically– which is what you must want to hear. You wanna hear Joel– the big strong man cry and whine and beg for you to let him go. 

You drop the roll of tape on the floor beside your feet, “Got some rules ya’ gotta follow, Mister.” You ignore Joel, taking an inched step towards him. “Number one is ya’ don’t hit. You don’t hit– I don’t zap ya'. Sound fair?" You don't wait for him to reply. "Good. Glad we're on the same page.”

Joel rolls his eyes and is immediately met with an intense muscle spasm throughout the entire right side of his face, and down his neck. It spreads out over his shoulder and through part of his chest. 

It lasts for only a split second, but it leaves Joel panting, his brow already beaded in sweat from just that short electric shock. 

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ– don’t fuckin’--" he starts to warn you with a stern tone and narrow eyes– but he’s greeted by your wet, stare only inches from his. 

Your mouth opens and closes once, twice… three times before any sound comes out. “Stop makin’ me hurt you,” you whine, one single tear falling from the corner of your eye. “I really don’t like hurtin’ ya’-- I don’t wanna do it, so don’t give me reason to, right?” 

Joel glares at you while deep down inside him somewhere his heart twists slightly. 

Awww, look it’er cryin’. Cute lil puppy, alone, out here in the woods–

Joel blinks twice as you crawl into his lap, your soft, warm body pressing against his tentatively, as if you were waiting for him to start fighting you off, to start screaming and shouting at you. 

He wants to so badly, he wants to feel his forehead connect with the bridge of your nose as hard as it can– but it’s like you hypnotized him when you curled up on his lap. 

“Now ya’ wrap your arms ‘round me,” you breathe against Joel’s neck. 

Joel fucking sighs at the feeling, almost wishing you press your lips to the spot directly behind his ear.

Go on, move your arms…

Fuck no! Something is seriously wrong with him, he needs to talk to someone besides you. He knows you’re a bad person; a good person wouldn’t do something like this. 

Joel knows that if he puts his arms around you the way you want him to, he might start squeezing, and keep squeezing regardless of the pain from the electric shock. He’d seize up and wouldn’t be able to let you go, even if he wanted.

That might not be a bad thing though, either Joel would kill you, or you would kill him. It would solve his problem either way– and that was fine because he didn’t want to keep living like this. He couldn’t.

It would drive him fucking insane. He already feels like he is going insane the way he wants to kiss your neck, and suck on the spot where your collarbone ends, and your throat begins.  

C’mon, fuckin’ do it. Ya’ know she wants it, give it to her– make her fuckin’ beg for it first…

Oh fuck, Joel knows that is the unstable part of his brain talking– and he has to shut it out. 

You are Joel’s attacker, his fucking captor– the one keeping him from his family, the one he worked so fucking hard to get back. He might never see them again because of you. He’s thinking of all the ways he could hurt you–to hurt you badly, he wants to see you dead– but all those feelings of anger and hatred flee from his brain when you press the most soft, sweetest, barely-there kiss to his jaw. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, resting your head on his shoulder. The way you sigh and melt into Joel, molding to him, has his head spinning for a whole new reason, and he’s completely fucking sober this time. 

See big feller, ain’t that hard t’just comply.

Joel realizes only then that he has both of his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close to him, with his cheek resting on your head. 

She ain’t t’bad, right? Smells nice’n sweet, like a pretty lady.

It’s so hard to hate you and want you dead when your soft, sleepy breaths flits across the skin on his neck. 

“I have more movies–” 

“Anything besides the princess movies- please,” Joel sighs, not removing his cheek from your head. “I can’t do the princess movies again, anything else…”

“Do you like Batman?” The action of you lifting your head off his shoulder is the only reason he pulls away from you. “The cartoons?” 

Joel snorts, and nods his head at you. “I do– me ‘n Tom–” Joel stops himself from sharing too much with you for no reason whatsoever, his eyes dropping to your bare thighs. 

It makes his mouth water when he looks at them, even though they’re bruised to hell, with fresh cuts and old scars adorning your supple, and kissable looking skin. 

He can feel you looking at him, waiting for him to finish what he was about to tell you. His eyes flash up to yours when you question him. 

“Who’s Tom? Whatta’bout him?” 

Joel can see your desperation in your face and eyes–they're wide, still slightly wet with the tears from zapping him moments ago. You must want to know so badly, and he decides to use it to his advantage. 

“Get me some meat– anything– n’ I’ll tell ya’.” Joel can’t help but smirk to himself because this is going to work. 

Your eyes light up, and you lean in real close- the tip of your nose pressed against his. “Promise?” 

Joel nods, his eyes locked on to yours, “Promise.” 

Give’er a lil kiss. 

Joel leans forward to do it, but you pull back with your brows furrowed and a scowl on your face. 

“No. Ya’ punched me last time ya’ did that.” You whisper at him, still frowning. 

“Sorry f’that-” Joel starts but you don’t let him finish. 

Your head shakes from side to side quickly, eyes still wide– untrusting, but desperate for something, he’s seen that look before so many times in so many different sets of eyes. After you scramble out of his lap, finding your footing on the floor beside the chair, you look down at him, still frowning. 

“Sorry don’t mean nothin’- not out here it don’t.”

S’okay, Sug. You’ll be fine– Mister-man’s gonna be real thankful. 

“Well he fuckin’ better! I hate gettin’ shot at, I hate havin’ t’fuckin run real fast- I hate that the place is almost three fuckin’ hours awa–” Your eyes fall onto the horizon where the sun is starting to rise just over the mountains in the distance. “Ain’t even get any fuckin’ sleep–”

Oh Sug, it’ll be worth it, he’s gon’ tell you–

Lies. He’s going to tell you lies, and for what!? You almost got shot–

“I know I almost got shot— You don’t think that I know I almost got shot!?” You’re nearly shouting in the woods. “Now both of yous be fuckin’ quiet– m’tired, and I twisted my fuckin’ ankle–”

And it’s the truth, you did twist your ankle when crossing the stream about a mile back, and thankfully the raiders had stopped following you a while ago, but with all the adrenaline it was easy to keep running. That was, until you slipped on those stupid fucking rocks.

It takes you thirty more minutes to get home, and by the time you do everything hurts, and you just want to go to sleep. Your ankle throbs with every tender step you take.

Taking a deep breath, you plaster on a smile and push open the door. "Honey, I'm home," you call out in a sing-song voice, trying to mask all your exhaustion and this fucking pain that won’t quit.

Mister’s already watching for you as you make your way slowly down the stairs. His eyes narrow as his eyes mill across your frame.

You don't look great. Disheveled, torn clothes, scrapes on your hands and knees from when you fell.

"What happened t’ya?"

Oh he’s worried ‘boutchya! Let him help you, honey.

You wave off his question with a limp hand. "Never mind me,” you toss your backpack on the table, the bottles of whiskey clank around inside noisily as you sit down in the metal chair beside Joel’s recliner. “Gotch’yer meat you wanted to fuckin’ bad.” You say, rolling your eyes.

Mister-man looks you up and down. "Y'look like hell," he says, his eyes tracing over the scratches on your arms and legs.

You ignore his words and his wandering eyes and open up your backpack. “I got jerky,” you pull out two large containers of dried meat and set them on the table. “-got bread ‘n more peanut butter— they had jam this time.”

“Who is ‘they’?” Joel asks, his eyes never leaving you even as his arms and wrists begin to twist gently under the restraints.

Embarrassment floods you, it takes over everything that you are, just like it did when you told him you had been watching him for a while. You know what you did was bad, and you shouldn't be stealing or killing-- but you're only doing it for him!

You look at him, with a hollow feeling in your chest that you can't quite place. "They’s just... people," you say quietly. "They don't matter none."

Joel tilts his head, studying you so intently that makes you want to squirm. "Ya’ hurtin’?" he asks, voice rough like sandpaper grating your ear canal.

“Who is Tom?” You avoid all questions about you, and any issues you have because why burden Mister-man? You're not his problem, you want to give him a worry, burden free life here in the mall with you and Puddin'.

Mister watches you very carefully as you pull a slice of jerky out of the container, he’s practically drooling when you place it as his lips. He groans as he begins to chew, and immediately takes another bite before he’s even swallowed the first.

He doesn’t answer— not even after the entire piece of jerky is gone, so you withhold the next piece.

“Who. Is. Tom?” You shift closer to him and wince when your ankle brushes against the leg of the chair.

"Tom... Tommy is my brother." His voice… there's something almost tender in his tone when he says his brother's name.

It feels like someone it clenching your heart in their fist, and they’re fucking squeezing.

"You're my fucking sister!" His voice is so hoarse, raw and desperate. It doesn't even sound like him anymore. "Don't— please, don't fucking do it, I'm sorry-" "You told me sorrys don't mean nothing anymore— not out here they don't!" You shout back at him, the gun in your hand trembles right along with the rest of your body. "You were supposed to t-take c-care of me! You p-promised mom and dad," you sob, your thumb pulls the hammer of the revolver back and your index finger squeezes the trigger. "Hey, HEY!" He holds both of his hands up, a weak attempt to shield himself from whatever is about to happen. Shoot him, kid. He deserves it after what he put you through. He let those guys— The gun just goes off, you don't even feel yourself pull the trigger. All you see is a fine, red mist explodes from his forehead and the back of his skull— and then everything is quiet, everything is calm. Good job, Sugar. I'm so fucking proud of you.

That was the first time you ever heard the light voice, the sweet voice that says nice things to you.

And m'gonna be here for ya' forever, Sug.

“I know,” you sigh.

Mister blinks at you, “You know Tommy?”

You blink back at him, “No?”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy like the evening air at the end of the summer. Joel watches you, his eyes darting between your face and the jerky still in your hand. “Okay…”

“Did Tommy like Batman?” If Tommy likes or liked Batman or anything about that universe at all, he’s an okay guy in your book.

“He likes Superman,” Joel chuckles when he delivers the news. “I’m the one who likes Batman.”

You audibly gasp, “You like the comics and the cartoons?”

Joel's lips twitch at the corners, almost forming what looks like a smile. "Used to read 'em with Tommy when we was kids. " His eyes fill with sadness.

You lean forward, tilting your head to the side in curiosity. "Why’re y’sad?" you whisper, the pain in your ankle momentarily forgotten.

"I ain’t sad," Mister-man is gruff. "Tommy and I used to collect comics, argued about who was cooler. Obviously Batman, 'cause he ain't got no superpowers. Just pure skill. Tommy thought Superman was better."

“Both of ‘em suck— I just like Harley Quinn,” you nod.

You were going to say more but the very faint sound of clicking ticks in your ears. It’s far enough away that you can get upstairs and drop the metal gate that locks the store up nice and tight.

It’s never fun, and you don’t like having to do it— but thankfully you just made a haul, so you’ll be good for a couple day.

You just hope Puddin’ is okay. Ya' saw him yesterday, but he didn't sleep in the big bed with ya' like he normally would.

“Har—” Mister-man starts, oblivious to the terrors that are lurking just above your head.

“Shhhhhh,” you hold your finger up to your mouth and furrow your eyebrows at him. “Stay quiet ‘n I’ll give ya’ some more jerky, okay?” You whisper almost silently.

He nods and stays quiet because he knows how scary those fucking things are, and he probably doesn’t want to be tied to a chair if one every came around.

Standing up feels like a pack of sparklers— like the ones they used to have at the 4th of July parties when you were a kid, before all this— it feels like those, popping and sizzling up your leg. You have to bite back a moan as your body leans against the table for support. The table skids across the floor noisily as you hold yourself up on it and it makes your blood run cold.

You have to get up those stairs and drop that gate, Sug. Mister is countin’ on you…

It’s like time freezes and all you can picture is poor Mister getting torn apart.

You hesitate listening intently. The clicking grows louder, a sickening, bone-chilling sound that echoes through the abandoned mall. Your twisted ankle throbs, but adrenaline starts pumping through your veins.

“Gotta move, sweetheart.” He must have heard the clicking this time too. Joel’s whispering voice is even and calm even though your chest feels like it could cave in on itself, your ribs feel like they could explode inward towards your lungs like sending shattered bone fragments hurdling towards your delicate, soft insides. “Y’can do it. I know it hurts—”

The metal gate. Everything around you goes silent, and the only thing you can hear is the sound the gate makes when it closes and locks into the floor. You have to get to the metal gate.

You clutch the railing with a white knuckle grip and pull yourself up the stairs two at a time, biting almost completely through your bottom lip, grunting with each painful step.

The clicking is clearer, and closer now that you’re on the same level as the infected, and you can tell there is more than one, and they’re moving fast.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” you hiss as you limp towards the entrance of the store.

As you reach it, you can see the seven infected closing in fast. Your sweet, sweet Puddin’ is hauling ass towards you— the infected right on his little, scaly tail.

“C’mon Pud,” you whine, dropping the gate down for just enough room for him to run through, and possibly let one of the infected in if you weren’t quick enough closing it behind him.. “C’mon Puddin’!”

It’s like your words spur him on and his little legs kick into overdrive. He slips under the metal gate just as the infected slam into it, throwing you off your balance. You’re thrown back at least three feet, and watch in horror as the gate starts to rise on its own.

Move kiddo, come on! Get your ass up and fucking shut that gate!

Your body screams in protest as you scramble across the floor, your twisted ankle sending sharp bolts of pain through your leg.

Puddin' is playing dead right behind you, but you don't have time to think about him right now. He's safe and inside, that's all that matters. The gate keeps rising, inch by torturous inch, and the infected are pushing against it with stupid inhuman strength!

"No, no, no," you mutter, pushing through the pain. The clicking grows louder, more frenzied, as the first infected begins to squeeze its misshapen head underneath the rising gate.

Pulling the knife from your belt in one hand, you bring it down into the skull of the infected trying to slip through, and with the other, your fingers grapple for a hold on the handle of the metal grate.

The infected skull cracks open with a sickeningly wet crunch, dark blood and gray matter splattering across the floor.

Your hand finally grips the smooth metal tightly, even though now your palm is nearly dripping with sweat, and with a grunt that feels like it's being stolen right out of your lungs, you pull down with all the strength you have left inside of you.

The gate comes down with a crash that echoes throughout the mall, the infected on the other side of the gate screech and squeal loudly. Some of them stick their arms through the slots, and their skin peels back like overripe fruit, claws scraping desperately for any piece of you they can reach.

You don't even want to think about how grotesque they are, you flip the lock that secures the gate to the floor as their fingers grapple and scratch deep into your skin. It clicks into place and you finally exhale, not realizing you had been holding your breath.

So fuckin’ proud of you, Sug. Knew you could do it.

The shrieking cries of the infected fill the otherwise silent mall and the confined space you’re now trapped in. You can't help but glance back toward Puddin'—the little white and gray furball who is still playing dead.

“S’okay, we’re safe,” you sigh, letting yourself rest on your elbows and then on your back completely. You stare at the ceiling, and wonder how long the infected will stick around.

The sounds coming from right above Joel has his heart racing, and he’s trying to free himself from his restraints harder and more desperate than ever before.

With a roar of determination, uncaring of the dangers above him, he jerks one arm up and then down. It’s not enough; he can still feel them biting into his skin painfully, creating new rope burns.

“C’mon, c’mon!” he grunts as time stretches into an eternity. The picture of you being shredded by gnawing and gnashing teeth makes his stomach churn.

Just as that thought creeps in, he hears a metallic rattling, but the wailing of the infected are still clear as day.

The clang of metal echoes again, and for a moment, he thinks maybe you did it. Maybe you’ve locked them out. Maybe you just signed yours and his death certificates and locked some of them in the store.

He tries to twist his wrists again, then again, but each movement sends sharp, stinging pain surging up his forearms. “Fuck!” He exclaims loudly.

She’s up there, fightin’ them off all alone—

"I know, dammit.” His jaw is tense and he focuses all of his energy on trying to loosen the ropes enough, or rub them against the metal fame to fray it enough so he can snap them. The strain builds in his muscles, and he can feel the ropes biting deeper, but he can’t stop— the feeling inside him brings him right back to the hospital in Salt Lake when he was looking for Ellie.

He thought he had felt helpless then, he thought he had felt helpless when that girl and her group of friends had trapped him and Tommy in that cabin— but now he knows the true definition of despair. Tied to a chair, listening to you getting torn apart right above him, and then he’ll have to watch those infected come to tear his throat out.

The door to the basement opens slowly, and Joel’s heart almost stops beating completely. Bile rises in his throat at the uneven steps that start down the wooden steps. It’s a slow, clumsy sound accompanied by grunts and pained whimpers.

When your boots come into his line of sight, he exhales loudly. The sight of you, safe and still breathing sends a warmth through Joel’s spine that spreads into the rest of his body and he’s not sure why.

Awe shit, she’s hurtin’ real bad.

Joel fucking knows, he can see it with his own two eyes. You’re limping, worse than you were went you bolted upstairs and now you’re covered in fresh wounds, and blood trickles down your left forearm, wrist and fingertips, leaving little droplets in your wake. Your cradling something dead and furry in your right arm.

“Ya’ get bit?” Joel’s skin prickles as he asks, trying to get a better look at your arm, straining to see in the dim light.

“Naw,” you grunt at him, sitting in the chair you had been sitting in before you had run upstairs. “Just got scratched.”

Joel eyes you, unsure if he can believe you while you extend your left arm and show him the deep gouging scratches carved into your flesh. “S’bad,” Joel murmurs as you press your arm against your dirty jeans. He flinches at the sight, and turns his arms under the ropes.

What’chya wanna do? Hit her or help her?

Both? Joel synchronously wants to do both. He wants to lay you down on the mattress across the room and tend to your wounds. He wants to wash the blood of your skin, and wrap you up— watch your eyes glisten and sparkle as he cares for you. And then Joel would beat your face bloody, and bludgeon your chest in until it caved.

“M’fine,” you offer weakly. “Ain’t the worst that’s ever happened t’me.”

Somewhere deep inside of Joel twists painfully when the inflection in your tone tells him you think that’s true.

“How’s your ankle?” Joel doesn’t bother looking, he knows it’s bad by the way you limped down the stairs.

“Said m’fine,” you grumble, setting the dead animal down on the table very gently next to the shock collar remote.

“What’s that? Fresh meat finally—”

Joel doesn’t even see it coming, your hand moves so fast and the next thing he knows he is being zapped into silence.

“Ain’t fuckin’ fresh meat- you don’t ever speak about Puddin’ that way, ya’ hear me?” You zap Joel the entire time you’re speaking, and he can barely hear you over the screaming between his ears. It’s deafening and blinding, and making him feel fucking stupid.

“Fine fine.” Joel grits out through a jaw clenched so tight he might actually break his teeth.

You flick the remote off and toss it on the table as if it’s too hot to touch any longer. The buzzing in Joel's ears fades slightly, leaving only the thudding of his heart and the rasp of his breathing.

“I fuckin’ hate hurtin’ you,” you sob softly, wrapping your arms around what appears to be an opossum. You pull it closer to you, and nuzzle your face against his fur.

Joel recoils at the sight, but watches as the dead animal comes to life, and gives your cheek a gentle lick. “That’s your pet?” He asks, disbelief dripping off his tongue.

You don’t look at him, or even really acknowledge that you heard him— you just continue to snuggle the animal and cry quietly.

Joel doesn’t really know what to do, he wants to comfort you in a weird way, but he still wants to see you dead? But the thought you dying also scares him a little?

It’s ‘cause you wanna be the one snuggled up next t’her. Jealous of an opossum—

No the fuck he doesn’t! Joel does not want to snuggle up to you, he doesn’t want to feel your warm body pressed against his—

Even though she’d fit perfect right next to ya’. Picture it, ya’ got’chya arms ‘round her ‘n you got your legs all wrapped in hers…

The sight of you, vulnerable and fragile with that small, stupid animal, tugs at his heart in ways he hasn’t experienced in years. He shakes his head violently, as if he could actually dislodge the thoughts spinning in his mind. “You’re fuckin' crazy,” he mutters to himself under his breath.

Your chair scrapes across the floor as you turn quickly to the right so you can face him. Your jaw ticks and one of your eyes twitch. “I ain’t fuckin’ crazy— stop sayin’ that.” You whisper to him. “Why ya’ bein’ so mean? I jus’ saved your life…” Your face twists up like you might start crying again, and your eyes now are still wet with the tears you had been crying moments ago.

“Saved my life?” Joel scoffs through clenched teeth, the remnants of your electric assault still tingling faintly in his fingers and toes. “That’s what y’think you did for me?” He can feel his resolve faltering as the fat, wet tears begin to roll down your cheek, but he forces himself to stay angry. It feels safer— it feels better that way. “More like puttin’ me through hell, darlin’.”

He doesn’t even mean for the word darlin’ to come out of his mouth, he wasn’t even thinking it, at least— he doesn’t remember wanting to cal you darlin’.

But the moment it slips out, he watches your expression change. You wipe at the tears staining your cheeks, smearing dirt and blood across your face. A flicker of something warm and soft ignites in your eyes, like sunlight breaking through dark clouds. “Darlin’…” you echo him, a fractured smile threatening to bloom despite the pain etched across your features.

Joel’s heart sinks, and also bursts with pride all at the same time. You are in fact insane, but he made you stop crying.

Look’it that, she’s almost smilin’ now.

That warmth spreads through him again, against his will—against all logical reason. “I didn’t mean it,” he mutters, not really sure if he did mean it or not. Yet the sight of you still clinging to that opossum, caressing him carefully as he nibbles gently on one of your fingers. The sight draws him in deeper than he would like to admit, but he just wants to clean you up, wrap you in bandages and then let you fall asleep on his lap.

“Didn’t… mean it?” You repeat the words like you don’t understand them, and your smile falters just a bit as you study his face, searching for truth. “Liar,” you smirk at him.

There is a warmth in your crazy eyes that makes Joel want to sink as far into the chair as he possibly can, he wishes he could disappear but he doesn’t. He says, watching you like he’s frozen in place. “Nah, s’just the shock talkin’,” he whispers and nods his head to one side like there would be a video replaying the who ordeal that happened only moments ago. He wishes there was so he could watch it happen over and over, so he could build up the walls around him, keep you the fuck out of his head.

“Yeah…” There is a distance to your tone, like you’re not really there anymore, and you drop your gaze to the opossum nestled in your arms. “Ya’ made me do that though,” you whisper, eyes flicking up to him quickly— they’re darker, a little scary and Joel wishes he could hide inside his own skin.

“Made you?” Joel’s voice rises, anger flaring throughout him like a wildfire in a forest of dead, dry trees. It spreads fast before Joel can control himself.“Y’think I made you do that? You are a crazy fuckin’ bit—”

You zap him again with a jolt that sends white hot sparks crawling up his spine, and sucks the air right out of his lungs.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” you scream and clutch the opossum tighter.

Joel watches as it goes back to playing dead in your arms. He’s about to shout back at you, start a screaming war and hope those infected break through that gate upstairs and kill both of you— but then you whisper something quietly, and Joel almost doesn’t catch it.

“I’m not gunna fuckin’ do that, stop tellin’ me t’kill him.”

Joel’s blood runs cold like ice… who the fuck are you talking to? Or about?

“Are you still hungry?” Your voice is soft, almost sweet now. “I can get you more jerky… I got lots of whiskey—” you say, the fierce anger from moments ago melting away, replaced by a manic eagerness to please him. You reach for your bag again, your arm still bleeding badly— but you’re unfazed by it, or at least doing a good job pretending it doesn’t bother you.

You pull out a glass jar.

“Are those coffee beans?” Joel can barely believe his eyes. His mouth starts to salivate immediately.

You wrinkle your nose at him and shrug your shoulders. “Dunno— they look like some kinda bean— smell all burnt up to shit though,” your nose stays scrunched up as you begin digging around in your bag again.

“Lemme smell,” he can barely contain his excitement as he watches you unscrew the lid to the mason jar. There is a hesitation in your movements when you go to hold the jar under his nose, like you’re trying to figure out his game, the trap he’s set. Your eyes scan all around him, face and body unmoving. “I jus’ wanna smell it— I’ll tell you if it’s coffee or not,” he’s as close to begging for something as he’s ever gotten.

“You like coffee?” You sound so curious, and gingerly place the mouth of the jar under his nose. He takes in a deep inhale and the wonderful, deep and rich aroma of coffee fills his nostrils.

Joel groans loudly, and for a long time as the scent permeates his sinuses, he can almost taste it on his tongue for a fleeting moment.

“Take that as a yes,” you giggle and let him breathe in the smell a little longer. “How do I make it for ya’?” You ask, pulling the jar away and screwing the lid on tight.

“Gotta grind those beans up real fine— then let it brew in some hot water.” Joel explains, watching as you dig around in your bag for more of your loot. "They make special pots for it— percolators."

"Percolators?" You parrot him, tilting your head to one side—

Cute lil puppy.

You fucking are, Joel hates to admit it to himself but even all covered in blood, and muck— looking like you've been to hell and clawed your way back out by the skin of your teeth— your eyes are bright and alert, watching him intently.

"Yeah, keeps the coffee grounds out of your water—" he starts, but you cut him off.

"So you put those crushed up beans… in the water… to just not want them in the water at the end of it all?" You hold up the coffee beans and look at them incredulously, your eyes squinted and narrowed on the glass jar with one eyebrow cocked up slightly.

Joel can't stop the corners of his mouth from turning up at your expression, your face still dirty and tear stained. "Never had coffee before?"

You shake your head at him, and continue rifling through your bag.

The opossum on the table comes alive again now that you're calm and quiet, he pops his little head up and this is when Joel notices the small teal and pink collar around his furry neck. As you pull the rest of the things out of your pack, the little critter starts to lick and clean your wounds.

It makes Joel grimace at the sight of the wild animal trying to help you, take care of you, but again— it tugs at a place inside of him he hasn't dared venture in years.

You're in the small bathroom just off the main room cleaning up in the sink you filled with water from a jug you brought down yesterday. “Ya’ wanna sleep on the bed t’night?” You nod to the mattress pushed up against the wall across the room.

What the fuck?

Mister-man looks just as shocked as the dark voice in your head sounds. “Ya’ gon’ let me sleep comfortably- take these fuckin’ ropes off me?” His voice is bitter and bites at you, makes you furrow your brows at him.

Sug, he’s been tied up for a while now—

For good fucking reason, he’s going to kill her the minute she unties him.

He’s got the dang collar on now, he’s gonna listen to her.

What happens when she falls asleep? Huh? She’s been up going on almost eighteen hours—

How d’ya know how many hours it’s been? She don’t have a watch or a clock!! You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ ‘bout.

She’s going to fall asleep and the minute she does— he’s going to strangle her.

The image of Mister-man with his hands around your throat makes you do two things— it makes your stomach flip, and it makes your cunt clench.

What the fuck was that?

She likes the idea of Mister-man chokin’ her a lil, dont’chya Sugar?

The heat rises from your chest and up your neck, behind your cheeks. You kinda do want Mister to choke you a little, but not with the intention to kill you!

“What’re you fuckin’ smirkin’ ‘bout over there?” Mister snaps at you.

When you look at yourself in the mirror, you are smirking and just standing in front of the sink frozen in place. You swallow hard, trying to ignore the images of Mister’s big, strong hands around your neck. “Nothin’,” you lie to him, which makes you feel bad— but you can’t tell him that’s what you were thinking about.

Tell him, see what he says…

Will you shut the fuck up—

“I figure you can sleep there ‘n I’ll sleep in the chair t’night— still gon’ have to tie you up, but least you can lay down…”

That’s not really what you want. You want his arms wrapped around you, and your legs all messed up in his. You wanna feel his warm breath on the top of your head because that’s gotta be the best way to fall asleep, feeling someone else’s warm body, feeling their heart beating inside their chest.

Let’s ya’ know they’re really there- ain’t a dream or something you’re imaginin’.

“Why the hell d’ya want me all comfy f’anyway, huh?” he asks, suspicion laced in his tone, but a hint of curiosity glimmers behind his dark brown eyes.

You shake your head and go back to cleaning your arm so you can bandage it. “No, I’m jus’ tryin’ t’be nice. Figur’d you could stretch out if ya’ wanted.”

He watches you, that suspicion still etched into the lines of his face, but the curiosity is unmistakable, swelling in the way his brow furrows deeper and his lips twist just slightly. “Why ya’ tryin’ to be nice?”

“I dunno… don’t want you hatin’ me no more—”

Stop it right now! Shut the fucking door and stop talking to him.

“Why would I ever stop hatin' you?” His voice is low, almost a whisper. Mister-man hones in his gaze on you like a hawk. “You think bein’ nice t’me is gonna make me forget that ya’ tied me up down here?”

You shrug lightly as you wrap a bandage around your arm, feeling the warmth of blood already seeping through the fabric.

Don’t listen to him, Sugar. He don’t mean it.

Sounds like he fuckin’ means it.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” you say softly, finally meeting his stare head-on. “I just wanna feel normal again…”

Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

Yeah Sug, keep that to ya’self.

You feel ashamed, real shame, uncomfortable for sharing too much, and now the voices are agreeing with each other? That’s never a good sign. You’ve done something wrong.

“Normal?” He chuckles, but it feels malicious. “Ain’t nothin’ fuckin’ normal about this, sweetheart.”

“Stop sayin’ that if you don’t fuckin’ mean it!”

His laughter dies down, leaving an awkward silence between you. The room feels smaller, somehow and it feels like Mister-man is right on top of you with judging eyes. “I do mean it,” he replies, softer now but still sharp and angry. “Y’think it’s normal t’be tied up in the basement by some—”

“Some what?” You interrupt him as the anger rises to meet the shame and hold its hand.

Mister stares at you, face unchanging when he speaks. “Some. Crazy. Fuckin’. Bitch.” He enunciates every word. “What is this? Some fuckin’ fairy tale to you? One of your stupid princess movies, huh?”

“They’re not stupid,” you snap back, your voice rising in defiance. “And I’m not crazy. I just…”

“Just what?” he presses, his tone challenging. “What do you want from me?”

Don’t fucking say it.

“I jus’ want ya’ t’like me,” you whisper- feeling small and insignificant. “Want ya’ t’not hurt me again,” you point to your still slightly blackened eye.

His studies you like you’re a problem that he can’t solve— the muscles in his jaw flex, and he pinches his brow together tightly. “Ya’ want me t’like you?” He echoes softly, he says the words like they might unleash an evil into the room.

You nod, feeling like you’re frozen and on fire all at the same time, it makes your stomach churn like you might be sick. The way he’s staring at you make you feel naked and exposed.

“Why?” he asks suddenly, breaking through the silence and makes you flinch.

“You’re handsome,” you let the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

He shifts in the chair like you made him uncomfortable, confusion weaving its way into the creases of his hardened and in fact, beautiful face.

“Handsome?” he repeats the word like it's a foreign language, like it’s something he hasn’t heard in ages.

“I sure think so,” you nod again.

Your face is so hot it feels like it’s being held to flames.

Well, this is the most you’ve talked to anyone in a real long time, Sug… it’ll get easier.

You could just stop talking completely and go to sleep. You’re delirious.

No she ain’t. Mister-man is handsome, and she want’s him inside her again real bad.

Your walls clench around absolutely nothing at the thought of his thick, throbbing length plunging inside of you, stretching you to fit around him perfectly. The idea of it happening again makes you dizzy and you can’t help but bite your lip, your face somehow grows hotter than you thought possible.

The look Mister gives you- the half smirk, one raised eyebrow makes you think he can read your mind.“Handsome,” he snorts softly, eyes never leaving you, but now they trail down the curves of your body. “You trynna ‘sit in my lap’ again, sweetheart?” The words come out of his mouth slow like molasses, and that country twang he has sends a shock right to your core.

“Maybe,” you say, voice trembling slightly but unwavering, “maybe if you wanted to, I would.”

His face softens slightly, the anger and suspicion melting away like snow in the sun. He raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing on his lips. "Why would I want that, honey?" he asks, his voice teasing slightly.

“You seemed to want it the other night,” you limp out of the bathroom and sit down in the metal chair beside his recliner.

“I was real drunk,” Mister explains, but his demeanor has changed, he looks relaxed, he’s resting his head on the back of the chair, looking at you through hooded eyes. “Ya’ took advantage of me,” he growls softly, but beckons you over with a nod of his head.

“Ya’ told me t’do it…” you snap. “I ain’t take nothin’. Advantage- I ain’t-- what? You asked me t’do it!”

He sure fuckin’ did ask you! How dare he say that bullshit ass—

I hate to admit it, but… he’s right—

The last thing you ever wanted to do was take something from Mister-man that he didn’t want you to take! It’s the worst feeling in the world- being held down and forced into—

Shhhhh, Sugar. It’s alright, s’all over now. It was just a misunderstanding.

“I ain’t m-mean t’do that,” you say weakly through the lump forming in your throat. “I thought ya’ wanted me t’do it— that’s why ya’ punched me?”

His eyes widen slightly, “I didn’t punch ya’ for that.”

"Then why did ya’ punch me?" Your voice cracks slightly as tears begin welling up in your eyes again; embarrassment filling every cell within your body once more.

“I was gonna try’n leave. Go home—”

“Ya’ lied t’me… said you’d stay,” you whimper, wiping the tears before they can fall.

“Please stop cryin’…” Mister-man's voice is surprisingly gentle as he speaks, and you feel your heart squeeze in response.

You sniffle, trying to regain your composure. "I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t ask me first," you mumble, wiping your nose on the back of your sleeve.

"Why not?" Joel asks softly. 

Look'it that, ya went'n made her cry! For what!? She's just trynna be nice t'ya! Jus' like she said. She wants a lil boyfriend, someone t'snuggle up with at night-- like a normal person!

There isn't anything fucking normal about you, not at all. 

“I ain’t like stuff gettin’ taken from me,” you admit quietly, turning your gaze away from him.

Joel narrowed his eyes, sitting up a bit straighter in his recliner, the leather creaking underneath his weight. "What’ya mean by that?"

“Lets get ready for bed, ‘kay?” You ignore his question and stand up, wincing when you put any weight on your ankle. You hold the remote in your mouth gingerly as you begin untying him from the chair.

****

Joel watches you from the mattress in the corner. You have his hands still bound up in the oven mitts, and now you’ve tossed a rope over a pipe in the ceiling and tied up his elbows so he can move and lay down. Stretch out if he wants to, but he can’t walk more than five or six feet in either direction— and the pipes secured tighter than he had been hoping it would be.

Joel can hear you reading the Batman comic books to yourself and that opossum you keep calling Puddin’, but you haven’t looked or spoken to him since you tied him up an hour or so ago. Just left him with two things: a plastic bottle of water and metal flask with whiskey in it. He was silently thankful when you twisted the lids off without him having to ask.

He knows struck a nerve with his question, but he didn’t really expect you to shut him out completely. He takes a swig from the plastic water bottle.

Ya’ want that sad lil puppy t’come over here, dont’chya?”

He does, oddly enough. You being crazy was better than you giving him the cold shoulder, like he wasn't even there.

He wonders if you read to that stupid animal every night, and if you snuggle with him in the bed you sleep in upstairs. He wonders if you have to drink yourself to sleep every night with how many bottles of whiskey you brought back.

His mind just continues to race.

****

Joel can’t sleep. He thought for sure the minute he put his head down, he’d drift off and sleep better than he has since you tied him up down here, he’s got a blanket and a pillow now but they do nothing to comfort him into closing his eyes.

Call her over, see if she’ll come snuggle up next to you.

“Hey,” Joel whispers into the completely dark room.

“What?” You whisper back to him from the void.

“C’mere— it ain’t fair ya’ gotta sleep in that chair. I know s’uncomfortable.” What the fuck is he doing? He’s not going to willingly allow you into his space, is he?

“M’fine,” you murmur back to him. “Go t’sleep.”

“Can’t sleep— come sit in my lap again,” Joel smirks to himself because fuck, what he would do to feel your warm cunt enveloping him like you were made strictly for him, and him alone. It makes his cock twitch just thinking about it.

Joel holds his breath, waiting for you to respond. Then, finally, you murmur back, your voice barely more than a whisper, “Why would I do that?”

“‘Cause I’m handsome…” Joel teases you, listening to the way the chair creaks as you shift on it. He wishes so badly he could see you. “I know ya’ wanna feel good, I wanna feel good too.”

“Y’just wanna punch me again, try’n escape—”

“Where would I go? Them infected are still up there, I ain’t gettin’ outta here anytime soon,” he’s being honest. He had thought about it, but the idea of having to share a room with your dead body— even if he moved you upstairs, the idea of having to wait around with your corpse until the infected cleared out gave him a bad feeling.

It’s ‘cause you don’t wanna kill ‘er. Ya’ wanna be deep inside that tight, wet, warm perfect hole.

“Fuck,” Joel mutters under his breath. His cock’s fully hard now, and it’s making a tent in the black sweatpants you put on him before bed. He rubs the oven mitt on his hand against the bulge in the fabric and groans loudly.

“What’re you doin’?” You ask from your place in the chair.

“Come find out, sweetheart.” He sighs, leaning against the wall the mattress is pressed up against.

Joel listens to you limp and shuffle towards him in the dark. Your hands hesitantly touch his shins before you crawl onto the bed with him.

“Take ‘em out f’me, baby girl,” he leans into you now that you’re sitting next to him, pushing his nose into your hair. He inhales deeply and takes in the heady scent of your sweat lingering whatever fucking pheromones that are making him just as insane as you.

“Ya’ really want this?”

Joel wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you as close as he can get. “M’sober this time,” he moan quietly into your ear when you push his mitt covered hand, away and slip your hand underneath the waistband. He bucks his hips up into your fist as you begin to stoke him.

“You’re s’warm,” you sigh, turning your head to face him.

Joel wastes no time catching your lips in a kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you, savor your flavor. You taste like whiskey and strawberry jam. The smell of cheap bathroom hand soap lingers on your skin from washing up in the sink. All of it makes him feel like hes intoxicated.

“Fuck, y’feel so good,” he growls into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip gently as you pull away. “Take these fuckin’ mitts off me—”

Your hand leaves his pants and the warmth of your body is gone from beside him. “It’s a trick?” You sound hurt in the dark, like Joel’s played some terrible prank on you and you just found out.

“No, no, no-” he’s desperate for your touch. It felt so good, and he wasn’t even thinking about trying to trick you or do anything shifty once you took the mitts off, he wanted to grip you and grope you. Plunge two or three fingers right into your wetness. “No, m’not trynna trick you— I just wanna touch you.”

“S’what you said last time,” you snap at him. He can tell you’re still close, probably still on the mattress. He shifts and tries to get closer to you but he hears your skin drag across the concrete floor.

“Shit,” Joel grumbles. “I know, fuck— I know, but I mean it this time-”

“I don’t believe you.”

Of course you don’t believe him! He socked you right in the eye as hard as he could the last time he didn’t have at least 4 inches of padding on his fists.

“I wanna make y’feel real good, the way y’were makin’ me feel real good just then,” he’s inching towards the sound of you dragging yourself across the floor on his hands and knees slowly. The ropes stop him from going any further while you continue your retreat. “C’mon, baby…”

“Y’just sayin’ that, don’t mean it…” The sound of your body shuffling away from him stops though, and he wonders if he’s got you on the hook with the pet names.

Try it again, Mister.

“Please, honey… I wanna hear y’moan Mister’s name,” he coos to you, hiding from him somewhere in the darkness.

You let out a long, slow, shaky breath before you answer. “What is your name…”

He’s so fucking desperate for some sort of relief that he tells you before he can come up with a fake name— he’s learned the hard way about sharing his real name with strange women. “Joel.”

“Joel…” You whisper back to him. “My very own Mister-J?” You sound excited.

“Mister-J?” Joel cocks his head to one side, but is pushed back onto the mattress by the force of you barreling into him.

“That’s what Harley calls the Joker,” your straddling his waist again and without thinking twice, Joel wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. His forearms brush against the bare skin of your thighs and it makes him groan softly as he pushes you down into his lap.

“Ya' wanna be m'crazy girl? Like Harley Quinn?” Joel chuckles as he nudges his nose against your chin, tilting your head back to expose your neck.

You hesitate, and pull back from him slightly.

“I ain’t gon’ bite you,” he promises, leaning in as much as he can so he can press his lips to the column of your throat.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, sinking into him like you’re melting. “Oh fuck,” it leaves your mouth as a whimper, and Joel’s cock throbs at the sound.

“Like this?” He nips at the spot where your neck meets your shoulder and you shiver in his arms. He can’t hide the smile, he doesn’t care to. He loves that he’s capable of making you make those sounds.

You hum an almost silent ‘mhm’, and wrap your arms around his neck and thread your fingers through the curls at the nape.

Joel has so much more room to move around now that he’s unrestrained, so he rolls his hips up into yours so you can feel what he has to offer. You gasp and arch your back, pushing yourself further onto him. He moans softly, his mitts trailing down your spine and cupping your ass cheeks as best they can. He can feel the heat between your legs growing and he has a nagging thought in his head.

Lay down, let her climb right on top—

Joel shifts and wiggles down onto the mattress so he’s flat on his back, with you still straddling his hips. “Take your lil shorts off,” Joel taps your thigh, and then lifts his hips so he can shove his sweatpants down his legs.

You don’t ask any questions. You roll off of him and Joel feels your shoulder touch his as you lay down to remove your bottoms. You go to crawl back into his lap but he stops you.

“Sit up here,” he grips your hips as best he can with the mitts, and tugs you up to his face.

“What!?” You sound distressed, “Ya’ want me t’do what?”

“Turn around, and sit down,” Joel growls up at you.

You hesitate, the uncertainty clear in your voice. "I-I don't know..."

"C'mon, darlin'," Joel coaxes, his voice low and husky. "Let me taste you. I promise ‘m gonna make you feel so good."

With shaky movements, you turn around and slowly lower yourself over Joel's face.

He inhales deeply, taking in your scent. "That's it," he murmurs encouragingly. "Just like that." Joel can feel the heat radiating from your core as you hover uncertainly above him. He lifts his head, nuzzling his nose against your inner thigh. "Lil lower," he nips at your supple skin.

With a soft whimper, you finally sink down onto his waiting mouth. Joel groans at the first taste of you, his tongue delving between your folds. Your sweet and tangy, a little sweaty and musky— it’s fucking heady and perfect. He can’t get enough.

“Oh fuck,” you shudder as Joel licks a stripe from your clit to your entrance, which is already dripping and Joel feels pride swell in his chest.

Without Joel having to ask, or prompt you in any way, you lean over and take his hard, aching cock in your hand. Joel nearly comes right there when he hears you spit on it noisily and palm your warm saliva around the throbbing, drooling tip.

“Fuuuuck,” Joel moans approvingly before his tongue pushes into your entrance.

"Oh god, Mister," you whimper, your hand still working his cock in long, slow strokes. Then you kitten lick the tip and he has to stop himself from bucking his hips.

Joel's mind goes blank as your warm, wet mouth envelops the head of his cock. He groans against your pussy, the vibrations making you shudder above him. His tongue laps eagerly at your fold, drinking in your arousal as it flows freely.

You bob your head, taking more of his length with each downward motion. Joel's hips twitch, fighting the urge to thrust up into the heavenly heat of your mouth. Instead, he focuses on pleasuring you, sucking your clit between his lips and flicking it with his tongue.

You whimper around his cock, grinding your hips down onto his face.

Joel pulls back slightly, his breath hot against your core. "That's it, baby girl. Ride my face," he growls before diving back in, his tongue circling your clit.

You pull away, your hand replacing your mouths ministrations and rest your head on Joel’s hip as you stroke him, never faltering on giving him pleasure. “Please d-don’t stop!” You cry out, your grip tightening around his shaft as you rock your hips. Joel's mitt-covered hands grip your thighs, urging you on.

"Gonna cum for me, darlin'?" he murmurs against your slick folds. "Let me taste it."

Joel feels you tense above him, your thighs quivering as you grind down harder on his face. He doubles his efforts, lapping at your clit with quick, firm strokes of his tongue. Your hand on his cock speeds up, pumping him in time with the rocking of your hips.

"Oh god, oh fuck," you whimper, your voice muffled against his hip. "I'm gonna-- I'm--"

Your words dissolve into a high-pitched moan as you come undone. Joel groans as he feels your pussy pulse against his mouth, a fresh wave of your arousal coating his tongue.

Your sounds, the way your hips continue to rock against his mouth as you unravel has his own release bubbling up to the surface. Joel groans deeply as his own orgasm crashes over him, his hips bucking up involuntarily as he spills into your hand. You stroke him through it, milking every last drop as he shudders beneath you.

Joel's whole body twitches as you clean him and your hand with your tongue, "Taste good," you mumble against his stomach, pressing soft kisses to the trail of hair between his cock and belly button.

Then, with shaky movements, you lift yourself off of Joel's face and turn around to face him. Even in the darkness, he can sense your uncertainty.

"C'mere," Joel murmurs, his voice rough. He reaches out, pulling you down to lay beside him. You settle against his chest, your breath warm on his neck.

“Don’t kill me in my sleep, ‘kay?” You sigh, pressing a kiss to his pulse point.

Joel murmurs something incoherent, already on the verge of falling asleep.

Sorry it was like 45 minutes late (two days early if you look at the master list ok?-- I may have had something to drink.... and of course thanks @pedrospookie for that adorable fucking mood board. I hope you all like this chapter-- it's a little domesticated (i think), but I have more crazy, unhinged antics coming next chapter!)

TAG LIST: @pedrospookie @gothcsz @joelmillerisapunk @sp00kymulderr @paleidiot @goodvampykitten @rosebuds-and-moonlight @diabaroxa @zhazy-blog2 @almostempty @xdaddysprincessxx @tobethlehem @lilac-boo @xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu @rav3n-pascal22 @baronessvonglitter @joelmillerisapunk @syd-djarin @probablyreadinsmut @itwasntimethatdidit40 @letsgobarbs @lovehappyloki @joelalorian @pedrostories

(omg I think I got everyone but that's so many people, please let me know if I left you off or if you want to be taken out of the tag list!)

[sssigil]

Big Juicy

posting twice today because this thought wouldn't leave my brain literally ghost face makes me feral like them or any masked slasher killer ahhhh ^_^ ♡

Summary: Bimbo reader has a special uninvited guest visit her tonight, she doesn't even hesitate I mean who wouldn't fuck a masked killer ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

Warnings: PURE FILTH, mask kink, spit kink, pussy slapping, degrading, size kink kinda, oral M n F receiving, he slaps u, he spanks you too, unprotected sex (don't do that), choking, biting, a little blood, mentions of killing, breeding if u squint, that's it enjoy <3.

It was currently eight at night and you had been in your dorm all day noting going on in your pretty little mind. You were laying on your tummy legs up kicking as you scrolled through your phone humming along the music playing. You had been blasting Ayesha Erotica this whole time that you hadn't notice your door opening with how loud the music was playing.

He saw you laying there, you were wearing the cutest skimpiest outfit he couldn't help but rub his groin. You body was facing your wall so he had a good view up your denim mini skirt, he could see your baby pink lace panties that barely covered your lower lips and he fucking loved the white thigh highs that covered your legs.

Ethan came here to kill you but he just couldn't help himself. He was now behind you, knife on his right hand as he lifted the knife ready to stab you on your back but before he could impale it he saw your pretty face now facing him. Pretty lips glossy with your gloss, doe eyes had slightly big falsies with pink glitter surrounding your eyes. You looked so cute.

"holy fuck am I about to get fucked by a masked killer" you exclaimed looking at the masked figure now sitting up on your bed dropping to your knees grabbing your phone clicking the camera app. You had a mirror facing your bed and you had the bestest idea, you position yourself left hand wrapping around the figures leg both thighs straddling his foot, you pointed your phone to the mirror making sure to get you both puckering your lips and taking a picture.

"OMG! we look so cute look look" you squealed looking up to the mask figure so he could see the picture you just took. Ethan was dumb founded he didn't know how to react tilting his head down to look at you, you were smiling at him arms still wrapped around his leg as you rested your head on his thigh phone not set down to the side.. God this girl was so stupid he had to take advantage of this.

"wait do you want to use my mouth?" you asked him almost vibrating waiting for him to answer in some sort of way. You felt yourself drip when you saw him nod his head pushing yourself off of him so you can push him on the bed. He sat there still looking at you waiting for you to make a move. and you did you went to move the thick black material off so you could have access to his black pants.

You began to unbutton the pants he wore gasping when his cock just sprung out, he wasn't wearing any undergarments it soaked you up even more. "You came prepared huh" giggling at him. He finally felt you wrap your hand around his cock placing your mouth right above his tip so you could spit on it. You used your spit to lube him up jerking him off, you moved your hand up and down and up and down slowly. "come on say something pretty please, wanna hear you" you whined at him, you loved when men were vocal and he wasn't doing that all so you hated him.

He didn't budge one bit when you begged so you did what had to be done. You took him down your throat nose pressed u against his neatly trimmed pubes, you swallowed around the head of the cock keeping it there for a little making sure to look up at his masked face. You pulled back a string of drool connecting your bottom lip to his pink tip. "wanna see you" you begged even more but he didn't listen to you instead his gloved hand went to push at your head signaling you to take him back in your throat.

You bobbed your head making sure to use your hands to jerk off the excess that didn't fit in you tiny mouth. "so big" you'd moan when you pull away from him, you had tears running down your tinted cheeks and you want nothing more than to have him touch you. As if he could read your mind he moved your head so you could pull of his cock, hand on your chin making you look at him lips pouted red and shiny, he could hear the soft fast breaths coming from you. You saw his other hand go for his mask, finally you thought, you saw him lift his mask over his mouth but it didn't go any further.

You saw his mouth move a little before he positioned his mouth over yours making sure to squish your cheeks so you could open your mouth for him. You almost came in your panties untouched as he spat in your mouth making sure you swallowed his spit then doing it again. He lightly slapped your cheek cock twitching at how good you sat there swallowing his spit. He then pushed you back to your original position pulling his mask back down. He didn't even make you wait grabbing his cock which was resting on his lower stomach.

He wanted to see you beg for it so he did a little bit o teasing he lightly tapped the tip of his cock on your tongue making you paw at him causing him to slap you. "come on mr ghost face don't tease me please" you whined at him opening your mouth again and he did not hesitate he stuffed himself down your throat make sure you couldn't move. This action made your eyes water, looking up at him batting your eyelashes trying to make the tears to go away.

You felt him finally let go easing himself out your throat letting you breath just for a second before you felt him do it again but this time you felt him thrust himself fucking himself into your throat. You could hear small soft grunts come from him and he bucked his hips up into your mouth and you just couldn't help but reach your tiny manicured hand down your body slithering into your panties rubbing your little button fast whimpering. Then you heard him, he let out the deepest and raspiest 'fuck' as he came down your throat making sure you didn't get away. He didn't care if you choke he just NEEDED to have your little throat stuffed with him cum.

''Mmm'' you moaned once he pulled out small amounts of his cum dripping from the corner of your mouth. You felt him move his hand from your head to your chin wiping the drool and cum off. You made sure to swallow what he gave you so you wouldn't disappoint him, you still had your hand in your panties and you felt yourself grind against your hand just wanting some sort of release and Ethan noticed that.

He got up from where he sat surprising you when he picked you up and laid you on the edge of the bed. You were placed on your tummy making sure to place a small pillow under your belly, sock covered legs hanging off the edge. He made sure to signal you to arch tour back towards him you obeyed like always cause you just loved pleasing men, I mean as long as they did the same duh. You felt him rub and kneed your inner thighs moaning and whining literally begging him to just do something you just needed him so bad.

He finally gave in pulling your mini skirt down your legs but your panties stayed on. Ethan made sure to tease your cunt through the thin baby pink material, pinching your clit through it then rubbing soft but rough circles. He would pull at the material almost giving you a wedgie but that gave you enough friction on your clit that had you whining.

"Please just touch me please" you felt your hole clench around nothing but air as his gloved hand slapped your ass hard you cried out. When he finally had enough of that he pulled your panties down your legs stuffing them in his pocket for safe keeping. You heard him shuffle behind you and you wondered what he was doing so you went to turn your head but before you could see he pushed your head into the mattress "stay there" he used his voice once again making your legs almost close but his thighs stopped you from doing so.

Ethan had lift his mask off slightly just enough for his mouth and nose be free. He lowered himself to his knees taking the position you were in a couple minutes ago. You gasped loudly into the pillow as you felt his tongue lick a strip down your slit to your clit. Both of his hands went to grab your ass just to kneed them and spread them apart so he can have all of you. You felt his tongue make circles around your nub making sure to suck on It a little before letting go. Ethan had never done this but he's so glad he watched videos of this. He always wanted to eat someone out and now he finally had the chance.

He made sure to spread your lips apart backing up a little and spitting on your cunt watching his drool drop and slip into your hole which was clenching like crazy, poor thing he thought. He heard the most nastiest moan come from your pretty little mouth thank fuck he stuffed your face into that mattress you're so loud. He made sure to lick at your hole loving the feeling of your walls clenching around his tongue moaning into your cunt so you could feel the vibrations on your cunt. You felt one of his cold hand makes its way to your clit rubbing at it and you lost it thighs shaking as he kept the pace of his tongue on your hole. You felt him pull back again both his fingers and mouth left you, you were confused on why but that confusion leave you once you felt his hand slap your mound.

"that hurts so good mister" you moaned as you felt him slap your cunt more and more the more you moaned and whined. You didn't want him to stop touching you, you wanted to be his forever ♥.

Once Ethan stopped his rough treatment you finally felt what you were waiting for, his cock. You felt him rub his cock on your pussy lips making sure to coat it with your wetness. You were such a messy whore and Ethan loved it, he wanted to keep you for ever. You felt his cock head nudge at your clit making you jump at the feeling you felt yourself so close to coming. Ethan had enough of his own teasing and finally he stopped himself into your tiny cunt. You let out a pornographic moan as you felt that tight knot in your tummy snap conning around his thick cock.

"fuck me" you said softly but he heard you and the feeling of you coming around him made him feral. You felt so warm and tight he just couldn't help but fall on top of your small tiny body and fuck up into you make sure to kiss your neck leaving bright red marks as he sucked and licked your skin. You loved the feeling of his heavy big body on top of you taking advantage of you it made you gush even more. Ethan could feel the ring of cum you left at the base of his cock slow began to soap up. This was so gross he could feel your cunt clench trying to keep him in there as he fucked you making sure to hit so deep inside you, literally hitting your cervix at how deep he was.

He just couldn't help it, his gloved hand had made its way up your throat squeezing the sides of your throat making sure to pull you closer to him arching your back even more fucking yourself back into his cock matching his pace.

"You're so dirty" Ethan spoke through his mask. "you know I was gonna kill you right, but no instead I'm having my way with you" his words should make you scared but instead made you moan not wanting him to stop. He felt you get tight again, he knew you were close so he dragged his non gloved hand down your tummy to your nub making sure to rub that little button just enough to have your thighs shake. Hips still fucking into you so rough and fast because he just couldn't get enough of this tight warm soaping pussy he just wanted more.

"Gonna cum please, please cum in me pretty please" you whimpered out just wanting to feel him let go inside of you, wanting to feel his warm milk stuff you full and drip out of you. You felt his pace become a little sloppy at your words but he kept the thrust rough. He just couldn't help at the thought of stuffing you full and claiming you like that he just HAD to do it.

"Gonna stuff you full princess, you're mine" he groaned biting down on the space between your neck and collarbone making you whine and you feel blood drip into his mouth and that made you moan. He continued to groan and moan into your ear gloved hand leaving you throat to grip your hip pistoling into your cunt other hand still on your clit. Then he felt it, he felt you come undone all over his cock with a loud cry and he followed behind making sure to stuff himself fully inside you before cumming.

You felt him thrust into you a couple more time make sure to milk everything from him before pulling out turning you to your back. You could feel everything gush out your cunt and he just couldn't help. He found your phone on the floor making sure to swipe right to open the camera. He made sure to press your legs together with one hand pushing them back against your chest getting a good view of your dripping pussy and adorable fucked out face and taking a picture. You heard the click of the sound of the camera surprising you but not really caring.

"Wait so who are you?" you questioned at this point Ethan was also pussy drunk so he didn't give two fucks. He pulled the hood off his head and proceeded to pull his mask off smirking at your surprised face.

"ETHAN" you exclaimed, mind still hazy but you knew Ethan, he was your best friend. Your best friend just fucked you so good it had you drooling, he literally stuffed himself in you and came inside of you. "What's up bunny, I had fun but now I gotta go" he laughed as you still had a shocked and confused face but said nothing. You just let him tuck himself back into his pants making sure to leave a small kiss on you lips before placing his mask back onto his head walking out the room.

You still sat there as you got a message from your phone, it was Ethan.

E♡: Making this my home screen angel, you look so cute ;) E♡: 1 Image Sent

You gasped as you saw yourself, it was the picture he had taken after he came inside of you. NGL you did look cute you hummed.

[rottingworship]

Beg and Bargain

The Proxies x Fem!Reader | Chapter Three

Chapter One | Chapter Two

Summary: Things seem to go sideways fast, but thankfully you are able to eat beforehand.

Warnings: Mean Toby, name calling, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, pet names (love, my love)

A/N: this was fun, so fun to write! I can't say I did it all by myself, I did have some help from @babehlockdemdoors with some ideas for Toby!

Word Count: 3.2k

“What did she say?” Brian looks at Tim with curiosity.

“She made John kill himself.”

“O-O-Obviously.” Toby rolls his eyes.

“She also has a fucking roommate–” Brian goes to interupt him, Tim puts up his hand. “She controlled her. Convinced her everything was fine.”

“Her own roommate?” Brian cocks a brow.

“I also learned that John was not a great man.”

“M-most pigs aren't.”

“He was going to kill her. And he somehow knew about her abilities. And so does her roommate. But she says her roommate wouldn't tell anyone.” Tim is giving them everything he learned. “She had never used her ability for bad, so she says. I don't know what that really means though.”

There's quite a huge gray area. They aren't sure how gray you are. Nothing is black and white. Something is off with you.

“If I c-could control people-” Toby starts.

“We don't wanna know what you would do, Toby.” Brian warns. “Got anything else?”

“She's very obedient.” Tim remarks. “It’s… odd. She doesn't really question much. She was upset about the blindfold, but I kinda see why.” He pauses and looks at Toby. “Can you get in her phone?”

“Already tr-tried.” Toby shrugs. “I don't kn-know the code. She has a couple n-notifications from a ‘Val’.”

As he says that, your phone goes off. Toby pulls it from his pocket and looks at it. Another message from Val is visible on the lock screen.

Hey what the fuck was that about earlier?

Another one comes through.

Who was with u?

Toby leaves it alone. He doesn't think anything about it. None of them do. The front door opens and you step onto the porch wearing a baggy shirt down to your thighs and your feet are bare.

“What are you three still doing out here?”

_-_-_-_-_-_

Your bare feet hurt against the old wooden porch. You ignore it. You watch the three of them, your arms wrapping around yourself.

“A-are you not co-cold?” Toby cocks his head at you.

You nod at him. “Freezing. Please come in. I have a question.” You turn around and walk back inside where it's slightly warmer. Goosebumps cover your skin and your arms drop to your sides. You sigh.

Brian walks in first. “What's going on?”

“I'm famished.” As you finish your sentence Brian goes to open his mouth. “And don't say eat something around here. I already tried that.”

Tim and Toby walk in and you hear a muffled, disgustingly inappropriate song. Toby, not thinking, takes a phone from his pocket and you realize it's Val’s ringtone. It's your phone. Your eyes narrow.

“Wha-what is this ringtone?” Toby scrunches his nose.

“It's none of your business! You still have my phone on you!?” You are sure these men are going to make you pull your hair out. The phone stops ringing and you place yourself in front of Toby. It goes off again. A text this time. Toby looks at it. You try to peek at the phone but Toby is quick to move. You follow him. “Toby! What does it say?”

“It’s locked, I ca-can’t read all of it.”

You look at him with half lidded eyes, full of fucking rage. “What can you read?”

Your sudden anger seems to catch them all off guard. Toby reads what he can see from your lock screen. “It’s fr-from Val. She says ‘Saw J-John on the news. He’s dead, th-they say-’ It cuts off.”

Another ding. Another message from Val.

“She is ca-calling the police.”

You have had enough. You snatch the phone before Toby can stop you and take off. Three against one, your odds don’t look too good. You call her back without even unlocking the phone and run from Brian, Toby, and Tim.

“Get back here!”

You end up in the kitchen, behind the table, surrounded by them by time Val answers.

“Hey!” Everyone freezes as you speak. “How’s it going?” You try to sound enthused. Your eyes hit Tim and he mouths for you to put it on speaker. You comply.

“You’re out of breath.” She states it, her concern is palpable. “Where are you?”

“I’m on vacation. Just having fun-”

“With the man from earlier?” She sounds less stressed. But still concerned for your well being. When you take a second to respond, she speaks again. “Love,” She starts, “are you okay?”

“Yes.” You swallow hard. “I’m fine. I’m- I’m trying to enjoy myself.”

“You aren’t reading my messages,” Val is devastated, “and you- you used your mind powers on me. You promised you wouldn’t do that-” You pout, thankful she cannot see your face. You did promise that. “Please, I need to know that I don’t need to call the police.”

“You don’t.” You try to sound as calm as possible. “I’m o-”

“What about John?” Val’s tone… She sounds worried about him. Your face contorts. She continues, “He’s dead. They found him in the woods, a self-inflicted gunshot wound.”

“What does that have to do with me?” You are gripping your phone. Your eyes move up from the screen and towards the men surrounding you. They are all frozen, tense, waiting for you to slip up. There is silence.

“Well, he moved a while ago… Why did he come back?” There is a pause. “Did he hurt you?”

“Val,” Your voice is low and level, but definitely able to break at any second. “I do not want to think about John on my vacation. I’m trying to relax.” Really, you are, it’s incredibly hard though.

“Okay… If you’re okay, I’m just going to forget about what happened earlier. Please, be safe this week. If something happened to John… Just be safe. Oh! Before you go!” She sounds happier now, thinking you’re safe. “Are you really out of breath because of that man from earlier?” You feel your face burning as she asks. You can practically see her brows wiggling as she asks that. “I do think it was time for you to move on! I hope this helps your-”

“I have to go! Bye, love you!” You hang up. Your eyes are wide and your face is hot. You let out a nervous laugh and hope they did not even notice Val’s question.

They did.

“Helps y-your what?”

“None of your business!” You shout. You hold the phone in your hand, waiting for them to ask for it back. You are not giving it up unless they ask. “Sorry, she’s overbearing.” You roll your eyes, “She’s nosy, always has been.” Your stomach growls. “Can I please get some food? I’ll buy it, you can blindfold me, I don’t care. I haven’t eaten since before-” Since before John died. Or was murdered… By you.

“You’re gonna buy it?” Brian asks.

“Yeah! Hold on!” You walk off, phone still in hand, causing the three to follow you. You walk towards the couch, where you laid your bag (and dirty clothes), and rummage through your stuff. You pull out a wallet. “You’re lucky I have this. I’m sure if my ID were found somewhere we’d be fucked.”

‘We’. Not just them. ‘We’.

“I have money, I’ll buy my food. I can even go shopping if you want?” You cock your head. “Not now of course.” You motion to yourself. “But eventually.”

“We don’t usually stay in one place for too long, it may be useless grocery shopping.” Tim informs you.

Your mouth forms an ‘o’.

“I’ll take you to get food.” Brian states it, it isn't an offer. You feel awkward suddenly. You aren’t very comfortable around any of them, but at least Tim you know most (which still isn’t a lot). Toby picked twigs out of your hair. Brian has not done much for you, or with you. “I’ll be outside waiting.”

You nod, swallowing hard. You remember your dirty clothes and ask Toby about them, before heading out. He points towards the laundry room and you take them back quickly. You promise you’ll wash them when you get back. You slide some sweatpants and a jacket on and then your crocs. Your feet don’t feel as bad anymore, but you are still sore. You can mostly only think about your hunger though.

You walk outside and immediately cold air hits you. Brian is waiting beside the car, blindfold in hand. You make your way towards him and take in a shaky breath. As soon as you reach him, you turn around and let him put the blindfold on you. He helps you inside the car, and then he gets in. You struggle briefly to buckle. His hand touches yours and you tense. He helps you with the seatbelt.

“Thanks,” You mumble and look ahead (you hope you are looking ahead). “Would hate to get pulled over while being unbuckled.”

“I think that is the least of our worries.” You can feel Brian’s eyes on you. He starts the car, and you shift. “What did you want?”

“Oh,” You place your hands on your thighs, “I'm not that picky. Just some chicken nuggets and some fries would be fine.”

Brian nods, but you don’t see it. You hope he takes you to get food. And isn’t taking you somewhere to kill you. But then again, maybe that wouldn’t be too bad considering your situation.

_-_-_-_-_-_

Brian is sitting across from you. You are at McDonald’s, eating your chicken nuggets. You can feel your mood shifting as you eat. Your hunger is disappearing. You don’t feel so irritated. Brian watches you eat. He isn’t saying much of anything, and all you can feel is his eyes staring directly at you. It’s getting hard to ignore.

“Is everything okay?” You ask him, looking up. You wipe your mouth, “Is something on my face?”

He sucks in air and shifts in his seat. He shakes his head, “No, no, nothing on your face.” As he says that, you cock your head as if asking ‘then what?’ and he hesitates. He is thinking. “You don’t question much of anything… Do you?”

You let out a short laugh and take a sip of your coke. “Brian, I’ve never not been in control. I don’t know if you gathered that… But- I just-” You bite the inside of your bottom lip. “This doesn’t feel real…”

“I assure you,” He stares at you, suddenly seeming… gone, “it is real.”

You nod. You do not verbally respond. Quickly, you finish eating. Once you stand up to throw your food away, Brian stands too. He follows close behind you. As you throw your food away you hear footsteps approaching fast. Your name is the next thing you hear. Brian places a hand on your hip immediately. You turn around and spot Val. You want to bring your palm to your forehead. You cringe.

“Val!” You shoot Brian a look, trying to get him to release you, before looking back at Val. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m getting food…” Her voice trails off. Her bright green eyes look up at Brian and she starts to open her mouth. She pauses. “Who is this…?” She obviously knows it is not the man you had at your apartment.

“My friend.” You smile at her.

“How many ‘friends’ do you have?”

“Three.” You blurt it out, without thinking. Brian’s grip only tightens. You try to hold back an awkward laugh.

“My love,” Val’s lips purse, “what the fuck?” She whispers. “This is not like you… at all. Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod, smiling at her. “Yes, positive!” Brian’s hand gives you a gentle squeeze, telling you ‘good job’. Your knees grow weak. “But, I do have to go soon-”

“Wait!” She puts a hand up, “Promise me, if something goes sideways, you’ll get help?”

Your face contorts. “Sideways?” You are reeling. “What are you on about? Look,” You grab her hand, “Val, I am okay. Everything is okay. I’ll talk to you again soon. But, I’m-”

“Getting over some past stuff with John?” As soon as she says it, your face twists again. “Y’know? He was so… Odd. I mean, I would go throw myself on some men too, if he was who I had been stuck with for God knows how long!”

Brian’s hand, still resting on your hip, threatens to move. You quickly place your hand over his, keeping him there. “See! Now you’re getting it!” You try to reassure her. “I’ll try to stay in touch, but just know… I love you.”

Val lets you know she loves you too and heads back to her table. You and Brian head back out to the car and you sit down in the passenger seat. You look ahead. Lying is really taking it out of you.

“Thanks for doing that for me… taking me to get food.” You rub up and down your thighs. Brian nods and starts the car. You just want to sleep. You feel like that isn’t happening anytime soon.

_-_-_-_-_-_

You are right.

It’s you and Toby alone at the cabin. You really wanted to nap, but now Toby won’t leave you alone. You are facing the ceiling, lying on the couch. Your breathing is slow and your eyes are shut. All you can hear is Toby talking, it’s almost lulling you to sleep. Almost.

“Fucking bitch!”

His voice rings through the cabin. You have never sat up so fast in your life. Your legs swing over the couch and you narrow your eyes at Toby. He continues talking.

“Whoa, whoa-” You put a hand up. “What did you call me?”

Toby stops. “Oh, that was- I-I have tourettes.” He says it like you should already know. “Any-Anyway, like I w-was saying, we need to- to make sure you are capable of pro-protecting yourself.”

Your fists ball up, and immediately unclench. “Toby, did you forget I could, I don't know, mind control people?” You cock a brow at him. “I don’t need to be able to get away. But, I think I could still get away. Without my ability. I got away from you, Brian, and Tim earlier.” Toby stands up from the end of the couch. He walks off. “Okay, whatever…” You lean back and close your eyes again.

Something clicks. You furrow your brows and when footsteps reach the door, and you hear it lock, you sit up and your eyes pop open. Toby stands a few feet from you, a hatchet in each hand. You are sure your eyes are going to pop out of your head. You scoot over on the couch and your jaw drops.

“Toby… What are you-”

“Run, fuh-fight, or hide.” It’s all he gives you.

You leap up from the couch and take off towards somewhere. You have no clue where anything is. You know the kitchen and living room. That is it. You make your way into the kitchen and slam into the back door. It’s locked. You have absolutely no time to unlock it. A hatchet slams beside your head and a scream rips from your throat. You beg for him to stop.

He does not.

You rip away from him, and sprint down the short hallway. You slam into one of the rooms and head for the window. It will not budge. Tears fill your eyes. You are begging and screaming for him to stop.

“Fucking co-coward!”

“Toby!” You scream as you fall back. His eyes lock with yours. He does not look away. You inhale sharply. You cannot fuck this up. “Stop.”

Toby freezes.

“Drop your hatchets.”

He listens again. Your head begins to hurt.

“Do not fucking move.”

You feel it before it happens. Your nose is about to bleed. You tear out of the room faster than you had ever moved before. You head to the front door. You unlock it and swing it open. You step onto the front porch, your feet hit the cold wood and you hiss. Something is coming from the woods. Your heart is pounding into your ribcage.

You make out Tim’s jacket before anything. You rush towards him. When you notice his mask, you pretend that it’s normal. That’s how you first met them, it’s not hard to connect the dots. He was out ‘working’. He is slightly bloody, but definitely looks more welcoming than Toby.

“Tim!” You scream, nose gushing blood at this point. “Tim, it’s Toby!” You reach him and grab his arms. “Help me!” Your voice is breaking. “Please-”

Tim reaches for you, his hands grab your waist. He cocks his head at you and your eyes meet his. There is something different about him. That’s not Tim. You really think you are going to faint. His grip on you tightens and you feel his fingertips digging into your skin through your shirt. You struggle to get out of his grasp.

“Toby!” You are yelling for him again. You release him from your mental grasp and rush towards the house. ‘Not Tim’ is hot on your trail. The front door almost swings off of its hinges and Toby stomps onto the front porch. “Please, you have to stop! Something has happened to Tim!” You point behind you.

Toby easily jumps off the porch and begins to stalk towards you. You can’t breathe. Tears start coming. You are sure Toby is going to kill you. You stumble back and rush away from both of the men. You are sobbing. Something slams into your back and you hit the ground. You land beside a stump. A knee is in your back, your cheek against the cold, hard dirt. Your nails are digging into the dead grass.

“L-look at you.” Toby clicks his tongue. “So- So pathetic.” You look at him the best you can, but you can’t see him. Not fully. “Can’t do-do much without your po-power, huh?” Tears cover your face, falling from your cheeks onto the dirt.

You see, out of the corner of your eye, his hatchet raising. You scream. You have never screamed so much in your life. He brings it down. Another loud plea rips from your chest. The hatchet hits the stump.

You want to sigh. You let out a strangled sob and you can’t breathe. You are sucking in dirt as you try to catch your breath. The knee suddenly moves off your back and you are grabbed. You are flipped over and your back hits the ground this time. Toby is leaning over you. He is inches from your face.

“Please!” You scream, “I’m-” You can’t think. “I’m sorry!”

Toby tenses. “We-weak.” He mumbles. You try to cover your face. Your hands are stopped by Toby’s knees. He is restraining you. “Fucking weak.”

“Toby!” You hear Tim. “Get off of her!” He is running towards you. You are uncontrollably sobbing. Toby doesn’t protest. He grabs his hatchets and leaves you. He walks off into the woods and you look at Tim. “Are you-” You shake your head. When he reaches for you, you scoot away. Tim freezes, his eyes widening. “What did I-”

You get up. You run straight back into the cabin. Tim does not chase you. You hide in the bathroom. You close and lock the door. You sit on the floor, back to the door and you cry. You look at your phone and cry. You know you can’t really explain what happened to anyone, so you just sit and cry.

Once you finally catch your breath and can think somewhat straight, you figure it’s best to sleep in the bathroom tonight. If your mind lets you sleep at all…

[chaos-grimlin]

Intro: No one truly knows what happened that night in Woodsboro, California. All the public knows was that two teenage boys, Billy Loomis and Stu Macher, went crazy. That the boys killed with no motive, that it was a case of crazy and peer pressure. Sidney Prescott, the "girlfriend" of Billy Loomis,Y/n L/n, the girl both boys were deeply obsessed with, and Gale weathers, a news reporter, where 3 of 5 witnesses that were willing to talk and tell their sides of the story to the public while Dewy Riley, the deputy sheriff of woodsboro, and tennager Randy Meeks refused to talk to law enforcements at the time. All the stories told to law enforcement seem to differ from person to person, but...in this tale, we will focus on Y/n, the obsessions, side of the story...

Marked (poly! Billy loomis and Stu macher x reader)

Word count: 1070

Chapter 25- Dawning bruises

(Light mentions of nudity but nothing sexual)

^^^3rd person P.O.V^^^

After a few moments of laying there, enjoying each other's presence, Y/n finally spoke.

"Hey Randy.." Y/n started as she looked up at him. "Hm?" Randy hummed in response, waiting for Y/n to continue.

"Can I stay over tonight?" She asks, her voice barely above a whisper, it was almost like she was....ashamed..to ask if she could stay over.

"You know you don't got to ask right? You can just stay over when ever you please-" "But what about your parents?" Y/n cut Randy off when he spoke. She knew Randy didn't mind but her main worry was his parents. She knew that her presence may end up becoming a bother for his parents.

"They have no choice but to let you stay. If you wanna stay here and spend the night with me than you can, fuck what they say" He said as he placed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Y/n let out a sigh. "Sooner or later your parents are going to forbid me from staying over" "no the hell they won't! You've been through alot so if anything they'll understand why your over alot" Randy's arms stayed wrapped around her torso, keeping her body close to his in a almost protective manner.

Y/n leaned her head back into his chest, letting her eyes flutter closed. Then before she knew it, she felt oddly uncomfortable in his arms, she started to feel trapped, started to feel like that night was replying itself in her brain over and over.

Her eyes jolted open a look of fear on her face she broke away from Randy's arms. She didn't know why all of a sudden she felt uncomfortable, Randy had done nothing to her, all he had done was keep his arms around her torso while his hands had rested gently on her stomach.

"Y/n are you okay?" Randy asked softly. When y/n looked up at him she saw his eyes were full of concern, worry and fear. Randy felt his heart shatter slightly, all he could think was that he had done something wrong.

"I..I'm not sure" She choked out her body started to tremble slightly. "I...I just felt..uncomfortable" She said, her voice giving away that it wasn't only that she had felt uncomfortable.

Randy's heart fully shattered, his heart knew that he had caused her to think about what had happened to her. "I...understand" Randy said, his voice low, sounding almost as if he would cry.

The room was filled with an awkward silence for minutes that seemed to be hours before it was finally broken.

"Can i go take a shower?" Y/n had asked, her mind stilled filled with the memories of the night, that goddamn night that left her like this.

She remembered the distorted laughs of the men as a knife sliced into her skin, she remembered how they grabbed at her, leaving bruises on her skin.

"Sure again you don't have to ask, and if you want you can grab one of my shirts to wear" Randy replied, offering her a small smile. Y/n just nodded at him as she moved from the bed, grabbed a random shirt from a laundry basket and walked into the bathroom in Randy's room.

She shut the door and took a in a deep breath. She felt fear and sadness corsing though her entire body and it showed when she looked at herself in the mirror

Her skin was still bruised. Bruised lined around her neck, she didn't know that they had looked that bad. The dark marks littering her skin like a looming reminder. Her hair looked stringy despite being washed only the day before yesterday. Her eyes were blood shot from her hours of crying.

She felt disgusted as she looked at herself in the mirror. She eventually had to tear her gaze away from the mirror in order to stop herself from crying again.

She took in a shakey breath, trying to steady herself before she took off her clothes, she knew her body most likely looked worse then her face and neck.

She stood there, the only noise that filld the bathroom was her own shakey breathing and after a while, her shakey fingers gripped the hem of her shirt and slowly started to pull her shirt off.

Once the fabric of her shirt hit the floor she let her eyes look at her bare torso.

Her breasts were covered in bruises in the shape of fingerprints from where the two men had groped her harshly till she cried. Her stomach had small cuts from where the knife was used to cut her shirt.

Her breath had hitched in her throat she felt tears build up in her eyes as she grasped the waist band of her pajama pants before pulling them off slowly, wincing slightly when the fabric graced over the craving on her hip. She felt tears roll down her face as her shorts hit the floor.

She was breathing harder as she saw the blood stained bandages that coated around her hip, barely hanging on. She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, before she reopened her eyes and let herself slowly start to unwrap the bandages.

Her eyes went wide when she saw fully for the first time since it happened what the men had carved onto her body and how badly it looked.

Blood was surrounding the wound and the wound itself was horrid to look at. Her flesh was cut in sharp angles and rounded lines. The flesh was discolored and the inside of the cuts seemed to be discolored by drying blood.

Y/n let out a choked cry when she saw this. They had marked her body.  They had left something on her to remind her of then forever. A carving of that goddamn mask left on her hip.

"Y/n..are you okay?" Randy's muffled voice rang out from behind the door.

Y/n didn't reply, all she could do was cry as she leaned against the wall.

Why her?

Why did they have to do this to her?

Why?

Was it because she found her friend hanging from a tree?

....or was it for other reasons she didn't quite understand......

(YUHHHHH I KINDA LIKE THIS CHAPTER!!!!!)

[sharp-silver4795]

Deep in the woods, disguised as a mountain, lies here. Shielded behind a false wall of rock at the edge of a highway in Michigan. This is a place for those who wander. They can come here for… Did you think I was gonna say refuge or some cheesy shit? HA! You’re wrong. Here, psychopaths and criminals roam free and kill anyone who dares to wander in.

There’s something wrong with all of us…

My kind of folks, most of us have lost our autonomy. We lost everything. Some lost it willingly without even realizing it. Many of the things here are insane. But some of them, my favourite person in this damn world, shares one thing with a few of them…

Most of them can’t speak. They’ve lost their ability to communicate. There’s another I know. She didn’t ask for this. She just wanted to live a little bit more… that was her mistake.

No one truly lives here.

We’re broken down into a state where we are scared to try to remember anything from the past. He’ll break us if we try.

Cody- yeah I said his name, the hell are you gonna do about it?!- had only a shred left of his humanity… He didn’t want to forget, but he didn’t want to remember. So, he put himself to sleep. He used an injection to knock himself out for a little while… then, he wouldn’t even think about remembering nor forgetting.

Rogue is… the worst of us. Not because she suffers, no no no, but because she gives in so easily. She doesn’t try to get away. She just… lets it happen.

There’s not just the ones like me, though. There’s the bitch that’s in charge. I call him the big man.

He has a giant ass ego. He thinks he’s the one who put up that guard…. He’s wrong.

The border shifted more recently… the dead men had to trade places.

I remember seeing a friend of mine wrap himself around the rock in the centre of it. His name is EJ. He told me the story once… I forgot it. I don’t try to remember in fear of the big dude. I remember that, inside that rock, a corpse lays inside. Whoever it was, it was important to the demon. He was in pain, I don’t remember why, when he ran off to hug that statue. He repeated the same words over and over: “Ava, hurry…” and some other word I didn’t understand. I don’t know who he was talking to. He lived on the edge of the border. That south end is barely covered by the border…. That guy’s death is where the border came from. EJ acted like he needed to be wrapped around it. No one could have ripped him off.

That reminds me of them. Those at the edge of the border, where that “magic” was the weakest.

They weren’t like anyone else. They didn’t give in. That’s why they’re called the Rebellion. They refused to be complacent.

I still admire them for that.

They’re a complicated bunch.

The trio of death is fascinating to say the least. The only way I can explain it quickly is Jeff went crazy, killed Jane’s family, and set her on fire. Jeff, still crazy, killed Nina’s family, tried to killer her by failed and set her on fire. At that point, Jane already wanted to kill Jeff for revenge but then Nina joined the hunt. So, Jane and Nina both want to kill Jeff and Jeff wants to kill them so they don’t kill him first, Jane and Nina wanna kill each other so that they can kill Jeff first, who still does not want to die.

The reason they haven’t killed each other by this point is… shocking.

The thing that keeps these bitches stable is the most unstable person I know of: Liu. fucking. Woods.

He had an insane temper. And it seemed like his temper- and his morals- deteriorated day. by. day.

I’ve seen him do things that I’ll never share. I’ve learned from others, Clockwork and a Traitor (I’m not allowed to say their name), if you see Liu do something entirely wrong… you don’t say shit if you want to keep your head.

Everyone here is nuts.

I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t miss them.

Liu was a good kid.

I remember when I got in that old beat up truck with him. He was crying, sobbing, a medicine bottle in his hand and a half empty bottle of whiskey in the cup holder. He wanted to change that part of him.

Though, I think there were other things that plagued him.

I remember watching him whither away. I still can’t forgive myself for when he died… call it vengeance, self preservation, or whatever you want… but I’m still the one who shot him.

As disagreeable as Jeff was, he gave a good laugh occasionally. He had an… interesting sense of humour. But he knew how to break tension in a good way.

His sass definitely kept certain idiots Rogue at bay.

I remember the look in Liu’s eyes why I told him he was gone… I hated to be the be the one to tell him. How the hell do you tell someone that they lost their only family remaining and their husband all at once?

He bled out in the snow… he took a sword for his brother. I guess it’s even, though. I remember hearing him talk to my friend- the one who can’t speak- about all the shit Liu did and took for him.

I swear, though, Liu’s sanity shattered in front of me…

I lost a lot of friends that day. So many lives that could have been better. I remember a lot of them well.

I can still see their stiff faces… I can see all of them.

Kate’s head pushed to the side with claws dug into her chest.

Kat’s gun to his own chin, pulling the trigger rather than being discovered.

Jeff’s blood on the snow and Liu’s body returning to his ashes.

Jack’s ribs and intestines exposed with a blast of heat and toxic gas… it burned like hell to be caught in the radius of it.

I never told anyone what happened to Cody. I’d rather the big guy think Liu did it out of rage. I’d never admit out loud that Cody asked Liu to shoot him.

Natalie’s mangled limbs.

I found out three days later that… he died. That kid. That wonderful kid. He left us. He served his time. But he couldn’t be the same… The Operator broke him too far.

I hate it here.

But I move forward.

I do it for them. All of them. They didn’t have the choice.

~ The Masked Man’s Lament

[pvffinsdaisies]

The UK & Ireland as Taylor Swift songs

ENGLAND: The Archer

“Combat, I’m ready for combat. I say I don’t want that, but what if I do? ‘Cause cruelty wins in the movies, I’ve got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you.

(…)

I’ve been the archer, I’ve been the prey. Who could ever leave me, darling, but who could stay?

Dark side, I search for your dark side, but what if I’m alright, right, right here? And I cut off my nose just to spite my face, and then I hate my reflection for years and years.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The room is on fire, invisible smoke. And all of my heroes die all alone, help me hold onto you.

(…)

All the king’s horses, all the king’s men, couldn’t put me together again ‘cause all of my enemies started out friends. Help me hold onto you.”

IRELAND: Mad Woman

“What did you think I’d say to that? Does a scorpion sting when fighting back? They strike to kill, and you know I will. (…)

Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy. What about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry.

And there’s nothing like a mad woman; what a shame she went mad. No one likes a mad woman; you made her like that. And you poke that bear til the claws come out, and you find something to wrap your noose around. And there’s nothing like a mad woman.

Now I breathe flames each time I talk, my canons all firing at your yacht. They say “move on”, but you know I won’t. And women like hunting witches too, doing your dirtiest work for you. It’s obvious that wanting me dead has really brought you two together.

(…)

I’m taking my time, taking my time, cause you took everything from me. Watching you climb, watching you climb, over people like me. The master of spin has a couple side flings, good wives always know. And she should be mad, should be scathing like me but

No one likes a mad woman.”

NORTHERN IRELAND: Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

“The who’s who of ‘who’s that?’ Is poised for the attack, but my bare hands paved their path. You don’t get to tell me about ‘sad’

(…)

The scandal was contained, the bullet had just grazed. At all costs, keep your good name. You don’t get to tell me you feel bad.

Is it a wonder I broke? Let’s hear one more joke, then we could all just laugh until I cry.

(…)

So tell me everything is not about me, but what if it is? Then say they didn’t do it to hurt me, but what if they did? I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me. You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. So all you kids can sneak into my house with all the cobwebs- I’m always drunk on my own tears, isn’t that what they all said- then I’ll sue you if you step on my lawn. That is fearsome and I’m wretched and I’m wrong. Put narcotics into all of my songs, and that’s why you’re still singing along.

So I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street. Crash the wedding like a record scratch as I scream, “Who’s afraid of little old me?” I was tame, I was gentle ‘til the circus life made me mean, “don’t you worry, folks, we took out all her teeth!” Who’s afraid of little old me? Well, you should be.

SCOTLAND: Peace

“But I’m a fire and I’ll keep your brittle heart warm if your cascade ocean-wave blues come. All these people think love’s for show, but i would die for you in secret. The devil’s in the details, but you got a friend in me. Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?

Your integrity makes me seem small; you paint dreamscapes on the wall, I talk shit with my friends. It’s like I’m wasting your honour.

And you know that I’d swing with you for the fences, sit with you in the trenches. Give you my wild, give you a child. Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other, family that I chose now that I see your brother as my brother. Is it enough?

But there’s robbers to the east, clowns to the west. I’d give you my sunshine, give you my best, but the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me.”

WALES: Seven

“Please, picture me in the trees, I hit my peak at seven feet in the swing, over the creek. I was too scared to jump in, but I, I was high in the sky, with Pennsylvania under me, are there still beautiful things?

Sweet tea in the summer. Cross your heart, won’t tell no other. And though I can’t recall your face, I still got love for you. Your braid’s like a pattern, love you to the moon and to Saturn. Passed down like folk songs, the love lasts so long.

And I’ve been meaning to tell you, I think your house is haunted. Your dad is always mad, and that must be why. And I think you should come live with me and we can be pirates, then you won’t have to cry or hide in the closet. And just like a folk song, our love will be passed on.

Please, picture me in the weeds, before I learnt civility. I used to scream ferociously anytime I wanted.”

[headstrongblake]

the first few days felt crucial to stay with grant. no matter what had happened between the two of them recently, she would never wish him dead. she couldn't. hunter had shown her which wounds were important to watch, and how to help change the dressing because at the time...grant had barely been conscious. but once it felt safe to leave grant alone in his apartment, octavia retreated back to hers in desperate need of new clothes and some essentials. she waited until the middle of the day, hoping bellamy was anywhere but their apartment however, as she walked the lengthy hallway...she forgot to account for nick. bellamy too loud in her mind as he continued to blow up her phone.

emerald hues locked with nick's as he came out of the apartment just down from hers, teeth tugging at her bottom lip, waiting for his reaction. he looked like hell. like he's spent the past few days wallowing in all the dark emotions that gloss his gaze.

after sunday night, octavia's one of the last people nicklas wants to see. not the last...but she's pretty fuckin' close. so when he notices her just by her apartment, no doubt trying to sneak in while blake is not there, half of him screams to turn right around. go back inside. let her do her thing and not engage because despite what she's done, she's still the little kid he's taken care of. but he's been listening less and less to that side lately. instead, nicklas shakes his head, heading down the hallway, but paying octavia no attention.

as nicklas comes near her, all octavia can smell is whiskey. whiskey and stale cigarettes that make her head swim. he doesn't look at her. doesn't speak to her. he doesn't even acknowledge that she's there, sparking annoyance in her gaze. how dare he be mad at her. she is not the one who did anything wrong. if anything, she's the only one, save hunter, out of those men that did anything right. but when he goes to walk past her, octavia's hand darts out to stop him. " what? you're just going to pretend i don't exist? "

every muscle in nick's body tenses as octavia wraps her hand around his arm, but he makes no attempt to pull from her. his head shakes, eyes still forward. " yeah, i'm tryin', wanna help me out with that? " he asked dryly, his free hand plucking her fingers off his jacket before he readjusted himself.

" so it's like that? " she asked, head tilting with an exasperated look on her face. blue eyes snapped toward her, glaring down at her. " yeah, it's like that, octavia. " nick said harshly.

" let me get this straight, you abandon your brother, no, sorry you beat the living hell out of him, let my brother nearly kill him, your supposed friend....i save him from dying so that you don't spend the rest of your life with his blood on your hands and what? that hurt your feelings? pissed you off a bit, made you feel bad about yourself and so you're done with me? " octavia scoffed, shoving her key in the lock before throwing open the door. " screw you, nick. " she tossed over her shoulder.

each response sits on the tip of his tongue, waiting to strike as she tries to cut him with every word she spits. it's only the comment about grant being his brother that he sinks his teeth into. unwilling now to leave the conversation be as he followed into the blake apartment right on her heels. " that's your problem right there! you just say shit without having a fucking clue what you're talking about. just act when no one asks you to. how about you stop tryin' to fix everybody else's shit and you start fixing yours? the trainwreck is going to sit here and judge me? you don't know shit about me and him. " nicklas ranted, following her every step of the way while she refused to stop moving, and packing, irritating him further.

" oh please, " octavia laughed stiffly, " don't, don't try and tell me i don't see what i see. " octavia said, shoving more clothes into a bag of hers. nick could lie to a lot of people. he did as far as she was aware, and much like grant, he didn't talk about his life before this place. but while nick might have constantly been watching them all while he served drinks behind the comfort of his bar, octavia was watching him. had been since he swooped in like some hero out of one of bell's books. he might've got on her nerves and pushed all the worst trigger points but...it was only because she had missed her own brother so deeply. she's been watching him with hopeful eyes since he became her brother.

green eyes watched nicklas try to deny it, could see the anger and hurt that warred with each other in his eyes before octavia bent down, looking for something beneath her bed. " what're you doing? " nick asked, head shaking as he watched her.

as octavia stood up and turned towards nicklas, she held up a sketchbook from the dollar store, " lie to me all you want, lie to yourself, but i know you care about him. you care about all of us. " she said, opening the book wide as she set it on her bed. inside were dozens of photos in different media. some printed photos, some polaroids. octavia had meant to get a proper album for them all. to sort through them properly instead of having a few sketchbooks beneath her bed but, it worked. she flipped through a few pages until finally she came across the one she was searching for. her finger pointed to the photo of grant and nicklas' side profiles. grant sitting at the bar top while nicklas was in mid-pour of a drink. it's simple. ordinary. but they both have genuine smiles and when octavia looks at the photo, she can hear nick's laugh.

nicklas reached forward to take the book from her but instead she laid it out on her bed, his mouth snapping shut. eyes widened as octavia flipped through the book, feet slowly taking steps forward as he peered over her shoulder. her life was inside this book. everyone. sure, he knew that she was always snapping photos but this...he squinted to look at them as they passed quickly. although, his mouth instantly ran dry as she pointed out the photo of him and grant. instead of arguments, and rebuttals, nicklas fell quiet, studying the photo.

" you may hate him right now...but, " octavia shrugged as she pulled her backpack on, leaving the sketchbook exposed on the bed. " you know what they say about that, such a thin line between love and hate, " she said, staring at the way nicklas moved towards the album, finger reaching out to trace the image. if anyone understood that, especially with grant, it was her. nicklas couldn't lie to her, because she knew what that look in his eye meant. he loved grant, so much that the love itself and all the choices grant makes hurt. " you all are wrong. now fix it. " with that, octavia left nicklas alone in her room.

/ @thewholecrew

[ragingbookdragon]

It’s exactly a quarter past nine when his eyes snap open at the sound of soft music coming from Spades’ side of the wall. He tries to ignore the irritation and rolls over, hoping that if he buries his head deep enough into his pillow that it’ll drown it out. It doesn’t matter because he’s already awake and he’s not going back to sleep. His phone buzzes on the table and he picks it up.

Awake yet?

He rolls his eyes at Spades’ question.

I am now.

Wanna come over? I’m doing a spa night. Gaz and Soap are here. Price said maybe next time :(

Ghost is now curious and he rolls out of bed, crossing from his room to hers and tries the door. It’s already unlocked and waiting. Immediately, he’s taken aback by the two men reclined on the queen-sized bed, wrapped in giant fluffy blue robes, towels on their heads. Their eyes are covered with slices of cucumbers, gold crescents under both eyes, and a tea-green face mask painted on. They look awfully comfortable as Spades, who’s wearing the same thing save the cucumbers, is doing their nails.

She looks up with a smile and hooded eyes, beckoning him with a tip of her head. “Go shower. Bathrobe and towel for your hair are in the bathroom.”

“I’m…good,” he replies and goes to sit on the sofa, but her bare leg lands on his middle, foot pressed into his stomach; Ghost’s eyes take in the smooth skin and freshly painted toes—blood red, always Spades’ favorite choice.

“Shower,” is all she says, with a smile that’s a lot more threatening if he decides to disobey her.

He rolls his eyes and takes her foot gently in his grip, digging his thumb into her calf as he bends it back to where she had it. “Fine. But I’m not wearing the hair towel.”

He disappears into the bathroom, spends all of ten minutes in before he returns, smelling of lavender, vanilla, and stargazer lilies, an almost cozy look on his face as he rests on the end of the bed in the comfy robe.

Spades turns on him and crawls into his thighs, pushing his hair back so she can see what she’s working with. “I see you haven’t been using the face cream I sent you a year or so ago. That cream costs a fortune and you’re wasting it.”

“I’m not afraid to get old,” he mutters as she takes a brush and opens the tea green mask, starting to paint it on him. “Why worry about the wrinkles?”

“Because crow’s feet are gross and you have wrinkles,” she replies and sets the gold jellies under his eyes. “You need to take care of your skin.” Her fingers gently place the cucumbers at his eyes before she takes his hand and starts buffing and filing his nails.

“I can’t believe you managed to convince them to join you in this.”

“Well, you see, Soap and Gaz haven’t fought me for ten years. They like me.” She looks at Soap who is now asleep, Gaz not far behind. “My money too, it seems.”

“You can’t win everyone with money,” Ghost says.

“I don’t have to, Simon, most people like me for me.” She switched hands and gently massaged them with an oil. “The only reason you don’t like me is because we’re much too similar. Whereas I’m just the kinder version of you.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Oh please,” Spades says with a grin, starting to move. “It’s okay to be honest, Simon, it’s really not going to hurt my—”

“I like you,” Simon interrupts and puts a hand on her thigh; he doesn’t have to remove the cucumbers to let her know he’s staring right at her. “I just…have trouble accepting how free you are. Like you have nothing to lose and you’re still okay with life.”

Spades reaches up and plucks the cucumber from one eye and tosses it into her mouth. “Simon, I was two when my mother put a gun in my hands and taught me how to shoot dead center. I was eight when I realized I could kill a grown man with any weapon given to me.” She applies a clear lip calm to his lips; it smells like spearmints, Spades always smells like lilies and spearmint. Simon's always liked how she smells in those moments when he gets close enough to knife her that he can breathe in her scent. “I’ve spent my entire life being a killer because it’s what I was made to be. I am far from free. The money, the life, the luxuries I have? There’s always an expense to be paid for it. It’s a piece of my soul every time. Even if the lives I take are some of humanity’s worst, I still remember. I will still remember even when I am dead and gone.”

She stares at him. “You, Simon, are still worthy of something good. And your infantile belief that my life is so much greater than yours, or that I still have nothing to lose is idiotic at best.” Her eyes search his. “What do I have to lose? Everything. All of me.”

Simon falls silent and she gently reaches up, brushing dampened blonde hair aside. “I didn’t want you on this team, Spades.”

“I know.”

“Not because I hate you.”

“Oh?”

Simon shifts uncomfortably, like he’s about to reveal a big secret. “Those times when I’m fighting you…it’s one of the only times I feel like things are okay with life. Like there’s an equal to my own soul.”

Spades smiles at him, and for once it’s not the smile that means she’s hiding something. “Careful Simon, I’ll think you like me a little too much.”

“Would that be so bad?” he asks, he hopes.

“No,” she murmurs and rolls off his lap. “But you should aim higher than me, Simon.”

The reply dies on his tongue as she nudges Soap and Gaz to wake them up and gossip about the new recruits, particularly the newest sniper from Austria.

[suna-reversed]

Insatiable desires

Gojo x F!reader x Toji ft. Nanami

art credit: @sk_jkg7 (twitter)

MINORS DNI!!

warnings/tags- gangbang, degredation, spanking, spit play, cum play, oral (m.receiving), manhandling, choking, creampie, fingering, gagging, mentions of bondage

A/N: this is just porn without plot, don’t even try to figure out what timeline it falls into, just assume it’s written in the veeishornyfordilfs-verse😩

You don't exactly remember how you ended up here-

splayed across the lap of the world’s most powerful sorcerer, ass up and panties pushed to the side while one of the most elite fighters of the zenin clan sits across from you, hand lazily palming the massive bulge in his pants. 

“Told you she’s an obedient little thing-” Gojo’s bragging is cut off as a loud moan escapes you. 

“Sure she is.” Toji says in mockery, a dry laugh escaping his throat.

“What’s the point of having her tight cunt gush around you if she isn’t making any of those sweet sounds?” Gojo counters, his hand harshly coming down against your throbbing clit making you choke on another moan around the blindfold stuffing your mouth. 

Gojo’s fingers continue to explore your folds, moving every now and then to spread the wetness across your bruised ass which had been subjected to repeated spanks from both the men just moments ago. You arch your back more as his fingers come right onto your clit, face contorting in pleasure as he starts rubbing circles onto your sensitive bud. 

A loud groan pulls you out of your bubble of ecstacy. 

“Put her on the bed already, she’s dripping enough to fit 3 cocks inside her slutty little hole by now.” 

You tilt your head to find Toji’s piercing gaze fixed onto where Gojo’s fingers meet your juices, his hand pulling his cock free from the elastic of his boxers. You whine needily at the sight of it, making the tip of his cock twitch as a bead of precum dribbles down the side. A sharp slap comes down onto your ass making you wince from pain, tears welling up in your eyes from being teased for too long, 

“Better have the same reaction for my cock too sweetheart.” Gojo sings out, voice laced with a hint of jealousy. 

Toji looks amused as he gets up, not even acknowledging Gojo as he pulls up your body from across his lap, easily tossing you onto the bed like a ragdoll. You look up at him with pleading eyes as he comes to stand at the edge of the bed, his huge member right in front of your face. Even Gojo’s remarks of annoyance are silenced as he grips your jaw, slapping your cheek with his enlarged cock, 

“Do you deserve it?” His voice is deep and commanding as he pulls up your face so that you’re staring right into his eyes. You nod your head rapidly, mouth still gagged. 

Toji bites his lip as he apprehends your tear filled eyes and your drooling mouth. You cough a little when he suddenly pulls out the fabric in your mouth, throwing it to the side, you barely even have the time to take a breath before the tip of his cock is rubbing against your lips, urging you to take him in, 

“Let’s see what kind of sweet sounds she makes when my cum is oozing out this dirty mouth.” 

That’s all the warning you get before his cock is making its way past your lips and hitting the back of your throat. The spit that had built up in your mouth now leaking out the sides and falling onto your tits. It’s filthy and lewd as he grips onto your hair to tilt your head upwards, smearing the mixture of substances drooling out the side of your mouth across your cheek, laughing as tears fall from your eyes. You can feel him getting close, loud moans rumbling from his chest as he fucks your mouth even deeper than before. Your vision is blurry from the tears, no coherent thought in mind except for the feral need of having Toji’s cum down your throat when suddenly, you’re harshly pulled back, a sob escaping you from both shock and desperation as the back of your head hits Gojo’s chest. 

Everything happens in a flash. You barely register the growl that leaves Toji’s throat over the sound of Gojo snickering, and before your know it, the dark haired man is striding towards you, a look in his eyes that makes you want to beg for your life, but he doesn’t even look at you as your body slumps to the mattress. You snap your head behind to see Gojo pinned against the headboard, smirking at the large hand wrapped around his throat. 

Your eyes widen in surprise and heat crawls up your face as he crashes his lips onto Toji’s. Toji’s eyes hold the same expression as you for a second before a loud groan leaves his throat, hand moving up to grip Gojo’s jaw as he pulls away. The arousal that pools in your core as you watch the thick splatter of Toji’s saliva hit the side of Gojo’s lips is almost embarrassing. Gojo looks amused and it seems like they’ve almost forgotten you until he raises his hand, two fingers gesturing you to come closer, which seems to snap Toji’s attention back to you too. You crawl over to them, Gojo’s lips immediately melding with yours, the mix of both their spit coating your tongue. 

“Fuck this- I wanna be inside her.”

You’re being pulled away once again, only this time, angled in a way where you're on your fours, ass towards Toji, nose pressed onto Gojo’s muscular thigh, his cock standing tall against his stomach as he runs his fingers through your hair. You lick a stripe up from the base of his shaft to the tip of his cock, moaning as you feel your folds being spread apart, the tip of Toji’s cock lining up with your slit as he kneads the flesh of your ass. You feel Gojo’s hand pushing your head forward, urging you and you oblige. You struggle to take him in your already fucked out throat, barely halfway through when you feel the burn of a cock stretching your walls. You moan around the cock in your mouth as Toji fully sheaths himself inside of you, the vibrations making Gojo bucks his hips up into your mouth. 

The vulgar sounds of Toji’s balls slapping against your ass as he starts thrusting into your gushing cunt fills the room, overpowering the grunts and groans of the blue-eyed man stuffing your mouth with his dick. Gojo brings his hand forward to fondle your breasts, fingers pulling and pinching your hardened nipples which makes your cunt clench. Toji groans at the movement, strokes getting sloppier as he feels his climax nearing. Both men are bucking into you, using your body to their own pleasure as you lose your balance and fall forwards, mouth still bobbing against Gojo’s cock because of the push of Toji going in and out of your leaking pussy. 

Gojo is the first to climax, holding your head down, nose pressed up against his happy trail as he cums deep down your throat. The peak of your own arousal washes over you as Toji’s fingers move across your abdomen to find your clit, hastily rubbing circles onto it as his cock brushes one particular sensitive spot against your walls. You’re moaning around Gojo’s softening dick as the first wave of an orgasm hits you, tears escaping your eyes from the edging as the coil in your stomach snaps. Toji follows soon after, pumping your cunt full of his seed as he fucks you through both of your orgasms. 

Your body collapses onto the bed as both men pull themselves out, Gojo lazily reaching over the nightstand to throw over his phone to Toji who proceeds to take pictures of your fucked out oozing cunt. You’re panting from the exhaustion as strong arms wrap around you and pull you up to a warm chest, 

“You don’t think you’re done without me having filled you up, do you?” 

His hot breath next to ear makes shivers run down your spine as you shake your head, still too tired to respond as another hand kneads the flesh of your inner thigh, the bed dipping as Toji comes to sit across from you. 

“What the fuck Satoru?”

Your eyes immediately snap open at the foreign voice, both Gojo and Toji’s attention being diverted to the doorway, towards the man in the suit, tie loosened around his throat and an extremely annoyed look on his face. Arguably, it was Gojo’s fault for pulling you into a random room after he had seen you pressed against the wall in some corner, Toji’s lips latched onto the tit he had pulled out of your dress. 

“Ah- I didn’t think the room was occupied.” Gojo says nonchalantly, the side of his lip twitching upwards. 

You knew the ever-observant man would never make such a mistake, making you wonder what he was up to. The vexed look on the man’s face who stared at you from across the room would have made you want to shrink into yourself even if you were fully clothed. 

“But you have been stressed these days, haven't you Nanami? Maybe you deserve a little reward.” 

You yelped as you felt hands spreading apart your thighs, glancing over at Toji to see what he thought of the situation, but his own eyes mirrored the look of the man exposing you to the blonde at the door. 

“I’ll fucking kill you if you ever wreck my room again.” 

There was anger in Nanami’s words, he was stressed and tired from having to work overtime on today’s mission and to come home to such a mess was the last thing he expected. Still, he found his cock twitching against the restraint of his pants as he looked at your bare pussy, your eyes holding a look so innocent as if you weren’t just getting fucked by two men. Maybe he did deserve a reward after all, he found himself thinking as he strode towards the bed, pulling his tie loose. 

You couldn’t deny that the man was attractive, his aura both dangerously calming and commanding as he apprehended you carefully, his hunger-filled eyes raking over your figure with a look that said he was going to devour you whole. He didn’t put away his tie, instead tying it up into a makeshift knot and you felt yourself getting wet once again as you realised what he was planning. 

Well, you were always curious about wanting to get tied up and fucked anyways. 

[therealdisneyfan2319]

Can’t Help Falling In Love Chapter 4: Butterflies

Synopsis: Wanda and Y/N share a tender moment together minutes before their wedding

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Y/N

Characters: Y/N, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark

Warnings: It’s so fluffy I’m gonna die

Word Count: 2.0K

Part 3 | Part 2 | Part 1 | Story Masterlist | Masterlist

A/N: This is one of my favorite chapters in this series.  So much fluff, so much emotion.  Hope y’all enjoy!

Y/N was anxiously pacing back and forth in the backyard.  He was supposed to meet Wanda by this huge old oak tree, the same one where Clint would set up his archery targets.  He’d barely been there five minutes but it felt like an eternity.  The anticipation of seeing Wanda in her wedding dress was killing him.

“Yo Hemingway!  Keep walking like that and you’re gonna wear a hole in the ground!”

Y/N whipped around.  It was Pietro.  He was standing by the back porch, hand cupped around his mouth to help amplify his teasing.  He knew that Hemingway was Wanda’s nickname for Y/N and of course he teased him relentlessly for it.  Seeing Pietro break out into his signature mischievous grin, he rolled his eyes in return.

“And when it’s done, Wanda and I are gonna bury you in it!” he yelled back.

“That’s a good one!” Pietro chuckled as he shouted back.  “But you’re kidding, right?” He shoved his hands in his pockets nonchalantly and began to stroll towards Y/N.  Y/N raised an eyebrow knowingly.  “Right?”

Y/N shrugged.  “Try me and we’ll find out,” he grinned.  The banter between the two was always playful, never malicious.  He wasn’t just Wanda’s brother.  He was one of Y/N’s closest friends as well.  Y/N had helped Pietro out of many sticky situations on missions.  Nearly getting blown up created a bond of shared trauma (and laughs).  But the two really bonded over one thing in particular: video games.  Many nights and quinjet flights were spent playing Mario Kart or Smash Bros.  While Wanda had hoped Y/N and Pietro would at least get along, she’d never anticipated they’d be so close.

Pietro shook his head.  “How ya feeling?” he asked.  

“Ehh?” He looked down and kicked a rock across the hard ground.

“You’re less than an hour away from getting married and all you can say is ‘ehh’?!”

“I just wanna see her, man.  I’m so nervous.” Y/N pulled at his shirt collar.  It suddenly felt too tight around his neck and his bowtie wasn’t helping.

“She looks great, don’t worry about that!” Pietro lovingly punched him on the shoulder.

“I’m not worried about that.  I dunno, I guess it’s the anticipation about all this,” he replied, gesturing vaguely to everything around him.

“Well I’ve never been married so I can’t give you any advice there,” laughed Pietro.  “But if it makes you feel any better Wanda’s already cried today.  She’s nervous, too.”

Y/N smiled.  It made him feel better knowing that he wasn’t the only one feeling butterflies.  They had talked about their feelings in the days leading up to the wedding, but talking about your wedding day and living it were two very different experiences.

“I’m excited for you guys.  I mean I can’t think of a better guy to marry my sister.”

“Thanks, Piet.”

“And now I get to pester you about when I’m gonna be an uncle!”

“Let’s, umm, yeah…let’s not rush things,” Y/N weakly choked out.  He and Wanda just wanted to get through today and here Pietro was pestering them about babies.

Suddenly a voice interrupted the quasi-awkward silence that enveloped the air around the two men.

“Hate to break up the gossip session fellas, but I’ve got a bride-to-be who is anxious to see her future husband,” called Natasha, working her way towards the duo.

Pietro jumped into action.  He threw himself behind Y/N and wrapped his hands around his head.  “I’ve got him, Nat!  He won’t look too soon!”

Natasha roared with laughter as Y/N tried to wriggle himself free of Pietro’s grasp.  “It’s okay, she’s still inside.  You can let him go.” He slackened his grip as Y/N pushed himself off the speedster, who had raced his way over to Nat.

“How’s she doing?” he whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

“She’s good,” she whispered back.  The duo was watching Y/N readjust his suit after Pietro’s assault.  “How’s he doing?”

“He’s nervous, but good.”

“Good, good…alright, let’s go inside and grab Wanda.  We’ll send her out and we’ll stay inside and give them some privacy.”

“Do we have to?” Pietro whined.  Nat smacked the back of his head.  “Right.  Got it.”

“Okay Y/N turn around and face the tree!” Nat yelled as Pietro rubbed the sore spot on the back of his head.  “We’ll go get Wanda and send her out!” Y/n shot her a thumbs up behind his back as he turned towards the tree.

He stared at the tree intently, studying it’s every feature.  He could feel his heart racing, his palms grew sweaty, and it felt like he was trying to swallow a handful of cotton balls.  Yet through the nerves he felt a flutter of excitement.  He’d been waiting for this moment all day.  He didn’t know anything about the dress or how she was doing her hair and makeup.  Anything she did would be wonderful.  She was just beautiful.  Period.  Wanda Maximoff was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on and he was the lucky one who would get to spend the rest of his life with her.  He smiled as he thought of his favorite moments with her: the day they met, their first date, that one mission where they ended up hijacking a fishing boat and docking it in the river by the compound, the endless Great British Baking Show marathons, early mornings snuggled together in bed, the first time she said ‘I love you’, the moment he realized he was going to marry her, their first kiss, the amazing day they spent together before he surprised her by proposing, the time they-

Hi honey, Wanda spoke to him in his mind.  Why don’t you turn around now?

Y/N froze.  “How long were you in my mind?” he asked, failing miserably at hiding the grin that was spreading across his face.

Long enough, she responded.  She, too, was failing to keep a smile from forming on her lips.  Y/N exhaled, rubbing his hands on the sides of his pants.  Are you ready? He nodded. Me too.  The tension in the air was palpable.  He slowly turned and laid eyes on his bride for the first time.

Y/N felt the air leave his lungs as he saw Wanda for the first time.  She was a vision in white.  Her white gown was stunning.  It had long sleeves that provided the slightest bit of warmth against the cool fall air.  The body of the dress was fitted to her figure with a long billowing skirt and train.  Her hair was done up and she was wearing a flower crown that Yelena and Kate had made for her.  He couldn’t see her shoes but he knew that May Parker and Pepper had taken her out shoe shopping as her bridal shower present.  She wore the necklace he’d given her for their first anniversary, the one with the entwined hearts, around her neck.  And the late afternoon sun caught the emerald of her engagement ring just right, casting a green reflection onto the tree as she fidgeted with her hands.  She, too, was fighting the butterflies that were fluttering in her stomach.

“Oh wow,” he managed to whisper after he felt himself come down from the initial high of seeing his ethereal bride-to-be.  “Wands, you look incredible.” He couldn’t help but look her up and down, drinking in every ounce of her beauty.

“You don’t look too bad yourself either,” she grinned.  It was true.  Y/N looked extremely dashing in his three-piece charcoal grey suit, crisp white shirt, and deep maroon bow tie.  His hair was freshly cropped and he’d trimmed his beard down to a notch above stubble the way Wanda liked it.

As he looked at her, Y/N felt his throat constrict and his face grow hot.  He looked down at the ground and covered his eyes with his hand as he began to cry.  Wanda was the only person in the world he could be truly vulnerable around.  Yet at this moment he didn’t want her to see him cry.  It didn’t matter that they were tears of joy or that they were the only two people in the universe at that moment.  Wanda had held his hand every step of the way through getting him to open up, but there were moments he still struggled.  This was one of them.

As he cried, his sobs muffled by his hands, he felt a pair of arms envelope him and tenderly pull him close.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay.  You’re okay, Hemingway,” Wanda soothed.  She ran her hand up and down his back as he continued to cry into her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Y/N repeated between sobs.

“What are you sorry for?” Wanda asked.  She had moved her hand up from his back to his head, running her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” he sniffled.  He pulled his head up from Wanda’s shoulder.  “God you’re beautiful.”

Wanda laughed as she wiped the tears from his face.  “So these are happy tears then I take it?” She cocked her head to the side.

“Yeah,” he mumbled sheepishly.  He moved his hands, which were pressed up to his chest, down to Wanda’s waist.  She wrapped her arms around his neck as he pulled her close.

“Hi,” she whispered

“Hi,” he whispered back as he rested his forehead against hers.

“We’re getting married today.”

“Mmhmm.”

“In less than an hour.”

“Mmhmm”

“Are you excited?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Me too.”

“You look beautiful in that dress.”

“So you’ve said.”

“But I think you’ll look even more beautiful when I peel you out of it later.” A devilish grin grew on his face as he looked down at Wanda.

Wanda blushed a deep shade of crimson.  “Behave,” she scolded, kissing the tip of his nose.

“For now, darling,” he responded.  “But I can’t make any guarantees for tonight.” As he spoke his hands slunk down from her waist to her hips.  Wanda giggled at his touch.  She gazed into his eyes with all the care and admiration in the world for her beloved.

“Kiss me,” she coaxed.

Y/N felt her arms pull him closer to her.  He leaned in, closing his eyes as he kissed her softly.  He kissed her with all the love and affection in the world.  As they broke away he noticed tears had started to run down her face.

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s not start this again,” he murmured.

“I’m okay,” choked Wanda.  She reached into her pocket to retrieve the tissue Nat had given her.

“Wait, it has POCKETS?!” Y/N exclaimed at this latest discovery.

“Duh!” She carefully dabbed at her face.  

“That’s so cool,” Y/N’s face lit up as he took note of the pockets on either side of Wanda’s dress.

She smiled.  “Are you ready?”

“Yeah…you?”

“Yeah.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He smiled down at her.  It was almost impossible to think that in less than an hour Tony would pronounce them husband and wife.  He felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“I’ve got butterflies in my stomach,” she whispered.

“Me too,” he confessed.  They both giggled, staring at each other for what simultaneously felt like an eternity and no time at all.

“Earth to lovebirds!” Tony yelled from the back porch.  “We gonna get this show on the road or what?”

Y/N groaned.  “Remind me again why he’s officiating our wedding…”

“Because it was either him or Thor,” Wanda reminded him.

“Right.  Yeah.  Good call.”

“Well, I guess I should go,” sighed Wanda.  “See you at the other end of the aisle!”

As she walked back towards the house, Y/N noticed her flick her wrist.  Suddenly something caught the corner of his eye.  Turning his head he saw that Wanda had conjured a flight of monarch butterflies around him.  He chuckled to himself as a butterfly landed on his outstretched hand.

“I’ll be waiting.”

[personasintro]

bruhhhhh what about a drabble in which y/n is a little TOO drunk and jimin and tae cant handle her after they brought her back to her apartment so jk the mf king comes to beat her ass 🥊🥊🥊 ( and he is like able to shush her and shes intimidated by him ) 😏✨🤭

A part of Mutual Help series!

pairing: mh!jungkook x reader

warnings: explicit language

word count: 1.9k+

a/n: I hope you’re enjoying these!! please let me know what you think about it and if I should write more of them x

##

You’re not the one to usually get fucked up.

With friends like Taehyung and Jimin, you’re usually the one looking after them and calling them a cab so they get home safely. They’re the wild ones that love to party, talk to other women and spend the night making out with them, if not inviting them to their apartments for a casual hook-up.

So, when the time comes and you tell yourself to “fuck it” because you’ve to loosen up and release all the tension from your new job and the responsibility that comes with it, you’re the one that needs to be taken care of.

However, even though you’ve planned to drink a little more tonight than you usually do, you haven’t planned to get fucked up at one of those nights where Taehyung insisted on going to a club. Again.

To be honest, you’re not sure what he likes about clubbing that much. You don’t like it but you go, because it’s always fun with your friends. But there are other factors that make you literally go “nooo” when someone proposes to go clubbing. Like all the people, sweaty people, that don’t know anything about personal space. Some of them probably carry perfumes, most of them being women because you could always smell the mix of different perfumes whenever you’d enter the restroom. It’s not a nice smell though. It makes you vomit and especially when you’ve had enough.

Not mentioning all the intrusive guys who are drunk and just looking for a vagina they could fuck.

It sounds as if you’re going clubbing often, but you’re not. If it weren’t for your friends, you’d barely go clubbing because you’re not the type to want that on your own. It’s not usually your idea to go, if ever. But everything seems fun with your friends and honestly, you feel comfortable enough to go with them.

Friends, who probably find you very difficult and annoying at the moment as they’re trying to make you sit on the small bench in your corridor.

“I hate clubbing,” you mutter drunkenly at them, laughing when Taehyung gets on his knees in front of you and tries to grab your ankles to take off your heels.

“We know, you tell us that every time you get wasted.” Taehyung mutters, ignoring the way your mouth falls open in disbelief.

“Taehyungie,” Jimin scolds him, getting on his knees as well to help Taehyung who seems to have trouble with taking off your heels.

Giggling through the entire time, you’re suddenly reminded of something when you look at the two men in front of you, seeing nothing but the top of their heads. “I got two men on their knees.”

Taehyung looks up, cocking his brow at you and finding you extremely annoying as you’re laughing to the point your shoulders shake. Jimin chuckles, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder as he breaks out a grin before they finally get your heels off.

“Kook, we’re taking her to the bedroom!” Jimin calls out to Jungkook who must be somewhere in your apartment. You can’t remember where he went.

“Oooh, sounds… exciting boys!” you joke, your voice resounding in your apartment.

Jungkook chuckles at that, currently in your kitchen preparing you a glass of water and pulling out painkillers from one of the cabinets. You’ll need it for sure. There’s a lot of commotion coming out of your room, something about taking off your make-up which makes Taehyung groan loudly. Jungkook doesn’t fight off the amused grin, only because now Taehyung finally understands how annoying he’s being when he’s drunk. Or at least he hopes he understands.

Jungkook pulls a coke out of your fridge and pours some for himself and for the guys, knowing they’ll have to wait until you fall asleep so they can go. Honestly, Jungkook wonders if one of them should spend the night just in case you get sick. Which you probably will because he hasn’t seen you this drunk in a while. You mentioned something about work when you first entered the club and had your first drink. However, Jungkook wonders if the problem lies somewhere else and that is Heaven. Or whatever his name is.

You’ve been dating for a while and it’s been only over two weeks since you mentioned the relationship isn’t what it used to be. He can smell a break-up in the air and he wonders if you got drunk because it either already happened or you know it will. Maybe he’s just overthinking this. Maybe you just wanted to have fun and get fucked up like Taehyung and Jimin do on a daily basis.

“Jungkook!” Taehyung suddenly yells, the door being opened before they’re loudly shut, Jimin’s soft but loud voice heard for a second.

Jungkook straightens up, ready to make a way over there but before he can move, Taehyung already storms into the kitchen. Face read and annoyed as he looks out of breath, as if he was fighting off a—

“Demon,” Taehyung breathes out, “Y/N is a freaking demon when she’s drunk.”

Jungkook laughs, “She’s just drunk, Tae.”

“Yeah, and she just slapped me for apparently pressing her eyes too harshly when I tried to take off her make-up because she can’t go to sleep without taking it off. God, that woman is a nightmare when she’s drunk!”

“It’s not like you’re a dream when you’re drunk,” Jungkook murmurs, earning a huge glare from Taehyung who keeps his mouth shut because deep down, he knows he’s just as bad.

“Go there! She’s your responsibility right now!” Taehyung exclaims loudly as Jungkook rolls his eyes and puts his body to a move as he brushes past Taehyung.

He barely gets to hold the doorknob before the door is being pushed open again and exhausted Jimin makes eye contact with him. “Great, you’re here!”

Jimin is out of the room and quickly joins Taehyung in the kitchen. Bastards…

Jungkook warily makes it into your room, looking around and barely noticing the flying pillow aimed at him. He catches it at the last minute, frowning at you as you’re standing at the corner of your room next to your closet, still wearing the dress that you wore to the club.

“What was that for?” Jungkook exclaims, watching you drunkenly and messily walk towards your bed before you take another pillow. Before Jungkook knows it, it’s thrown in his direction all over again and he catches it effortlessly and stomps his way over to you.

You’re screaming as if he’s about to kill you, trying to get away from him by jumping onto your bed and getting off the other side.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Jungkook asks, trying to get you from the other side but for a drunk person, you’re quick and make it out of your bed while standing in the middle of the room.

Jungkook stands there, watching you with narrow eyes for a moment. You do the same thing, stumbling a little. Jungkook uses the moment of surprise and he rushes over to you, not giving you any time to react and even when you try to, he gets a hold of you.

“What the fuck,” Jungkook groans when you trash in his arms, “Calm down, you need to get to bed. You’re going to hurt yourself, you damn woman.”

“No!” you whine, gasping when Jungkook lifts you up while his arms are wrapped around your waist, tossing you to the bed.

“Stop it,” he scolds you in a warning, pointing his finger at you which makes you slouch your shoulders in defeat. “What’s the matter?”

“I wanna go clubbing!” you pout, slapping your hands beside your sides like a bratty kid which makes Jungkook roll his eyes at your behavior.

He hears Jimin and Taehyung peeking out behind the door, watching the scene in front of them with curious and amused eyes. Jungkook glares at them but they just grin at them, silently telling him “See?”.

“You’re acting like a brat, Y/N,” Jungkook comments, sitting on the edge of your bed as you dramatically gasp. “And you’re drunk. You wanted to go home just a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah?” you ask, holding your head high as you’re fighting off the pout again. “Well, I wanna go back. I changed my mind.”

“You can’t just change your mind,” Jungkook shakes his head, “You’re already home.”

“You’re no fun,” you comment, tossing yourself on the back as you stare at the ceiling. “I don’t wanna be alone here.” you almost whisper, not really sure why you just admitted that all of a sudden.

Just a minute ago you were having fun and wanted nothing but be alone.

“We could stay here…” Jungkook reminds you softly. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Can you? I think I’m gonna throw up once I fall asleep.” you admit, causing Jungkook to laugh a little. You sound so innocent and child-like. If you weren’t wearing that tight dress, he would actually believe you’re a kid for a moment.

“How about you change your clothes and put some pajamas on? We’re gonna set the couch and stay the night.”

“You’re not gonna fit there!” you whine, “Can you stay here with me?”

It wouldn’t be the first time you guys share a bed, but ever since you started dating Haechan there weren’t many opportunities to do that, nor were you looking for those opportunities. You’re not sure how he’d like that and just out of respect, you and Jungkook mutually understood you should tone it down even though nothing ever happens. You’re friends.

“You sure?” he asks, raising his brow. You might be wasted but you can still think logically, which couldn’t be said five minutes ago.

“Yeah,” you nod eagerly, “Can you rub my back though?”

Jungkook laughs, Jimin and Taehyung join too who are still watching the two of you and how easily Jungkook has handled you. “Deal, but be in bed in your pajamas once I come back. Or no back rubbing.”

“Yes, daddy.”

“Y/N!” Jungkook screeches, standing up as he looks at you in annoyance. You’re such a brat, you know he hates being called that and you’re still teasing and annoying him even in your current state.

Taehyung cackles and Jimin joins too, not being able to hold it any longer as Jungkook rushes them out of the door to give you the privacy. Once Jungkook makes it to your room to check on you, you’re patiently waiting for him and his back rubs patting the spot next to you. God, he thought you’d fall asleep.

But he joins you, rubbing your back just like he promised until you fall asleep so he can take a shower. Jimin and Taehyung are already sprawled on your couch, talking a bit before they fall asleep too. And when you wake up in the middle of the night, Jungkook holds the bucket for you until you fall asleep again, silently apologizing.

The next morning, Taehyung doesn’t forget to remind you what a pain in the ass you were which causes Jimin to scold him while Jungkook glares at his older friend. But you easily tell him to fuck off, reminding him all of the times he was the one being annoying and a pain in the ass.

Jungkook doesn’t fight off the grin he gives you. You can take care of yourself, maybe not entirely when you’re wasted but you can easily handle Kim Taehyung.

[erodasfishtacos]

I wanna see gang yn tell Harry she’s pregnant- or see little moments between them while she’s pregnant, like finding out they’re having twins. 🥺

okay but I imagine this.

tw: violence, blood, weapons, smut

-

There is currently three dead men in their warehouse.

Harry has another one tied to a creaky old wooden chair, interrogating him with a sharp knife on his cheek, “Where the fuck is Richie? I know you killed one of my men.”

The man spits at Harry, leaning away from the blade, “Fuck you. I’m not talkin’.”

YN is watching casually from where she’s sitting on a countertop, a iced coffee in her hand, and she’s just admiring how hot her husband is.

His long hair is pulled up in a bun, his sharp jaw clenched, blood on his white shirt that’s clung a bit to his body with sweat and other fluids.

He’s so lean, muscular with bulging biceps, abs taut under his clothes. Her name tattooed proudly on his neck, little beads of sweat.

Harry slices down his cheek, tearing the skin open, “Tell me right now or I’m goin’ t’kill you. This is your last warning. I am about to show you why they call me Diablo,” Harry seethes, the knife dragging down to his neck.

He refuses to speak, Harry gets impatient and pulls out his weapon of choice - his desert eagle and delivers one resounding shot.

Harry looks unsympathetically at the rival gang members, his own men sitting back and letting the leader work.

The associates began to scuttle around to begin the clean up process.

Her husband tugs off his shirt and then shimmies out of his tight black jeans - tossing them carelessly by the bodies so his men can dispose of them.

Just in his tight briefs, his intricate morale of the depth of hell and the devil decorating his whole chest and stomach.

Then he’s trailing over to his wife, grabbing her jaw and searing their lips together for a long kiss as she runs a hand over his tensed abs.

It’s not the right moment, well it wouldn’t be for a normal couple but they weren’t any normal couple to start off with.

“I want to have a baby,” YN blurts out as her husband’s hands grip onto her thighs to pull her center against his.

Harry doesn’t look surprised often.

His mossy green eyes widen, puffy lips parting, as he searches her relax, open face, “You want me t’put a baby in you?”

She nods, feeling a nervous fluttering, they’d been married for three years - it had been on her mind a lot.

“If you aren’t - I know we’ve been talking about it. But if it’s not some-“ She stutters out as she observes Harry’s stoic face.

He leans forward, cupping her face, and telling her firmly, “I will give you whatever y’want, sweetheart. If y’want me to make y’a mommy - I’ll do it right now.”

By this point the men had dragged the bodies out to a nondescript van and were pouring industrial grade bleach on the tiled floor.

Harry turns around and booms, “Get the fuck out, right now.”

The associates pause, confused, Greg speaks, “But we just start-“

In true Harry form, he grabs his gun next to his wife, and fires at warning shot at their feet, “Fuck off or next time it’s going to be y’leg.”

They run out like there’s fire under their arses.

YN shouldn’t get wetter at that but she does.

He turns around after the leave, wastes no time to in yanking her shirt over her head, bra, and then roughly stripping off her legging, and panties

“Fuckin’ look at you, made you my wife, now m’make y’the mother of my babies,” Harry hisses when YN sneaks her hand in his briefs to tug his thick length out.

“Remember when we first met. You told me you never wanted to even have a girlfriend, let alone a wife. You told me you didn’t want kids,” YN murmurs as she pumps him with a firm grip.

Harry groans into her mouth, “Baby, jus’ like tha’. All that changed when I fell f’you.”

YN swipes her thumb over the tip before tugging the fabric down his narrow hips and guiding him right into where she’s so warm and ready for him.

“You told me love was made up by pathetic stupid people who were too dumb to realize it was a scam,” She reminds him, breath hitching when he stretches her perfectly.

-

As they’re waiting for drinks, Harry scoffs at a young couple kiss and cooing at each other on the other side of the way.

It was a really shady bar.

They were there to do business together - Harry and YN - nothing more than that.

“Fuckin’ idiots,” He shakes his head, swigging down his whiskey dry as soon as it’s placed in front of him - he doesn’t even flinch.

“They’re in love,” YN defends with a small smiles as she watches the man make the girl giggle with glee - just happiness.

“So y’a fucking idiot too?” Harry asks meanly, giving her a glance over with a pursed lip, “Guess y’beauty and no fuckin’ brains.”

“You have a real way with women, charmer,” She replies sarcastically, sipping her whiskey sour.

Harry laughs with a tinge of arrogance, “I don’t need charm. Any women and most men in this bar would fuck if they had the chance.”

“Well I’ll be one who won’t,” YN says haughtily.

His jaw clenches subtly, “Don’t be bitter, darling. Love is made up. It doesn’t exists. It’s for weak-minded little sheeps like you.”

—-

Harry takes a deep inhale, eyes dark as night, teeth bared as he tells her, “Our love isn’t what other average people have. I still believe all of that. My love f’you is s’strong I’d fuckin’ die for you this second.”

YN moans when he fucks in hard enough to make her skid back on the counter - he grips her harder and anchors her back down.

“D’you think any other man would do tha’ f’their wife? I mean truly do that? No. I’ve seen men let their wives die to save themselves,” Harry grits out, tugging her legs around his waist.

She is panting, not able to get a word out between breathes, he’s giving it to her so fucking well. Her nipples brushing against his sweaty chest, making it feel so much better.

Her grips her jaw hard, “Answer me.”

“Baby, I know, I know. I love you, please,” She begs loudly, whining when he wraps his hand around her neck.

“Open,” Harry orders, hand forcing her mouth open before spitting and then chasing it with his tongue into her mouth.

“H, m’coming.” YN warns him, pushing her hips into his until their skin is slapping and making noise in the room.

“Y’get so sweet when I’m fuckin’ you,” Harry praises, tweaking her nipple as she wets his cock even more than before.

He speeds up, sweat beading down his temple, he curses and grunts, “Gonna give y’a baby, give you anythin’.”

And when they finally slow to a halt, catching their breath, he whispers in a syrupy soft voice, “You’re my everything.”

[djarinsbeskar]

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

Taglist | Form

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A few who might be interested! @thepoisonofgod @absurdthirst @highsviolets @astroboots​ 

[chrisevansjellybeans]

I Love You, You Idiot | Bucky Barnes

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Here I am, once again writing in my favorite "we're best friends but we won't say we're in love" trope. Someone stop me.

A/N: This does not fall into the TFAWTS timeline!

Warnings: swearing, fluff, angsty-ish

*not my gif*

The bass rumbled through your entire body as you tried to listen to whatever story Sam was telling to the group. You tried with everything in you to listen but the mixture of the loud music of the club and your best friend's hand just casually laying on your exposed thigh was making it very difficult. You noticed the group laugh so you let out a small chuckle but if anyone asked you would not be able to say what was so funny.

“You okay, doll?” You glanced up at Bucky, who’s blue eyes were squinted with concern. His thumb slowly rubbing circles on the spot on your inner thigh where it was rested. “You look a little out of it. Do you need me to take you home?”

Say words, Y/N. You told yourself. But forming sentences was getting harder and harder with each circular pass the pad of his thumb made.

“Uh.”

Good job. Very articulate.

You didn’t want to be that person. The person who falls in love with her super hot best friend, but doesn’t say anything because they don’t want to “ruin the friendship” and then ends up sad and alone because said best friend doesn’t realize the feelings and moves on to someone else. And yet here you were. Being that cliche.

“Guys, I think I’m going to take Y/N home.” You heard Bucky say. Snapping out of whatever trance you were in you shifted away from him so his hand was no longer on your leg.

“No, I’m fine.” You stood up, strong and steady. “See? I was just thinking about some work stuff. But I’m gonna go grab another drink. Anyone want anything?”

The group shook their head and you made your way to the bar, happy to be away for a couple minutes.

Your moment of solace lasted only a few seconds though because you felt Bucky’s presence behind you. He trapped you in by placing his arms on either side of you, his chin landing on your shoulder.

“Wanna take shots?” Bucky’s voice rumbled in your ear. You really hoped he couldn’t feel the goosebumps that arose all over your skin. His breath smelled like a mix of spearmint and whiskey. A scent that if it came from any other man you would have probably been repulsed but on Bucky it was just comforting.

“Only if they’re tequila.” You turned around so you were face to face with him. Bucky gave you a cheeky smile as he waved the bartender over, ordering two shots each and then your regular drink order. As the bartender got your drinks ready, Bucky leaned down on his arms so he was even closer, your faces barely an inch apart.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Bucky smiled, pressing a slight kiss to your cheek.

“You’re mine too.” You whispered but you knew he heard you. Thank god for that super soldier hearing. Bucky stood back up and you could tell that he was on high alert, making sure that no one bumped into you or was making a beeline in the direction you guys were in.

You turned back around and placed your arms on the bar and leaned against it, your breasts pushing up slightly causing the guy next to you to take notice.

“Hey,” you glanced over as the guy next to you turned his body to fully face you. “You are the most beautiful woman at this bar.” You were amazed at how bold this guy was being. Bucky was still behind you, his arms still on either side of you. To anyone who didn’t know the two of you, it would be safe to assume that you were a couple.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you.” You smiled at him and leaned against Bucky’s arm a bit, to hopefully give that couple illusion even more.

Bucky was watching the interaction carefully, not yet ready to intervene but there if he needed to. You noticed his vibranium hand flex on the bar as the guy continued to flirt with you, that small action causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“You wanna get out of here, pretty girl?” The guy leaned in even closer to you, officially popping the imaginary bubble you had around you. That was enough for you and for Bucky.

“Alright buddy, ease up.” Bucky pushed a hand against the guy's chest, moving him away from you. “She’s with me.”

“Relax, big guy. Why don’t you let this little mama speak for herself.” The guy stood up from his chair, he was Bucky’s height but you, Bucky and the guy knew that if it came down to it Bucky would kick his ass.

“This little mama doesn’t want to go home with you.” You said sternly. As you finished speaking, the bartender placed the shots and the drinks in front you.

“Bitch.” The guy mumbled, shaking his head and making his way around Bucky.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Bucky grabbed the guy by the front of his shirt. His eyes blazing as he glared down at the asshole. With each second that passed you could tell his hands were tightening around the guy’s shirt.

“I called your little slut girlfriend a bitch.” He spat out. “Maybe control your woman from flirting with other men at-”

Before he could finish, Bucky slammed his fist into his face. You let out a scream as the guy fell to the ground. Everyone’s eyes now focused on the three of you. Bucky reached down and grabbed him, pulling him back up. You had to look away as blood started to pour out of his nose and down his face. It looked like Bucky was about to punch him again but you quickly put your hand on his arm. Bucky looked over at you, his chest heaving, his metal arm shifting under the stress of his grip.

“Bucky, please. It’s not worth it. Look.” You glanced at the crowd that started to form, phones out and recording.

You could see the headlines now: Winter Soldier Bar Brawl: Is he still unhinged?

You spotted Sam making his way over, his face full of concern. Turning back to Bucky you squeezed his bicep. “Please. Let’s go.”

“Buck.” Sam made it over to you. “Go, I’ll take care of it.”

Bucky heaved as he pushed the guy away from him and then grabbed your hand. He quickly threw down a crumpled hundred dollar bill on the bar and didn’t wait for the change as he pulled you through the crowd of recording phones and out of the club.

He quietly pulled you down the street until you guys ended up at least four blocks away from the club.

“I should have killed that guy.” He huffed as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. Immediately he winced and pulled his flesh hand out. You hadn’t noticed before but his hand was definitely red and swelling. “Fuck.”

“Oh my god, Bucky,” You sighed as you gently took his hand in yours, turning it over and inspecting any damage. It didn’t look fractured but it was definitely sprained and going to be sore for a while. “You could have broken your hand, you fucking idiot.”

“It will heal in a couple hours. And you’re welcome.” Bucky scowled in your direction. “Next time, I’ll just let him shit talk you all night.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. If you would have waited another twenty seconds we would have gotten our drinks and probably wouldn't have seen that man again.” You glared. “Instead you had to turn into a cave man and beat on your chest and prove your dominance.” You tried to sound tough but your voice was shaking given how cold you were. You had left your jacket back in the club.

“I wasn’t proving shit, Y/N.” Bucky snapped as he pulled his hand out of yours, sliding his leather jacket off and putting it around your shoulders in a huff. “Maybe it infuriates me to hear someone talk about you like that.”

“Well it’s not all cake and ice cream for me, but you don’t see me throwing god damn punches.” You sighed as you wrapped the jacket tighter around your body. “This is going to be everywhere tomorrow.”

“Who gives a fuck.” Bucky muttered.

“You should!” You fumed. “It’s not a great look to have you out here punching random guys at bars, Bucky. Especially over nothing that important.”

“Stop talking like that. God, it’s like you are the only fucking person who doesn’t see how goddamn special and important you are.” Bucky hissed as his hand continued to throb. “So please just..stop talking.”

You snapped your mouth shut as you shot daggers at Bucky which he gladly returned. You turned away from him, calling a car to take you back to his place. You both waited in silence, Bucky only making the occasional foul exclamation whenever his hand hurt. Finally for what seemed hours the car finally pulled up. Bucky, always the gentleman even when angry, held the door open for you as you slid in closing it gently but not making any moves to get in the car. You looked up at him through the window confused but he only shook his head and tapped the car, signally for the driver to leave.

“Can you please wait.” You turned to the driver who let out an annoyed huff.

“Five minutes lady. It’s almost bar time.”

Quickly you opened the door not stepping completely outside, the air having an unforgiving bite to it now.

“Get in the fucking car, Bucky.”

“You go, you have a key. I just need some time.”

“You can take some time in your apartment. Just get in the car.” You retorted.

“I’m not getting in that car.”

“James, I swear to god.” You were fully out of the car now. You slammed the door shut causing the driver to cast an annoyed look your way. “What is your problem? We argue all the time, it’s not that serious.”

“It’s not about the argument,” he grumbled. “It’s about the fact that you are so completely oblivious to how fucking perfect you are and how it wasn’t just that guy that was staring at you but every other guy in that bar. And how angry it makes me that I just want to go up to every single of one of them and tell them to put their dicks away because you’re mine and only mine.”

Your breath hitched as you processed his words.

“And I’m doing everything in power to not just shake you until you realize that I love you, and not just as my friend.”

“I-”

“I can’t believe I just told you that.” Bucky shook his head and let out a humorless chuckle. “Get in the car, Y/N. I’ll see you later.”

Bucky turned and started walking down the street.

“James Buchanan Barnes!” You yelled after him. “If you don’t think that I love you back, then you really are a bigger idiot than I thought.” Bucky stopped in his tracks.

“What did you just say?” He asked as he faced you again. He stayed where he was but you could see the tension start to leave his body.

“I said,” You smiled as you let out a long breath. “That I love you, you idiot.”

Before you knew it, Bucky was over to you and he had you scooped up in his arms. His mouth moved feverishly against yours, every emotion that the two of you had for each other pouring out in this one kiss. Your hands found their way up his chest and around his neck. He let out a low moan that sent vibrations through your whole body.

“Alright, lady, I’m leaving.” You both ignored the driver as he waved you off and pulled out and down the street. But you couldn’t care less because you were finally in the arms of your best friend.

“Say it again.” Bucky whispered against your lips.

“I love you, you idiot.”

[littlest-dark-age]

Human nature takes over me

Tagging @noshame-bb @daddydamiano @mywritingonlyfans

!!!nsfw content!!! Please do not read if you do not wish to consume nsfw content. 18+

includes cream pie, body worship, dirty talk, slight bondage slight jealousy, mentions of alcohol, and if I missed anything please let me know.

Scopami - Fuck me

Mi stai facendo morire - You are killing me

Amo il tuo sapore - I love how you taste

Cazzo, sei così stretto, dolcezza - You’re so fucking tight, sweetheart

Viene per me - Come for me

Due to all the chaos that had been going on in Damiano's life, the two of you hadn't been able to see one another as often as both of you would like. Which led to the idea for you and the others to go to a small bar in the city, one vic swore by as her favorite and said that you would love it as well. She even helped you get ready whilst the boys were doing the same in the larger bathroom of the house. 

Vic helped you pick out the rather sexy outfit, claiming that you had just the shoes for it and that they would complete your look. From your hair, to your stockings, you felt and looked hot. She claimed that your confidence is what sold the look, that it was the perfect finishing touch. 

Soon enough, the five of you pile into the uber Ethan thoughtfully ordered. Knowing that none of you would want to drive later, nor would some of you be in the shape to. Squishing into the middle seat between Thomas and Damiano, your lover soon realizes that the two of you might be leaving the bar earlier than your counterparts. With distance, comes need. Damiano realizes how long it had been since the two of you were able to go at it as hard as you normally would when you were in his house in Rome, although it doesn't mean the two of you were shy about your affections. 

You were simply not able to be as open as you usually were if you were alone, despite the fact that damiano walks around practically naked already. He wasn't able to have you spread open in the shared spaces, not wanting to risk anything too much. Sure, it wouldn't be the first time one of the others had walked in on you entangled one another in a less than savory place. But he still prefered to keep such accidents to a minimum. 

Damiano is so lost in his thoughts, which were riddled with you, that he doesn't feel the car stop and it's only when you grip his arm does he realize that he zoned out the entire drive.

He shoots you a dazzling smile, shaking off your concern with a promise that he merely got caught up in his mind and that he wanted to be here tonight. 

Holding your hand, the two of you walk into the small bar behind the others. He quickly presses a kiss to your temple before shuffling off to grab your drinks from the bartender, your usual order burned into his memory from the amount of times you've ordered it on dates. 

You follow vic to the small table she managed to snag, looking around at the surprisingly full bar. Turns out, she's not the only one who really likes it. Damiano smiles at the sight of you two talking and laughing with one another before looking back at the bartender and paying for the drinks in front of him. He manages to grab them all and begins to walk back over to the table without spilling them, much more difficult than he thought would be due to the crowd. 

He carefully sets the glasses down before sliding yours over in front of you and vic, bringing his to his mouth for a sip as he focuses on the conversation going between your and her. Shuffling closer to you, he wraps an arm around your waist with a quick squeeze before pressing a kiss to your cheek. Looking around the bar for Ethan or Thomas, trying to make sure they don't get into too much trouble, he's too busy to see the large man stumble over to you. Reeking of a strong alcohol, the man sends you a grin. 

"Hey precious, wanna get out of here?" You can hardly make out his words due to the way they slur and run together, your nose wrinkling at the thought of going home with someone other than your lover, much less a man who can barely keep himself up on his own two feet. 

He leans even closer, letting the smell of his drink grow even stronger as he attempts to wink at you. In his mind, you're sure, an awfully seductive thing. But it comes out as more of a halfway blink, slowed by his dulled senses. His eyes lock onto your chest, licking his lips not so subtly. 

"No thank you, please leave our table." You try to be as polite as you can, worried what the wrong words could possibly lead to.

It seems Damiano has gotten so caught up in looking for Ethan or Thomas that he drifted away from the table, now standing however many feet away. Far enough to not be able to smell the stench of the drunkard in front of you, and certainly far enough so that the only thing he hears is the music bursting through the bar and not your words. He looks at you, a bit of heart break gleaming in his eyes as he watches what he thinks is flirting. Noticing your glass still untouched, knowing you were stone cold sober and that you wouldn't be able to blame the drinks for the 'flirting'. 

Swiftly, he shuffles over towards you and misses the look of relief you shoot him in favor of staring down the large man that had since placed his sweaty hand on your own. His face hardens when he notices the affection. 

"What's going on here, amore?" Trying to keep his words sweet, yet they still come laced with a venom not unknown to you. 

"He was just leaving." You snatch your hand out from under the strangers, scooting closer to damiano to put as much space between the two of you. Eyes flickering between the two men, briefly wondering how far the drunkard would be willing to push your lover. 

The stranger rolls his eyes, mumbling something about you being a bitch under his breath before stumbling off to find the next willing participant for the night. A wave of disgust rolls over you, forcing a shiver from you at the thought of going home with him. 

Damiano looks at you, still assuming that there was something more going on with the two of you than was. Not exactly knowing how to approach the subject. 

Has he been gone too long? Had your flame finally weathered to a mere ember without his notice? Sure, touring and everything is hard on the two of you but he thought the two of you were better than that. He would have brought you with him if it had been allowed, really. Were you so done with him that you would flirt with someone mere feet away from him, not bothering by the fact that if he was to just turn around, he would spot you? 

You can see the thoughts swirl around in his mind, quickly sending a text to vic that the two of you were leaving. Using a piss poor excuse of not feeling well and wanting damiano to take care of you, as he typically did whenever you truly were sick. 

"Let's go home damia, yes?" Slowly you tug him towards the exit of the bar, spotting Thomas and giving him a small wave as you grip Damiano's hand and tug him out of the doors. His body seems to be on autopilot as he zones out for what feels like the hundredth time of the night, not noticing the time it takes for the uber to arrive nor the time passing as you ride in the backseat. Your thumb stroking along his knuckles, running down his tattoo and rings as well.

Damiano only comes out of his trance when he hears you unlocking the door, still letting you lead him as you take him up the stairs and into your shared bedroom. Did you bring him home just so you could break up with him? Did you know the way he would bawl and grovel, just to keep the love of his life in his world? 

You disappear into the adjacent bathroom, he can hear your jewelry hitting the large marble counter and your shoes hitting the cabinets when you take them off. A few moments later, you come out of the bathroom. Fresh faced and wearing a shirt he's sure is his own, a cloth in your hand to wipe away his own makeup the same you did to yours. Evidence on the underside of the cloth.

Walking over to him, you give him a sweet smile before sitting on his lap as your free hand cradles his face whilst the other busies itself with wiping away the dark makeup surrounding his eyes. Soon, you finish cleaning his face and chunk the cloth onto the bedside table before starting to unbutton the simple shirt he chose tonight. Slowly revealing inch after inch of his tanned skin and his tattoos, which you always remind him you adore. 

Damiano shuts his eyes as he feels your soft lips on his neck, relishing in the way you seem to mould yourself into him. Always slotting perfectly in his arms, never feeling like you don't belong in them. His brain, on the other hand, seems to not want to shut off. Not being able to get the image out of his head of that man touching you. 

"Amore, amore, hold on." It pains him the way you look at him as if your touch has burned him. Your brows furrowed with wonder, worried you might be pushing yourself onto him when he just wanted a nice night in bed with you. But he has to know. If he doesn't find the answer, it might drive him mad

"Were…...were you…...flirting with the man at the bar? Before I came over? Have I done something, dolcezza?" 

It takes you a second to realize what Damiano is asking, almost as if you don't even want to think about the meaning of his words. 

"No, no. He was drunk and wanting to take me home, and I didn't want to make a huge scene. Baby no, I turned him down. You're the only person I could ever want." By the look on Damiano's face, you can still see a seedling of doubt lingering. An idea pops into your head and brings a grin to your face as you look into his honey eyes, seeing nothing but love and want in them.

"Can I show you how much I want you?" Comes as a soft whisper, breathed on to his own lips before you pull him into a deep kiss. The kind he's been yearning for the moment he heard of the plans to go out tonight, feeling your hand slide down his chest and rest above his XXX tattoo which is currently hidden by his pants. 

You feel him nod into the kiss and giggle as he chases after your lips when you pull away in favor of kissing his neck once again. Nipping at the sensitive skin, as well as rubbing your hands up and down his chest before going up to his shoulders and pushing the unbuttoned shirt off of his lean body. 

"I need to go grab something, can you handle taking your pants off without touching yourself?" You ask, watching as his eyes slowly open half way before giving you a soft nod. 

Jumping out of his lap and going into the closet in hunt for whatever, Damiano starts to unzip his pants and kicks off his shoes. Walking around the side of the bed, he peaks into the closet just in time for you to find your mystery item. Instantly recognizing the red fabric, one of the scarfs they sell with the månedkin logo printed onto it. Sitting down onto the plush bed, still watching as you walk out of the closet and crawl on top of him. 

Reaching for his hands, you quickly tie his wrists together and make sure they're not too tight before pushing him onto his back and moving his hands above his head. 

"Now. I'm going to do whatever the hell I want so I can show you how much I want you. No, actually. How much I need you." You start to press kisses onto his neck, before going down onto his inked collarbone and tracing the letters with your nail as you go along. 

You feel the vibrations from his whines roll through his chest, where your soft lips meet dark inked skin. His whines draw a smile from you, knowing the effect you had on him. Damiano's mind races, wondering what your next move will be. In all fairness, this wasn't how he expected the night to go so why should he be able to expect what happens to him next. 

Slowly, you kiss down his chest, leaving a trail of sweet and teasing kisses as you go. Stopping when you reach his pierced nipple, looking up into his deep brown eyes as your teeth barely graze the sensitive skin. Damiano exhales a shaky breath as you tug on the bar, his cock already aching with need as you softly grind on him from your spot in his lap. Not enough to give either of you any real friction, but just enough so that he could feel your slick through his soft boxers. 

The thin material doing so little yet so much to keep him from where he wanted most, a wet patch growing from both of you as it started to stick to him. Damiano shuts his eyes and tosses his head back into the pillow which smells like you, not helping how hard his cock is straining against your.

"Scopami, Mi stai facendo morire." Comes out as a groan, his eyebrows pinched together with a pretty look of need. 

"Baby, I'm busy here. Can't you tell? Gotta show my pretty boy how much he means to me, you're never going to forget it again. Gonna mark you up too, let everybody know that I'm yours and you're mine." Purred into his chest, where you finally pull away from his nipple to sit up and look at the mess you've made out of your lover. 

Red marks litter his chest, evidence of where you nipped at the tattoo that spreads across his collar bones. Hands tied together above his head with a måneskin scarf, dark hair a mess from where he has been gripping at it and tossing his head back. Damiano's chest rises with each heavy breath you steal from him, entire body on display except the one area he desperately wants freed from its cloth confinements. 

"I promise, I know I'm yours. Just wanna be in you, I'll be good. Just, please cucciolo…" The words die off into more whimpers, his Adam's apple bobbing with the swallow he does. Unable to control himself, he feels his hips start to buck up into you. Wanting, needing more friction soon otherwise he thinks he might cry, not that it hasn't happened from your passion filled nights before and it certainly wouldn't be the last time he loses himself to you so much that all he can do is cry out your name and let the tears run down his face.

"Well, since you asked me so nicely,…" You completely pull away from his lean body, laughing softly at the pout which quickly forms on his face. ",lift your hips for me baby, gonna get these off of you." Gesturing to the stained material. 

Damiano does as you ask, helping you peel off the sticky fabric before spreading his legs slightly. Giving you a full view of his weeping tip, now resting against his stomach and smearing pre-cum all over the soft skin. Red tip matching the shade of flush covering his cheeks. 

Leaning down, you lick up the underside of his cock with the flat of your tongue before rolling it around his head. You see his grip on his own hair tighten, veins popping in his hands and arms. 

"Amo il tuo sapore." Kissed into the skin of his belly with a grin, not giving the dark eyed man anything substantial yet. 

You sit back and slowly take off the oversized shirt that the two of you would share sometimes, finally revealing your form to Damiano, teasing him with your pace as you have been all night. Shuffling towards him, you straddle his hips before pressing a sweet and soft kiss to his soft lips. Slowly pouring every ounce of love and devotion into the small action, then taking his aching cock and lining it up with your cunt before sinking onto it. 

"Cazzo, sei così stretto, dolcezza." Damiano groans out, unable to believe how well you take him every time and how it feels like you were made for this. Like the two of you were crafted together and meant to be as one, always feeling whole when he's in your embrace. 

He can feel himself already dangerously close to the edge, every shift of your hips threatening to shove him off of it. As you start to bounce, he can feel the coil in his belly twisting tighter and tighter with every movement you make. His cheeks flush even more, embarrassed that he isn't going to last very long but not really being able to do anything to stop. 

"It's okay baby, you can cum. I got you," your movements only slow a bit, focusing on him for the moment like you promised earlier ",cum in me baby."

Your words push him off of the edge, pulling loud and breathy moans from him as he cums in your cunt, shooting ropes of warmth into you. Gently rocking your hips to work him through his orgasm, giving him a moment to adjust to the new sensitivity. Slowly you start to bounce again, making him shoot you a confused look before drawing even more moans from his throat. 

"Oh honey, you didn't think I was gonna stop, did you? That's cute…" You grin down at him, your hands cupping your tits as they bounce with your movements. 

Damiano's eyes start to tear up, slightly overwhelmed by the pleasure and the pain that interwove itself in it. Your cunt still milking him for everything he's worth while shooting sensitivity with every motion of your body. He knows the two of you will be sticky and sweaty by the end of the night, sheets will need to be changed but at the moment he can't seem to care. Too focused on the feeling of your walls sucking him back in and the damn near scorching heat you're radiating. But he can't stop himself from wanting more, more of the pain and sensitivity and the heat. More of you and the way you wrap around him is so divine.

One of your hands snakes down to where you and damiano connect, starting to rub fast circles on your clit as his eyes glue to the action. Watching like this would be the last time he would ever be able to see such beauty. Watching your face twist in pleasure and he can feel you clench even harder around his cock. 

The all too familiar coil springs back to life in the pit of his stomach, your expressions quickly tightening it as well as the sounds you're making. 

"Viene per me, cucciolo. Wanna do it with you." He isn't sure if you're able to put together his slightly slurred words, before seeing you quickly nod your head and pick up the pace. 

Skin on skin and moans echo throughout the room, too caught up in one another to care who might hear. Your other hand leaves your chest in favor to support yourself, speeding your hips even more with the extra balance found on damiano's own chest. 

Your moans grow in volume the closer you get to the edge, unable to hold back the sounds your lover seems to always get out of you. 

Damiano feels the coil burst once more, thrusting his hips up into you, sending you hurdling over the edge yourself. Stilling your movements, you peek open your eyes to look down at him, a soft grin spreading across your face as you feel him cum in you again. Creamy white starting to leak out and down his shaft, but neither of you seem to mind as you lean down to press your cheek against his flushed chest. 

"Now, do you believe me when I say that I only want you?" You peer up at him from your relaxed position.

He nods, before pulling his hands through the loose knot in the scarf and pressing a kiss to your sweat slicked forehead. 

[chil2de]

Your sharing a bed with the JJK men hc's were incredible 😩 special mentions for Megumi's bed head, Nanami being a secret cuddle bug, and Yuuta having to drink both iced coffees (that fucking sent me fjdndnfd I could picture it so clearly).

You're super talented so could I, er, possible get a NSFW version? 👀 💳💥💥💥💳💳💥💳💥

Thank you so much 🥺💕

hello anonie!!! thank you dear i’m so glad you liked them!! please the credit card emojis had me cackling LMFAOOOO you really made my whole day out here!!!(THE ICED COFFEE WAS MY FAVOURITE PART TOO)

well i managed to hit the max amount of characters allowed in a tumblr post with five characters alone so i’m going to have to split this up into several posts. it just kinda happened ig

characters in this post: itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro toji (megumi was supposed to be here but i had to reserve him for next post😔)

this work is nsfw. if you’re new here, please read my disclaimer before proceeding. thank you and enjoy!

based off of this post

itadori

- itadori would prob be a ‘deer in the headlights’ if you woke him up in the middle of the night

- but after that? shit, he’s so nice to you. so kind and generous for his baby girl. whether he’s fucking you ‘cause he thinks you might be able to sleep after an orgasm or there’s just an incessant desire for him- doesn’t really matter all that much to itadori. he loves you either way :)

- gets horny so easily LMFAO

- would 100% dick you down if you asked him to and i like to think that he still keeps his really sweet personality during sex cause aaaa he would be so soft and reassuring

- hardcore dom yuuji sounds sexy as all hell but let’s be real… this man won’t kill a fly and apologises for stepping on ants. only exception being angry sex but overall reserving hard dom for sukuna :)

you pepper tiny kisses onto itadori’s face, treating him with the utmost care like handling fine china. his skin feels so soft against your lips, and he smells very faintly of milky soap. there’s some traces of brand cologne on his shirt, as well as his natural scent.

“yuuujiii-“ you coo, blowing air very gently. when he doesn’t stir, you run your fingertips through a bundle of his cotton candy tainted hair. it evokes a reaction from him, so you continue to press him.

“y-uuuu-ji!”

after a few moments, itadori lets out a soft whine before grumbling incoherent blabber. “i won’t eat the pineapple! kugisaki will scream at me!”

you giggle before prodding him again, when finally he relents and jolts awake, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted at how close your face is to his.

“‘s it morning yet?” he wrinkles his nose, stifling a yawn. you emit a hum in thought before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you into him. itadori squeaks in surprise when he feels you latch your lips onto his neck, suckling and carefully breaking the bonds underneath his sensitive skin. his moan comes out groggy, still laced with sleep.

“that drives me crazy, you know that, right?” itadori laughs, though his voice comes as a wobble.

“i know. and they look so good on you too, hm?” you giggle, caressing one hand from his neck and then down to the hem of his shirt. your fingertips flutter against his bare skin and he shivers physically and audibly. you smooth your palm flat along his chest, dragging your nails carefully against his muscles.

“kinda.. wanna.. go to.. sleep.. but i don’t.. wanna fall asleep…” itadori mumbles against his pillow. the fabric muffles most of it, but there’s a strain in his voice that leads you to believe he’s moaning lightly. guess after sukuna ripped his heart out, this area hasn’t been quite the same, huh?

“so? then go to sleep, yuuji. i’ll be fine-“ “-no way! i gotta take care of you”

“so why don’t you?”

“‘m going to! i was asleep just half a minute ago!”

“and besides-“

he shifts himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headrest. itadori opens his arms, motioning for you to crawl on top of him. without any haste, you clamber over his built frame, ghosting just over the print of his hard dick.

“not that i mind but- we did, you know, in the morning already-“ “oh, shit, sorry- it’s totally fine if you don’t want t-“ “-just messing with you!”

itadori pulls your neck down and gifts you with the same treatment you were offering him earlier. his tongue is hot and wet against your skin and you can already feel the precipitation forming at the back of your knees. calloused yet tender hands smooth around your waist and he smooths his palms over your shoulder blades.

after itadori’s satisfied with the mark he left, you can’t help but groan a little into his mouth when his lips suddenly claim yours. he drinks you up, relying solely on your taste like he’s drowning and you’re the air he needs.

itadori takes his sweet time cherishing you, or rather it’s still his state of half slumber, but you can feel a dull ache prick your abdomen. you scratch up his shirt, motioning for him to take it off. you’re unsure what comes over you, but shit, you don’t want him- you need him.

“heyheyhey, ‘s okay. don’t worry, i got you.”

“i’ll take care of you.”

“just relax, okay? i got this.” he only coos with sweet reassurances, peppering small kisses and handling you with the utmost precision.

you whimper, balancing your palms flat against his abdomen for additional support as you sink down onto itadori’s cock. he lets out a hum of content, forehead bumping against yours as he allows you to adjust.

“you good?” he murmurs after a few moments, capturing a few strands of your hair in between his fingertips. you nod meekly and itadori hisses out a breathy exhale. he’s sure that if he goes rough as shit you might end up more broken than being able to sleep, so he screws his eyes shut and exhales to maintain his composure.

blazing hot lips scrape against your ear, and his voice comes out in a husky tone.

“tell me how you want it.”

by the lords of everything and all that is holy, itadori only chants the same phrase over and over in his mind. it’s a miracle that he’s able to think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock. he’s more than happy to take it slow, reward you with slow and long strokes while he showers you with high praises. but he can’t ignore the twitch that he experiences when he envisions that pretty lil fucked out face of yours, all messy and ruined for him.

you mutter that you have no preference, that you don’t care because anything he’ll do for you is perfect, and it only gives him a beaming smile at your words.

itadori grabs the scrunched up ball of his shirt that he was wearing before ripping the fabric into half with his bare teeth. you watch his eyebrows perk when he notices how fucking hot you just found that, evident with the way your walls fluttered around him.

“here, babe.”

you part your lips and he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, there’s a little bit of excess hanging out, but he reminds you that you look sexy as hell either way, on top of his dick like that with your hands on his chest, legs spread, face flushed and ready for him.

“don’t wanna be wakin’ anyone else up.”

yuuta

this man is about to end my whole career

yuuta wouldn’t bring it up on his own accord just because… respect.. and he doesn’t want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable into doing things you’re not ready to.

it’s kind of a gray area for him because he doesn’t relish the idea of bringing up sensitive and/or extremely awkward topics so he really said ‘i’ll leave it up to future me’s problem’

but holy shit. let me absolutely tell you.

the second you hint at it? anything of the sorts? 0 to 100. he is FREAKY you cannot tell me he’s innocent just LOOK at the man

can make you scream with ease. all that practice he’s been doing with handling katanas? he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum. will gladly lick up your leftover juices and remark with a smile on his face how ‘it tastes good, angel’

similarly to itadori, i think he would be sweet and patient when asking for your preferences, etc, but after that you’re gonna have to find something to bite onto

“and? what’d you tell her?” yuuta remarks from over his fanned out deck of three cards. his gaze flickers to you as he awaits a response before using his index and middle finger to lay down a +4 card.

“red, by the way.”

you huff and glare at your boyfriend, picking up four cards and attempting to hold them in such a way that they don’t all fall and rattle to the floor. truth be told? you’re seriously a sore fuckin’ loser. you don’t know how he does it, but you’ve never managed to win a game against yuuta.

“i told maki-san that it’s her problem, not mine. if she’s so pressed about people taking them, why does she keep noodles stored in the fridge? really, noodles in the fridge? they’re really spicy as well! made my nose run like hell.” you scoff in distaste, throwing down a random red card on the pile.

“you totally ate them didn’t you?” yuuta giggles, beaming you a wide smile.

“also.. told her that i didn’t see them instead but- yeah.”

“aren’t you worried she’ll find out? oh, and, uno.”

“she might just beat me up to be honest, and, uno, you say? not anymore, love.” you sneer, throwing down a +4 card.

“i want green.”

“i’d protect you.” yuuta states over his cards. you feel like cracking a joke and laughing, but there’s absolutely zero implication on his facial features to show that he’s joking. that, and his serious tone, of course.

you flip your cards down onto the table and yuuta squeaks, pointing towards them.

“uh- i can see your cards-“

“it’s okay, not like i was gonna win anyway.”

at this point, yuuta’s mind races a hundred miles an hour. he’s panicking, blood pressure raised, heart thumping and throat clogged. oh, shit, did he do something wrong? did he upset you? is it ‘cause he said he’d protect you with no regards to the fact that you’re perfectly capable of fending yourself off against maki? fuck, he’s such a god damn screw-up, can’t even take care of his girlfriend correct-

“hey.”

your fingertips slide around his neck, hands interlocking at the base of his head. your thighs balance on his lap and you straddle him, legs either side of his.

he can’t help but hitch his breath, holding it in as though one wrong move and you would dematerialise.

“what’re you thinking about in that head of yours?”

whether you’re referencing his mini panic attack just now, or if you’re referring to all the multiple times he’s battled just bending you over and railing the absolute shit out of you, there’s not much room for debate when you brush your clothed sex up against the print of his dick.

yuuta snakes his slender hands around your throat, holding it in place. you can feel the arousal pool and wash over you, and you’d be more than surprised if you hadn’t soaked through your clothes.

he lets out a breathy laugh, devastating your stomach with butterflies due to how attractive he sounds. yuuta’s soft lips brush the shell of your ear and his other hand moves to rest on your waist,

“why don’t i show you?”

before you can utter a tease something along the lines of “show me what? how you’re too scared to hit me in bed?” you’re already down, flipped over and bent over the table you and yuuta were using moments prior ago for uno. the cards have splattered all over the wooden floor and you only hiss in discomfort as the cool surface scratches against your delicate skin. your boyfriend towers over you, leaning down as his torso clicks into place against your back. even through his titanium white jacket, you can feel his calm and collected heartbeat. he rests his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into you.

“don’t scream, okay? or, try not to, at least-“

his warm fingertips ghost over the curve of your ass, where he pinches the skin there before delivering a loud slap. you squeak, back arching as you jolt from the action. he proceeds by grabbing the inside of your thighs, long middle finger hoisting around your underwear and pulling it to the side. he makes note of the red lingerie you’re wearing and gives you a small chuckle, peppering a kiss to the side of your face.

“-unless, of course-“

“-you’d prefer everyone hear me fuck you stupid.”

“safe word’s blue, angel. i love you and thank you.”

truth be told, you were never sure what to expect from yuuta. hell, you’d never really seen the man’s dick before, sure you caught glimpses in the morning whenever he’d wake up but it’s really not the same. nothing in the world can compare to the first time you felt his piping hot tip brush up against your slicked cunt. and it was embarrassing, actually, the way your pussy was seething for him already.

with a firm hold on your tailbone, yuuta utilises his lower body strength to ram his dick all the way inside. there’s a garbled and choked moan that hisses from you when you feel your walls wrap and deform around the girth of yuuta’s dick. you whine even more so when you can physically feel a thick vein that decorates his shaft.

“the mirror.” yuuta commands in a low tone, redirecting you to glance at the same mirror you’d always fantasised about him fucking you in front of.

his eyes are half lidded, riddled with concentration. it reminds you of that feral and focused gaze he gets during serious battles.

“don’t look at me. look here.”

you trail the outline of yuuta’s arm veins as a result of him rolling his uniform sleeves up; following his v line that points towards his dick. you can only gawk in awe when you realise you’ve taken him to the base of his shaft.

his gaze locks with yours for a split second and he snaps his hips out until just about his tip is visible inside your cunt.

and shit, if his pretty pink cock isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, especially with that attractive curve. you’re sure the gesture is just to wind you up, but you can’t help but swoon at him showcasing his pride to you.

“so- mmhf- pretty-“ you whine, words jumbled and breath caught when he slams his dick inside without any prior warning. you can only shriek in exclamation when his tip bruises your cervix, and you’re unsure whether you lament the sensation or not.

he only gives you a cheerful hum, reminding you of his usual cheery disposition. it’s not until then that you realise how much of a fucking beast he’s acting right now.

“right? i’ll put it to good use, i promise.”

gojo

- i know we’re all thinking the same thing here lmfao

- trying to sleep? good for you, now, open your legs for satoru.

- oh you can’t sleep? atta girl, down on your knees for satoru.

- bye i can literally imagine gojo saying some dumbass shit like “think you were trying to sleep but i couldn’t help but think how good my dick would look down your throat like that. sorry, love, you’re not sleeping tonight.”

you blink your eyes in turn with the cicadas chirping aside, stifling a yawn. everything around you down to the very last detail screams at you to sleep, but you just cannot. from the pitch black night that floods the room obscurely, to gojo’s even and quiet breathing beside you. you’ve tried it all. you’ve counted an excess amount of sheep, you’ve tensed and relaxed your body more than you can remember. hell, no matter how many times you’ve flipped the pillow you always seemed to feel less exhausted each time.

you can’t watch netflix, because you’ve binged all your favourite shows. it’s not that you’d wake gojo up because, who cares? by the time you finish scrolling through the endless lists it’ll be time to get up.

you ponder over the things you can do, continuing to subconsciously blink furiously. that is until gojo makes note of your stupid actions and starts giggling like a high schooler at his first sleepover.

“what the hell are you doing?” he snorts, cackling into the pillow like it’s the best joke he’s heard for quite some time.

“shut up, satoru. i’m trying to sleep you ass.” you tut at him, berating him for ruining your divine concentration.

gojo audibly shifts onto his stomach, his right arm crosses over the back of his head as he lazily rests his palm onto his scalp. the other arm preoccupies itself by landing it smack bang onto your chest, fingers wandering up to cup your breast.

“satoru, huh? that’s daddy for ya” he remarks, still giggling in a state of half asleep.

“uh-huh. goodnight.” you dismiss him and his nonsense.

“just go take a shower. always helps me whenever i can’t sleep.”

“hm? you’re giving me actual good advice and being a normal boyfriend? i think i might be asleep already, this is the best dream ever.” you remark sarcastically, prying gojo’s glued wrist off of your breast and sitting up. you could go for a shower, actually. you’re not sure why but it’s always so therapeutic to take one at night rather than the morning.

“huuuh? how could you say that? you’re so mean, (y/n)-chaan! i offered you my love and the world and this is how you repay m-“

“-goodnight satoru. i love you.”

“don’t think professing your love for me will change my mind! i’m still upset at you right now, young lady!” gojo shouts from over his pillow, exclaiming and irritating you in the way he knows how to best.

“yeah, yeah. okay.” you mumble softly to yourself, bearing a wide grin from ear to ear nonetheless.

when you move to crank the water on in the shower, you realise that you didn’t bring along a change of clothes. you momentarily pop back into the bedroom to ransack the drawer for anything that you can find.

“are you back to apologise for being so mean to me?” gojo whines and you can see the pout evident on him even when it’s pitch black.

“no, i’m just here for clothes, satoru.”

you hear him mumble something but it’s muffled by the sheets he’s underneath so you don’t heed any attention to it and resume in taking a shower to help keep your insomnia at bay.

with a ginger step and a small ‘oopf’, you heave yourself into the large shower that only a headass like gojo would bother buying. it’s reminiscent to what a hot tub looks like on the inside, with surrounding jets practically in a full 360 degrees. the things so steep that there’s a small step up in front of the shower outside the actual structure. it must have cost quite the fortune.

you reach in for the built in shelf to grab ahold of some of your toiletries as you allow the water to fall in a gentle sprinkle, almost like rain. there’s an audible squeeze reminiscent to trying to get the last ounces of ketchup as you apply some body gel to your hands, lathering it up.

despite standing, the warmth of the water leads your muscles to feel less tense. the only noteworthy downside is that the running water is tremendously loud. how on earth is gojo sleeping through all that racket?

slender fingertips ghost over your inner thighs. you can feel his wet and sturdy chest in place against your spine.

“surprised to see me?”

“you know i can’t let my baby talk shit like that.”

really? that’s his issue at hand here?

“so which is it?”

“acting like an intolerant brat because you’re tired or ‘cause you wanna get dicked down?”

gojo loops his arm underneath your leg, bending it up. you almost topple over in the process and you lay one hand flat against the tile.

“don’t answer that. sometimes it’s so obvious that you’re such a whore for my dick.”

“huh?! what the shit are you saying?” you snap at how correct he is.

gojo yanks your face back, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he forces you to face him. it almost sends your neck into two pieces, straining to look back at him.

“oh, really princess? just the other day you were begging me to fuck you”

“remember that? couldn’t wait so you rode me in the car? you know, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”

your legs tremble and psyche wobbles when he pries your mouth open with his thumb, promptly before spitting into it.

“don’t bother with the bullshit. i’ll play the games, not you.”

he drags his hard cock against the curve of your ass, slapping it against you.

“i don’t think i feel like fuckin’ you right now.” gojo sneers, humming sardonically. his lips quickly latch onto yours when you spin around to meet his gaze. like the fucker he is, gojo moans and whines into the kiss- lips ravaging you whole and tongue capturing your essence.

“baby girl, i was gonna let you top me. you know i don’t let anyone do that.”

his long middle finger prods against your cunt, forcing itself in with ease.

“damn, you’re soaked. you really wanted to milk me dry that bad?”

you hate him. hate him so fucking bad. he flashes you that attractive smile of his, azure eyes sparkling and snow white hair disturbed with water.

gojo pulls his finger out before sucking onto it in front of you, lapping all the excess arousal off.

“i’m not playing with you tonight.”

toji

- i literally don’t even need to say anything here

- just be sure to make a hospital check up appointment or something

- um-i uh- please remember to breathe after this one? maybe touch some grass? ALSO my first time writing for toji AAA i hope he’s okay

maybe if you don’t breathe? nah, that wouldn’t work. there’s still air acting around your limbs when you move so you’d be disturbing the barriers there. let’s see… maybe bit by bit? surely if you slowly inched his shirt up? then again, wouldn’t toji chew you out halfway through? maybe you should just give it to him straight up? just slip your hand under his shirt. come on. but he looks so peaceful, sleeping like that.. long eyelashes fluttered closed, lips relaxed and not scowling. his eyebrows are softly arched. he looks so soft, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath.

fuck it. just do it. cuddle him already.

you muster up all your courage in one fell swoop and you bend one leg over toji, resting it just above his groin. your right arm sprawls out over his chest and your hand rests against his toned arm. he’s already sleeping with one arm bent up with his hand supporting the back of his head, so you utilise the free real estate to nestle your head in the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet.

when he doesn’t move after a while, you deem your life to be safe and exhale with ease.

“you’re not asleep.” toji states in a groggy, husky tone. it’s supposed to be a question, but, coming from him it almost sounds like a challenge.

“yes?” you squeak out meekly.

“‘yes?’ you asleep or not?”

“i can’t sleep again.” you murmur against his shirt and he exhales a small sigh. the arm that you’re clinging onto moves to draw small circles on your thigh that rests on toji.

“when’d you notice?” you inquire, glancing down at his large wrists.

“like five minutes ago. nice try, kid.” toji snorts indifferently, chuckling at your behaviour.

when you don’t make an effort to respond, toji’s interest peaks and he lets out a small hum of intrigue when he follows your gaze.

he turns his head, brushing his lips up against your temples.

“see anything interesting down there?”

“as a matter of fact-“

you nestle yourself in between toji’s large and built thighs, digits curling around the waistband of his boxers. he only smirks at you through the dark, cock twitching through the fabric. you notice toji hover his hips up so that you can slide his boxers off for him and you happily oblige.

“-i do.” you chime, licking your lips.

it’s cute, though, if you thought toji was gonna let you handle him like that all by yourself.

as you kiss a trail up his thick shaft, toji yanks ahold fistfuls of your hair before grabbing your face off of his cock.

“who said you could suck my dick? that’s real cute.”

“thinking you actually have a place in my house.”

“i didn’t train you to be such a depraved slut. know your fucking place, because this isn’t it.”

“how many times do i gotta tell you? you don’t belong here. look around. do you see anything that shows a woman lives here? no? that’s because you’re nothing but a fuck doll for me.”

toji hisses out profanities at the gag you spew when he slams your tiny little mouth back down on his dick.

“lose the teeth you imbecile. unless you’re trying to tell me that you can’t suck my dick properly.”

incessant whines and garbled sentences are muffled by toji’s cock. whatever remnants you had of your vision are nothing but a blur as tears stream your cheeks, nose running and sniffles resurface in a repeating pattern over the slick sounds of slurping and gagging. your mouth stretches as far as it can go and the corners of your lips shriek in despair. you can feel the skin there stretch and pull beyond what’s considered normal.

even through all that, you manage to glance up at toji through your water logged lashes. you’ll be a good girl for him. you need to be.

“fuuuck. that’s a pretty sight.” he grumbles and a deep chuckle resonates through his chest. within a few moments, toji fumbles to reach for something.

you can only wince and screw your eyes at the suddenly blinding flash of a light in front of you. one can only assume he’s taken a photo of you in your humiliating state.

you can feel the fear settle into your veins when that telltale ping of a message being sent vibrates throughout the room. if you were to listen hard enough, you could hear a notification go off in the next room over.

your throat feels raw, jaw tense and locked open. it’s been a good twenty minutes of toji face fucking you to teach you a valid lesson. it’s all in the will of him wanting to drag this on, savouring every miniscule slurp, whimper or gasp. when his strokes start to feel sloppier than usual, you can’t help but feel relieved.

as you squirm about due to toji shooting hot ropes of his thick cum down your throat, the door softly clicks open.

“megumi. you’re just in time.”

“she’s way more obedient than your mom ever used to be.”