#sometimes you want to bash your head into a wall and cry

[iridescentis]

losing my mind a little

[starsofang]

To Be Loved is to Be Seen

johnny mactavish x f!reader

word count: 5.2k

tw: NSFW content, abuse (from other partner), hurt/comfort, smut, oral, p in v, happy ending, bad scottish accent (i tried)

Johnny hated your boyfriend. In fact, if he could string him up on a pole and castrate the bloke himself, he’d do it with a damn smile — that was how much he loathed him.

To get you to realize how shitty your boyfriend was felt like a near impossible task. Alas, you didn’t know Johnny, but Johnny certainly knew you. How could he not, when he’d spent every morning and every night, hearing your shouts and pitiful whimpers of defeat through the thin walls of your neighboring apartments?

He knew your boyfriend had spouts of anger, could tell from the sounds of drywall cracking on occasion, or the sounds of things clattering in a messy heap on the floor, sometimes shattering, sometimes rolling around after a particularly loud thud.

Your boyfriend was a nuisance that didn’t know how to care for a woman, and he made a show of it every night when Johnny heard him.

Now, Johnny was a respectful man. He’d never hurt another person unless they were deserving — perks of being in the military, it made that excuse much easier to use.

But your boyfriend? He was more than deserving. He was practically asking for Johnny to bash his pathetic face in, cowering beneath Johnny as he pleaded and begged for him to stop.

Johnny just had to figure out a way to slowly slip into your life, befriend you as a friendly neighbor, so he could kick the damn reality into that pretty head of yours. After all, Johnny would never hit you. Johnny would never call you names. Johnny would never make you cry in anguish.

The opportunity arose when he went to collect his mail and saw you standing there, fumbling with your mail key in frustration. Faulty lock, he assumed, but that was perfect for him.

“Need some ‘elp?” Johnny asked you, and when you perked your head up in surprise, he was already plotting murder in his mind when he saw the ugly bruise being sported underneath your eye.

“Oh. Yeah, actually, stupid thing never wants to unlock,” you said, and your voice up close and not through a thin wall was like sweet nectar from a flower.

He smiled with a nod, politely stepping up to your mailbox. You handed him the key, and he eagerly placed it in the lock. Wiggling it around a bit, it took him a few moments and grunts of concentration before the mailbox popped open.

Your face lit up in delight and you profusely thanked him, taking the key from his hands. Your hands were soft and warm, he noted when the two of yours brushed during the exchange, and he felt his heart swell with affection.

Such pretty hands on such a pretty girl should be kissed and held with nothing less than care. They shouldn’t be the victim of a fighting match, where it was obvious you were the losing opponent every time.

“No’ a problem. Johnny,” he introduced with his hand outstretched, and when you flashed him that smile as you introduced yourself back, he made it his absolute mission to make sure this wouldn’t be your last interaction.

The next time you saw Johnny, it was when the two of you were leaving your respective apartments at the same time (really, Johnny had been listening on for signs of when you’d leave as an excuse to leave his own place).

You lit up when you saw him, once again thanking him for helping you with the mailbox. Your eyes fluttered over to his door that he was in the process of locking, and you realized dumbly that he was your neighbor.

“I didn’t know you lived next to us, Johnny!” Us. The word made his eye twitch. “You’ve never introduced yourself.”

“No’ around all tha’ much.” He shrugged, and you hummed in understanding.

“I see. I’ve got to get to work, but it was nice seeing you, Johnny. Don’t be a stranger!”

He watched you go, feet leading you down the hall and towards the elevator of the building. He stood frozen in place, the breath in his lungs caught when he noticed the bruising on the back of your exposed calves from the skirt you wore.

A knock on his door days later had Johnny grumbling to himself, and when he checked the time, it was nearing midnight. He’d normally be on guard, what with his whole military career, but the only people that ever visited his place were Simon, Kyle, or Price.

Opening the door, it was neither of the three and instead, you. Sporting comfortable pajamas that swallowed you whole and made him want to scoop you up and keep you safe.

“Hi, Johnny! Were you sleeping?”

He was, but that didn’t matter.

“Nah, wasn’t sleepin’. Ye need somethin’, love?”

You threw him a sheepish smile that could melt any man’s heart. It was a wonder how your own man couldn’t see that. “I, ah, ran out of sugar. Baking’s my hobby, y’know? Silly me, I forgot to buy some from the shop.”

“…S’midnight.”

“…Is that a no to the sugar?”

Johnny huffed out a laugh, a smile perking on his lips. You were cute, it was to die for.

“Nah. ‘Course ye can have sugar. Tha’ all you came ‘ere for?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating something Johnny wasn’t aware of. Now that he thought about it, your shitty boyfriend wasn’t anywhere in sight, and he hadn’t heard any noise from your apartment earlier.

“Well,” you began, inhaling before slowly exhaling. “Okay, no, I don’t need the sugar. I have plenty of it, actually. It’s just, ah…”

“Go on.”

“My boyfriend went out with some friends tonight and I don’t really want to be alone. I get nervous when I’m by myself, y’know?”

Your boyfriend knew this, and didn’t even bother to bring you with? Wasn’t texting you throughout the night to give you sweet reassurances, telling you he’d be home soon? Was he even out with his friends?

“Ye dinnae have any girl friends to call?” Johnny asked carefully, not wanting to make you feel unwelcome, but also wanting to tread on a thin line. He couldn’t jump to the opportunity, or you might think he’s weird and eager.

When you shook your head with a defeated look on your face, his own heart shattering rang in his ears. The fact you had no friends to confide in, to go out and enjoy yourself with, it didn’t sit right with him.

Silently, he opened up his door a bit more to welcome you in, and you flashed him a pretty smile before eagerly prancing inside.

His apartment was a bit underwhelming, and there wasn’t much that showed he was even living in it besides the furniture to show as evidence. You didn’t seem to mind as you took it in, smile gracing your features when he gestured towards the couch.

“Ye wan’ a drink, lass?” Johnny asked you, and when you saw him standing in the kitchen, he helped up a bottle of alcohol and a bottle of juice. He was offering you a choice of either, but you didn’t see the harm in drinking a bit and letting loose.

“Why not?” You shrugged, pointing to the left hand that held the liquor. He beamed at you, satisfied by your answer and promptly began to pour you and him a drink.

“So yer boyfriend jus’ up and left ye for the night?” Johnny asked as he sat next to you on the couch, placing the glasses on the coffee table in front of you.

He watched as you eagerly took a sip of the liquor, unable to contain the amusement when your nose wrinkled up as you swallowed it down.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you sighed, lips pouting a bit in the form of a frown. He tried not to stare. “Said he needed a night off. And he deserves it, y’know?”

Johnny raised an eyebrow at you, slowly taking a gulp from his own glass before placing it back down. He definitely didn’t think your boyfriend deserved a night to himself, nor that he worked hard in the slightest.

Hell, Johnny could hear the two of you have sex on occasional nights through the shared walls, and that certainly didn’t sound like your boyfriend was working hard. If anything, it was pitiful and sad.

“Deserves it,” he hummed, and you whipped your head to look at him, causing him to snicker into his glass as he took another sip.

You looked conflicted, taking your bottom lip between your teeth again. It puffed up, causing it to turn a bright pink, and he willed himself to keep his gaze on your eyes rather than your mouth.

“He… works hard,” you defended.

“We all do,” Johnny retorted.

“Everybody deserves a night out.”

“Have ye had a night out then?”

Silence.

Johnny might’ve been pushing it too hard. After all, he knew more than you were aware of. He was sure you had no idea how thin the walls were and that he was practically a third person in your relationship issues.

“Consider this yer night out,” Johnny claimed with a warm smile, and it seemed to work because you smiled back, downing the rest of your drink.

“Thank you for keeping me company, Johnny. I know it’s late. You’re sure I’m not bothering you?”

Oh, you could never bother Johnny. He was practically head over heels just from seeing you for the first time and hearing your voice. Love at first sight, he thought, he was completely enamored with you.

“No’ a bother, dove. We’re neighbors. It’d be smart to be friends, aye?”

“Friends?” Your tone was excited and he wanted so badly to be more than that. “I’d love to be friends! Officially, now that we’re technically drinking together, right?”

You gave a playful nudge to his shoulders with yours and he felt his entire being soften with delight. He smiled at you, eyes crinkling into little crescents as he nodded in agreement.

Friends he could do. Being friends meant he would have more opportunity to try and shield you from harm, the harm being your boyfriend, and even if it took patience, he’d wait for it.

The two of you found yourselves in a flurry of conversation, the bottle of liquor dwindling down until there was nothing left. Time seemed to slip away between you, and when the clock hit 3:00 AM, a series of bangs came battering at Johnny’s door.

They were loud and angry, relentless and never ending until Johnny forced himself off of the couch to swing it open.

Your boyfriend’s face came into view and Johnny wished he could rearrange his teeth in that ugly scowl of his.

“Is she here? I heard her voice,” he demanded, and your head peeked out from behind Johnny. Guilt and shame shined in your irises, and it was as if all of the joy you felt when spending time in your newfound friendship with your neighbor had vanished into nothing.

When your boyfriend saw the sight of you, he put on a sickeningly sweet smile. If he was trying to play off his anger until he got back into your apartment, he was doing a poor job of doing so. Or it was because Johnny already knew about his true colors.

“I’m home. Let’s get you to bed, yeah? It’s late,” your boyfriend cooed, and Johnny had to stop himself from sneering at the venom that dripped beneath his tone.

You nodded silently, shuffling by Johnny and out of the threshold. Johnny and your boyfriend watched as you entered your own apartment, disappearing inside and leaving the door open.

Johnny knew what was going to come, and as much as he wanted to stop it from happening, he knew he couldn’t. Not yet.

“Thanks for, ah, taking care of her while I was out. Let’s not make it a habit,” your boyfriend practically spat, and Johnny gave him an unphased smile.

“Only if ye stop makin’ it a habit to hit ‘er every chance ye get,” Johnny replied back in the same tone, keeping his smile on his face. It was a threat, a warning, and Johnny wasn’t ashamed to make it clear. “I see another bruise on ‘er body, I’ll fuckin’ kill ye.”

Your boyfriend must not have had many people retort back to him. His face morphed into a stunned one before flashing in anger and annoyance, and when he went to snap back, Johnny shut the door in his face before he had a chance to.

He made sure to stay up the rest of the night, eyes staring at the ceiling from where he laid in bed. He kept his ears locked in to the shared wall, listening in for a single sound of fists connecting with bone or a broken wail out of your lips.

When he heard nothing, he knew he’d gotten through for now.

You’d visit his apartment when your boyfriend wasn’t around. You’d come to enjoy his company, and even went as far as going against your boyfriend’s wishes of never seeing Johnny again. You told him it was because he was your only friend, and he’d accept you with open arms every time you came knocking.

The back and forth went on for months. Johnny was even more smitten than before, and his patience for claiming you as his own was slowly slipping.

He hated seeing you sad when you’d come on nights after a bad argument. He hated seeing the tears flowing down your cheeks, smothering your delicate skin with dewy shine, reddening your pretty eyes and glossing them over with heartache.

The heartache you felt would transfer on to Johnny.

He didn’t understand why your boyfriend didn’t treat you like the lovely canvas you were. Didn’t cover you with love and affection, instead covering you with black and blue. He tainted you with colors that didn’t clash with the beauty of your skin, when you deserved to be painted with skies of pink.

Johnny knew you deserved better.

When you came on a particular night, face swollen with tears of sadness and blood, he nearly saw red. Such a delicate thing to be so cruelly used as a personal stress reliever should never have happened, and Johnny was at his wits end.

“Leave ‘im,” Johnny ordered when he brought you inside of his apartment. He stood in front of you in the vacancy of his bathroom, a warm washcloth nursing your wounds with tender hands, grimacing every time you winced from pain.

“I can’t,” you whispered, and he shook his head.

“Bullshit. Leave ‘im. A pretty bird like ye doesn’t deserve this.” When you said nothing and stared down at your hands in your lap, he pushed further. “So many men out there wouldn’t lay a finger on ye. They’d never hurt ye. They’d never hit ye. I’d never do that.”

Your eyes flickered up to meet his, and he allowed it, locking your gazes with one another as a heavy silence filled the room. Your eyes remained filled with unshed tears, glistening in the dim lighting of his bathroom. To you, you looked like broken mess. To him, you looked like you held the entire night sky in your eyes.

Everything happened so quickly, Johnny’s mind nearly didn’t comprehend it. One second, you were staring, the next, your lips had crashed into his without a second thought.

Even with a split lip that tasted faintly of metallic blood, he thought you tasted divine. It was as if sweetness exuded from all parts of you, painting him with a sugary high that he could never get enough of.

One hand strayed to your hair while the other rested along the bathroom counter where your hips rested. Your own hands fisted the front of his shirt, tugging him closer, as if scared he’d fade away.

He planned on going nowhere. This was all he ever wanted, from the moment he heard you for the first time as his neighbor from behind the walls of your apartments.

When he first heard you belting out a song he didn’t know the name of in the security of your own place, presumably when your boyfriend wasn’t around to quiet you down.

When he ran into you at the mailboxes and finally learned your name. When he heard your speaking voice that wasn’t filled with anguish, trembling with shaky tears.

Johnny pressed into you further, consuming every part of the kiss with an eager passion. When he heard the faintest whimper melt from your mouth into his own mouth, he would’ve killed the entire world to hear it again.

“Dinnae be quiet,” he breathed into your lips, smile curling against them. “No need for tha’. Can be as loud as ye want here.”

Your eyes blinked prettily at him from where your foreheads connected. His thumb grazed along your cheek in such a tender manner, it pained your heart in the best way.

Your boyfriend never touched you that way. Never treated you that way. Never loved you that way.

Johnny returned his mouth to yours and you fell back into the clumsy dance of lips and tongue, like a waltz the two of you were learning with one another.

It was intense and fierce, yet gentle and passionate at the same time. You felt dizzy, your mind clouding with nothing but want and desire.

It was wrong of you to do this. Johnny was your friend and neighbor, and you had a boyfriend.

But then you thought back on everything Johnny had been making you realize — a man who loved you would never treat you how your boyfriend treated you. He’d treat you how Johnny was treating you now, soft and caring, pouring his heart and soul into every delicate touch.

On late nights when you stayed up, Johnny was there with the door already unlocked for you. He’d make you laugh, make you smile, he’d heal the inner child you desperately needed to seek. You’d lost her along the way, and Johnny was there to remind her.

“Johnny,” you breathed out, and his smile returned.

“Wha’ is it, dove?”

“I—“ You inhaled sharply, trying to collect your scrambled mind and piece together the words. “I want you. Please.”

Johnny sucked in his own breath, eyes piercing into yours. They flickered along the features of your battered face, and even in this state, he graveled in your beauty.

“I can make tha’ happen.”

Johnny laid you on his bed as if you were the most precious thing to cushion it. His hands roamed your body like mapping out every roll and curve, keeping it noted in his head for future endeavors.

He took his time with you, placing gentle kisses along every bruise, bump, and scar that your sorry excuse of a boyfriend had left embedded in you to remember forever. Johnny didn’t look at them in disgust like you expected, no — he ravished them like fine china, careful and precise, spending as much time needed to ensure each and every one was cherished.

His hands were eager yet patient as he stripped you of your clothes, making sure to take his off in the process so you didn’t feel uncomfortably exposed.

He only thought of your best interests, and it made you feel desired.

“Look at ye,” he breathed, hands slowly gliding down the plains of your stomach and to your thighs. He carefully parted them, eyes dropping down to the glisten of your cunt, taking it in. He sucked in a breath, thumbs stroking along your knees.

Your hands lifted to cover your face, embarrassment filling you to the core. He tsked, lifting a hand to grasp your arm and pull it from your face. He pinned it lightly to the side of your head, peering down at you.

“None of tha’,” he pleaded. “Wanna see ye, bonnie.”

You nodded your head, silently agreeing with him. He took his hand off your arm, flashing you a pleased smile.

He returned to caressing, cascading rough hands down your sides, to your hips, to your thighs, until they traveled back up. The touch of his fingers was light against your core, testing the waters.

“Oh,” you gasped, air getting caught in your lungs. He smiled again, all teeth and all crinkly eyes, before delving his venture further.

His index found your clit and he began a slow and antagonizing pace, circling and stroking, eyes focused on your face to piece together your reaction.

Your eyes were fluttering at the ceiling, breasts rising and falling with every staggered breath.

It was a sight to see. Johnny felt his chest swell with pride that finally, after pining after you for months, feelings hidden away in the dark, he was the one making you this way.

His finger slipped down, seeking the wetness that seeped shamelessly. He scooped his finger in the mess, lifting it to his mouth to wrap his lips around it.

You watched, eyes dazed and hazy. You shouldn’t have enjoyed the sight, but it burned a fire in you.

His smile turned into a bashful grin when he popped his finger out of his mouth, and before you had a chance to breathe, he slipped that same finger inside, prodding you open.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered pathetically.

“Yeah?” he breathed. You nodded dumbly. He huffed out a laugh, curling his finger in a way that had you squirming. “Look bonnie like this. Ye my pretty girl, aye?”

You nodded again, hands fisting his bedsheets beneath you.

“Won’t ever hurt ye,” he continued, and before you knew it, his second finger joined in. “Won’t ever make ye cry. Too pretty to cry, aren’t ye?”

“Johnny,” you pleaded. He pumped his fingers slowly at first, but the sound of his name on your lips urged him to increase the pace.

It was heaven hearing it come from you, and combined with your sweet moans? He was hearing church bells in his mind.

You squirmed beneath him, panting and writhing like the pretty thing you were. He wanted more, he wanted to hear you.

Johnny dove his head down, fingers still buried to the knuckle. His tongue poked out to press flat against your clit, lathing you in bliss and making you see stars.

Your boyfriend never made you feel this way. You were on a cloud, floating peacefully in the skies above.

He could never pull the desperate moans out of you, he could never make your thighs tremble like you’d just run a marathon around the world.

Johnny’s mohawk was soft on your fingertips when you grasped them. You held back, only gripping softly.

“Pretty girl, ye can grip harder than tha’,” he assured when he came up for air. You stared down at him with wet eyes, filled with hazy pleasure. He wouldn’t return to using his mouth until you followed his order, so you did, grabbing a fistful of hair and lightly pushing him against your cunt.

He groaned in approval, burying his face between your legs and eagering fucking his fingers in you.

The stimulation caused your back to arch, a moan bursting out of you. The sound surprised you. You’d never heard yourself sound so wrecked, especially before the main event.

This was how sex was supposed to feel. Cherished, adored, and downright sinful.

The knot in your stomach seemed to tighten, and your thighs clumsily squirmed around, encasing his head between them. You panted breathlessly, the sounds filling the room with an unforgivable act of immorality.

“Johnny, Johnny, I—“ Your words were cut off by your own broken sob, and he feasted harder, urging you to your breaking point more and more.

It was too much. You wouldn’t be able to hold back, nor did you want to. This feeling was too blissful to pull away from, so you allowed yourself the moment of selfishness.

When it hit you, your entire body convulsed. Your stomach tightened and clenched, thighs gripping tight around Johnny’s head, quivering with every movement.

“Tha’s it, dove. Good girl,” he praised. You keened, eyes squeezing shut as your climax came over you.

His fingers slowed their pace but didn’t dare leave your body as he pulled you through the last drops of your orgasm. When he felt you had enough, he swiftly pulled them out, staring up at you with eyes pouring with admiration.

“Look at ye,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to stroke over your cheek. You hadn’t realized they were wet with tears until he stroked them away with a thumb. “Gorgeous girl. Tha’ okay?”

“Absolutely,” you breathed, voice broken.

You regained your breath, chest no longer heaving like a panting dog, and you came out of your clouded haze.

“Let me make ye feel even better, aye? Can fill ye up, wanna feel ye, please, bonnie—“

You nodded before even making up your mind, but really, you didn’t need to. It was already made up the moment he let you into his home and offered friendship.

Johnny climbed over you, careful not to crush you. He hovered, face aligned with yours and a smile on his face. You stared at him in awe.

That smile of his could light up the whole world if he allowed it. It lit up yours, after all.

His hand dove between your bodies, and when you felt the head of him slowly press to your entrance, you sucked in a breath.

He took his time, slowly easing into you, filling you and leaving you with greedily wanting more and more.

“Oh god,” you groaned, and he followed after. His eyes were squeezed shut as you took him in fully, and when he bottomed out, he forced them open to gaze down at you.

“Look at me the ‘ole time, aye? Wanna see ye,” he said, and who were you to deny it?

Johnny began to move and you had to force your eyes open every time they threatened to flutter closed. He filled you from an emptiness you weren’t aware you had until now, and you never wanted it to leave.

Just like with his fingers, he started off slow. He didn’t want to hurt you, but the more he stared at the pleasured, fucked-out look on your face, his resolve broke and he found himself losing control.

One particularly hard thrust had you gasping, hands scrabbling for purchase on his biceps, and that was all he needed to snap.

Hips thrust erratically into you, plunging deeper and deeper every single hit. The noises were nothing but dirty, a mix of sinful slaps and shaky moans filling the atmosphere.

“Takin’ me so good, bonnie,” he sighed, hand cradling your cheek as he continued his relentless torture. “Made for me, yeah?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, fingernails dipping into his skin and marking him with crescent shaped indents. “All for you, Johnny, nobody else.”

“Tha’s right, sweet girl.” His head tilted down to graze his lips along your jaw, peppering loving kisses up to your ear. “Dinnae need tha’ bloke of yours anymore. ‘M gonna take care of ye.”

That sounded divine. You wanted all of that and more.

“Please,” you begged, though unsure what for.

Johnny smiled against your skin before pulling himself back up. He grabbed hold of your legs, gently pressing them up so your knees were level with your chest.

His eyes never strayed from your face, not even when he went back to giving you everything he had in the way he fucked you.

He was proudly marking his territory, taking everything you had while giving you everything in return.

You couldn’t compress the moans that escaped you with every brutal thrust in your cervix. He was hitting every damn spot in you, as if he had your entire body already mapped out.

“Gonna take ye away from ‘im,” he grunted, his fingertips digging into the flesh of your thighs where they pressed against your chest. “Never gonna let another man hurt ye again.”

You cried, tears pouring down your cheeks in rivers. Your body was so overwhelmed with the pleasure he brought you, but god, you wanted all of it. You were going to make sure you took it all.

Johnny continued his string of praises as he glided in and out of you, your cunt molding around him like the perfect fit. He was fast and hard with his actions, yet his words were sweet and tender, only ever showering you with things you needed to hear.

“Ye gonna give me another one, pretty girl?” he asked, his own voice nearly failing on him from his own pleasure.

You nodded quickly, eyes locked on to his. He grinned in approval, cocking his head to the side.

“C’mon, bonnie. Ken ye can do it f’me.”

Those words of encouragement were enough to have you clenching around him, body succumbing to your second orgasm. You felt absolutely divine, head completely spacing out and relieving itself of any worries or stress.

“There ye go,” he cooed, unstopping of his thrusts. He chased his own release, sweat beading along his forehead and dripping down his temple. “Such a good girl, bonnie.”

You whimpered, body spent and exhausted. You didn’t stop that from allowing him to seek out his pleasure. The thought of him filling you, of fully claiming you as his stirred a wild thought in your mind, and you needed it.

“Please, Johnny,” you whined, and he let out a breathless chuckle. It vibrated you to the core.

“Dinnae worry, dove, I’ll give ye what ye want.”

It didn’t take him long to find himself. His movements became less precise and more sloppy, hands slipping from your thighs when his grip became unfocused.

Warmth filled you from the inside and you reveled in its comfort, sighing shakily. He pumped himself in you a few more times, making sure to get out every drop, before stopping to catch his breath.

Johnny looked gorgeous like this. Glistening in sweat, lips parted to suck in air, cheeks flushed pink from the warmth that took over the room.

You couldn’t stop your hand from lifting off of his arm to gently caress his cheek. When he felt your touch, he smiled, leaning into it.

Your heart nearly burst in fondness.

Johnny cleaned you up and let you change into his clothes, which you happily put on.

The two of you laid in the comfort of his bed, his arm tucking you into his side, your eyes staring up at the ceiling.

“I meant everythin’ I said, dove. ‘M gonna take ye away from ‘im, ye won’t ever have to deal with ‘im again,” Johnny said softly.

The thought of leaving your boyfriend was scary, but the thought of leaving behind Johnny after this was scarier. You knew what the obvious choice was.

You had to trust him. And trust him you did.

“Okay,” you whispered in return, and when he turned his head to smile down at you, you’d happily go along this journey into the unknown with him.

finally got around to writing smut like i’ve been planning on and what better choice than mr mactavish himself 🙏��� hes so yummy i wanna eat him

[farfromstrange]

Fictober Day 4: Thigh Riding

Fictober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Prompt: Thigh Riding (✨)

Summary: You ride Matt's thigh. That's it. That's the plot.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), thigh riding, dirty talk, use of "good girl", PWP

Word Count: 817

A/n: Today, you are getting a Drabble. I finally managed to write something a little shorter, but I did it mostly to challenge myself. I don't write Drabbles often, so this was fun to do, especially with that prompt. If you were hoping for something longer, I apologize, but thigh riding is one of the juiciest prompts for our Deranged Catholic Lawyer ever and I might use it again in the future.

[Smut right under the cut!]

Read Me On AO3!

The air is thick with sweat and despair. Every breath you take gets caught in your throat and turns into a wanton moan. It’s loud enough to bounce off the walls and spiral back to you. 

You most certainly lost your mind a long time ago. 

Matt has been so busy lately, never leaving a hopeless stone unturned until he has done everything he can to help those who can’t help themselves. It’s one of many things you love so much about it. You are so in love it sometimes makes you want to bash your head through drywall. And tonight, he has taken the night off from the streets of Hell’s Kitchen to take care of his girl. Because you need him, and he can’t say no when you need him. When he can smell the arousal soaking through your panties the moment he sets foot in the door. 

The dinner you made was forgotten before you even had a chance to tell him what you made. Matt walked in, and the second his senses picked up on you in that tiny black dress, he pounced like a starving animal on the hunt. 

Your bare cunt drags over the fabric of his clothed thigh as his nails bury themselves in the flesh around your hips. With every brush of your clit against the taunt muscle, a million fires reignite in your belly. You are weak to the smoldering heat of an inferno waiting to happen and level you to the ground. 

“That’s it,” he grunts in your ear. “Just like that.”

There is nothing more ethereal to him than you when you are like this—mouth agape against his shoulder, biting the fabric of his dress shirt, and your heart beating through your chest into his. He can feel you in every crevice of his being, taste you on his tongue. When you’re this vulnerable for him, when you let your guard down to take the pleasure you deserve, you are the easiest to admire.

His words are far out of his control as they slip, injecting them right into your bloodstream like the most addictive drug on the market—and you are getting it all for free. 

Good girl. Take what you need. Gonna make yourself come, hm? 

Your eyes roll back into your head. 

Gonna wear those pants to work tomorrow so I can smell you. Imagine what it’d be like to bend you over and fuck you ‘till all of New York knows my name. That what you want? Yeah, you do. That’s my girl. 

To him, it sounds like gibberish, but with every syllable uttered, your heart starts beating faster. Your walls clench around nothing. Your lungs contract, and you cry his name into the void. That’s what he was looking for. 

Matt drags his nose from behind your ear, down your throat. Your pulse jumps under his touch. He revels in the way you react to him, always. Like you have never been touched before. 

“Mine,” he writes those words on your upper thigh as he says them, barely conscious yet precise with his fingertips. “You’re mine.”

The possessiveness he feels with you makes him crazy, but you are not so far behind him. He has long driven you into madness. You would use a hot iron and brand his name into your skin if it meant you could stay like this forever, with him. 

“Yours,” you choke out between pants. Yours, and only yours. Though you’re not strong enough to say much more, not when it feels this good to ride those thick thighs of his.

His hand comes to rest around your neck. Air is a luxury, but with him, you don’t need it. You like it when your head gets fuzzy, and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as the noose of pleasure threatens to hang you. 

He’s flexing his thigh and squeezing your neck, and the crescendo is building; you can’t outrun it. Your cunt continues to grind against him, so selfish, so needy, and you know you would give him anything if he just asked. 

The light at the end of the tunnel is right there. Every drag feels like a punch to your gut, but a pleasurable one nonetheless. Not a second goes by when you’re not connected to him. And when you open your eyes and you see the look on Matt’s face, the way he’s taking you in, it’s more than enough to send you hurdling over the edge.

As always though, he is there to catch you as you fall. 

“Shh,” he runs his hand through your hair, “I’ve got you. Breathe.”

You breathe him in. Your legs may be shaking, and you have lost all sense of time, but you are with the man you love, and nothing could ever make you quite as happy as he does. 

@ebathory997 @the-b33skn33s @scoliobean @drmeghanjones @lanae111 @steve-chandler @lucienofthelakes @xnatyx @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @zomtart @ethereal-blaze

[webslingingslasher]

love frat peter with all my heart but i literally think i would bash my head against the wall (not bf peter situationship peter)

*cleaning out my inbox.*

‘if i was my friend, i would be calling them an idiot for getting played and being pathetic. yet, here i am, swearing it’s different and no one gets him like i do.’

a deep sigh. ‘i’m a fucking joke.’

peter can find the bliss in being ignorant, but sometimes he forgets that you live in it too, and can pull him right out of his trance and into reality.

this was one of those times. it wasn’t meant for his ears, he was just at the right place at the wrong time.

there’s nothing blissful about being aware you’re just a bad decision. and what a corner he’s backed himself into, would it hurt more to end it before you start to resent him or hurt more to keep continuing the same path, even if it’ll end in what you want?

would you still want him? or is he just subconsciously showing you how bad of a boyfriend he’d really be?

peter’s a lot of things, and since he’s met you, he’s become one more.

selfish.

it's not lost on him, peter can pretend to be stupid but he's smart enough to know what's actually going on under the surface. it's just nice in the blanket of ignorance.

'hey, stop being so mean to yourself. peter likes you, a lot. even if he pretends he doesn't.' your roommate is fighting for him, he's about to bring her a "just because" gift card.

'no, no, no, no! don't cry! stop crying!' peter's heart lurches, he wants to break the door down and give you a hug, especially when he can hear how watery your voice is.

'that's the whole fucking point! i mean, where do i get off on thinking that? i get he doesn't want to sit around and have a feelings party, but it would be really fucking nice to hear him say he wants to date me. or anything really.'

'hey,' peter's heart races, he's not sure what your roommate is about to admit to. 'remember a few weeks ago the frat had the black and red party, you skipped cause you were sick? - right, well, peter got fucking wasted and kept talking about you.'

a sniffle, no more tears. 'really? what'd he say?'

her boyfriend was one of the guys he talked to all night long, no doubt she got all the same information second hand. she could spill or she could let it mean something and let peter get there first.

peter could put aside his ego for ten minutes. if only to make you feel better.

'well, he-' before he could get thrown under the bus, he knocks on your door. 'hold on-' your roommate answers, you offer no movement, staring at the floor with your back turned.

she's looking at him expectantly, peter tilts his head towards you. 'wanna let me handle this one?' it's instant, your head whips around, the look on his face lets you know he heard everything.

'no, go away.'

peter sighs, 'trouble.'

'no, cause i already know what you're going to say.'

'no, you don't know what i'm about to say.'

tears blot at your eyes, your roommate ditches you in a second. peter approaches slowly while you're crawling up your bed. 'don't-' you take a sharp breath, 'don't even say anything cause i know i won't wanna hear it.'

you stare at your roommates side when peter takes a seat next to you, he's inches away, you feel too vulnerable to face him. you already know what he's about to say, that he likes hanging out with you and it typically starts and ends there.

'hey, trouble. you wanna look at me?'

you shake your head, it's pointless because peter's already cupping your face pulling it towards his. 'ready?' you pull his hands off you by tugging at his wrists, a grouchy persona took over.

'for the same conversation? sure, peter.'

'i like you.'

you wait for the friendly twist he always likes to slide in. 'i like you, you're pretty cool, you know?' but it doesn't come. peter ended it on that, you peek back at him, he doesn't seem as scary as before.

'yeah? and?'

peter reaches out to brush his thumb across your cheek. 'that's what i said at the party. that i like you.' a flash of disappointment, he moves past it. 'and that's only because i wanted to save this next part just for you.'

attention caught, blown pupils look into his own.

'i want you to be my girlfriend,' he's quick to kill the light that roars in your eyes. 'wait, wait, wait, no, let me finish.' you feel like you're walking a tightrope.

'i like you and i want you to be my girlfriend, just... not yet. but that's what i want and that's kind of my end goal in this.'

a double ended sword, either you suffer in silence until he’s ready, or you suffer until you can’t stand it anymore and leave.

'that's it?' he couldn't have worded it in a way to get every single hope up, to make you feel weightless for an entire second before he pulled the rug?

'yeah, that's it.' what did you want? an i love you?

‘oh.’ you pull at the sleeves of your sweater to cover your hands. ‘oh?’ peter tries to catch your eyes, you sound more sad now than when you were crying.

‘i need time to think, i think.’

‘think about what?’

‘this.’ you gesture at the empty space between you. ‘us.’

peter’s turn, he understands. ‘oh.’ you nod, ‘yeah, oh.’ there’s an awkward pause in the room, neither of you quite sure what to say or where to go from there.

there was nothing peter could do, he’s just a person at your disposal. ‘um,’ think, peter, think. he wishes you weren’t hiding your eyes from him. ‘okay. that’s okay. we can…’ peter takes a big breath, he didn’t realize how much he didn’t want this until now. ‘… we can spend some time apart.’

‘okay.’ why weren’t you bothered? why weren’t you more upset? why were you so fucking indifferent?

peter feels selfish again, he just doesn’t know if he’ll get one again. ‘can i get a kiss before i go?’ you take a moment to make up your mind, peter wonders if you’re agreeing for the same reason. ‘yeah.’

no, it’s because he’s selfish. you don’t initiate anything, just frowning at your fingers as they curl and uncurl around the fabric of the sweatshirt he once owned.

‘i can’t kiss you if i can’t see you, trouble.’ a distant nod, ‘right.’ peter wishes he didn’t ask to look at you, he wishes he didn’t notice the blank look in your eyes. ‘are you okay, trouble?’

it’s soft, and delicate. he just wants to make you feel better, but he’s the one hurting you. it’s so utterly selfish, yet you want it too.

‘no.’ if you whisper it, it doesn’t hurt so bad. for either of you. you can both pretend it wasn’t said. ‘i’m sorry.’ there’s a lot to be sorry for, it’s just a blanket statement.

‘yeah.’ neither of you believe it. you just want him gone, you need to treat yourself like a friend. ‘kiss?’ peter wants to keep talking, but he can’t really find anything substantial to say.

it wasn’t very tender, or sweet. maybe it was the passion peter was missing, everything feels so sad. was this the answer before you said it? was this a goodbye kiss? if not, why did it feel like one?

peter pats your knee, ‘balls in your court, trouble. call me when you’re ready?’ you daintily nod, it’s like you’re in another world. ‘okay.’

you hold your eyes shut when peter kisses your forehead, it’s bullshit. ‘and if you need me, we can put this to the side, okay?’

‘okay,’ you push him back. ‘you can go now.’ peter has to swallow a lump in his throat, you’re eager to push him out and push him away. is this how you feel? is peter having a moment of clarity and empathy?

god, he’s a shitty human.

‘i don’t think im going to come over this week, so you can bring my laundry back.’ you were supposed to do it at his house, and you were supposed to wash your clothes with his, and you were supposed to fold them together.

you’re already thinking a week ahead? no, peter’s selfish, he’ll make you come back. ‘no problem. i’ll wash them for you, i’ll even clean out my second drawer to put ‘em in.’

he wants to do the thing you've been hinting at for weeks, now? is he really grasping at straws? what fucking happened? what changed? peter's not even going to give you a chance to fight it, you can't say no if he's not here.

'i'll talk to you later?' you nod. you can't even say it back? everything about this is wrong. but he can't fix it, not when you told him you needed to think about things, not when you're on the cusp of giving up on him.

peter can hear you sob into your pillow when he latches the door shut.

----

when you said you didn't plan on coming around this week, peter didn't think that meant speaking to him too. no texts, no snapchats, no dm's, no facetimes, no frat parties, nothing.

peter puked three times friday night, day six of the silent treatment. he swears it's because he was drinking too much but peter knows what anxiety feels like for him and how it comes out.

peter can also kiss the idea of sleep away. he's had four nightmares this week, two of them back to back. spider-man's been sluggish and now he has a nasty bruise across his jawline. nothing felt right.

since you last talked to him, peter's had a constant stomach ache and headache. not to mention how he's just not really hungry anymore and you've gotten really skilled at hiding from him.

peter knows he said the balls in your court, but what if you never pass it back?

day eight and all is saved.

'sleepover?'

peter swallowed his tongue at the text, you wanted to spend the night, that's a good thing, right? girls don't fuck and dump, right? peter's heart is drumming like it never has before, wagging his imaginary tail like a puppy dog he's never responded quicker.

'yes!' peter erases it. 'of course!!! i missed you so much i think i was dying and i really couldn't breathe and-' peter deletes that one too.

what's good enough to make you think you deserve this?

'you got it, trouble. wanna let me take you out to dinner for date night with your favorite frat boy?' maybe he's laying it on a little thick, but peter swears he's withering away without you next to him in bed.

'only if it's expensive.' peter will take out a loan if it means you'll have dinner with him, if all you want from him is a nice dinner, he'll do it. he'll do anything if it means you'll stay with him.

'only the best for my girl.' you read it, but didn't answer. peter took it a step further. 'i'll pick the place. i'll even borrow someone's car.' meaning, he was going somewhere nice. it did fine. 'just let me know what time to be ready, parker.' but it wasn't good enough.

peter may have been an asshole prior, because the way your face lit up with a ten dollar bouquet of flowers told him that he should've been doing this all along. if he had, he wouldn't have been here.

'for me?' you brought the cellophane to your nose, 'really?' they smell lovely, like they were actually picked out and not just the first thing he saw. 'of course. only the best for my baby.'

a flash in your eyes, but it doesn't work, not in the way it normally does. no, this time it seems to amuse you. he doesn't care, you look breathtaking and he's about to have his heart thump from his chest.

'i'm going to be the luckiest guy there tonight.' peter blurted it without thinking, but what's worse, or better, is that he truly believed it. he waited patiently when you set the flowers down, but couldn't hold it in the second you turned for him.

'can i have a hug?' touch starved and itching for your hold, you quirked a brow, were you waiting for a kiss? peter thinks kisses be damned, he'll pass out if he can't wrap you in his arms.

'sure-' before you could finish you're in his chest, his palms wash over your back, you're heated up in a second. you take a deep breath, he does the same.

there was a lot of reflecting, but a whole lot more missing. peter just couldn't hide his well. 'i'm sorry, but i missed you so fucking much.' your heart warms, you knew it.

'i did, too.' it's all that was needed, you felt peter match your breaths, one single unit, together. it's how peter thinks it should be, it's how it should be. he doesn't know how he could go back to not that.

you think he's about to kiss you, it's a different look in his eyes. instead, he brushes out your outfit and nods towards the door.

-----

peter feels like he's on the countdown, even more so when the bill came and you hadn't said a word about your week of recollection. you didn't bring it up on the way home, or when he stopped for dessert, or even when you got back to the chapter house.

but he still kept an arm around you when you chose to head for the kitchen instead of the stairs, peeking in and brightening up when you see your favorite brother at the island.

'ethan!' you were almost as happy when you got your flowers. almost. peter lightly pushed you forward, letting you get in a hug while he grabbed something to drink.

'you're looking very fancy tonight.' you curtsy and thank him, a gesture towards your date. 'peter's idea.' ethan reaches for a fist bump, peter gladly accepts.

you'd love to catch up but peter's antsy and you're not that mean. 'breakfast tomorrow?' you glance to peter, 'is that okay with you?' his tail starts wagging again, there's going to be a tomorrow. 'of course.'

ethan agrees, 'breakfast it is.' you share a look with him, a sly smile. looking around the kitchen, three other brothers. where does peter's loyalty lie? how much did he actually miss you? how much did he learn?

'kiss?' a cup clatters, four sets of eyes watching. 'huh?' you spin with your back to the crowd, 'kissy.' it's the first you've asked for all night, you're counting the hesitation in your mind. one, two, thr...

and it's a kiss. the kind that had you begging for more, even if he was already attached. one that had you melting into his chest while he held your back sturdy. one that said he really didn't give a fuck who was watching anymore.

peter's selfish and he needs to breathe. you hold him by the collar of his jacket, he peeks up to his brothers, a slight blush followed. he can hear the chirps in his mind.

'one more,' it's chaste. you mumble against his lips, 'last one.' peter knows your game, he doesn't have anything to lose but you. he'd put up with shit the rest of his life if he meant you kept asking him for kisses.

a slurry of pecks, you push him away at the sound of gagging from the audience. 'okay, okay!' you swipe at the corner of his lip, nothing's there but a distant memory. 'you taste like chocolate.'

'are my kisses that sweet?' another gag, 'take it upstairs, parker.' you pull on his hand, 'yeah, parker. let's take it upstairs.' you shake off the cheers and drag peter up the stairs behind you by the hand.

you peel your jacket off in his room, your shoes next. like he told you, clean and folded clothes in the second drawer down on his dresser. you pull out your own pajamas, peter watches intently.

'do you want me to turn around, or... nevermind.'

'you're very polite tonight, parker.' a slip of the tongue, you didn't mean it like that, but he took it as such. 'no. please stop calling me that. i'm trying, trouble. i'm really trying.'

'i know you are, you're cute when you're desperate.' peter holds his breath, 'what does that mean?'

'it means you have an ultimatum.' there's nothing good that can come of this, he knows it. you're going to tell him to either make it official or move on, you must have expected the latter. why else did it take so long to reach out?

peter can feel his hands shake, he hides them by crossing his arms. you don't look half as nervous, you're scaring him because he can't read you. it sinks in, it's because you're final in your decision.

'sit.' you pat the space next to you on his bed, you settle underneath the blankets and pull it over your knees. 'did you wash your sheets, too?'

'yeah,' you smile at peter. he's gnawing at his bottom lip. 'they smell clean.' you nudge peter's arm, he swallows thickly. 'ready?'

undivided attention. 'i don't want to break things off.' visible relief, you're not sure if peter is religious, but you think he just said a thank you to god.

'good. i really don't want you to break things off either.'

'but-'

'fuck.' you frown with a little sympathy, he couldn't have thought it was that easy.

'it can't go back to how it was, peter. you're not ready for the boyfriend title, fine. but i need more from you, if you can't give me that, this ends.'

anything, anything, anything.

'what do you need from me?'

this is where it gets tricky, for you and for him. 'i want you to be my boyfriend. you're not ready, but you want to be, right? you said that's how you see us ending, remember?'

'yeah, of course.' you've been thinking logically and this is the best solution for now. this is what you can handle for now. this is what's best for now.

'then treat me like that's the end game. take me out, kiss me in front of your friends, hold my hand on campus. commit to me, truly and fully commit to me. act like you want me to be and stay your girlfriend.'

is that it? he just has to treat you how he's always wanted to, but was scared to do so because he didn't want you to think it was more than it was?

'okay. i can do that, i promise i can do that.'

it's not that easy, it never is. 'yeah, but, this isn't forever, peter. there's not an infinite timeline on this, this is just for right now.'

peter's terrified to ask, but he still does. 'when does right now end?'

it's why you were so calm, how you were able to keep away from him and not show the same amount of craving he did. peter was right, your decision was final and you were serious.

peter was on borrowed time, but this time, you knew it too.

'when i say it does. because, right now, i could walk away at any second, and you'd let me because you'd have no one else to blame.' 

selfish, selfish, selfish. 

because all peter heard was, ‘but i’m not done, yet.’ 

[lueurjun]

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗒 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽

⋮ — 𝗇𝖾𝗋𝖽𝗒! 𝖻𝗈𝗒𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗑 𝗉𝗈𝗉𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗋! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗉𝖾: 𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗁 𝗃𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝖺𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗒.

note from lueurjun—i decided to take the other one down because i made a mistake. hopefully this one is better for you my love! — kinda long very sorry about that i got carried away

let’s start by saying jake is as terrified of you as he is smitten by you

he’s got this massive crush on you that started when you lent him a pencil in chemistry

the moment you passed it to him with fluttered lashes and a soft smile

BRO WAS GONE. DONE. DEAD.

you were singlehandedly the most attractive being he had ever had the pleasure of setting eyes on

and so from there he harboured a crush on you

but would admire you from afar because how the hell was he supposed to talk to you?

you were the most popular person on campus with friends in every class and admirers lurking around every corner

and he was just… jake

unbeknownst to him, you shared the exact same feelings

but thought he was unapproachable because he was always in a hurry to get to his next class and whilst he was friendly, he just didn’t seem like the type to entertain a crush

so you ignored each other

my favourite little dumb dumbs<3

at least you have one thing in common: you’re both terribly oblivious

it isn’t until you need help with chemistry

and your friend sunghoon (who is also jake’s friend) recommends him

wingman sunghoon because he can’t listen to jake cry about the way the sunlight kisses your skin in all the right places

and if he has to watch you drool over the back of jake’s head one more time he’s going to have to bash his head against a wall

SUNGHOON CANT TAKE IT ANYMORE

he’s weirdly desperate for you to ask jake so, you bite down on your nerves and you approach him

poor jake almost chokes on his own tongue

‘hey jake, i’m y/n. we have chemistry’

‘w-you think so?’

‘what?’

‘what?’

cue sunghoon slamming a book against his head whilst watching the interaction from down the hall whilst jay covers his face in pure disbelief

however all three of them (including jake) are shocked that you didn’t walk away and ask someone else but actually… laughed?

and then called him cute? jake almost fainted on the spot

thankfully he recovers and agrees to help you out

sunghoon is a sneaky man so before you leave for the library, he slides a post it note into your chemistry notes when you aren’t looking

it reads: ‘will you go on a date with me?’

and jake sees it the moment you open the book

you’re mortified but you don’t scrunch up the post it?

instead, you muster up all of the confidence and look at jake for an answer

boy falls off his chair

no like seriously he falls out of his seat in pure shock

‘jake are you okay?’

‘just peachy please leave me here. this is embarrassing and i don’t want to get up’

when he finally does get up he’s very quick to accept the date

you both leave the library that day with blushy faces and new progress in your relationship

from then on sunghoon makes it his life’s work to remind you both that he’s the reason for your relationship

it’s been eight months and he still brings it up

‘put some respect on the matchmakers name. if it wasn’t for me the two of you would be knee deep in platonic town’

he’s not wrong though

boyfriend jake is still terrified of you

purely because you are just so loved by everyone and it’s quite daunting because it’s like you’re some kind of angel

he’s the best boyfriend though

if you do some kind of sport, he’s always there to cheer you on

and he’s the loudest in the stands

i can actually see jake being on a debate team for some reason and you think it’s the hottest thing ever

it gets you all hot and bothered sometimes

you drag sunghoon with you and he’s always just like ‘seriously? this is what you’re into?? are you okay??’

but you’re not even listening to him, far too focused on jake with a pink tint to your cheeks

jake gives off major golden retriever energy

always has this puppy dog look whenever he’s talking to you and sometimes you can’t stop yourself from caressing his cheeks and planting the biggest kiss on his lips

which always makes him blush

everyone on campus still can’t believe the two of you are dating

it was such a weird dynamic at first but slowly people started to really ship it

you with your halo above your head saying hi to everyone you see whilst your golden retriever boyfriend follows after you with major heart eyes

the cutest little couple i love you both pls invite me to your wedding

jake definitely purchased matching rings but was scared to give you yours in case you thought he was weird

you found it in his pocket of the hoodie he lent you and you absolutely fell in love

it becomes your personality and you show it to everyone with no shame

‘check it. my boyfriend bought us matching rings isn’t he perfect?’

‘you’ve shown me eight times. if i see it one more time i’m yanking it off your finger’

^ jay might be a little bitter that jake got a partner before him

you slip little love notes and hearts into his chemistry books and he saves them in a little box and reads them when he’s sad

cuddles galore. this man is the affection monster

not that you’re complaining but sometimes your bladder is too full to have a huge puppy weighing you down refusing to let go

‘jake-i need to pee!’

‘no’

he always helps you with your homework which is a huge bonus

and you help him let loose and relax

you balance each other out and are exactly what each other needs

his parents adore you

‘marry them. marry them now’

jake smirks and turns to you ‘well you heard them! parents orders, have to marry you!’

kissing his cheek when he’s stressed out about school work and suddenly all faith is restored

your lips are like caffeine to him

and honestly, he’s addicted

‘have i ever told you how much i love you?’

‘hm. once or twice but i don’t mind hearing it again’

my favourite little dummies in love<3

[poppylovestowrite]

Karma Akabane as a Boyfriend Headcanon

Even as a boyfriend, Karma wouldn't stop his teasing.

But, because you're more important to him than any other person, his teasing would crank up to an 11.

He never takes it too far though.

Cause that's all it was: playful and light-hearted teasing. 

Still, he knows what to say to irk you, yet he knows what to say to make you blush.

Cause this guy is such a smooth talker.

"Why are you staring at me?" You would ask.

"Hm? Oh, I was just staring at this pretty girl in front of me."

Like dayum. 

Karma loves to take pictures of you.

He has a whole gallery of you saved on his phone.

Some are embarrassing pictures of you eating.

Some are just weird like there are some photos of you just literally doing the dishes. 

And some are actually normal.

He loves to save the selfies you send him whenever you're hanging out with friends or family.

Look out from behind because he loves to playfully bite the tip of your ear when you're distracted. 

Probably because he wants your attention. 

If you ask him, Karma would give you a piggyback ride.

Sometimes you don't even have to ask.

You just jump on his back and he goes with it. 

Karma also likes to randomly pick you up like a princess for no reason.

Karma would let you sit on his lap whenever he's playing a video game. 

Since Karma is smart and has good grades, he wouldn't mind helping you study if you're struggling.

Except...

He would distract you by trying to make out with you.

Sometimes it's hard to get homework done because of him. 

It got to the point where the two of you made a rule not to kiss each other until the study session was done. 

Oh, and how can I forget? 

This guy is extremely protective of you. 

If someone made you cry with their words, Karma will force them to apologize to you after threatening to bash their head against the wall. 

And if anyone were to lay a finger on you... well...

I think you know what he would do. 

He would also never, ever let you walk alone at night. 

After a date, he would always walk you home. 

He just wants to make sure you got home safely.

Sometimes, the two of you would sneak off in the middle of the night for a late-night date. 

He would text you in the middle of class. 

And sometimes he would pass notes with you.

It was mostly him complaining about professor bitch and or stupid and funny drawings of Koro-sensei.

Very rarely he would encourage you to skip school with him since he knows that you actually care about school.

When the two of you do skip school, Karma usually takes you to the arcade. 

And or any kind of gaming center.

Expect this guy to win any game for you.

If there is a prize you want, he would get it for you.

He would even win those games that are obviously rigged.

What's his prize?

A kiss from you and a big smile.

You're so special to him so make sure you treat him just as well

[skazoo]

slow and blue and endless.

↳ kim taehyung x f!reader

someone stared at you through the window. you had always felt safe in your own home, shutting out the scary, real world. but a window is just glass, and glass… oh it breaks so, so easily.

length. 1.7k

genre. angst, yandere

warnings/tags. language, obsessive behavior, implied stalking, yandere themes, mind break, emotional manipulation, love bombing(?), mention of mental illnesses, physical violence, kinda gruesome allusion to murder, dark themes overall, minors advised to dni.

networks. none for this.

notes. [THIS IS A REPOST BC TUMBLR TAGS WON'T WORK AND I ALMOST CRIED<;3]

GAH these photos are so 80s serial killer making a creepy videotape that's gonna get edited in a true crime documentary coded...... i know you're seeing my vision, i KNOW it.... anywayyyyyy this is kinda not proofread, and i wrote it while i was supposed to be studying for my exams a while back!! because when am i inspired if not when i shouldn't be?? i hope you like it and i swear something is almost ready for me to publish please wait a little longer (for my engenes and atiny besties)

⚠️ it goes without saying that i in no way condone any obsessive/stalking/creepy/violent behavior and despite this being "x reader" i'm not in any way romanticizing anything i'm writing. also this, as you all know, is fiction and names are merely a narrating mean. ⚠️

i'm desperate for feedback and i love comments with your opinion!

(cross-posted on ao3 only)

navigation

in a way you’ve always loved him. he knows. you don’t even have to say it out loud for him to be happy. 

but sometimes it feels like you take him for granted. sometimes you make him really, really angry and that, he can’t let pass. and it's not for his sake but for yours. always everything for you. he has to make you understand that there are things you can’t do if you want to stay safe from the outside world. safe from him, sometimes.

running away is one of those ugly, wretched things you know well he hates, and he slams you against the wall and drags you back through the front door into the house by your hair, he bashes your head on the kitchen counter, near the fire of the stove he’s been preparing lunch with to make you understand a concept you're apparently too dumb to grasp.

“what the fuck did i tell you about running, uh?” seething with undiluted rage .

“i just wanted to go outside, tae. i swear!”

“i said what the fuck did i tell you about running!? do you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?!” his voice booms inside the walls of your head, an endless echo that makes bitter tears gather at the back of your eyes and spill over.

your face is burning. tongues of fire lick at your cheeks, a scorching caress that reminds you of taehyung's. his palm always leaves a brand behind, reminding him and yourself that he’s there. 

your hands scramble for his in a miserable attempt to lessen his hold. “i’m sorry, tae! so sorry, please! please!”

his closed fist in your hair pushes your head closer to the heat. “i’ll fucking kill you if i have to, you know that right–” it’s not a question, merely a promise, but you nod anyway, frantically, desperately– “they’ll never stop finding your body, baby. do you understand?” he screams and shakes you with his hands tight in your hair when you only cry in response.

“i said,” leaning in, mouth brushing over your ear. chills go down your back as his voice turns sickeningly mellow as if he’s whispering sweet nothings instead of threats, “do you understand?”

“yes! yes! god, yes i understand! tae, i’m so sorry! it’s all my fault! it’s all my fault!”

your mindless babbles seem to humor him and he moves your head at a safer distance. “and why is that?”

“ ‘twas my fault! i put myself in danger if i run. tae, please! i’m so sorry!” 

and you cry and cry and cry until you have nothing to give. until there’s only emptiness in your head that’s resting on his shoulder. until his shushes really feel reassuring. until he sits you down at the table to eat the lunch he prepared, the one that was so close to killing you. you nibble on it, too weak to really even taste the flavors.

he breaks the empty silence between you with a question. you startle at the sound of his voice and force your heavy eyes to focus on him.

“aren't you curious? about why i chose you?”

“no.”

he scrunches his eyebrows and regards you with a slightly displeased look that has you shrinking back on your chair. 

“but i want to tell you…” he whines.

you don’t say anything about his antics. despite him behaving like a child you’re terrified of what his reaction would be if you actually treated him like one, so you press your lips together and wait. 

“i like people that like me.” and it’s so simple how he says it. obvious, even.

“but why do you think i like you?” quietly, meekly.

he seems to like the question, his boxy smile one full of teeth that in other circumstances you would have found endearing. now it only makes him look like a predator, an animal, drool dribbling down his fangs, jaw ready to snap close around your neck if —and ultimately, when— you say or do the wrong thing. 

“oh, i was so happy, Y/N,” he coos, your name curling in his mouth with ease, as if you’re always been around each other, as if it belongs there, “that when i chose you, you came with me.”

your mouth gapes open at the absurdity of it all. you wonder if he really thinks that you wanted all of this, that you wanted to be taken from your home. you’d ask your old psychology professor if you’d be correct to label him as a narcissist of sorts. a man with too much power, and free time, and loneliness to exhaust all on himself that he had to go around looking for a scapegoat for his secret misery.  

“i didn’t– i didn’t come to you, taehyung. i didn’t have a choice.”

“so you were almost forced to come?”

“no,” it comes out more as a question than an answer and you lower your head in search of a way to rationalize the conversation at hand, “i was completely forced–”

“that’s what you tell yourself,” he retorts before you can even finish your sentence.

“it’s what i know is true,” you spit somewhat offended by his insinuation.  

his smile is a sick thing when you raise your head from the food on your plate —cold and uninviting. the smell alone makes you want to throw up. 

“are you sure?”

your anger leaves space for an unnerving sense of confusion. “what does that– what?”

your frown deepens as you watch him play around with his lunch. you follow his hands pushing back his glasses on his nose. the sick look of complacency that dances on his face seems to speak words that make the hairs at the back of your neck raise in dreadful anticipation. i know something about you that you don’t, his eyes say, and that alone is enough to make you want to scream.

he knows nothing!, you’d be shouting to the usually calm neighborhood, i haven’t told him anything about myself. he can’t know anything! he knows nothing! he knows nothing! you’d holler to the kids walking home from school hand in hand with their mothers who’d be looking at you with contempt, unaware of who lives among them. a wolf in sheep's clothing that could easily make you look like a psychopath. 

you’d do it, you swear to yourself that you’d do it all if it weren’t for the fact that you’ve got the inkling fear that you’ve truly gone mad. the doubt that crawls on your back and makes its way in your ears, slithering then, with much glee into your delusional brain.

how long have you been in this house? his house or the one you bought together once you finished college? did you meet him on a slow rainy day outside a coffee shop or did you catch him staring at you from the window before he broke in and took you from your bed, leaving behind torn sheets and a broken frame with a picture of your friends? does your mind deceive you? are you sane? is he?

it feels like you've had this exact same conversation with him an infinite number of times, always stuck in a loop of unease and sadness that you really can’t explain. loving looks sent your way melt into scary grimaces sometimes and all you can feel is guilt because that’s tae. your tae. the man you chose, the man that chose you.

you realize your vacant eyes are crying when you feel a thumb swipe your cheek with a gentleness that makes your stomach churn in disgust and again a voice tells you that there’s something wrong with you.

“baby, are you alright?”

the way you look at him does nothing to the sick warmth brewing in his stomach. your shiny little doe eyes peeking up at him from under wet lashes, asking for forgiveness that taehyung would never deny you. nose red from the frustration of being lost in your own mind and mouth parted as if to ask him to show you the way, the truth that you seem to have lost.

he stands up and rounds the table to you for you to bury your head in his chest. sobs shake your tired form.

“shh, it’s okay, baby. i swear everything it’s okay. it happens to forget.”

“i’m sorry, tae,” you plead through broken breaths. “i’m so sorry, please.”

he shushes you. lips plant themselves in the crown of your head, a hand rubs at your back soothingly.  

later, in the late evening, you lie in your bed. a bed. the sheets smell of him and the air you breathe does not feel like the one you're used to, but you’re calm. you think you are. maybe.

soft snores sound from behind you and you attempt to turn your head to make sure it’s him. 

“tae?” you let out a whisper. not one that expects itself to be heard.

“yeah?” voice hoarse from sleep.

“nothing.”

he buries his nose in the hair at the nape of your neck, inhaling the shampoo he bought for you. “what?”

“just wanted to make sure you were still here.”

“i’m always here, baby.”

you hum.

minutes pass slowly, like molasses, as if the hand of the seconds inside the alarm on your nightstand is fighting an invisible force, a wall of rubber that threatens to bounce time back. you think he’s fallen back asleep. breath slowing, chest heaving, lulling you to slumber.

you close your eyes. “tae?”

he doesn’t answer. a car alarm sounds from outside the closed curtains, its prolonged blaring bringing a certain agitation in your otherwise silent night. a breath of summer wind leaves bumps on your skin in its wake. you sigh and his arms tighten around your torso. an unconscious gesture, soft, loving.

“i dream of you–” you let your words sink into the air, into the boiling water you carry around in your lungs that doesn’t let you breathe properly, and you shiver again but not from the chill bite of the wind “–and it’s slow, and blue, and endless.”

behind you, taehyung’s mouth stretches into a smile.

in a way, you’ve always loved him. he’s certain of it now as he was before. and even if you didn’t, he will always make sure to make it a reality, one way or the other. wether you want it or not.

taglist: @taevestr @fa1ryjoons @vcutvante

[izgnanik-a]

Suffer Does The Wolf (Crawling To Thee) iii

Summary: Simon knew the exact moment when he knew he had to have you for himself. It was only a matter of time before his military skills allowed himself into your home, into your life. And once he stuck — he wasn’t going to let you back out of his webs.

Tags: non-con, stalker!Ghost, fem reader, mature content

MINORS DNI

previous part ⬅️ next part ➡️

Simon didn't know what comes over him every time. He was a soldier for crying out loud. He's fallen into a chain of command that if his captain told him to shoot and kill, so be it.

He would.

But when it came to you, so delicate, and so god damned precious — he couldn't bring himself to form coherent sentences or replies. That was until the single message came in that made him drop everything and just stare — " do you want to grab a drink sometime? "

He was practically shaking with unadulterated joy.

It had been near a week since you gave him your number, and you’d text back and forth throughout. It was nothing major, just casual “ how are you doing’s? “ and “ I hope your day goes well “ and “ it’s going to rain today! “

You always initiated conversation. And you never seemed to mind, always smiling when he’d come by the days after and he’d get his coffee.

He felt a genuine connection, one he didn’t think he was capable of feeling in a long time. Sure — it was solely based off of wanting you for himself, but he knew that he could feel something with that emotion alone.

He would refuse to acknowledge it as a possessive obsession.

You didn’t see it that way, or else you wouldn’t have given him your number.

You’re not stupid. Well. Not that stupid. Maybe you shouldn’t have given him your number, but that was his whole ploy — he needed your number. He needed into your life.

As usual, he waited a moment before replying. The message bubbles appearing on your end of the screen, how could he be nonchalant but delighted to have your company? How could he translate that over the phone?

The message read “ ok “

Your message bubbles appeared. Disappeared. Appeared. Staggered in a constant blink. And gone.

Did he offend you? Did you change your mind because of his reply? Did you get busy at home? Did something happen to you?

Why didn’t you text him back?

He almost tore down all of his walls before your message came through. He was burrowing in his head when he rose to his feet and picked his cracked phone off the ground.

Your message read “ can’t wait! “

When he came into the cafe the next day you worked, his hands were shaking. He could hear your voice before seeing you, and when he did see you — oh, his heart was alight.

His eyes fanned down to your nail polish, that pale color still painted, the nail polish he’d given you was chipping at the edges. But still there.

He approached the line.

“This ain’t what I ordered.” Said a customer, gritting through his teeth at you.

You held your polite smile. “Okay, we can change that for you. What is it that you wanted to order?” Your tone was cheery.

Simon wanted to bash this guy’s skull in for you.

If you asked him to, he would.

“I was charged for a large when I wanted a medium, two espresso shots, cold foam, and no sugar. The fuck is this.” The customer pointed at the cup on the counter, no lid on it.

Simon clenched his jaw tightly.

“Hey, you’re holding up the line.” Said the customer between Simon and the rowdy customer.

“You wait your turn.” Growled the man.

“We can get you a refund and the correct drink if you step to the side.” You said politely. Your eyes grazed over the tops of the customer’s heads to Simon.

You held his eyes for a moment before fading back into reality.

“This isn’t the first time there’s been a mistake like this. I’m tired of getting the wrong coffee.”

“Then order it correctly.” Simon said.

The man turned to speak up but his eyes drew up at Simon. Compared to Simon, he was average. He clamped his mouth shut, collected his refunded money, and stepped aside.

The customer before Simon ordered quick and easy. Then it was Simon’s turn, and everything could turn to dust and he’d just be fixated on you.

You smiled up at him. “Hi.” You cooed.

Simon took in a deep breath. “Hi.”

“And what can I get for you, sir?” You teased.

“A drink? On me?” He cleared his throat, “Since you asked.”

You laughed softly and nodded, biting your lip softly. “Anything else?”

God — he could think of so many things.

“Medium black coffee.”

“And your name?” You still teased.

“Simon.”

“I could’ve sworn you looked like a John.”

Simon scoffed. “Yeah, well, can’t have randos knowing my name, can I?”

“Certainly not.” You rang him out and set his coffee on the counter before him. “I get out at eight today, if you’re not busy.”

“I’m not.” He practically rushed to say.

“Cool.” You smiled. “We can walk around the block to this restaurant / bar. It’s a good place for food.”

Simon nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” You smiled, blushing in the face. “See you later then?”

He nodded again.

“I gotta work so—“ you pointed to the line behind him.

“Right. Work.”

“But tonight—“

“Yeah.”

You waved your hand. “Text me.”

And Simon impatiently waited by the clock the entire time until then.

Do not copy my works and post elsewhere.

[beetlebug-bii]

Lucifer’s Nightmares

Content Warnings: swearing, main game spoilers, crackhead writing because I am still in a silly goofy mood

Requests Open!

TLDR: Lucifer has emotions and also has 0 coping skills, but that’s okay because he got those sweet sweet musical jams...oh and like a partner too or something

Lucifer would rather die than admit he has nightmares practically every night

Like fuck dude

He has that deep rooted guilt based trauma.

Nightmares about bad things happening to you, happening to his brothers, nightmares about Lilith, the war, Michael...father...all of these things mixed together and happening in one tornado of horrible events...

Not only that but his dreams are just so

Vivid

Every time he closes his eyes it all just feels

Real

No one would ever guess that sometimes even the calm and prideful Lucifer wakes up gasping for air, tears in the corners of his eyes

So how does he cope?

Well

He came up with the best solution ever

NEVER SLEEP AGAIN!!!! :D

and then you came

and at first you like had your own room

and didnt live in his room

because you know

you had one

BUT THEN FOR SOME REASON YOU WENT NAHHHH

Your room? Yeah thats mine now

and like what was he gonna say??

No??

He would never say that shit

Especially when you are paying rent in kisses

so like you kind of moved in

But like only kind of because you still wanted your room too and like didnt want anyone else to have it

So you actually have like 13 rooms now

thats beside the point you house thief 

(breaking and entering to the next level, you could probably evict the brothers and win smh)

So you started sleeping in his room

and you noticed he MAYBE just didnt sleep like

Ever

so you went oh yeah i can fix this

and started DRAGGING HIM LIKE A FUCKING RODENT

ALL THE WAY TO HIS BED

YOU TUCKED HIM IN LIKE HE WAS BEING RESTRAINED WITH A STRAIGHTJACKET 

which on an unrelated note would honestly probably do that poor man some good, he needs a vacation to grippyville, they all do

I digress

after centuries of having quite possibly the worst sleep schedule known to man, both to avoid having nightmares and to get his piles of work done

Having to actually just

Lay there

at like

11pm

Was merely just so flabbergasting that he spent like two weeks STILL NOT SLEEPING just to comprehend that he was SUPPOSED to be sleeping

You were bashing your head against the wall

Crying, sobbing, throwing up

take that as seriously as you want

regardless after a while he finally started falling asleep with you!

Why? well he loves you

unfortunately for him

(also you may or may not have been on top of him because he lays there like a fucking ROCK)

He loves you so much that he made a whole sleep schedule and went 

“yeah I can deal with this”

Spoiler alert he couldn’t

But it took about a week of sleeping properly to break him.

and you

because you were thrown

ONLY VAGUELY I SWEAR

HE JUST HAPPENED TO SHOOT UP AND YOU WERE ON TOP OF HIM SO YOU WERE KINDA JUST LAUNCHED ONTO THE FLOOR

Were you a bit frazzled

Maybe

Were you about three seconds from crying, throwing up out of spite, and yelling?

...maybe

But that quickly faded 

The demon before you sat with heavy, staggered breaths, his eyes wide and full of tears

part of you was like haha who is this man

but the other part was like oh shit what happened

Because like

YOU HAVE LITERALLY DIED AND THAT MAN HASNT SHED A

S I N G L E 

TEAR

so sitting there on the floor watching him try and regain what little composure he had left was a bit startling to say the least

So being the lovely not feral partner you are (for now), you sat next to him on the bed

You rubbed his back and whispered gently into his ear while leaning on his chest

Lucifer was also a bit flabbergasted 

Like

Lmao stupid human-

Insert internal sobbing here

Its fine

He held you and pretended nothing happened

Though he knew he definitely wouldn’t be falling asleep again any time soon

Of course you couldn’t just let this slide

You knew Lucifer better than you knew yourself

So

You did the only thing you could think of

You released yourself from his arms, and went to turn on one of his cursed records

“dance with me Luci?” 

You whispered

On a normal day he would’ve rolled his eyes at the girlish nickname

But maybe just for today he would let it slide...

and maybe tomorrow too

and maybe the next da-

So he took your hand and twirled you gently

The two of you slowly swaying to the music in the darkness of his room

The twinkling of fireflies outside the window

You couldn’t take away his fears or his worries or the guilt he carried

But you could stand there with him, gently holding his hand and swaying alongside him

A reminder that maybe

Things were beginning to work out

Because if he was there with you

In this moment with you in his arms

In this universe where you loved him and he loved you

A world where you have overcome all odds

Maybe all the heartache was worth it

Maybe every horrible moment and every heart wrenching sadness lead him here

Maybe that was okay...

Because at the end of it all

Was the single greatest happiness in his life

You

And as long as you were beside him

He could handle a few nightmares

“I love you” he whispers in your ear as he spins and twirls you, the moonlight illuminating your face

And for a moment the nightmares were forgotten

Replaced by him imagining a perfect forever alongside his human

[valhallaas]

I’ve Got Sunshine

Pairing: bradley rooster bradshaw x sunshine!reader x jake hangman seresin

word count: 3.6k

summary: when both Hangman and Rooster want nothing but your happiness…who are they to tell you no?

warnings: smut (18+ minors dni) oral, p in v, threesome, cream pie

a/n: i think she did it. part three?! literally!!! i can’t tell y’all how proud of myself I am for writing this. this is the first time i've written anything like this. it’s insane, way out of my comfort zone. i hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as i have! feedback is always appreciated!

Part one

Part two

The pouts are gone. Along with the desperate doe eyes that follow Jake Seresin’s every move. Sitting at the radio listening to Bradley and Jake banter back and forth makes you want to bang your head against a brick wall. Your irritation with the blond aviator is tenfold. You thought after that night at the Hard Deck, Jake would finally stop walking on eggshells around you.

Nope.

Motherfucker is flat out ignoring you. Won’t talk to you at all. He has Javy passing along messages he might have. It’s driving you insane. What’s worse, he’s all buddy buddy with Bradley. Like they hadn’t had a standoff with you trying to mediate.

Bob clears his throat from where he’s standing next to you. Your glare moves from the radio to him, causing his eyes to widen and heat to flame his cheeks. Sighing, you rub at your temples. It isn’t his fault and you know better than to take it out on him. Honestly, you have half a mind to tackle Bagman when he lands.

“You coming out to Mav’s tonight?”

You glance at Bob again. “Think so. Someone’s got to drive Bradshaw home, and we all know I’m not going to make Nat do it.”

Bob grimaced, thinking back to the last time Nat had driven Bradley home. You were still out with the daggers, and received a frantic phone call. She’d almost crashed into a tree when he projectile vomited all over her dash. Natasha isn’t afraid of a lot of things, but she’s terrified of drunk Bradley.

You smile at him, thankful. “Are you planning on bringing that girl you’ve been seeing?”

“Oh, I don’t think she’s ready for that.”

“We’ve got to meet her sometime. At least me and Nix do.” His blush is back full force, running up his neck from his chest to the tips of his ears. You grin cheekily, nudging him with your shoulder. “There’s no rush, Bobby. If you're happy, we’re happy.”

He’s bashful, smiling shyly before his face morphs to one with serious intent. “Are you happy?”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You bite your cheek. Are you happy? Honestly, no. You thought you had fixed the Hangman sized hole missing in you, but all that did was make it worse. Things are going well Bradley, after knowing him so long, it’s easy, nice. Comfortable. But there’s the need for more, and you don’t know what more is.

The conversation is cut short when Jake and Bradley walk in, fire blazing behind Jake’s eyes and a satisfied smirk on Bradley’s mouth. Quirking an eyebrow you meet Rooster’s gaze, the only one that would look at you.

“Who won?”

His smirk grew. “I did.”

“You fucking cheated, Bradshaw.”

“It’s not my fault you fell for the bait.”

It’s the first time he’s looked at you in over a month. Your mouth flattens, eyes narrowing as they dart between the two. Clearly, you were the bait. God, could you continue living like this? You got Bradley and at what cost? The expense of your best friend, who you miss so fucking much. Your eyes sting. Quickly you cut your gaze to Bob who’s watching you with worry. Pushing away from the table, the static buzzing from the radio filling the air along with new found tension.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Like hiding in a storage closet, crying in peace.

“Sunny,”

“Fuck you, Rooster.” Eyes darting to Jake quickly before cutting to the brunet. “You don’t call me that. Ever.”

You turn and head out of the hanger. You can hear them bickering behind you, calling each other idiots. Neither of them are wrong. You slide down to your ass in the hallway, head braced in your hands, elbows on knees. Maybe you should make Bradley drive you home tonight.

“She hasn’t really been living up to her callsign lately, has she?” Jake murmurs.

“I wonder why.” Rooster snaps, your eyes rolling at his tone.

“You two are really that stupid. You share one brain cell and it’s Sunshine.” It gets quiet at Bob’s statement. “She loves the both of you, and you still can’t figure it out. Personally, I think she’s better off without either of you.”

Your heart warms at his words. You really don’t know what you’ve done to deserve Bob, but you’re so grateful. You glance up when he’s suddenly by your side, offering a hand. Yeah, you really don’t know what you did to deserve him.

Turns out, Bob and Natasha are your dates for the night. They keep you distracted. Natasha hogs the radio at Maverick’s, playing all your favorite songs. Bob has supplied you with exactly two screwdrivers — the easiest way to get you drunk. It’s a little embarrassing. You’re in the middle of the room, being twirled around by Maverick. He was quick to pick up on the mood when you and Bradley came separately. The skirt of your dress fans out, exposing the top of your thighs. You might have gotten dressed with the idea of revenge in mind. The dress is short enough to get Jake hot and bothered, and the color is Rooster’s favorite.

You blow a kiss to Maverick when the song ends, a giggle falling past your lips when he catches and holds it to his heart, giving you a knowing wink. Bare feet carry you over to Bob. He's quick to catch you when you stumble, heat blooming on your cheeks. You wanted to have fun, but you don't want to be messy.

“You good, Sunshine?”

You beam at Bob, your megawatt smile blinding. “I’m very good, Bobby. Thank you.”

One of his eyebrow raises, hand tightening around where it holds your wrist. He looks up at you before his gaze slides past you, to whatever commotion is going on with the rest of the party.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, just don’t think they like me holding you like this.”

You frown, turning to see both Bradley and Jake staring at you and Bob. Is this your life now? Every man around you is jealous of the other? Moving to stand on your own, your hand reaches out for Bob’s arm, making sure your feet are firmly planted on the ground. You wait for the world to stop spinning, a bright smile taking up your face when you look down at him.

“All good,” you say to his questioning gaze.

“Are you?”

You glance back at the two men still staring. “Yeah,” you sigh, “I’ll be just fine.”

Snagging your purse and shoes, you make your way out the door. You’re not stupid enough to think you can walk home — you’re literally in the middle of the desert. You’ll get eaten by coyotes, or abducted by aliens before you reach your front door. But it is enough to draw them outside. Because like they had said earlier, they’re a couple of idiots.

“Hey! Whoa, whoa, Sunny.”

“Sunshine, come on!”

“What?” You snap, turning on them, causing them to stumble back in their steps. “What do you want from me?”

It’s almost silly how it happens. It begins before you even realize it. Or perhaps, it’s been like this for months, and it’s been leading up to this.

The only light is coming from the bathroom, which you had forgotten to turn off when you left in a hurry. You left them bickering like old women at your door. Shoes tossed into your closet, purse sat on your vanity. You fling yourself across your bed, eyes closing in contentment. They aren’t loud as they make their way up the stairs, but you know the sound of their footfalls. They’re coming for you. It only makes you toss an arm over your eyes, an attempt to hide yourself from them.

“We should leave her. She’s asleep.”

You have to fight back a grin at Jake’s scoff. “No she isn’t. She’s being a brat.”

A slap to the inside of your thigh makes you yelp. Eyes flying open to glare at the blond. “Ouch, that hurt.”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Told ya.”

“Why are you still here?”

“Do you not want us here?” Bradley asks.

“No,” you answer, pushing up onto your elbows. “Not really.”

It isn’t the answer they’re looking for. Jake raises an eyebrow before reaching for your ankle, yanking you towards the end of the bed. The skirt of your dress rides up, exposing your thighs, and a peek at your lace underwear. Heat should be blooming across your cheeks, you should feel exposed with two sets of eyes on you. But you don’t. It’s almost natural. Because you trust them, and you know they respect you. You’re still a little too pissed off to admit that maybe you’re in love with the both of them. A little too blind to realize that the both of them are in love with you.

They continue to bicker back and forth, teasing and taunting each other while you attempt to drown them out. Bradley’s voice scrapes the floor, it’s so damn deep and rich as whiskey.

Do they know how they sound?

Like they’re licking between your legs, tugging your panties down with their teeth, teeth scraping the sensitive flesh. It’s distracting. Your thighs clench together, you try to be discreet, but you forget that Jake still has a hold of you. He glances down when your ankle tugs, light eyes darkening as they travel up your bare legs.

“Sunny girl,” Jake murmurs. The nickname rolls off his tongue and it melts you, your body instantly relaxing.

“What?” You hate how breathless you sound.

It’s instinct. Bradley helps you remove your clothes. He softly smiles at you when you lift your hips to peel down your panties. You don’t miss how Jake takes them from him and tucks them into his back pocket.

“C’mon flower, up.”

You follow his command, lifting yourself up onto your knees. Jake’s gaze is burning into you when the dress is pulled down, exposing your bare breasts to open air.

“Look at me Sunshine.” Your eyes lock with Jake’s with no hesitation. “We’re going to ruin you. Me and Rooster. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“Yes what?”

Fire blazes in your eyes. “Yes Lieutenant Seresin.”

“That’s a good girl.”

Jake watches it happen, watches as both of you melt into each other. The overwatch, the overseer: he stares at you, eyes lingering on the hands that roam your flesh, hiking your clothes up until you’re exposed, and raw.

It’s only when you glance at him, hand curling around the bulbous head of Bradley, does he respond.

“Lick her pussy, Bradshaw. Get her nice and wet.”

He utters low commands in the dimly lit room that are instantly obeyed. Stick your tongue out, sweetheart, let him slide his cock across it. Get a good taste of it. Suck her clit until she cries. She likes it. Harder, Bradshaw, you know Sunny can take it.

You don’t think he’s going to join in until Bradley’s made you come three times, all at the direction of Jake. Tears stream down your face, because there is a want vibrating throughout your body, sending shockwaves to your core. Your pussy clenches around nothing. But then, he pulls himself from his pants, hard and leaking.

It’s only then, heart in your throat, that you realize Bradley’s been foreplay.

“Take it easy on her, Hangman” Bradley hums as he traces the seam of your cunt. He pinches your clit as he rocks against your ass, and you can feel the head of his cock smear against your entrance, nudge and prod until, finally, he sinks to the hilt. You moan, the shock of his size.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Want to hear the pretty noises fall from that pretty mouth.” Jake grits between clenched teeth.

Bradley kisses your shoulder, sucking the skin until it bruises. "C'mon, flower, we know you can take it."

You should be embarrassed. Because you know that no one has pulled noises out of you like Jake Seresin has. Your boyfriend is rutting behind you, watching the whole exchange. You don't care. Not really.

Jake continues. He doesn't fuck fast, but goes for slow, agonizing strokes that deliberately push into the center of your nerves. Tiny shocks of electricity sparking every time he meets that spongey spot inside of you. He breathes heavily, grunting when you clench around him. The room is miserably hot. There's sweat beneath your arms and under your tits and you’re sandwiched between them. Worshiped. Treasured. You never thought for a second that it could be like this.

Good girl. Fuck. You're so fucking gorgeous.

“Fuck,” you gasp when Jake drives further, clamping his hand down on your waist to hold you steady. “Jake,”

He pauses, and the punishing drag of his cock halts only to pulse and throb in the clutch of your pussy. Pulsing, warm walls tightening around the thick of him. You bury your fingers into his muscular shoulders. You need the movement. You need him to keep going because he’s just getting bigger, stretching you in the most delicious way, pushing you to your limit.

“Sunny,” Jake murmurs as he palms at your cheek. You lift your gaze to his, and something tightens inside your chest. Jake’s eyes are clearer than they’ve ever been. A bright, seaglass green. The prettiest gems you’ve ever seen.

Bradley is still tasting your skin, the warmth of him swallowing you whole. You’re overwhelmed but it’s still somehow not enough. It’s like they know — they can feel it humming in your veins. Rough hands flip you, face now buried in your sheets, ass up for display. You hear Jake groan at the sight, a light smack to your ass cheek. You keen, pushing yourself closer.

It’s the gentle grasp on your chin that grounds you. Bradley’s looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen. “Can I flower?”

You don’t know why they’re asking. You wouldn’t deny them. Don’t think you could if you tried. Bradley’s cock brushes across your tongue, eyes fluttering when you wrap your lips around him, head tipping back in pleasure. “Fuck,”

Your tongue roams over his slit, tasting all of him. His breath is ragged, heavy. There is no warning—just a strangled choke of your name—and then he’s cumming on your tongue, ropes spurting over your cheeks and chin.

You gasp, wet and broken, and completely filthy.

“That’s it—,” Jake mumbles against you, the head of cock brushing against your seam. It makes your toes curl — the perfect mix of not enough and too much, and —

Bradley strokes your hair, eyes glazed. The angle is awkward, but his mouth meshes with yours, tongue rubbing over the mess he made of you. He kisses you like he’s worshiping you. Like you’re the best thing he’d ever tasted, and he can’t get enough.

Jake’s teeth dig into your skin, leaving bruises behind. It makes you whine. Little secrets that litter your skin. He’s pulled you up on your knees, hand wrapped snugly around your throat. Soft hazel eyes burn into yours as you get fucked from behind. He thrusts harder, rougher until your hand is wrapped around his wrist trying to hold you steady. He’s fully claiming you. Cock punching into the deepest part of you. Your head is empty, full of nothing but Jake, of Bradley.

It’s burning low in your belly. A fire trying to escape, engulf you whole from the inside out. Moans are pouring out of you with every thrust. Each one more brutal than the last. Walls clenching tight around him, you can feel him grunting against the nap of your neck.

“Jake, I–” you're cut off by a whimper when he reaches that hard to reach spot deep inside you. Over and over again, you feel it coming, your orgasm is going to come crashing down and you’re ready to bask in it.

“You going to come on my cock, sweetheart?” Jake murmurs into your hair.

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. Bradley cocks his head, eyes finding yours. You swallow, watching as a knowing grin takes over him. “Use your words, baby.” He says, mocking you. “Hangman asked you a question.” Tears are streaming down your face. It doesn’t hurt. You can take it—you can take all of it. You want it, want him. More, more, more.

You come on Jake’s cock like a tidal wave, and when you collapse against the bed, your body trembles, heaving desperately for air. Jake groans, pulling you up until you’re flush against him. His lips meet yours in a messy kiss, bucking his hips harder until he’s chasing his high right over the ledge with you.

“Fuck, Sunshine,” he praises, wiping the sweat off the back of your neck. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

There’s only a moment between Jake finishing, and him pulling out of you. A sharp hiss slipping passed your swollen lips, a glare sent over your shoulder. They give you no time to right yourself. Strong arms lift you up, settling you on Bradley’s lap. Your hands instantly fall to his shoulders, fingers digging into his lightly tanned skin. Tilting your head back, you smile at the tickle of his mustache, lips trailing hot kisses across your skin.

You run a thumb over the tip, smearing the precum. Your nails nip at his sensitive skin and he shivers. Lifting yourself up on your knees, you hover, waiting patiently for his direction. His dick nudges the soaked folds of your cunt.

“You’re too good to me,” his voice is thick with want.

Slowly he pulls you down, his thick length sinking into you. He’s too big. Fuck, he’s so big. The head of his cock hits that sensitive spot, and you’ve barely just started. You breathe in nice and slow, relaxing yourself with every slow thrust he makes until he’s at the hilt. He delves down, taking a nipple between his teeth while he explores the other, tugging it gently as he rolls it between his fingers. The heat pooling between your thighs ignites as a desperate moan slips from your lips.

At this point, you’re here for the ride. But god, if it isn’t one you’re enjoying.

Hammering into you, each deep stroke better than the last. Your orgasm takes you by surprise. You lurch against him when you moan. You melt, boneless, like jelly. You’re loose and wet and fucking perfect. His nose presses into your cheek as he grinds into you.

“Fuck, Sunshine. Love the feeling of you on my cock.”

You snort, pulling yourself closer to him. Guttural grunts and low growls meet your ear. Heavy breaths that bounce around the room. It’s a brutal taking, and you are not wet enough. Fresh tears pool in your eyes, threatening to fall with every harsh thrust. You take what you're given, no complaints. Bradley readjusts, moving you to where you are firmly planted on his thighs, giving him a better angle. You’re bouncing with each thrust from his cock now. He’s deep, so deep you can see the bulge of him in your tummy. You pull his hair, grinning when he hisses.

“You got one more for me?”

He knows you can’t talk. He knows you’re fucked out, gone stupid on his cock. Just like you always do. He loves when you get like this. He loves it even more because you beg for it. You move, opening up your legs a little wider. He groans feeling himself sink deeper into you. You’re puffy and raw and you’re living for it. Nodding, his name falls from your lips.

It builds and builds and builds until it has nowhere to go. It roars forward, jolting you, a scream ripped from your throat and your nails digging into him so hard you can feel when he starts to bleed. Bradley is there. He holds you into place, mustache grazing your cheek. He fucks you through it all, jamming himself into your searing overstimulated sex, he meets his end. His grip tightens, a low gravel filled groan comes from deep in his chest, filling you up. You feel the drag of his dog tags when he lifts his head to trail kisses across your sweaty skin.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

You pull him on top of you, hugging him tightly to you. A steady hand cups your face. Glancing up you meet the clear eyes of Jake. Grasping him, you pull him to you as well. You bask in the feel of him. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been missing him until you were drunk off of him. You’re aching and sore but you refuse to move away from them. Bradley’s eyes are still dark and heavy-lidded as he regards you.

“Keep me in there,” he tells you and you just smile.

“So,” Jake says after a moment. “You still mad at us?”

“Should I be?”

“Sunny,”

“I just,” you pause, teeth digging into your bottom lip. “I want things back to normal.”

“Baby I don’t think things can be normal after this.”

Your eyes meet Jake’s. “I’m tired of being ignored.”

His eyes soften as he stares at you. “I’m tired of ignoring you.”

“All I’m hearing,” Bradley butts in, “is that I’m no longer the only one dating Sunshine.”

Your eyebrows furrow, looking between the two. What? When has that ever been an option? The room stays quiet. Your eyes droop, rising and falling with Bradley’s steady breathing. Could you do it? Date them both? The way Bradley dropped it into your lap sounds like they’ve already talked about it. Maybe they have. Now, it’s up for you to decide.

“Sweetheart, all we want is for you to be happy. If that means the both of us. Then you get the both of us.”

You look at Jake in disbelief. “You and Bradley can barely stand each other.”

“We’ll work on it. For you.”

“Only you.” Bradley adds.

[tellthatbrokebitch]

for wip wednesday, stonathan snippet from the stick season au

Then one day, he gets a call from Jonathan. He’s just arrived back in the country from his work trip, and the first thing he’d done is check his messages.

“Will, oh god, Mom, is she-” is the first thing he says when Will picks up, his voice a jumbled mess as he stumbles over his words. “I didn’t have any service, I didn’t think – oh god-”

“Jonathan! It’s okay, she’s okay, we’re all okay,” he soothes, raising his voice to be heard over his brother’s rambling. “She’s back home, I’m with her right now. Do you want-”

“Yes! I’m buying a ticket right now, can I-”

Will hands his phone to Joyce, and after a few minutes of listening and talking and crying, he puts it on speaker, and they all cry together.

Karen offers to pick Jonathan up from the airport in Indianapolis, and when they arrive at the house, Joyce is napping. It’s one of Steve’s rare days off, so he’d dropped by to check up on them. They were at the kitchen table, going over the next week’s schedule and drinking some truly terrible coffee Steve picked up on his way.

“Okay, so if we shift this back an hour-”

“Yeah, that should work out. Her PT is-”

“Right, so that would give us plenty of time to-”

“Bash our heads against the wall!” Steve finishes cheerfully, startling Will into a rare laugh. “Just in time for lasagna.”

“You’re making lasagna?” Steve was a terrible cook.

“Uh, no, you’re making lasagna.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Yes, so I can sneak over after my shift and eat it cold standing in front of the fridge like a gremlin at three AM.”

“That sounds legitimately disgusting.”

“Hey, I’ll use a fork!”

“Not the problem I was having with all of that.”

The sound of the door opening surprises them both, but when the familiar silhouette of his brother fills the doorway, Will immediately relaxes. “Jonathan!”

Jonathan holds out his arms and Will’s already shooting up out of his chair, crossing the few steps until he can hug his brother, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder. He breathes in the scent of airport that clings to his collar and doesn’t even care. After a long moment, he pulls back and frowns. “You’re like an hour early.”

“Uh, no, it’s after two,” Jonathan points out, and when Will checks his phone, 2:14 flashes mockingly back at him.

“Oh. Shit. Sorry. We were busy-” he waves a hand at the table, to the spread of papers and takeout coffee cups and Steve, “going over some stuff, moving around appointments.”

Steve waves awkwardly. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jonathan says back, a little confused but too polite to show it. To Will he says, “I didn’t know you were friends.”

“Oh, I just – I work at Hawkins Memorial,” Steve says, looking oddly flushed. “I’m just checking in, making sure everything is going well.”

“Sure, if by checking in you mean demanding I make you lasagna,” Will shoots back.

“Okay, not demanding, just gently requesting.”

“You just called yourself a three AM fridge gremlin-”

“Oh, so now we’re just listening to me when I say things? You should know me well enough by now to know how dangerous that is, man.”

Will turns back to Jonathan and he sighs. “He’s terrible, but the other nurses stopped returning my calls, so we’re stuck with him.”

Jonathan’s eyes slide back to Steve, and there’s something in his gaze now that makes Will feel like he should look away. “Congratulations on your BSN,” he says. “I didn’t expect you to leave Indianapolis, definitely not for Hawkins.”

“You – oh.” Steve seems oddly flustered as he scrambles for something to say to that. “I – you know about-”

“Oh.” As Will watches, with the sort of glee only a younger sibling can feel at an older sibling’s embarrassment, a pink flush settles over Jonathan’s face and he too scrambles, stammering, “Yeah, you, uh, your Instagram is public? Um, I follow Nancy and Robin, so-”

“Oh! Right. Um, you could always… actually follow me. If you wanted… um, sometimes Nancy likes your stuff, too, and… your pictures are always beautiful.” Steve’s eyes widen and he hastens to add, “Your photography! Like, the professional shots you post, not – but – not to say you aren’t – obviously you’re-”

Will decides to put him out of his misery – though judging by the soft look in his brother’s eyes and the fond smile, Steve’s not doing too badly. “Steve’s been a lifesaver these past few weeks,” he says. “And not just with the medical side of things. He’s…” Will blows out an unsteady breath. “He’s been great. I’ve been a wreck.”

“Hey, you’ve been doing just fine,” Steve argues back automatically. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Will. It’s not an easy situation for anyone. Give yourself a break.”

He sounds so heartfelt and earnest that Will can’t help his answering grin. “Alright, Nurse Harrington. I feel properly validated.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides Joyce’s calendar back across the table. “Alright, jerk,” he snarks, standing and draining the last of his coffee, wrinkling his nose at the taste. “I’ll clear out so that you can all have family time.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Jonathan sounds so honestly disappointed that it stops both Steve and Will in their tracks. His face flushes. “I mean, uh – are you sure you can’t stay for a bit longer? It would really help to, um, have a medical professional here? In case I have any questions, about Mom’s-” He falters, his face shuttering a bit as he remembers. “Mom’s condition,” he finishes after several seconds of subdued silence.

“I…” Steve flounders for a minute before giving in. “Yeah, no, I can – I can stay.” He smiles. “It’s my day off, and it’s not like my social calendar is popping off these days.” He reaches over and ruffles Will’s hair before he can do more than squawk in protest. “Annoyingly, this little butthead’s kind of my best friend right now.”

Jonathan’s face softens back into a smile – and oh god, he all but has literal heart eyes. “Yeah, he’s mine, too,” he says. “We can work out a timeshare.”

“Or just get fucking married,” Will mumbles under his breath, cursing when Steve pokes into his side with what must be his boniest finger.

“I’m just gonna go see Mom and then get washed up. She’s… is she sleeping?”

The tremor in his brother’s voice, the same lost look in his eyes that Will’s seen staring back at himself whenever he’s looked in a mirror in the last six weeks, tug at Will’s heartstrings and he finds himself blinking back tears. “Yeah, but go ahead,” he tells Jonathan, clearing his throat when the words come out as little more than a croak. “It’s almost time for her meds anyway. I’ll be in in a few minutes, okay?”

Jonathan just nods, darting one last look in Steve’s direction before adjusting the strap of his carry-on bag and sliding past them to the hallway. Will watches him go, and when he’s out of sight, he turns to Steve to find him doing the same. Steve is entirely incapable of controlling his face, so Will catches the way his expression changes from a sort of gobsmacked longing to something more neutral in real time, and that’s- “Gross, Steve, that’s my brother!”

[theicarusconstellation]

astra!! do you have any hcs for dad regulus when his daughter is older?? you’ve shared lots about reggie and baby, but i’m curious now about reggie and toddler/preteen/teenager

RHEJAJSJDJSKD YES

reggie and toddler ��� they’re both horribly clingy to one another. she latches onto him, and when james suggests daycare, she and regulus start to cry (james cries too when they drop her off for the first time). he makes her one of those growth chart things where she stands against the wall and he marks her progress with a pen, always saying, “at this rate, you’ll tower over me someday!” to which james responds, “it’s not hard to tower over you, baby.” regulus helps keep her soft toddler curls all nice and fluffy, absolutely pampering her with a morning curl routine they do together. he buys her so many cute little outfits and has her do fashion shows all the time (there are polaroids everywhere immortalizing this), and she always asks him to sing to her and read her stories <333

reggie and preteen — he’s constantly getting worked up about how much she’s growing. james is too, but sometimes he’ll walk in on regulus sobbing over his old ultrasound pictures and be like😀. god once she hits ten it’s over for him. she’s like “papa you’re embarrassing me!!” but he just squeezes her tighter until she’s gasping for air and he’s gotta let her go so she doesn’t suffocate. of course, they start to get into little spats, but they always end up laughing at the end because one of them will say something ridiculously sarcastic. he and james both try to be “hip” with the new kid slang, and oh my god it mortifies their daughter😭she’s just trying to get through her primary school choir concert and they’re like “YEAH LITTLE STAR YOURE BITCHIN’!!”

reggie and teen — constant bickering, but in an endearing way. they can get into explosive arguments, but it’s just because he’s really not ready to let her go yet, and it’s hitting him so fast that he has no idea how to respond. when she has a bad day, she still asks him to sing to her, but now they sing together and read some pretentious novel or other. he takes her to see all the hit movies (he waits on heathers, but once she’s old enough, they both become obsessed), and she turns into a total winona ryder freak because of it. she’s lydia deetz every halloween for like five years. when edward scissorhands comes out, regulus wants to bash his head into the wall from how many times his daughter plays ice dance on the piano. she definitely goes through a grunge phase, but jegulus are all for it; regulus helps her with her makeup, and they buy her tickets to all the concerts she wants to go to — though regulus draws the line when she asks him to learn “lithium” by nirvana on the piano💀when she moves out, he’s a fucking wreck, but she never goes far, and they have weekly dinners forever and ever and ever. also she absolutely teases him when he starts going grey (salt-and-pepper regulus🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤🤤), so he gets revenge by temporarily charming her hair grey one day.

[pinkcherryblossomphonecase]

"Haha do you ever want to get so drunk sometimes and imagine your back with your past abuser, all because you made a stupid mistake in listening and believing one person's side of the story which ended up costing you one of your good friends to now hate you?"

"Haha no? Just me? Greattttttttt."

"I'm going to bash my head against a wall now for being so stupid. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid..."

"Both sides can't be happy..... wish I never left sometimes..... just a stupid doll after all. Stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid stupid....."

*Cooper has been drinking and crying in his room.*

[brightandfullofglory]

What if...?

Donatello is an avid collector of data. Knowledge is power after all.

But sometimes, things are left better unknown.

He would be remiss to say he hasn’t stumbled upon something upsetting before. The internet is a wealth of knowledge but also maze of misinformation, distractions (ah, Wikipedia rabbit holes (it’s a love hate relationship)), and full of every form of violence you could name, physical, mental, emotional, psychological…

How could this piece of knowledge feel like all that at once?

He sits crouched on the floor papers strewn about on the ground, barely lit by the screen of his computer, heels of his palms pressed to his eyes, as if that could erase the information he just read from existence.

Ah, how ignorance was bliss.

He wants to claw his scales off, scream his throat raw, bash his head against the floor, wall, whatever surface might wipe the information from his brain. His heart beat shakes his whole body as he holds himself still, air shaking through his lungs, and trembles. He doesn’t care to keep track of the time he’s been sitting here like this. He wants to wake up and let it all be a dream and go away.

But Spirits, its awful in how much it makes sense and answers questions he’s had since the invasion. He hisses another breath out through clenched teeth to stifle a scream. He wasn’t even looking for answers to those questions when he found this. He should have just…

He feels nauseous, and takes a shuddering inhale. It feels like such a violation, such a reminder of their creation, unnatural, mutant, intended use. He feels so

His hands slam to the floor as he has to catch his balance, tipping to the side, catching himself on one of his shoulders instead just barely stopping his head from smacking the floor. Eyes squeezed tightly closed, he can’t bear to look at the papers again. He shivers and shudders. Maybe he will be sick.

He doesn’t want to be, he wants some form of control over himself. He still feels dizzy and decides to lay curled on the floor. Focus on the cool temperature of the tiles absorbing the heat from his scales. Fingers the seam between the tiles, the texture of the grout. Something else, something else…

He doesn’t hear his lab door open. He does feel the fingers brushing his shoulder.

He wants to cry and doesn’t all at once. He strains to focus, attempts to acknowledge the presence, struggles through another shuddering inhale and flinches at a more insistent touch. He pulls away, away, he know it’s one of his brothers but, the thoughts and knowledge he just discovered warp his perception. He hates it. He Hates it.

He fights it, grasps out, grabs, and clings. Finds his words and hisses.

“I’m going to kill Draxum.”

 “Woah, woah. Not that I plan on stopping you, but…”

Leo, its Leo, just Leo. Don’t let words on a page warp your experience, your own data, your own knowledge. He’s still talking, focus.

“…and Mikey will be inconsolable watching all his hard work go down the drain, or wherever or whatever you plan to do with the body but, I’m going to need a motive here so I can get the blame off me when people bring up the whole, ‘He threw me off a roof’ thing.”

Donnie let’s out stuttering snort of air and curls more to press his forehead against Leo’s knee where he sits cross legged in front of him, and pulls the captured hand into both of his own against his chest. Leo shifts his weight to rest his elbows on his knees.

“What did you get into?”

He just knows, he just, Donnie grinds his forehead against Leo’s knee, having lost his words again. He can’t bring himself to say it, he just, it’s awful.

“We gonna play 20 questions then?”

Donnie loves his brother. He nods.

There’s a heavy sigh, not exasperated but, more concerned.

“Ok, first things first, are you hurt?”

No, physical he is unharmed, as much as it feels like something is twisting up his insides, he is physically unharmed.

He shakes his head, but Leo clearly picks up on something. He’s silent for a moment, maybe mulling over Donnie’s pause, maybe thinking of his next question. Donnie squeezes the hand captured in his grip and Leo squeezes back before beginning to mutter out loud.

“Something to do with Draxum… You an’ Mikey went to go help him grab stuff from his old lab earlier this week. Did he do something?”

Yes, and No. Donnie only found out being a snoop, his hunger for knowledge, the data was right there, how could he stop himself? And it was information about them, they had a right to it didn’t they? He didn’t bother to ask; he was sure he wouldn’t get the answer he wanted. He might as well get something out of helping Draxum move. It wasn’t like he was completely in the dark with their creation, but he likes to know details, he had been getting into biology recently. Foolish, ignorant, dum-dum, fool he was.

His lack of response went on too long.

“Not the right question but in the right realm, huh?” Leo starts tapping out a rhythm with his free hand. “Did he say something? Lead you down a research rabbit hole into the horrors of the abyss?”

The last bit is said with a curl of amusement and understanding from previous research binges. He’d clearly seen the papers scattered on the desk and floor. Not read them though luckily.

Curiosity killed the cat and all that, or curiosity gave the turtle nightmares, whichever.

He shakes his head. Draxum practically made a point of avoiding him and only indulging in Mikey’s need for their… interaction or whatever, when he really had to. Draxum was well aware of Donatello’s opinion on him and was making no effort to improve it. Donatello was unintentionally making his opinion worse and now felt justified in his own lack of attempt at improving their relationship with his recent discovery.

“Ok, so he didn’t say anything, but may or may not have done something…” he snaps his fingers, “Did he not do something?”

He almost laughs because of his previous thoughts on Draxum’s lack of improving their ‘interpersonal relationships’ or whatever Mikey liked to call it. Draxum left them uninformed of important information, and also hadn’t been there to help during or after the invasion (not entirely his fault with the lock down) but still. He made no effort to reach out after, or help them when he did find out what happened. But that’s not, that’s not the issue here entirely. He’d be perfectly happy if he never saw Draxum again.

He shakes his head. He’s starting to feel a little more grounded and lets his eyes open, there’s no papers in sight, just his and his brothers hands, odd three fingered things (normal turtles have five, so do humans). He snaps his mind away from a train of thought and back to Leo’s voice.

“Ok, so he did do Something, I just need to be more specific.” He lets Donnie turn his palm over in his hands as he decides on the next question. “Did he do something to Mikey? No, that wouldn’t make any sense, he would say something wouldn’t he? Go all Dr.Delicate touch on him. If not tell us.”

He looks down at Donnie who nods minutely but keeps his eyes on Leo’s hand, and then slowly looks up at him with a pointed stare.

“Mikey doesn’t know.” There’s a touch of fear in that statement but also a hell of a lot of anger. His hands curl into fists and he looks away for a brief moment, probably towards wherever Mikey might be in the lair. Donnie tightens his grip, and stares at Leo trying to will words to his lips. He catches his attention at least, and stares, willing him to read his mind however he normally does. (Twin telepathy he would probably laugh, if asked) Scoff.

“You too.” Leo realizes, then his brows scrunch, “but you know, and you implied Draxum had, but hadn’t done anything…” He trails off trying to tie things together but his thoughts seem to wander off.

“All of us?”

Donnie does his best not to crush Leo’s hand and suddenly finds himself struggling again.

“Okay, okay, okay, deep breaths, come on.”

He doesn’t want them to know, he realizes. He really, really, doesn’t want them to know. He’s cursed himself with the knowledge and it hurts, and telling them might help him a little, but it will hurt them more won’t it? And Raph, oh Raph. But the questions it would answer. Such a can of

He looses it, scratching, scrabbling, against the tile, scales, his shell, his Shell. Curling and gasping for breath to scream, to cry, to, to

“Hey, Hey!”

Leo is pulling Donnie’s hands away and pulls him into a hug as best he can. And no, just no. He struggles and pulls and gasps and whines.

“I can’t, I can’t, Ican’t, Ica-“

Leo lets go, there’s a swish and flash of blue light, then a blanket is tossed over him with a *fwump*

He shudders, but the darkness is a bliss on his mind. Maybe a Pavlovian response to the blanket at this point. A good shut down, reset. Slowly he calms, almost drifting off. He’s tired.

Leo is patient and waits, as long as it takes.

There’s a muffled rustling of papers being picked up off the floor that draws his attention with a quick snap and he finds himself moving, smacking the pages from his brothers hands.

They both stand there stunned for a moment as the pages flutter back to the floor. The blanket slumps off his shell to join them.

“You don’t want to know, you really don’t want to know.” He gasps out.

Leo stares, then looks down at Donnie’s shaking hands.

“It’s bad.”

He makes a noise, an ‘eh’ of neither confirmation nor denial. “Horrific?”

Leo gapes at him, “Wh-How is that not BAD?!”

“It just IS.”

“Wh-H-no.” Leo rests on hand on his brow eyes closed and waves away the unfinished questions with the other, as he tries to re-focus.

“Is whatever it is going to hurt us?”

“I don’t know! I don’t think so? I..I-” Donnie trails of with a slight terrified giggle “I think, I think it helped us..? Ah ha a tiny bit?”

He holds his fingers a little bit apart but they’re practically touching, his face twitches with a hysteric smile. Leo stares at him again. Donnie’s shaking starts to intensify again, it’s a miracle he’s still standing. Leo spots the desk chair tipped on the ground, picks it up and encourages Donnie to sit in it.

“Ok.” There’s a pause, “Draxum did Something.”

“Yep.”

“That is Horrifying.”

“Very.”

“Ve-“ Leo presses his hands to his face for a moment takes a breath and lets them drop.

“To all of us.”

“Mhm.”

“And we don’t want to know.”

“Oh, definitely not. I already regret telling you the little that you now know. As a matter of fact, next time we see Hypno I just might ask for a total mind wipe. That is how much we don’t want to know.” Donnie rambles.

“But it may have helped us?”

Donnie hisses out a breath, scrunches his eyes closed, balls his hands against his forehead, and curls up in the chair. He leans forward so it doesn’t touch his shell.

“I reaaaaalllly don’t want to think about that.” He rasps.

“Because its, Horrifying.” Leo states.

Donnie swallows and nods.

“And worth killing Draxum over.”

“Yeah, I mean, if anything had gone wrong he could have potentially been the cause for an apoc-ahhahhahaHa! I’m not saying aaaanything else.”

Leo will put his thoughts on that sentence elsewhere for now, he will come back to them later.

“Alright, ok. And as far as you are aware, whatever it is, won’t hurt us?”

“As far as I’m aware. Pretty sure at this point the most its done is cause me psychological damage, Haha... Seriously, I would pay for Hypno to wipe this from my mind.”

“So, what’s the plan with the papers then? Hypno wipes your mind, you find the papers and freak out again, we gotta get rid of them right?” He reaches down to pick one up again, maybe trying to get a look at what it is.

Donnie smacks it out of his hand and hums nervously. “There is some important information there I’d like to have, I just don’t, really- that one part is. Upsetting.”

“Ok, so we find that page and toss it. Problem solved, easy peasy.”

“But there’s other things I need on the page. And it could still be important.”

Leo huffs a sigh, “Alright, without the bad parts, what are these papers? And why do you have them?”

Donnie lets out a sigh of his own, “They’re Draxums notes on what went into the creation of our mutagen. Notes about us. Other things…” He waves a hand. “I grabbed them from Draxums lab while helping him move of course. Not like he needs them anymore right?”

“He better not.” Leo hums under his breath threateningly, louder he says, “So what about blacking out the most upsetting part if the rest is important? Sharpie over it or something?”

“But what if I need to know.”

Leo gives him a look, and huffs out a noise, “Then you can ask Draxum right? Well as long as we don’t kill him first.” He laughs, then frowns.

“This sounds really important, are you sure we shouldn’t know?”

“Absolutely, we’ve already all got PTSD- don’t deny it-” He aggressively points a finger at Leo, “We won’t need to add this on top.”

“Sooooo, is this related to the invasion…?” Leo says it jokingly expecting an ‘of course not’ in response and is horrified by

“I didn’t say that!”

Leo freezes.

Donnie is a terrible liar, but he makes up for it by using other methods that work, sometimes. Leo knows these methods and Donnie spoke with far too much emphasis in that sentence.

“This thing… helped us, in the invasion, didn’t it?”

Donnie hisses into his hands, fighting himself.

“You want to know? Like really want to know?”

“Yes, Don. If this is important…”

“You see how I’m reacting to this.” He holds up his trembling hands, mostly adrenaline now.

Leo huffs a breath, “We’re supposed to help each other out, let me help you share the burden.”

“It doesn’t work like that! It’s knowledge not!-not! Nnngh,” Donnie’s hands grasp at the air, “Not some task!”

“Well what do you want me to do?”

Donnie stares at the ground at a loss. “I don’t… I don’t know.”

“I just…”

He toes at a page.

Then crouches down, sifts through the papers and picks one out. Turns it face down before lifting it and placing it on the desk.

He taps it once, sighs and rubs a shaking hand down his face.

“You want to open Pandora’s Box? Well, there it is.”

He refuses to look at Leo as he curls up in the chair again.

“Just, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

 Leo watches the chair slowly spin away from him as he turns to look at the page on the desk. What could be on it that so upset the genius? They knew Draxum was a little unhinged with his whole ‘take over the surface’ plans, but what could have gone into their creation that would be so horrific? He hesitates.

Then slowly flips the page.

And reads.

 When Donnie hears Leo drop, he begins to laugh.

And then finally screams.

 A drawing on the page next to a paragraph depicts skeletal remains found in the Crying Titan.

What if they had some Kraang DNA?

[thevestigeofvanillaan]

thinking about flayed!billy and flayed!reader who literally had no idea who one another were but often found eachother in the locker room showers (of the community pool) just standing under freezing cold water.

neither of you had known that the other was flayed until one time he'd just pulled you into the shower with him in attempt to bash you against the wall in pure anger.

when you felt the cold water your head falls back against the wall billy had pushed you into and you moan loudly in immediate pleasure as he gets away from the heat.

because he likes it cold.

the second he sees your face, the black veins fading away, he knows.

the two of you end up pushing eachother out of under the shower head, taking turns under the cold water.

you guys would shower together every day that you would go to the pool. and since you had a little brother who wanted to go all the time, that left you in the heat, and you couldn't take it.

it burnt your skin. the what you used to think was average 80 degree weather became equivalent to the burn of flames when it hit your skin.

you would cover as much of your body as you could until you'd go into the locker rooms to take a cold shower. you'd undress from your longsleeved shirt and shorts to where you're just wearing the bikini you'd always wear beneath.

and every time, either billy had been there waiting for you, or he'd follow you swiftly into the shower.

he was most vulnerable when he was with you. it wasn't so bad when he was with you. he knew that he was real, when he was with you. he was himself, for short periods of time.

vulnerability made it easier for the two of you to be under control of your own mind.

sometimes you guys would hug eachothers bodies tight and stand under the water together when it was specifically hotter than usual outside.

he found you screaming in pain sitting outside on the hot concrete after hours. your skin was blistering, you were crying. your brother, who usually would be there, wasn't there.

"what are you doing here? the pool is closed, little girl." he'd pull your arm, lifting you up off the burning hot ground before bringing you to the shower you'd usually be in.

you can't stop the tears. this wasn't him, this was you. this was you fighting to get out of this scary deep trance he'd put you into.

"why?" you cry out as billy pushes you under the cold water in hopes of your sulking to stop.

you grip your blistered shoulder, your blood was black. you could see movement as the cold water pieced your skin back together.

continuing to cry softly as you sit on the floor of the shower, rubbing hands through wet hair.

he just watches in silence before he brings himself into the shower, you hear him groan from behind you when the water stops hitting your back.

"stand up." he'd instruct before you begrudgingly ignore him, "i said, stand up, girl." he'd say in a more angry tone.

you whine before you stand up and face him, mascara staining your undereyes from tears. he has his arms out before you walk into them, hugging him as the water hits the both of you exactly where it needed to most.

one day he'd invited you on a walk late at night, when it'd been slightly chilled. the two of you wearing little clothing, such as a sports bra and shorts and he'd simply be wearing basketball shorts.

the two of you walk, the sandals protecting your feet from touching the hot streets below you.

"it's nice out." he hums.

you don't respond. you don't know where he's taking you.

soon you'd arrive at some deserted, abandoned hospital looking building.

walking inside, seeing containers with body parts in them, shivers flow down your spine.

"strange." billy says softly before walking back to where the two of you had entered.

"wait." he'd stop walking at the sound of your voice, "i'm cold."

he turns around with a grunt, "it's not that cold in here, sweets. let's just go." he lightly takes your hand into his own, leading you out of the building.

your body stays cold, and you're unsure why.

"that bothered you, didn't it?" billy asks.

you nod slightly, holding his hand tighter as you walk side by side to a nearby bed and breakfast.

you knock on the door and an elderly woman answers, "hello, would you like a room?".

"yeah." billy would respond, squeezing my hand tightly as he attempts not to hurt her.

she leads us upstairs, talking about nothing in specific before opening a door to a small room, one bed, and a small television.

you sigh, letting go of billy's hand.

"you did good." he'd praise quietly as he opens the window, turning on the small fan located across the room.

he'd praise you for having not flayed anyone else. the two of you had to learn not to hurt people, as there were too many surrounding the two of you constantly.

your bodies would be controlled by this monster that had taken over the two of you. training your mind to resist urges that hadn't been your own intentions.

each day that passes is different, attempting to relearn simple things that were taken from you.

the next morning when the two of you had gone downstairs to have breakfast with the elderly woman, you couldn't control yourself.

your body disobeyed your mind. when he watched you abuse the woman he gets the urge himself.

kind of like when a wolf howls, the entire pack begins to, letting others know where they are.

"you're so horrible, you know that?" he'd say as he closes the trunk to the woman's car, her body lying inside.

"it's not me."

[thehorrorsoftheblackbunnymask]

TW: DRUGS AND SA

I know know the exact moment when I knew I was off the deep end. It was when I was genuinely considering taking drugs. Like, people be talking about how it be taking away that stress and shit and I was just so low and desperate for my PTSD to like, not be acting up over someone slightly grazing my arm or some guy walking behind me that I just wanted to not be there, at all.

I never committed to it but I was considering it. It was bad.

And now that it's been getting worse, my PTSD I mean, I've been getting flashbacks and Im 85% sure my abuser touched me. Like, I'm talking like groping me or touching thigh, but nothing further than that. He'd say he was joking but it made me uncomfortable, I told him to stop because my mom said to never let no one touch me, but then he'd say how I couldn't handle a joke and pulled his "we're not friends anymore." He'd only stop when I broke down into tears. I never really felt safe with him either. Like, because of him and his friends, whenever guys are near me I fucking fun or I feel people touching me everywhere and my intrusive say "it's going to happen again," "Bash his head in," or "He's gonna rape you." Like, it's gotten that bad. Even with my really good guy friends, I'm fine with them most of the time but sometimes that stuff comes out and I back away.

And with girls, idk. The friends I had that were girls were fake but they weren't abusive like the guys.

My abuser oen time excluded me from playing with them and since I had no other friends and I had no one to play with, I kept trying to get his attention to let me play because I didn't want to be alone and he just ignored me, so did his friends. I think he was mad at me or didn't want to play with me. I ended crying under a tree while him and his friends played.

The next day I begged him to let me play with them in class and he said sure. I spent the entire day until recess asking if I could still play because he would make promises and then never commit last minute, and I knew if I made one mistake he'd ignore me again. There was a very clear power imbalance.

And if your my abuser and you know it's you and you're reading this, next time I see you, I wanna talk to you. And I want to bash your head into the wall after what you did to me.